Never Stop

17. Via

Chapter seventeen

Via

T he ride back to Sugarland is quiet but isn't awkward in the least bit. I almost expected it to be, and I am glad it isn't. It's nearly comforting, even. That could still be all thanks to the wine, though.

The only sounds heard are the loud rumble of his truck and the music quietly playing in the background. His taste in music has changed as I hear a somewhat country twang barely coming through the speakers because he has it so low. My Ander hated new-age country music. He was okay with the classics, but they weren't his favorite, like hard rock and metal.

There used to be no denying that Metallica and Black Sabbath had a hold on him. Although I can barely hear the music, it doesn't sound very pop-ish, like most new-age country music. It certainly isn't like the pop country we used to make fun of, but it isn't like the classics we used to listen to, either.

The more I pay attention, the more I realize that the music that is playing sounds like a beautiful combination of rock, bluegrass, folk, and traditional country music; I've never heard anything like it. I like it. I'm just surprised that Ander likes this.

I stare out the window, watching the city lights fade in the distance and welcome the darkness and sparse street lights every few miles. I can feel his gaze rest on me occasionally, and I fight to hold back my smile.

We pull up at Open Tap's Bar back in town, and I guess the wine is starting to wear off because the nerves are beginning to fall in.

As he put the truck in park, I felt his hand brushing against my leg. My head whips up to look at him. His eyes look over me softly, and he looks worried as he sighs.

"V, I can't tell you how much seeing you again and finally catching up with you means to me. I'm not lost on the fact that this has to be a lot for you to take in—a lot for both of us. It would be best if you didn't feel pressured. If this isn't okay, then you need to tell me." The worried tone in his voice settles my nerves a bit. To know that he's probably feeling the same about all of this as I do puts me at ease.

I slightly grin at him and shake my head.

"I meant it when I said I'm not ready to go home yet. If this is too much for you , I understand also and don't want you to be uncomfortable." I keep my tone even, trying not to sound as desperate as I feel saying that out loud. It's the truth. I don't want this to end. As much as I didn't think I would, I wanted to hear about his life.

His expression drops into shock. Confusion? I can't help but look down at my lap and break our eye contact.

"V," His hand reaches up and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, which lingers there momentarily. He lets one finger trail down my cheek toward my chin until he gently lifts my face to face toward his. His hand stays there, and his thumb softly swipes back and forth across my skin.

"I have spent the past six years wishing I could do this with you, and now, here you are." He shakes his head, trying to process the thought. "The last thing I would ever feel around you is uncomfortable."

I shut my eyes and let out the breath I held while he was speaking. When I reopened my eyes, they immediately began searching for his. I place my hand on his, which is still on my face. I don't move his; I squeeze gently and say,

"Alright."

". . . Alright" He nods with a smile and turns to get out of the truck, rushing around the front to open my door for me. The butterflies in my stomach are dancing at the gesture.

The rustic bar is quiet tonight, which we are lucky for as it's usually packed on the weekends. We each take a seat next to each other at the bar. We place our orders and talk to the bartender for a bit after he gives us our drinks. We talk for a while as I ask him more rapid-fire questions to get to know who he is now .

"So, tell me something…"

"Hmm, what's that?" He asks, with a raised eyebrow and a panty-dropping smirk.

"Why the oilfield? I mean, you've always hated it. You swore you wouldn't follow behind your dad, especially after seeing how miserable it made him. You always wanted to move away and chase your dream of pursuing music. What changed?"

He doesn't seem taken aback by my question. He almost seems grateful for the conversation and my interest. His smirk even seems to widen a little.

"Life. Life changed. Life happened ." He pauses, taking a sip of his drink.

"I worked on the ranch for a while. Then, Dad's health took a turn. He decided to retire, and the ranch started to suffer financially. We needed money. So, Jett took over managing everyday life on the ranch, and I took over supporting it financially. I began working my way up the ladder in the oilfield to help bring in a steady income to avoid having to sell. Now, the ranch is doing well and is financially self-sufficient again. It's definitely not what I wanted or pictured for myself. The schedule is shitty, and the work itself isn't much better. Don't get me wrong, the money is great, but I don't see myself doing it forever."

I nod, understanding. Of course, Ander stepped in when he was needed. It's what he does. It's who he is .

To my surprise, Ander now doesn't seem very far off from the boy I remember so vividly, and that doesn't add up to me. I feel like who I was then is different from who I am now—like time changed me. How is he still so authentically himself?

Before I can respond, he takes my breath away with his next sentence.

"Also, my dream was never about just chasing the music. It was about following you ." His eyes flash away for a brief second, and I swear I can see all the pain that's buried inside of him. The pain that I've caused. As he looks back at me and our eyes lock, he smiles sadly and shrugs.

