Surrender & Salvation

Ten years ago Skye Monroe left St. Francisville and David Kincaid just as his career was taking off. Now she’s back to take photographs of the bad boy Country superstar on sabbatical as he tries to rehab his image and career. She could have turned down the assignment, but she didn’t. Was it curiosity, the need for closure or something more that brought her home? Whatever the reason, she can’t deny the fire he still ignites within her with just a look, but is she willing to give him another chance?

David Kincaid’s life started to unravel the day he got his record deal, which also happened to be the day Skye Monroe walked out on him. Since then no amount of fame, fortune or women can fill the void she left behind. When she suddenly appears on his door step for a magazine shoot, looking and sexy as ever, he realizes he’s willing to do whatever it takes to win her back. But is it too late to salvage their relationship and what’s left of his career?

Read Part One - Homecoming - here
Read Part Two - Revelations - here
Read Part Three -Memories - here

Surrender & Salvation

by

Fiona Summerville

Declaration

“Skye, what the f-…”  Once again Skye cut him off with a wave of her hand before she picked up her camera and stormed out the backdoor of the kitchen onto the sun porch. Through the panes of the French doors, he watched the hard line of her back slowly start to bow as a barely visible convulsion racked her delicate frame. She was crying. Dammit! David slammed his fist on the countertop. Why couldn’t he do right by that girl, just once? Instead of acting like a dumbass Romeo, why couldn’t he just play it cool? Take some pictures, maybe reminisce a little and just let her go on with her day and on with her life. No, he let the vision of her writhing beneath him as he licked chocolate off her tight, little belly get the best of him and his dick took over from there.

God, she tasted so good. Warm and sweet, just like he remembered. And when she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, it took every ounce of will power he had not to take her right there on the counter. He glanced out the French doors, again. She was perched on the edge of the wrought iron daybed as she fiddled with her camera. Her eyes were puffy, and the tip of her nose was pink, but otherwise she looked composed. He groaned and forked his fingers through his hair. It was time for him to salvage what he could of the afternoon. He would apologize for his improper behavior, let the girl get her photos and be done with it. There was no use in revisiting something that was long buried and uncomfortable for the both of them.

As he opened the double French doors, a clap of thunder roared overhead, rattling the windows and sending Skye lurching off the daybed. David’s brow furrowed. Thunder storms had always rattled her nerves, and apparently they still did. In the past, he had his own unique way to distract her while the storms raged, but given what had just happened in the kitchen, he wasn’t going down that road again anytime soon. Instead, he stood silently behind her and waited. When a flash of lightning tore across the sky followed quickly by another boom of thunder, Skye hopped backwards. He caught her and wrapped his forearm across her chest, pulling her to him. She struggled against his arm, but he didn’t let her go. “Shhh, Skye. I’m sorry about earlier.” He felt her stiffen, but he continued softly. “Hush, baby…I know how you are with storms. Just relax.”

“It’s starting to rain.”  She said simply as she stopped resisting.

He wrapped the other arm across her chest and chuckled softly hoping to ease the rest of the tension he could feel coursing through her body. “You still have an incredible grasp of the obvious, Ms. Monroe. Rain is usually the end product of a storm.”

“It's just that I was hoping to see – get some exterior shots of you on the property.” She sniffed. “You know, Hillbilly Rock Star at home in the swamps, and all that.”

The melancholy in her voice tore through his heart. She had always loved this place, and by her wistful tone, she still did. She used to enjoy “getting lost” on the property. Which meant she would keep to the trails until her wanderlust took over and then he would find her further back in the woods than he felt comfortable with her going, but she would just laugh and tap the pocket where she carried her Kimber .45. He snugged her tighter. “You can still see the property, Skye. Once the storm passes, we’ll take the Gator out. What were you thinking? Maybe get some shots of the Hillbilly Rock Star chopping wood or wrastlin’ ol’ Hank?”

She giggled, and relaxed into his arms.  “Hank’s still around? I figured someone would have gotten that old cagey alligator by now.”

“Nah, he knows he’s got a good thing going. From what Dad tells me, he rarely ventures more than 50 feet from the dock. Probably doesn’t help that Dad started feeding him marshmallows.”

