Sing for Me (The Langston Brothers Duet, #2)

by Brittany Ann

His eyes held mine as he said softly, “Say it for me, baby.” Baby.

“You are stronger than your trauma. You are braver than your fears. You have blossomed over these last six years, and the progress you’ve made should be proof enough that you’re an incredible, strong, resilient woman.”

My body tightened at the sight of her, like it always did. She stood tall, around five nine, curvy, her amber hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun. My girl pulled that shit off. Fuck, it was cute.

“Harmony.” I shook my head and looked up to him as he towered over me. “Yes?” I breathed. His lips twitched, and amusement filled his eyes under his cowboy hat. “I open doors for you, got me?” I nodded, still not moving. I was being sucked into his storm, ready to get lost in it forever. He bent down to get into my space. “That means you gotta let go of the handle for me.”

“What else can you cook?” “Looking for a personal chef, Mr. Langston?” I asked coolly, dropping the dough onto the surface. “If it’s you, yes. Anyone else, fuck no,”

“This is also, eventually, me getting down on one knee and putting my ring on your finger. This would be us starting a family, because I do want children, always have. If you don’t, I’ll learn how to deal, because that’s how much I fucking want you. That’s how much I want this, Harmony. You weren’t a part of my plan, but I have been thanking the heavens above every single day for hearing your cry for help.”

“There’s gonna be times when I’m a dick, and I want you call me out on it. You did it here, but you also assumed I was the type of spineless man who laid their hands on women.” She opened her mouth, but I talked over her. “Forgiven, baby. Don’t think about it anymore. It’s over. Done. You don’t wanna be controlled, and I don’t want to control you.” Except for in my fucking bed. I left that part out. “I’m sorry for going in there and pulling you from your job. You enjoy it, you’re good at it, and I disrupted that because I was seeing red.” Her features softened. “I forgive you.”

COMMUNICATION

“God ain’t here, baby. If you wanted God, you should’ve stayed away from cowboys,”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to contain myself as the images of my baby cornered, trembling, as some fucker touched something that wasn’t his washed over me.

“Nah, Cherry, you aren’t hearing me. Langston and I are the same kind of a man. One look at you, and I knew.” Oh, no. Swallowing, I rasped, “Knew what?” He tipped his head down to my bottle in my lap. “Someone fucked you up, sweetheart,” he stated, his voice still soft.

“My advice, Cherry, is this: tell him. Tell him everything you can. A man like that has to know his woman’s pain.” “Why?” I croaked, embarrassment heating my cheeks and tears stinging my eyes. His features softened. “He’s gotta know, Cherry.”

“Sweetheart, I may be a bull riding star. My name may be plastered all over the tabloids, my bank account may be full, but make no mistake: I’m a cowboy down to my fucking soul. Cowboys don’t play games when their women are involved. Not only has this asshole messed with my woman, but he’s also fucking with my family’s land. He will get neither,” I promised, my voice dark.

“Who the hell is that?” Denver asked. Everything. She’s my everything. My eyes hit Valerie for a second before going to my brother’s. “My wife,” I answered, enjoying the words on my tongue, their taste. “Mase,” Jigs gaped, shocked. “Your wife?” Denver barked. “His wife, honey,” Valerie confirmed softly, looking to Denver.

“You gonna be alright if I hug you? Cause this old man has missed you.” That was Eddie, a respecter of boundaries. “Of course, you can, Ed,” I allowed, throwing my arms around him. With a grumble from Mason and a chuckle from Eddie, I was wrapped into a hug. “Glad you two are safe,” the rodeo clown whispered into my curls. “You gonna say that to me or just my wife, asshole?” Mason clipped. Letting go of Eddie, I spun, slapping Mason’s hard chest. “Be nice,” I demanded, shooting him a glare.

“Who are you and what the fuck do you have to do with Mo—” “Don’t say his fucking name!” The roar came from my bull rider, as he moved around my chair, his hand leaving my body.

“Come here.” His arms opened wide, and I didn’t hesitate. I needed something, and my Zoom calls with Garcia weren’t cutting it anymore. I crashed into his solid frame, my arms wrapping around his waist as it hit me. Before I knew it, my body was shaking, and I was soaking his pearl snap with tears. “My boy do something stupid?” he asked, hugging me back. He sighed. “Didn’t want to kill him, but I will for hurting you.”

“Nancy, I’ve made my decision. I’m moving to Colorado.” I looked at Eddie, my brows coming together. He wasn’t looking at me. No, he was looking at the nurse, awe-struck. “You got a name, handsome?” the woman called. Ed shook his head. “Perfectly fine with you calling me that for the rest of your life, ma’am.” The woman blinked. “Val! Get out here before I do something reckless and marry a cowboy! “Ew! Are you going to marry Beau?” a young voice shouted from inside the house.

Denver came to a stop about twenty feet away before he helped Harm down, his hand in hers. The sight of her made me feel like more of an ass. She was dressed in a white tank top, and a long black skirt that had little white polka dots on it. My baby was also wearing her Docs, because she didn’t go anywhere without them. There was something missing. Her bottle. Fuck me, where was her bottle?

“Denver,” Val rasped, running down from the porch and dropping down to her knees behind him. A soft hand touched my back. My obsession, my safe space, my sweet Harmony, the blessing who brought me home. “Mason,” Jigs croaked, stepping up to us. “My strong boy, why didn’t you tell me?” My strong boy. Jigs was more of a father figure to me than Pop ever was. My eyes stung, but I blinked the tears away. Cowboys don’t cry. “How could I? He was your best friend,” I countered, pulling my wife to my side. Immediately, she anchored herself to me. “No, why didn’t you tell me?” Denver growled, looking up at me. “I’m your fucking brother!” “And his fucking favorite!” I snapped back. “Pop was a god to you, Den! You fucking worshipped him.” He was on his feet then, pulling his woman up as well. His finger pointed to his chest as he vowed darkly, “I would’ve put his ashes on the mountain, Mase! The second you told me, I would have!” I was silent, my hand tightening on Harm’s hip, trying to register his words.

Denver came into the living room, sans the cowboy hat, carrying two beers. He handed one to his brother and as if they’d been doing it their whole lives, they clanked the tops together and took a healthy swig. Val looked like she was about to cry, Nancy looked satisfied, and my jaw was on the ground. Mason just punched Denver an hour ago. Was this how cowboys made amends?

“My husband just punched you an hour ago.” The rancher nodded, rubbing his bearded jaw. “Yeah, and he punched me again a few minutes ago—” “Mason,” I scolded, glaring at my bull rider. He took a pull of his beer and shrugged. “Told him I wanted two, baby. He let me have two.”

“Sammy is mine, you hear me? He doesn’t get her. That’s my daughter. If somehow, a cowboy like me gets into heaven, that little girl is mine. Fuck, I love her so much.”

Then he jogged to us. He climbed up the rail to us and held out his hat for Caleb. Their normal routine. “Hold on to that for me, bud,” my cowboy said. Caleb immediately set it on his head. “I’ll keep it safe for ya, Uncle Mase.” “Atta boy,” he replied, smiling at his nephew. Then, he turned to me. “You enjoy the show, Mrs. Langston?” “You’re my favorite bull rider,” I breathed, gripping his vest and pulling him to me. Our lips collided and, as always, my wild cowboy kissed me breathless. When he pulled away, the cheers around us were deafening, but I didn’t miss it when he murmured, “You’re my favorite song.”