Just then, the bartender approaches with our next round of drinks. This time with a side of water, at Ander's request. I'm thankful for the interruption as the air between us was beginning to get heavy.

I'm very aware of the hurt I've caused him. I felt it, too, but seeing it painted so clearly on his face makes it all too real.

Once the bartender walks away again, I change the subject, attempting to lighten the mood.

"So. . ." I begin, with a sly smirk on my face, "I hear 'Mr. TikTok' is quite the internet sensation?" I ask playfully, his smile turns into a frown, and he rolls his eyes.

"Mr. TikTok?" He spits out a little as he lets out a rumble of a laugh. I nod in return as my lips form a line and slightly curl up at the corners, trying to stay serious.

"Yeah, a few of my songs blew up after some of the guys at work recorded me and posted the videos without me knowing. Since then, I have posted videos independently and even recorded a few for iTunes and Spotify. It's nothing serious, though. I don't even really pay attention to it. Honestly, I only started posting so they'd hopefully reach someone in particular, but it doesn't seem like they ever did," he says, his eyes intent on watching my reaction, and he shrugs slightly.

"Well, it sure sounds serious," I smile as I push the topic, not letting him downplay his success. "Your voice is worth hearing, Ander. It always has been."

He doesn't respond, but he continues to watch me. "Would I have heard any of your songs?"

He laughs, "Well, they were just playing in the truck. Other than that, I don't think so."

My mouth falls open, and I'm at a loss for words. "Ander, that was your music?" I ask, honestly in shock. Those were gorgeous. They played low, but the vocals were so prominent that I noticed the lyrics. That is not the style of music Ander used to write and sing. These songs were about love, loss, and yearning. They reminded me of love letters. . . Oh .

I reach over and grab his hand on his lap nearest me. "Ready for the next question?" I ask.

He turns his hand over mine and laces his fingers with mine. We both sit there for a moment and stare at our intertwined fingers. We both take time to relish this moment. Both of us are unsure how long this will last.

He finally shakes his head with a sly curl of his lips as he softly squints his eyes like he's got something clever to say.

"Actually, are you ready for the next question? I do believe it's my—" He's cut off mid-sentence by an ear-assaulting loud squeal in the small bar as a group of women approaches us with their smiles on display almost as much as their cleavage.

"Holy shit, aren't you. . . Bear Anthony ?" the shorter woman screeches as she leans between us, forcing our hands to break contact. She touches a hand to his knee. Another woman, the tall brunette, whispers to one of the others, "Yeah, he's that hot guy from TikTok who has a voice so raspy that it makes me wet on the spot."

I let out a very unladylike snort and cover my mouth with both hands to try and control the chuckle that escapes behind it.

The alcohol is doing its job at this point, and I can feel it buzzing through my system. I don't mind it, though; I haven't let loose like this in years. What I do mind is that I'm not sure if I can hold my thoughts back from becoming words out of my mouth quite as well as I can when I'm sober.

All six of the women's eyes flash to me. Most of them looked me over curiously, judgementally even. Two of them roll their eyes at me as if I'm an inconvenience and don't belong. Which only makes me chuckle harder and smile wider.

Damn alcohol .

He offers a simple "Yeah" and a nod their way. It's almost as if he's trying to stay polite yet dismiss them and get them to walk away. Ander isn't phased, as if he's encountered awkward situations like this a million times. He seems annoyed by the attention. He's never been one to enjoy the spotlight being on him. He's more like me, a hide-in-the-shadows kind of soul. This has got to be weird for him. The longer the women stand there gawking at him, the more uncomfortable he appears. I'm unsure if it's because I'm here or if this is how he feels. If he's anything like he used to be, he hates this no matter what.

These women are bold—very bold, too bold for my liking. In the blink of an eye, the small, mouthy one gets in between his legs and shouts, "Let's take a picture, honey!" All her buddies gather around Ander like he's a trophy. She doesn't even ask for a picture; she commands it. Is this how things are done now? I can't stop my eyes from rolling.

One of the quieter ladies, if that's what we are calling them, leans into Ander and says, "Don't you want at least one of our numbers? It's okay to ask us." Ander's discomfort is evident. His eyes dart to me and search mine. He glances back at the women in. . . annoyance ?

"Thanks, ladies. You all have a good night now," he dismisses this awkward interaction. His eyes are set on me, and he waits for them to walk away. They all begin to hurry off, except for Miss Mouthy Mouse herself.

"You know, since hearing your songs, I can't help but wonder, who the idiotic girl is that you broke your heart? I can fix it for you, you know."

Bold .

I gulp loudly and choke. I literally choke. I can feel my cheeks set fire, and my mouth drops as her words hit me to my core.

