Sing You Home by Ava Hunter

Sal goes to bed happier than she’s been in a long time. At least, happier than she can remember. She learned more about herself today, met her sister. She doesn’t quite know what to think about Lacey, so high-strung, so intense, but she’s sure there’s a past to that.

Sal chuckles to herself in quiet amusement.

Plus, no migraines. No dizziness. To Sal, it’s a win. She’s healthy. Happy. One foot closer back to herself.

And Luke.

Luke.

Groaning, Sal burrows under the covers. What was she doing with him? Acting like some lovesick, love-starved girl. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. He is her husband, after all. Her stomach dips remembering the look in his eyes. The nearness of him. Tan hands. Muscles like whipped ropes. A touch like kindling.

Sal sighs. Had he wanted her as much as she wanted him? She couldn’t have imagined it.

She’s got a place here with Luke, with this life she’s barely tapped into, and damn if she’s letting it go. After Roy, she needs this. No confines, no cruelty, no lies. She always believed there was something better out there for her, and here it is. Her life in her own hands. She’s gonna hang on to that. She’s gonna hold it close and remember . . .

As Sal drifts into sleep, her brain shuts off. Her body floats outside of herself.

She’s back in the plane: a seat, a wall, a ceiling. Like one of those open-air movie sets. She squeezes her eyes shut, waiting for the split-apart to begin. She doesn’t need to see it. She knows what will happen. Her hands grip the armrest as the plane rips through the air, plummeting down, down, down. A guitar pick floats across the ceiling. The airplane window spiderwebs. The ceiling peels away in one tearing chunk. Stars glitter across black sky. She can feel the wind on her face. Shrapnel from the wall pierces her cheek. Then—

A whisper on the wind.

Sal opens her eyes.

Tonight, the dream’s different.

She’s not alone on the plane.

Next to her sits Roy. His smiling face mean and arrogant.

Panic rising, Sal jerks in the seat, but she can’t move. Fear has her in a stranglehold.

“You left me, Jenny,” Roy says. His crooked eye rolls. “My precious, precious Jenny.”

Sal finds her voice. A husk. “No. I’m not Jenny.”

“I told you not to go. I told you if you left, I’d find you. I’d make you pay.”

A scream tears through Sal’s throat, trying to wake up. She wants to wake up.

Please, God, let her wake up.

Roy reaches for her and clamps his hands around her throat.

He squeezes. Sal struggles to breathe. She fights him with all she has. Clawing at his hands, begging for air, but there is none. Prisms of dying light pulse in her vision.

With a soft cry, Sal lets herself go limp and retreats far away inside her mind. Safe. She’s safe there.

Then, strong hands have her, gripping her trembling shoulders, a voice calling to her from high above.

Wake up, Sal.

Wake up.

“Sal, darlin’, wake up. Can you hear me? Open your eyes, Sal.”

Luke straddles his wife on the bed, watching in horror as Sal shakes, her eyes rolled back in her head. The shrill scream she let loose minutes earlier woke the house. Luke, Lacey and Seth were on each other’s heels as they charged to her room. They found Sal like this. Soaked with sweat, her entire body limp and trembling.

Now, Seth hovers over them, at a loss for how to help. “Wake her up, man!”

The gut-wrenching terror in Seth’s voice shakes Luke to his core.

“I’m tryin’!” Luke barks at his brother. “You ain’t helpin’, Seth.”

Scanning Sal, Luke eases beside her. He takes her body gently in his arms, cradling her in his lap and tucking her small frame into his large one, safe and gentle. He brushes hair from her sweaty brow, presses his lips to her temple. He rocks her slow.

“Sal, please. Open your eyes. You’re safe . . . I’ve got you.”

His voice is calm and firm. No room for argument.

She’ll hear him. She has to.

Lacey, wrapped in a pink robe, hangs in the doorway, stricken and pale. “What’s wrong with her?”

Without glancing away from Sal, Luke says grimly, “Nightmare.”

Soon, Sal calms. Her breathing slows.

Then her eyes pop open. Wild. Terrified as hell.

What Luke sees next terrifies him as well.

Sal can’t get air. Her mouth moves around unsaid words; her fingers scrabble frantically at her throat.

Luke pins his eyes to hers. “Hey,” he says, calm and steady despite his jackhammering heart. “Breathe with me. Where are you? You’re home. In Nashville. You’re safe, Sal . . . you’re safe . . .”