“Marshmallows?! You’ve got to be kidding!” Her laughter danced through the sun porch causing David to smile softly. God, he missed hearing that sound. He rested his chin lightly on the top of her ball cap and pulled her closer when he felt her flinch as the lightning and thunder began an all-out assault in the sky around them. The temperature had dropped a few degrees, and the air smelled clean and fresh. He would have liked nothing better than to cuddle up on the daybed with her and listen to the rain on the roof, but he knew better. He sighed, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Come on, Girl. Let’s go inside. Maybe you can take some photos in the music room while we wait for the storm to pass.”

She nodded and he dropped his arms, turning to lead the way back in only to have her scamper past him as another deafening roar of thunder shook the house. He laughed as he pulled the doors closed behind him. “Gee, Skye, don’t worry about me. Save yourself.”

“That was pretty bad, wasn’t it?” Her eyes and nose crinkled as she laughed. “I almost forgot how bad the storms get out here. We don’t get anything nearly as violent in Cali.”

“You like living out there?” He asked as they walked down the hall toward the stairs.

“It’s nice…temperate.” She replied, her tone unconvincing.

“Have you ever thought about moving home?” He asked softly.

She paused for a moment as they climbed the stairs, gazing thoughtfully at him. “Yeah, I have. As pretty as California is, there’s just no comparison to the wild beauty of the swamps. I got some of my best landscape and wildlife photographs out here. Like they say, there’s no place like home, but…” She let her thought trail off as she continued up the stairs. “What about you? Do you miss it when you’re away?”

He stayed silent as he followed her up. Considering he had only been home twice in the last ten years, on the surface, he supposed the answer was “no”, but in reality it was more a case of not wanting to be in the place that reminded him most of her. It was only his father’s insistence that he take a few months off to regroup that brought him home this time. Unfortunately, instead of getting his shit together, he spent his first weeks back in an alcoholic haze trying to outrun the memories that confronted him in every corner of the house. It was bad enough her memory dogged him on the road, but here her spirit was hardwired into the house. He couldn’t write, couldn’t eat. Hell, he couldn’t even sleep in his own bedroom. And, now she was here, in the flesh, and more under his skin than she had ever been before. Why had she come back? Was she trying to prove something to him, or to herself? She let him kiss her, but then pushed him away. Was this her attempt at some cruel game of payback? If it was, she was winning. Fuck! She was killing him.

He threw open the doors to the music room and made a bee-line for the wet bar. He could feel her eyes boring into his back as he grabbed a new bottle of Jack Daniels and cracked the seal. He knew his change in demeanor had startled her, but he didn’t care.

“Please David, don’t.”

“Don’t what, Skye?” He growled. “Don’t drink? Don’t kiss you? Don’t fuck the groupie? WHAT?!”

His roar reverberated through the room. She moved towards him slowly, carefully, as if she were approaching a wild animal, setting her camera on a nearby table. “David, I care about you, but this…this isn’t you.”

“Oh, that’s rich.” He snorted as he splashed the amber liquid into a crystal tumbler. “You care, now? It would have been nice if you’d cared ten years ago, but you didn’t. You just ran. For what it’s worth, I never slept with her, Skye. I never intended to sleep with her. You saw what she wanted you to see, and you believed her, not me. You just didn’t love me enough to find out the truth.” His voice cracked taking with it the dam that held back ten years’ worth of emotions. He moved to where she stood stock still, eyes cast downward. Tears burned in his eyes as he tipped her chin back forcing her to meet his gaze. “Why did you leave me, Skye? I thought you loved me.”

She tugged her head free from his grasp, and he let his hand drop. “David, I tried so hard to support you and your dream. I knew how much it meant to you. And I was fine with it all, the traveling, the late nights, even the drinking, to a certain extent. The only thing I couldn’t deal with was the women.” He tried to interject, but she stopped him with a wave of her index finger.

“It wasn’t anything you did, David. You were so good. Coming home to me even when I knew the guys were still out blowing off steam after a gig. Calling me every night when you were on the road. You did everything right. It was me...my insecurities. You may not have slept with Chrissy Jordan that night, David, but there were hundreds of Chrissys out there that were going to try to lure you into bed, and I just couldn’t bear the thought that someday you might actually give in to one of them.  I loved you too much.” She reached a hand up and stroked his cheek as she took a ragged breath in, held it for a moment and then exhaled slowly.

“I still do.”