Page 13 of The Price of My Sins
Hardly anyone ever sees this side of me. At first, it was just my grandparents—quiet witnesses to my talent. I would let the guitar do the talking when the nightmares hit, the tunes taking me to a place where everything was good in my life.
Then came Olivia.
She stayed over one night, and I thought maybe having her there would hold the nightmares back. I was wrong. They would still come—loud, violent, like my mind was trying to claw its way out. I would grab my guitar, sit in the dark, and start playing like it was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
I didn’t hear her footsteps. I didn’t even know she was awake. But suddenly, there she was, still in the doorway, eyes half-closed but alert.
“You okay?” she’d asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
I didn’t answer. Just kept playing. The notes were raw, like open wounds.
She stepped closer. “Was it another one?”
I nodded once. My fingers didn’t stop. A nigga wasn’t embarrassed. When I was young, other kids thought I was soft because I played the guitar, but the teasing didn’t faze me. My demons outweighed their taunts or whatever they thought of me.
“You always do this after?”
“Only thing that works,” I muttered, barely loud enough for her to catch it.
She sat down on the floor across from me, legs pulled to her chest, watching like I was something fragile about to break.
“I didn’t know you played like this,” she said. “It’s… it’s beautiful.”
“Yeah,” I said, eyes still on the strings.
Snapping out of my thoughts, I tried to shake her from my frontal lobe. It’s been a few days since the incident at my house. I chuckled just thinking about how Olivia beat the breaks off Bambi’s non-fighting ass. That woman was wild, beautiful, smart, and feisty. All the things I loved about her were all the things that drove me crazy.
And yet, underneath all that fire, there was this softness she didn’t let many people see. I saw it in the way she watched me when she thought I was asleep. The way she loved for me to hold her as she lay on my chest as she slept. The way she would get sassy when she couldn’t get her way. Olivia wasn’t just a storm—she was the calm right after it too. And damn if that didn’t keep me hooked.
I stayed in the studio for another hour before the rumble in my stomach let me know that I hadn’t eaten anything since this morning. Shutting down everything, I left the studio and headed to the kitchen to heat up some leftover lasagna that I cooked yesterday.
Once the oven hit the perfect temperature, I slid the lasagna in and decided to take a ride around the grounds while I waited. I headed back to the room, peeled off my shorts, and pulled on a pair of worn jeans. I threw on a plaid long-sleeve shirt next, and then ok[-some boots. I rolled the sleeves up to my elbows, ready for a warm ride. I made my way to the stable, the air cooler now, carrying the scent of pine, dust, and something faintly sweet from the wildflowers that’d started popping back up near the fence line.
“C’mon, boy,” I said, stepping into the stall. My horse, Ghost, snorted softly, ears flicking toward me before he nudged my shoulder like he’d been waiting on me all day. I patted his neck and slid the saddle on, routinely tightening the straps.
Mounting up, I clicked my tongue and nudged him forward, easing into a steady pace that took us toward the outer edge of the property. I loved being out here. It was so peaceful and therapeutic for the soul. The land didn’t lie to you—it didn’t pretend. It either held you up or let you fall.
I let Ghost take his time, reins loose in my hands as we rounded the far corner of the fence line. The sound of crickets and the occasional creak of tree branches swaying—there was nothing but open land and fading sunlight in my view. Already, I could feel the stress of the day leaving my body. That was until I saw her, and my heart began to thump inside my chest.
At first, I thought I imagined it—thinking it was just a shadow by the old pecan tree near the ridge. I pulled on the strap and slowed Ghost to a stop, squinting against the light. Sure enough, it was Olivia.
She was standing with her arms resting on top of the fence, the denim jacket she took from me wrapped tight around her. I licked my lips, slow and deliberate. Olivia knew every inch of space between us was hers to command. Her confidence is another thing that attracted me to her. She wore a white, sleeveless button up shirt that tied at the waist. The blue jeans she wore clung to her curves, tracing the lines of her hips perfectly.
“What are you doing here, O? And how did you know I was here?” I asked, my voice low and sharp. I was still angry, but damn, it was good to see her.
“I tried calling you first. When you didn’t answer, I called your grandmother, and she told me that you were here. Can we talk?” There was a glint in her eye, something unreadable. Ghostwent to sniff her, and she quickly backed up. She was always scared of him.
I smirked. “Why are you scared? I told you… he’s harmless.”
“Bo, you already know I don’t fuck with his big ass. Now, back up. Look at him… he’s sizing me up like I owe him money.”
“Man, stop it. Come on. Get on and ride with me.”
She shot me a look, keeping her distance. “Bo, you know I don’t mess with that horse. His big ass got too many opinions.”
I laughed under my breath, while Ghost snorted as if agreeing with her. “You’re ridiculous,” I said. “You're just dramatic, man.”
“I’m just tryna stay alive,” she muttered, eyeing him like he might lunge at any second.
