a scalding coffee, a king-sized Hershey bar, and a pack of cigarettes, she returned to the truck. Now, she wished above all else that she could hear Sean's rich, sexy voice spilling over her.
* * * *
The truck sped down the interstate, hitting every bump and pothole from Chicago to Barre, Vermont. In the old truck, the shocks were shot so it tossed Evangeline around like she was on a carnival ride.
What the hell was she doing? She’d just torn herself from the only man she’d ever loved to travel across the country in hopes of speaking to the real version of the voice in her head. This was a man who’d fucked her sister, and God, the pain stabbed Evangeline’s chest. That Jessa had run her fingers through that shaggy auburn hair or kissed a path down his chest to his sexy tattoo made her want to floor the engine and run over something. She shoved the chocolate bar into her mouth in four bites, and chewed the enormous amount as she mulled over this horrible thought.
The ache for Sean returned with a vengeance. A dark, pulsing pain in her chest which brought instant tears to her eyes. She clung to it, letting it burn her gut like a swig of her favorite vodka. If all she had left of Sean was pain, she would hold it close.
“What if I can’t live without Sean?” she asked herself quietly. As she passed a sign for the Vermont state border, her fingers tightened with resolve upon the steering wheel. Well, Evangeline, you’re about to find out.
* * * *
Evangeline drove the pickup truck down the long lane leading to an enormous mansion. Dawn was hours away, but the horizon wore a belt of dark grey that promised a clear, bright sky. She stopped the truck, and the emergency brake screeched as she set it. Heart pounding, she stepped out and hunched her shoulders against the cold air. Faced with the brick building, the enormity of her actions struck her. She was far from Chicago and the life she knew. The life she’d created with Sean. With a pang, Evangeline thought suddenly of her guitar. A gift from Sean for her birthday three weeks ago. He’d scrambled from bed, fresh from lovemaking, and revealed the acoustic behind the closet door.
“Sean,” she’d gasped, her eyes filling.
He lifted it carefully and placed it into her hands. “Happy birthday, Evangeline. What do you think?”
She gave a soft sob, overwhelmed. “It’s awesome. Amazing. How did you know it was my birthday?”
“I know a lot you never told me, baby,” he said, his dark eyes aglow. And then her fingers had taken over, and the words of a new song bubbled into the air. She’d never even told him she loved him.
Evangeline carefully removed the guitar from the bed of the truck, and following an innate sense of purpose, set off down a cobbled walk around the side of the mansion. A large outbuilding loomed before her, and she made for the door, guided by pure instinct. The door silently opened inward, and Evangeline set down her guitar, felt along the wall and flipped a switch. Her breath caught.
Granite sculptures of various size and shapes, from simple obelisks to glorious classical figures surrounded her. She walked around the space, weaving through the lovely sculptures. She paused to trail her fingers over the flowing garments of a female figure. The pleats and folds were cool, telling her it was indeed rock, but her eyes told her otherwise. The figures looked as if they could step from their stone pedestals, drop their garments, and climb nude into a bath.
With a weighty sigh, she knelt beside her guitar. The locks of the case sounded like shots in the quiet space, and she tipped back the lid to reveal the glossy wood instrument. Her tears fell unchecked as she lifted the beloved piece into her hands. She sat cross-legged with her back against the wall and played.
The words rose without thought, and the notes bound her tight to the spell she wove. It was a song of loves gained and lost, of pain and need, of joy and sorrow. She sang for
* * * *
The truck sped down the interstate, hitting every bump and pothole from Chicago to Barre, Vermont. In the old truck, the shocks were shot so it tossed Evangeline around like she was on a carnival ride.
What the hell was she doing? She’d just torn herself from the only man she’d ever loved to travel across the country in hopes of speaking to the real version of the voice in her head. This was a man who’d fucked her sister, and God, the pain stabbed Evangeline’s chest. That Jessa had run her fingers through that shaggy auburn hair or kissed a path down his chest to his sexy tattoo made her want to floor the engine and run over something. She shoved the chocolate bar into her mouth in four bites, and chewed the enormous amount as she mulled over this horrible thought.
The ache for Sean returned with a vengeance. A dark, pulsing pain in her chest which brought instant tears to her eyes. She clung to it, letting it burn her gut like a swig of her favorite vodka. If all she had left of Sean was pain, she would hold it close.
“What if I can’t live without Sean?” she asked herself quietly. As she passed a sign for the Vermont state border, her fingers tightened with resolve upon the steering wheel. Well, Evangeline, you’re about to find out.
* * * *
Evangeline drove the pickup truck down the long lane leading to an enormous mansion. Dawn was hours away, but the horizon wore a belt of dark grey that promised a clear, bright sky. She stopped the truck, and the emergency brake screeched as she set it. Heart pounding, she stepped out and hunched her shoulders against the cold air. Faced with the brick building, the enormity of her actions struck her. She was far from Chicago and the life she knew. The life she’d created with Sean. With a pang, Evangeline thought suddenly of her guitar. A gift from Sean for her birthday three weeks ago. He’d scrambled from bed, fresh from lovemaking, and revealed the acoustic behind the closet door.
“Sean,” she’d gasped, her eyes filling.
He lifted it carefully and placed it into her hands. “Happy birthday, Evangeline. What do you think?”
She gave a soft sob, overwhelmed. “It’s awesome. Amazing. How did you know it was my birthday?”
“I know a lot you never told me, baby,” he said, his dark eyes aglow. And then her fingers had taken over, and the words of a new song bubbled into the air. She’d never even told him she loved him.
Evangeline carefully removed the guitar from the bed of the truck, and following an innate sense of purpose, set off down a cobbled walk around the side of the mansion. A large outbuilding loomed before her, and she made for the door, guided by pure instinct. The door silently opened inward, and Evangeline set down her guitar, felt along the wall and flipped a switch. Her breath caught.
Granite sculptures of various size and shapes, from simple obelisks to glorious classical figures surrounded her. She walked around the space, weaving through the lovely sculptures. She paused to trail her fingers over the flowing garments of a female figure. The pleats and folds were cool, telling her it was indeed rock, but her eyes told her otherwise. The figures looked as if they could step from their stone pedestals, drop their garments, and climb nude into a bath.
With a weighty sigh, she knelt beside her guitar. The locks of the case sounded like shots in the quiet space, and she tipped back the lid to reveal the glossy wood instrument. Her tears fell unchecked as she lifted the beloved piece into her hands. She sat cross-legged with her back against the wall and played.
The words rose without thought, and the notes bound her tight to the spell she wove. It was a song of loves gained and lost, of pain and need, of joy and sorrow. She sang for
Similar Books