Ander, clearly in as much shock and disgust as I am, takes me by surprise when he says, "She's a woman worth fighting for, and my heart is just fine. . . now. You have yourself a good night." He leans forward, looking around her directly at me, and his hand reaches for mine.

She rolls her eyes but finally takes the obvious hints he's dropped and walks away. Thank god.

Dumb bitch .

"V, don't let that get to you," he says as he carefully rubs the tops of my hands. He tries reassuring me, but I pull them back and cover my face. I set my head down. I've held it in during that entire interaction and can't keep it in for a second longer.

"V!"

The cackle that comes out of me next shakes through my body. Ander gently pulls back at my shoulder, lifting me off the bar top. When he gets a good look at my face, his worried expression fades, and a slight smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.

"You're fucking laughing?" His voice is light and airy, but damn, that raspy tone to it, just like the woman said, it can indeed make a woman wet instantly, and it does .

"You had me worried, woman. Those girls were so damn rude and disrespectful."

My laugh only gets louder. As it does, his smile widens. God. That fucking smile. The way his brows arch together in confusion, but he's too into seeing me smile like this even to ask.

"Aw, you were worried about little ole me, Mr. TikTok?" I snort out.

I open my mouth and point a finger down my throat, making audible gagging sounds. "Oh, Bear Anthony! Here, take my panties as a trophy," I tease, mocking the group of women who just melted at his feet, and it didn't even phase him one bit.

"Only you, Rosie. Only you would laugh right now." He shoves me playfully as he laughs back just as hard. I shiver at the sound of my old nickname for him escaping his lips. We stay there giggling like grade school kids longer than I'd care to admit. It all feels so familiar. It's us . This feels like home . Lord knows I haven't had that feeling in far too long. I haven't laughed like this in years. Not to mention, I haven't felt this comfortable since I've been with him last.

We order one last round of drinks and another two rounds of water. By the time I notice it, it's after midnight, and he's fairly and unfairly kicked my ass at playing pool one too many times.

"I thought you said you got better at this?" He laughs out.

"No. What I said was I like playing it now, unlike when we were kids. I never claimed to be any good at all." I correct him with a chuckle.

"So, what you're saying is that you like playing even though you suck?" The words come out of his mouth, and I know he doesn't mean it in the way I'm taking it, but my smile fades, and my cheeks redden. All the hormones crash in on me at once, and I want to show him that it's possible to be good and suck all at once. Because with him, I could be good at sucking. I don't say anything. I bite down on my lip softly as he stares into my eyes.

I nudge past him softly to break the fallen silence between us. I am leaning over the pool table right in front of him, not touching him, but almost. Damn, at this very moment, with this much alcohol in me, I'm in the right mind to grind up on his tall, sturdy frame. Instead, I keep a safe distance. I look at him over my shoulder and flash a smile as my hair falls over to the other side.

"You know, instead of talking shit, you could always show me."

His slight grin fades as he inhales a short breath, his cheeks redden, and I see the bobbing of his Adam's apple. He closes his eyes for a brief second as he lifts his baseball cap and runs his hands through his dark, shaggy hair before replacing the cap and putting it on backward again. Holy shit. The man is fucking sexy without even trying. He takes a step closer and leans in as he whispers into my ear, pointing up towards him with my head still over my shoulder.

"V, I'll show you anything you want me to."

He slides his hands onto my hips. His touch is gentle on me as he positions my hips for me, and I move along with his hands. I look ahead at the table and let out a breath. One hand stays on my hip, and the other moves to my elbow, positioning that as well.

I slowly turn my head back to see him. His face is closer this time as he's leaning in over me, but the only contact our bodies are making is where his hands are on me. He explains some gibberish about stance and instructs me on how to get the perfect shot, but I don't hear shit. I'm lost in the rasp of his voice and the sting of his touch that ran through my veins, and I don't want it to end. Once he's done speaking, I nod as if I actually have a clue as to what the fuck he just explained. He removes his hands and leans his tall frame, crouched over the pool table, standing barely inches from me. Before I take my shot, I look up to see his eyes.

"Like this? How does this look?"

His tongue swipes over his lips as he takes his time, his eyes raking over my body without a care that I can clearly see him.

"Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect. Now, go for it!"

Shit . The intensity of his glare hits me right between my legs.

What the hell is wrong with me ?

I go for the shot, and I'm not even sure what the outcome is because the next thing I know, he swings me into a hug and spins me, saying, "There you go!" Our faces are mere inches away from one another. We are so close that I think he will lean in and kiss me.

He doesn't. I wanted to kiss him for a second, but I didn't.

