“You could say that.”

“Can I guess?”  She bit her lip and tucked one foot underneath her.

“No,” he said.  “I’m not giving anything away.  You’ll like it…I think.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she said.  She crossed her legs pretzel-style and stared out at the changing landscape.

Brennan pulled off of I-94 and started veering through the streets.  The area was nice, and Devon found herself admiring the beauty and simplicity of life in the suburbs.  Her parents lived in the suburbs, and while this was nothing like southern Nashville, it had the same feeling.

“This area is beautiful.  Where are we?” Devon asked as they crested a hill.

She sat up taller in her seat and stared out at the shore of Lake Michigan.  It stretched for miles and miles past her line of sight.  It was gorgeous and glorious in its magnitude.

“The North Shore.  Evanston,” he told her, driving down the hill.

“Wow,” she breathed, transfixed on the passing scenery.

Brennan slowed to a stop in front of a large all-brick house on a plot that bordered the lake.  “This is where I grew up,” he said softly.

Devon’s eyes left the house and landed back on Brennan.  “This is…your dad’s house?” she asked, feeling overwhelmed that he would bring her here.

“Yeah.  It was.  Mine now…I guess,” he told her, pulling into the driveway.

After the car came to a stop, Devon opened the car door and slid out of the seat.  Brennan popped the trunk and pulled out his guitar case.  Devon smiled.  She liked seeing him with that.  He had been playing and singing to her a lot more when she was at his place.  It relaxed her and brought her back to the first gig she had ever seen him perform.  She had been so caught up in him and his music that she had left the venue.  She hadn’t trusted herself to be with him then.  Her feelings were too strong even at that time.

They walked up to the front door, and Brennan just stood there with the key in his hand.  He took a deep breath and slid the key into the slot.  He turned the door and immediately disabled an alarm system.  Devon cautiously stepped inside, feeling almost as if she were trespassing.  But this was Brennan’s home.  He owned it.  It belonged to him.  It was somehow still a part of him.

He stood next to her, his muscles tensed, as he breathed in the emptiness that was once a home.  She could tell this was hard for him.  He had told her before that he only came up here to mow the lawn.  She didn’t know the last time he had been inside.

Devon reached out and placed her hand in his own.  She squeezed gently, just letting him know she was there.  She was there for him, just like he had always been there for her.

“I should have had someone come in here to clean beforehand,” he said wistfully.  It should have been the last thing on his mind, but the only thing he could concentrate on.

Devon didn’t even notice that the house needed to be cleaned.  She was too busy admiring the house itself with its massive high-vaulted ceilings, enormous fully furnished living room with a fireplace, and the twelve-person dining room table with antique china held in a nearby glass cabinet.  The foyer opened to a spiral staircase, leading to a balcony upstairs.  And that was just the view from the entranceway.  Devon couldn’t imagine what else lay beyond.

“It’s beautiful, Brennan,” she said, awestruck.  She had been raised in a big house, but this was Brennan’s house.  It felt different.

“Thanks.  My dad really cared about the place.  He took good care of it after my mom left.  I guess I was in the fifth grade when that happened,” he said with a shrug.  “The house was too big for just the two of us.  I think he wanted more kids, but he loved my mom too much to remarry.”

“Is that why she thought he would leave her money?” she asked softly.  She would have never asked that before, but now, she felt it was better just to get her questions out of the way.

Brennan faced her with a smile.  “I think so.  I’m glad he didn’t leave her anything though.  She didn’t love him anymore.  She didn’t deserve it.”

“No, probably not.” Devon wrapped her arms around his middle and held on to him tightly.  “I’m so sorry about your dad.”

“Me, too, Belle.”

He kissed the top of her head, and he let her hold him until they both had their emotions back under control.

“Come on, I’ll give you a tour of the house, but first, I want to show you something.”

He took her hand in his and walked them down a long hallway.  Devon peeked into an open door on the left and saw a kitchen that was bigger than Brennan’s apartment in the city.  It had all dark cabinets, granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances.  Devon gawked as she passed.

They entered into a sunroom framed with full-length glass windows.  The entire room stretched out to the length of the house.  It opened up onto an adjoining balcony that had wicker rocking chairs and a porch swing.  The balcony had a set of stairs that led down to a covered rectangular pool.  Beyond that was the entire expanse of Lake Michigan.

“Oh my God,” she gasped.

“Pretty nice view, right?” he asked.

“Pretty nice?” she stuttered, turning to face him.

He was already staring at her.

Brennan dropped his guitar case on the porch, and then he bent down and kissed her, crushing her to him.  His lips were hot on her.  She threw her hand around his neck with abandon.  All her thoughts stilled, and there was only the two of them.  She was lost to the rest of the world, and for once, that was the right way to be.

They kissed like that until Devon pulled away.  Breathless, her chest rose and fell heavily, and when he smiled, her insides ignited.

Grasping her hand again, he picked his guitar case back up, directed her down the set of stairs, around the pool, and down a large set of stairs to the shoreline.  She kicked off her sandals before she sank her feet into the dark sand.

“Thanks for coming with me.”  He set his guitar case on the last step and then took a seat next to it.

Devon sat down on the step and stared out at the beautiful backdrop.  “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

“I, uh…wanted to try something,” he said, “if you’ll humor me.”

He reached for his guitar case, unlatched the lock, and pulled the guitar out of the container.  It was the same one he had played on the night of his open mic performance.  He had another one that he usually played at home, but she liked this one better.  He picked at the strings and adjusted them until they were in tune.  She watched his hands strum the guitar with precision.  She had never thought she would be interested in a musician.  She tended to steer clear of them, but as with everything else, Brennan was different.

Brennan started humming the final song that he had played at the show, “Moving Forward.”  She had heard it dozens of times over the last three weeks, and she knew all the words.  Now, it made her heart happy rather than sad.  He had known her pain even before she had allowed him in.  That kind of chemistry and intuition astounded her.

He paused in the song, but he let his fingers continue to pick out the tune.  “Will you do me a favor?

Devon nodded.

“Take the higher octave on the chorus?”

Devon stared at him.  He wanted her to sing?  She hadn’t let herself sing anywhere, except the car and the shower, in years.  She wasn’t even sure if she still had a good voice.  Music called to her but in lyric form only.  She wasn’t an artist.

She shook her head.  “No, Brennan, I don’t sing.”

He smiled like he didn’t believe her.  “Humor me.  No one else can hear you out here.”

Devon looked around the shoreline.  He was right.  No one else was outside right now.  The house was empty, practically deserted, and only the lake was before her.  Still, she could hear herself.