Finally, a soft, anguished cry escapes Sal’s lips.

“Luke?” she whispers.

“It’s me,” he says, lifting his arms carefully so she can sit up. She reaches up to touch his face, as if to make sure it’s really him. “I’m here, darlin’. I’m here.”

Those words undo something tightly wound in his wife. A sob escapes her lips. She buries her face in Luke’s chest, gripping his shoulders, and weeps violently.

Blowing out a ragged breath, Seth moves to Lacey’s side and wraps an arm around her shoulder. For once, Lacey doesn’t fight it, instead leaning into Seth for comfort.

Luke holds Sal, letting her cry, letting her come back to her baseline. He kisses the top of her head, tucks a lock of damp hair behind her ear.

Sniffling, Sal looks up at Luke, her face tear-stained. “I had the worst dream.”

“The crash?” Luke asks, keeping his voice low so she has privacy.

“No. It was—it was Roy. He was there. He tried to—”

Sal breaks off and presses her cheek into Luke’s chest. Cursing low, Luke tightens his arms around her. His stomach coils. It was just a dream. And yet, he feels as if he’s come so close to having her slip away.

Not again. He can’t lose her again.

Sal looks up at him, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry . . . I just need a moment.”

“Take your time.” Luke adjusts his body, shielding her from Seth and Lacey’s worried stares. “I promise you, you’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Sal’s smile is wobbly, but she nods. Her hand slides up Luke’s shoulder to wrap around his neck. She grips tight, like she’ll never let go, which is fine with Luke. If he had his way, he’d keep her in his arms forever.

Twisting her body, Sal turns her face to look at Seth and Lacey framed in the doorway. She sob-laughs, says, “Now that I traumatized you all, you can go back to bed.”

“Fat chance of that,” Seth says. He smiles kindly at Sal to show her he’d put up with it and then some. Glancing at Lacey, he asks, “How about a game of Yahtzee?”

Lacey shrugs Seth’s arm off her shoulder. “I’d rather be knifed.” Striding over to the bed, Lacey sits down beside her sister. “Are you okay, Sal?”

Almost reluctantly, Sal scoots herself out of Luke’s arms. “I’m fine.” Already her voice is composed. “Really. I am.”

“No, you’re not.” Lacey pats her sister’s hair. She purses her lips as she scans Sal’s wan complexion. “I don’t want you to be alone. I’ll stay with you tonight. I’ll—”

“No,” Sal cuts in decisively. “I want Luke.”

Luke’s brain spasms on the words, as if unable to process her request. Hell, he’s still shitting a brick over her nightmare. Now Sal’s talking about sharing a bed.

Sal turns her glittery green eyes to him. “If you want to stay, that is,” she adds.

If he wants. Christ.

“Remember, I snore,” he teases.

Yet his body can’t deny how much he wants this. To be beside his wife in bed, holding her close.

“That’s fine with me,” Sal replies.

It’s a struggle to keep his face neutral. His heartbeat pounds so loud in his chest he wonders if everyone can hear it.

Luke glances up to see Seth smirking. Asshole.

“O-kaaay,” Lacey says doubtfully to Sal. She stands. “But you call me if you need anything.”

As Lacey exits, she shoots Luke a ferocious glare.

Then Seth’s pulling the door shut on Luke and Sal, leaving the two of them alone.

Sal settles herself onto her side of the bed and runs a hand through her sweat-snarled hair. She still feels jittery from the nightmare, like all her guts are on a paint shaker.

From the other side of the bed, Luke’s observing her. His shrewd eyes haven’t left her face, the question hasn’t left his lips, so she gives him a small smile. Burrowing deep into the cool sheets, she stretches her legs long and says, “I’m okay, Luke.”

She can’t keep the sigh out of her voice. Luke, picking up on it, asks, “You sick of it? Everyone worryin’?”

“Oh yeah. Big-time.” Sal arches a teasing brow. “I bet you can’t go a day without an are-you-okay.”

He grins. “Hmm, you strike a hard bargain, but I think I can do it, darlin’.”

As Luke leans over to tuck the blanket up around her waist, his warm palm grazes her bare thigh. Sal shivers, just now aware she’s clad in only a T-shirt and cotton underwear. Not to mention, Luke’s just as scantily clad himself.

She watches him with a heavy-lidded gaze. A curl of heat slicks across Sal’s spine. Bare-chested, in lounge pants, Luke’s tan body is lean and muscular in the dim glow of the bedside lamp.