The embrace lasts less than thirty seconds, and when he sets me down, I have to compose myself and the beast inside of me that wants nothing more than to feel his hands on me again.

I suck at pool, but I liked sucking at it because I liked having Ander's hands intently placed on my body—such tenderness and gentleness in his touch.

It's well after two a.m., we're back in his truck, and he's driving me home. This ride isn't quiet like the last, and Teenage Kicks by the Undertones plays softly in the background. For some reason, I can't seem to shut the hell up. He sits there and listens like the absolute gem that he is.

Now and then, I catch him looking over at me with his signature sexy, smug grin that I remember so well.

". . . The last I heard from Izzy was that you were in a long-term relationship." I say with a sigh, dropping my shoulders and head, "I created this entire scenario in my mind of your happiness. I envisioned you living this beautiful life where you smiled all day and would laugh so genuinely hard that the sound rattled whatever room you were in."

He pulls his hand out of mine and lifts my chin, regaining eye contact. I shake my head softly as I continue, "You aren't supposed to—"

He scoffs, "Rosie, I have never been in an actual relationship since you."

I let his words soak in, but I'm still confused. "Izzy said Abbie told her—"

He takes a minute to sort through his thoughts before finally speaking again: "I wouldn't say Jessica and I were ever in a relationship ." He says the word "relationship" with air quotes.

"It was supposed to be a no-strings-attached friend-with-benefits thing. She caught feelings, and I was trying to fill a void. Numb pain. She wanted something that I wouldn't give her. I couldn't give her. So I ended it. It was the only thing to do to be fair to her. She wasn't a bad person; she just wasn't. . ." He eyes me up and down. I can't help but think he's trying to say that she wasn't me .

"We weren't compatible in that way. Hell, no one has been. I came here annoyed- Maverick told me he found the perfect woman for me, and it pissed me off. I thought he was full of shit because I knew there was only one woman- Then you walked in. . . You walked in like you never left. . ."

My breath hitches, and a small tear pools up at the corner of my eye and makes itself home there as I hold it back with everything in me. The words he spoke sucked the breath right out of me. Those words warmed and broke me all at the same time. After everything that I put him through, put us through, how could he still be holding out hope for me?

Part of me wants to tell him to pull this truck over so I can ravage him and give myself over to him right now, but the other part, the annoying bitch and sensible part, takes his words as a wake-up call that I've let tonight get way too far.

He's saying everything I've only dreamed of hearing for years—to know that he still has hope for us. However, that doesn't change my fear of Liam, and I am not willing to risk Ander's safety.

Liam being locked away means nothing. I know what he's capable of.

If I finally told Ander the truth and everything I knew, it may help him understand. It would help him to know how much I've always truly loved him down to my core. It would also open up an entirely new disaster that I'm not sure I'll ever be ready to face. He knows enough about Liam; he would kill him, without question, if he knew everything.

Although the thought of Liam being gone and no longer a threat to my life would be such a relief, that would also ruin Ander's life.

The thought that I've always been Liam's secret keeper makes me sick to my stomach. I don't do it out of loyalty, unlike he thinks I do. I don't do it out of fear of him, necessarily. I've grown immune to Liam's antics. It's hard to hurt a person you've already broken. I fear for the truth to come out, and all of the other people I care about that I know will be hurt in the wake of that truth bomb exploding. I fear how they will perceive me and if they will take my lies and coverups for Liam as a deception to them.

I still feel ashamed about my past. Dr. Carr has helped me cope with it, although I fight her every step of the way—delightfully. I've spent years trying not to be fragile and broken. I am trying to rebuild myself. I haven't done the best job, but I fear that those realities being exposed will only damage all the work I've done for myself .

I look out the window, and silence falls between us for the rest of the ride. The song changes to Numb by Abe Parker, and the lyrics are not lost on me as I drink them in. The air is thicker than before, but I'm not uncomfortable. I am sad, though. The alcohol is wearing itself off, and I don't know what to say or how to really feel right now.

As we pull into my driveway, he grabs my hand; out of instinct, my body turns to face him in the cab of his truck.

"V, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," I say, offering what I can of a half-ass attempt at a smile.

"Thank you for tonight. I'm glad it was you. I haven't laughed like that in. . ." I let out a huff, "In years. I really needed it. . . I can't tell you how glad I am that you're doing well." I squeeze his hand and caress my thumb across the top of it, not wanting to let go, but I do . He nods, not able to look me in my eyes.

He knows this is goodbye, but neither of us will say it. We made a promise at the age of twelve to never say goodbye. He won't break it. It's not who he is or how he's built. I love that about him. He is true to himself and me, even when it's hard and hurts.

Without another word spoken between us, I turn away, hop out of his truck, and make my way to my front door.