I Do With You (Maple Creek)

Epilogue HOPE

“Sleeping Beauty, rise and grind,” Ben rumbles in my ear. He’s lying on top of me, literally circling his hips over mine, so you’d think he’s talking about a morning quickie.

You’d be wrong.

First, because it’s two in the afternoon, not morning. And second, because the RV we use as an incognito tour bus leaves in an hour, and I still need to shower. At least I don’t have to pack my bag, considering I only unpack it to do laundry these days.

“Five more minutes,” I answer, keeping my eyes squeezed tightly shut. But I also scrape my nails down his back, grab his butt, and pull his erection against my pubic bone, eliciting a groan from us both. “They’ll wait, right? It’s not like they can leave without you.”

“Sean would definitely go by cruise ship rules and leave us here to find our own way to the next tour stop.”

He’s right. Sean would find an inordinate amount of evil pleasure in leaving us at the hotel we bunked at last night. I curl my lip. “I hate that guy.”

Ben laughs because he knows I don’t actually hate Sean. He still freaks me out sometimes because the version of him I met in Maple Creek was actually him on his best behavior, but he’s growing on me. Like fungus. Or a barnacle. Mostly we’ve bonded over our shared love of Ben and cinnamon-sugar french toast, which has become our usual special request when we eat at a breakfast place. Surprisingly, most places will do it, and we rejoice every time like it’s the treat it is.

Still, I miss Rosemary’s.

We spent a while going back and forth from LA to Maple Creek while the guys recorded Losing Hope , but we’ve been on tour to support the album for three months now. Every few days, we’re in a different city, exploring something new and seeing the sights all over the country. It’s an adventure I never imagined. Mostly because of the man by my side every step of the way.

My life has changed dramatically too.

I quit my job at Dr. Payne’s, which was bittersweet. But I wanted to take the opportunity to travel with Ben because Trent’s wife, Angela, shared with me that her occasional trips to join us, while absolutely worth it, are hard to coordinate. She’s become one of my best friends, and their kids are freaking adorable, calling Ben and Sean “Uncle” when they visit.

After a lot of discussion, Ben told my family about Midnight Destruction a while back. I think he was mostly worried my dad would think he was kidnapping me or wouldn’t be able to provide for me. He’s got this weirdly adorable thing where my dad’s concerned, constantly making sure things meet with his approval. It’s clear Ben thinks Dad’s the person to impress, emulate, and admire. Honestly, he’s not wrong. My dad is pretty awesome.

I miss him, Mom, and Joy. Fine, Shepherd, too, even though he sends me weird texts about the team’s latest season like Scored 2 points against the Beavers. The team, not the animals, or the vajayjays.

They’ve all been supportive of the tour, as long as we FaceTime weekly, and they’re coming out for a visit in a couple of weeks, when Shepherd has a few days off. They’re even coming to a Midnight Destruction concert as my guests, because of course they can’t talk to Ben while he’s in character. I think Mom is going to have a heart attack when she sees Ben in action live instead of on a small screen. It’s gonna be great. Joy and I can’t wait.

And Ben scheduled a break for us to go home to Maple Creek for the hockey playoffs, so Shepherd better make sure he’s there. Though Joy would kill him before I would if they’re not. As the local sports reporter, she lives and breathes for her home team being the champs.

Last time Joy and I talked, she told me that the gossip around town was that Roy was dating someone. I’d told her that I was happy for him, and it’d been 100 percent true. I haven’t even thought about him in a while, too caught up in my own day-to-day, but I do wish him well. I hope that his new relationship is exactly what he and his girlfriend both want it to be. I’ll even be excited to see if he actually ends up with a daughter named Sage or Olive. I wouldn’t mind a bit and would only be happy for them.

For now, I’m along for the ride, helping the band when and where I can. And they see me, thank me, and appreciate the things, both little and big, that I do. I’m not a lamp. I’m a freaking spotlight that everyone’s drawn to.

I’m just a spotlight that never quite knows what the day will bring.

“If you hurry, I got us room service,” Ben teases.

I pick up my head, blinking one bleary eye open. “Whu’dja get?”

He smirks, knowing the effect his words are going to have. “Cinnamon-sugar french toast, courtesy of the Marriott.”

Who needs a shower when there’s breakfast at two in the afternoon with the love of your life to be had?