Sal’s attention drifts as Luke swipes a pillow from the bed.

She frowns. “Where are you going?”

“Floor.” One word. A gruff grunt.

Sal gives Luke a look. There’s something about this man and the way he calmed her tonight. No one can do that but him. She wants him in their bed. Beside her.

“Well, that’s dumb, so we’re not gonna do that.” She pats the mattress. “Get in here.”

His lips pull up in a smile. “Whatever you say.”

Easing himself onto the bed beside Sal, Luke flicks off the bedside light. Together, they slip beneath the covers, the room cast in a gray dimness. The sole source of light is the moon outside.

Sal, an arm tucked beneath the pillow, studies Luke. Here they are, two feet from each other. Not touching, not talking. Luke lies on his back, eyes closed. Sal utters a frustrated laugh. Hands to themselves, right?

Finally, the silence gets to be too much.

Screw sleep.

Sal’s got to know. She wants to knock down these walls between them. She’s asked everyone but Luke. She’s gotten Seth’s answer. Lacey’s. Now she needs Luke’s. She trusts he’ll give it to her straight.

“Luke?” Sal’s soft whisper floats between them.

His eyes open, flick to her.

Sal lifts up onto her elbow. “Can I ask you a question?”

He rolls onto his side so they’re facing. Chin propped in his palm. Inches apart. Their warm breaths mingling, their eyes locking. “Shoot.”

Sal moistens her lips.

Just do it, chickenshit.

Then—“Do you love me, Luke?”

His breath catches on her question. A harsh, ragged hitch that stiffens his entire body.

Sal ducks her head, unsure what to make of his response. Fiddling with an edge of sheet corner, she fills his silence. “I’ve been gone so long . . . I thought that maybe you didn’t feel how you used to.”

A primal exhale from Luke. “Christ.”

Sal lifts her face. Luke’s expression is one of agony. He looks angry at himself. So goddamn pissed off.

“Is that what you think? That I stopped lovin’ you?” he asks, disbelief staining his drawl.

She squares her jaw. “I don’t know.” Heat creeps slow onto her cheeks. “Everything’s so confusing. I’ve been trying to figure you out. Us. Our marriage. Wondering what you want and if I even—”

Before Sal can say anything else, Luke has her in his arms, has his lips on hers.

Starved. Pained. Searching.

Sal gasps into his mouth.

The kiss is twenty-four-karat, a short-circuit straight to her heart.

Luke’s hand plunges into her hair, cupping the nape of her neck. Then he pulls her into his solid body of muscle, molding her form to his. His lips taste of whiskey, of warm honey, and the blaze in Sal’s heart is enough to power the sun.

This kiss is her answer.

Oh yeah, Luke loves her. Big-time.

He’s missed her too much. Has been hurting for so long.

The kiss deepens, Luke’s mouth crushing hers. A needy moan escapes her, and she winds her arms around his neck. Her body cranking into overdrive, Sal slides her bare leg between Luke’s, losing herself in the kiss, in Luke’s big hands, his mouth a burning blaze on hers.

With a guttural groan, Luke grips the curve of her hip and drags her in close. Wonderfully close. His fingertips, calloused from guitar strings yet ever so gentle, slide over her stomach. Sal arches into him, closing her eyes, curling her fingers in Luke’s hair. Unwilling to break the kiss, unable to physically leave the nearness of him.

She needs this. God, how she needs this. Every part of herself is pulsing with want. Her body aching, her lips aflame, and her heart, her heart—

This time Sal’s gasp is one of pain, not pleasure. A swirl of dizziness overwhelms her. She reaches out, resting a steadying hand on Luke’s forearm.

He breaks the kiss, drawing back. “Your head?” he asks, grazing fingertips against her temple, and Sal marvels how well he knows her.

“Yeah,” she admits, surprised by how fast the migraine’s snuck up on her. Who can blame her, though? She eyes the man across from her. She had other things on her mind. Other things like Luke.

In an instant, he’s hopping off the bed, the soft pad of his footsteps headed to the bathroom. When he returns, he helps Sal sit up and hands over her medication and a glass of water.

Sal relaxes into the pillow. “Thanks.” She palms a pill and swallows it down with a grimace. She hates these migraines, hates these miserable callbacks to her old life with Roy, her past a constant nipping at her heels no matter how fast she tries to run.

