Sunday Morning

I’m sorry we feel like a lie. I’m sorry that this will hurt a lot of people we love. But, baby,” he kissed the top of my head, “I wouldn’t change what’s happened. My feelings for you are too big; they don’t leave any room for regret.

For everything there is a season … a time to be born, and a time to die … a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.

That look—the one she gave me—was bigger and better than anything in the whole fucking galaxy. With one single look, she simplified my existence and the meaning of my life to a singular purpose: spend every day working to earn that look from her. And if I could do that, I’d die a happy man.

I don’t want to imagine a time without her.

Sunday Morning,” Isaac grinned, taking my backpack from me and waving to Heather as he led me to his truck. “It’s Friday Morning,” I said. “Every day is Sunday Morning in my world.

I know the tenth commandment is Thou shalt not covet. And I’ve been breaking that one a lot lately,” he said. “How so?” I asked as Isaac physically brushed past me. “Sunday Morning, I’ve been coveting the fuck out of you since Easter Sunday,” he said, strolling out of the barn. I died and went straight to Hell.

We were either the bad kind of right or the good kind of wrong. It was hard to distinguish the two. We had a reckless love and perfectly awful timing. We were impossible to describe, and that’s why every time I tried to put us into words, it made no sense.

Music is what happens when your body and soul speak at the same time.

Baby,” he whispered over my lips as I rocked my hips with his in a building rhythm. “I’m okay with dying right here—inside of you.

When desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin.

Are you playing my guitar tonight?” “Yes.” I unbuckled. “Good. Lock your bedroom door and play it naked.

Sunday Morning, I want to write my name on every inch of your body. But I don’t think it would bode well for your relationship with my brother or the great union of the Cory and Jacobson families.” Isaac turned and opened the door while gazing over his shoulder. “But I promise it would blow your fucking mind.

You look handsome,” I said, staring at his tie. The swelling caused my eyes to squint permanently. “But I never want to see you in a suit again. If I die first, wear jeans and your cowboy hat to my funeral.” “On one condition,” he said, taking my hand and leading me out of the field. “What’s that?” “You let me die first.” I stopped, tightening my grip on his hand so he would stop too. He turned, eyes narrowed. “I can’t lose you,” I whispered. His expression softened, and he brushed his knuckles along my cheek. “That’s my line.” He kissed me, and I released his hand to wrap my arms around his neck.

You mean it’s my fault. Just fucking say it.” Blowing out a long breath, he looked at the sky for a brief moment. “Do you think I wanted to like my brother’s girlfriend? The pastor’s daughter? Do you think I did this for any other reason than I simply fell for you from the moment you smiled at me on Easter Sunday?” He shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe I’m selfish. Maybe after giving up everything for everyone else, I wanted something for myself. But fuck, baby”—his eyes reddened—“I want you.” He pressed his hand to his chest, clawing at it. “I feel it so damn deep in my heart nothing else matters. And if that’s selfish, then I’m guilty. If you need me to take the blame for everything that’s happened, I’ll bear the burden. I’ll take everything as long as that includes you.

Loving a man who made everything beautiful felt like the right path in the direction of happiness.

Heartbreak is unavoidable if you let yourself fall in love.

he has to come back. He loves you. He carried you out of a funeral. That’s the ending to all the great love stories.

I never signed up for classes at the community college. I’m not going to college. I’m going to sing songs. Songs about sex and love.

Find a guy who knows what he’s doing. Who loves giving you orgasms.” I closed my eyes as my head began to swim. “Isaac gives the best orgasms.

I’ll make my father buy me out. We’ll pack up and go to Nashville, or anywhere you want to go.” I furrowed my brow. “What are you talking about? Buy you out of what?” “The ranch.” He closed the tack room and tucked his hands into his back pockets while facing me. “My dad did something. I helped him out. And in return, he gave me fifty percent of the land.” Fifty percent of the Corys’ ranch added up to more than a fourth of the land in and around Devil’s Head. Brenda. Isaac knew about Brenda, and Wesley gave him half the farm to keep his mouth shut.

Do you think I should write a song about fingering the preacher’s daughter?” he asked.

My preacher’s daughter. I kidnapped her. She sings in the choir but secretly loves songs about sex.

Baby,” he laughed, “you don’t belong to anyone. I could lasso you, but you’d break free. I’m not taking anything that’s not given to me.

Does your family know where you’ll be this weekend?” “Between my brother’s girlfriend’s legs? No.

I love Matt because he was my first love. I love music because it’s my endless love. Isaac is just a transition—a bridge to a new road.

You don’t deserve to be on a stage until you’re ready to harness that power, to take what’s yours.

After the rodeo, Matt drove us to our favorite spot. It was torturous. The boy I’d loved and to whom I gave my virginity wanted to be intimate with me. But I still tasted Isaac on my lips

Isaac brought me to life while everyone else tried to crush my dreams, slamming one door after another. He blew off the ceiling and gave me wings. I was still upset on behalf of that baby cow, but I couldn’t fully suppress my grin as I took slow steps toward him, dragging my shoes in the dirt.