THE SUN HAD dipped from the sky by the time Madigan finally got home, and she was relieved to see Tobias’s motorcycle. She’d called to let him know traffic was horrendous, and they’d agreed to meet at her place, but she should have been there forty minutes ago. At least she’d made good use of the time and had finally figured out what to do about her work situation.

She climbed out of her Jeep and was greeted by the low, husky sound of Tobias’s singing “…And learn to reconnect with the life…I’ll be trying to catch up on all my memories.” She followed his voice along the side of the house, stopping at the edge of the backyard to listen. He was sitting in the screened porch, playing his guitar. There was a backpack at his feet, and he was looking down at an open book on the table as he sang. Even from at least thirty feet away, she could feel his energy. It was mournful and hopeful, and that hope was beautiful. She stood there, unnoticed, listening to the end of one song and the beginning of another, his voice escalating with the upbeat tune.

As she stepped out of the shadows, he was so intent on the book and singing, he didn’t notice her making her way to the porch.

“It’ll all make sense like it did. I’ll connect the dots again…I’ve been hurting like a kid. And nothing hurts like thinking you’ll never be present…”

The emotion in his voice was so raw, it brought a lump to her throat. She’d experienced the gut-wrenching pain he was singing about, the horrific ache of knowing she’d never see Ashley again. She never would have thought to describe it as hurting like a kid, but that was exactly how she’d felt after Ashley died. She opened the door to the screened porch, and he looked over, his broody eyes filling with warmth.

“Hey, Blue Eyes.”

He held out his hand, and she went to him, noticing the backpack was full of unopened letters and the book on the table wasn’t a book after all. It was the journal he kept in his guitar case. He took her hand, pulling her into a kiss and guiding her to sit beside him on the wicker love seat.

TOBIAS WAS CONSUMED with emotions from the memories he was singing about, but none were stronger than the relief of seeing Madigan. “Traffic sucked, huh?”

“There were two accidents. Sorry it took so long. What song were you playing?”

He shrugged. “I guess I’ll call it ‘Tonight.’”

“You just wrote it?” She couldn’t hide her astonishment.

He shook his head and tapped the open journal. “I wrote it a long time ago, but it wasn’t a song. It was a letter to Carrie that I never sent.”