“There.” Sal gives Luke back the glass. “That should do it.” She smiles, strained. “I’m sorry. I forgot to take it. Old habits.”

Luke fixes her with a stern look that she’s come to learn means business. “Nothin’ to be sorry about,” he says, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

In one smooth movement, Luke gets up and crosses to his side of the bed. Sal has to hide a chuckle as he slides beside her, his face pained as he adjusts himself.

She sighs in contentment as he takes her in his arms once again, aligning his long body to hers. When he pulls back to look at her, she sees nothing but undying love in his eyes. Full-throttle lust. “Damn it, woman.” He’s grinning. “You turn me on.”

She matches his grin. “I saw that. Good to know I haven’t lost my touch.”

“Nine months gone ain’t gonna chase you away from my mind.” He kisses her, soft and sweet. “I’ve been a fool, Sal. I should’ve told you how I felt. I didn’t think how it would come across.”

“It’s not all your fault,” she says, giving him a shamefaced smile. “I overheard you on the bus, saying ‘I love you’ to someone on a phone call . . .” Here, Luke’s brow creases in a puzzled frown. Sal continues. “And I thought . . . I thought the wrong thing.”

For a minute, his face is thoughtful as he thinks on it. Then, his eyes widening in realization, Luke lets out a light breath of a laugh. “Shit. That was Emmy Lou. She wanted to see you and I was tellin’ her to stay away.” He traces a finger across her cheekbone, pain filling his dark eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to scare you, or go too fast. It kills me that you thought I stopped lovin’ you.”

Her stomach curling with warmth, Sal maps Luke’s face in her hands. Feels the jump of his smooth jaw between her palms. Everything about this is new. His touch like velvet. His smell like rosewood oil and wood shavings.

As she stares into Luke’s warm eyes, Sal’s hit by a wave of sadness. “I wish I could remember you,” she says softly.

She feels bad she can’t—like Luke doesn’t deserve this Sal and her shitty memory.

“You will.” His voice a vow.

She stares at him searchingly. “What if I don’t? What if my memory never comes back?”

“You’re alive.” Luke tightens his grip. “Whether or not you get your memory back, you’ll still be the same stubborn girl I fell in love with. I’ll always love you no matter what.”

The fierceness in his voice has Sal feeling faint. It also has her feeling regret. Regret she remembers nothing. Especially this gorgeous man in front of her. Her husband. Who loves her. Who she can’t remember.

Sal looks to the window, refusing to cry. She chokes out a pitiful laugh. “How can you? I don’t even know who I am.”

“I know who you are.” Luke nudges her chin up to meet her teary gaze. “You are beautiful. And you are brave. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. And you’re gonna get through this.” He brushes his lips against hers. “You know you got me. You got Seth. Lacey too, if you want her.”

Sal laughs breathlessly.

Then she grips his hand. Leans in close. “I want you, Luke.”

She needs him to know that. Because he loves her, because while she’s not there yet, she will be.

He exhales a slow breath. “Sal, I’m yours. You ain’t never gotta worry about that.”

His eyes dark with desire, Luke clutches Sal to his chest, his heartbeat pounding out a steady melody.

He dips his head to kiss her softly on her temple. “You’re my road, Sal. The only one I ever wanna walk.”

His words send a shiver of happiness down Sal’s spine, closing the book on any of her doubts. Shutting her eyes, Sal melts into the cradle of Luke’s arms, loving the way they fit together. Like linked pieces. Her so small, Luke so strong and protective and safe. A force of a man. Her refuge. His lean, muscular body. His tan hands. His voice, mellow and soft, a drawl for the ages. For her ages.

“Tell me I’ll remember,” she says, her voice muffled against his broad chest.

“You’ll remember.” Luke’s breath tickles her hair. “Go to sleep, Sal.”

Despite the drowsiness lapping over her, she nuzzles his neck, kisses the hollow on his throat. “Mmm, don’t want to.”

“Easy, darlin.” There’s a smile in his voice as he presses a kiss against the top of her head. “We’ve got nothin’ but time.”

Time. That’s right. Safe and sound in Luke’s arms, Sal reminds herself she won’t get hurt here. The past is behind her. All of Roy’s lies and terror, nothing but dust on the country wind. Tonight is a new beginning. On her way to being found. Being Sal.

All she wants is this. The future. Her future with Luke. It’s everything. Nothing can take that from her.

Nothing.