B EN

I can’t help but smile as Hope opens her mouth, letting me slip a bite of french toast past her lips. She chews and does a cute little dance of food happiness. She hasn’t even realized that her hair is wildly sticking straight up after a night of wiggling around in her sleep. She still takes up more than half the bed every night, leaving me a tiny strip to occupy while simultaneously trying not to fall off the edge. And yes, more than once, I’ve met the floor, but she apologizes and invites me back to bed, snuggling into my side with her head on my chest. Until she’s passed out again.

But even beyond her being here, things are different on tour this time.

It’s not only Hope but also the hope we have for our future as a band. Midnight Destruction is better than ever. Sean and I did finally sit down—first with each other, then with Trent, and then with an entertainment lawyer, who basically slapped us all stupid for not renegotiating with AMM sooner.

Luckily, she helped us reach a new agreement with AMM before the album release of Losing Hope , because it’s been a huge hit. Well, categorically speaking. We’re never gonna be on Billboard ’s Top 100. But in our little pocket of music, the album’s done amazingly well, and both we and AMM have made bank on it.

Sherwood said there’s even been possible interest from a television show about putting the song I wrote for Hope on the season finale too. They think “Hope” would be the perfect musical overlay for the characters finding love, and I couldn’t agree more. But it’s still a maybe for now.

“Mmm, I’m so full, you’re gonna have to roll me to the RV,” she moans, rubbing her belly.

I grin. “That could be arranged. Or we could go for a walk,” I suggest.

Her eyes cut to me, immediately sensing that I’m up to something. “What do you mean ‘walk’? We have to be loaded up in”—she peers at the bedside clock—“twenty-two minutes.”

I shrug as I stand. “Get dressed. You’ve got five.”

Three, two, one . . .

“Ohmagawd! Are you serious? What’re we doing?” she shouts, standing up in the bed and scanning the room from her new vantage point to find her clothes. I point them out helpfully, and she jumps down, which I’m sure would freak out the guests below us except that we’re in the sweet-spot window when most people have checked out, haven’t checked in, or are out in the city.

She yanks a sweater over her head, pulls jeans on, and shoves her feet into socks and warm boots while I gather both our coats. She stands in front of me, arms at her sides and grinning in excitement, and I let my eyes drift up to her hair.

She leans back to glance in the mirror. “Ack!” she screams, immediately trying to tame her brown locks into a messy bun. I hold up a ponytailer, and she snatches it from me with a look of appreciation. “Are you going to tell me?”

“Nope, it’s a surprise,” I answer.

Hope still loves surprises. And I still love to give them to her. I’ve already arranged everything with the guys, who know we’re meeting them in the next city, not RV’ing with them.

Ten minutes later, we’re walking through the gates of a zoo. I’ve memorized the map, so I lead her directly to where I want to go. I can’t wait any longer, even though she seems particularly excited to see the tigers. “Ben, they’re so adorable!” she claims, trying to sway me. “Like huge housecats. I just wanna snuggle and cuddle and hug ’em.”

I’m pretty sure tigers are more like big versions of Vincent’s shop cat, Ginger Spice—the lookie-no-touchie kind—but I don’t mention it to Hope right now.

We enter the aviary, and I scour the big enclosure for what I’m looking for.

“This is kinda how we met,” she whispers, leaning into my shoulder.

I smile and point at a bird high on a branch. “There,” I tell her, and she follows to where I’m pointing. “Once upon a time, I was lost in more ways than one. I went out on a scavenger hunt, looking for titmouses—”

“Titmice?” she suggests, grinning at our weird inside joke.

I nod. “Looking for titmice and instead found ... love.”

Her eyebrows wrinkle as she looks at me, and I can hear her Awww before she even says anything. “That’s so sweet, Ben.”

“I wasn’t looking for you, but I’m so glad we found each other that day, because I love you.”

“I love you too.”

I clear my throat, and Hope stares at me in shock as I get down on one knee and hold up a ring I hope she loves. It’s traditional, a simple round solitaire in the middle, but surrounded by tiny black diamonds on each side. Her mouth drops open, and her eyes go wide. She waves her hands at her face in anticipation, and I can’t help but smile. She’s amazing. She’s everything.

“Hope Mercy Barlowe, will you marry me?”

And in the same way I like to surprise her, she loves to surprise me too. Instead of a simple yes or no like most women would give, Hope tackles me to the concrete, wrapping her arms around my neck as she plants a big kiss on my lips.

I think that means ... yes.

“This,” she says when she pulls back, “is going to make one badass fucking song.”

Being on the road with us might’ve corrupted her a little more than she realizes—changing her language, her focus, and her life—but she absolutely read my mind.

A great fucking song.

And a great fucking life.

With Hope. And hope.