Henry padded across the bedroom floor with his crooked grin in place, an acoustic guitar clutched in one hand, and a glass jar candle in his other. “Alexa, turn off the bedroom lights.”

The room plunged into darkness except for the single soft point of light dancing from the candle Henry placed on his nightstand before crawling into bed. After brushing a hand through Ellis’s hair and skimming another kiss over his temple, Henry settled against the headboard with a pillow behind his back and the guitar resting on his lap. “This is Betsy. She’s seen me through quite a few different stages of my life and career. We found each other when I was barely a tween, and she’s the only acoustic I’ll play.” He winked. “Wouldn’t want to cheat on my best gal, after all.”

Ellis lay back against his pillow and smiled as Henry stroked Betsy’s sleek wooden neck with the tenderness and devotion of a committed lover. When Henry strummed a few chords and used his ear to tune it to his desired specs, Ellis’s heart flooded with emotion.

He wasn’t a musician himself, but he understood how intimate a tuning session was. Especially with a cherished instrument like Betsy. Ellis was honored to be allowed to share this sacred moment between an artist and his treasured tool.

Once Henry seemed satisfied with the pitch of his strings, he drummed his fingers over Betsy’s face. “I know it’s late, but will you let me play you a song?”

It’s not like the question came out of nowhere. Henry had brought his guitar into bed, after all. Yet, for some reason, Ellis’s heart bloomed at the thought that Henry wanted to play him a song. He hadn’t brought it into the room as some after-sex wind-down ritual or to ease himself to sleep. No, he sat there with Betsy in his lap because he wanted to play Ellis a song.

“I… Yes.” His voice was raspy and breathless, but he didn’t bother to put more force behind it when he said, “Of course.”

“Good. Then this is for you, Ellis Tremaine.” Henry smiled, then closed his eyes as he played the first notes, their crisp splendor filling the room and arrowing straight into Ellis’s very being.

They were the first notes of “Heartbeat Away.”

Sure enough, Henry’s rich tenor joined the ringing warmth of Betsy’s strings and carried Ellis’s heart well beyond his reach. It was gone forever now. Lost to the beauty of the man seated at his side, strumming an acoustic guitar and singing just for him.

For the briefest of moments, Ellis allowed himself to wonder how Henry’s mass of screaming fans would react to a private candlelit rendition of a love ballad sang by none other than the Prince of Pop himself. They’d probably keel over dead, and if they managed to survive the shock, it would be a story they’d tell the world. Every chance they got.

But as Henry opened his eyes and aimed those heavily lashed hazel pools right into Ellis’s soul, all other thoughts fled. He allowed the love-laced words to carry him away as Henry’s voice wrapped around him like a thick, comforting blanket.

When the song finally came to an end—after more than a few extra repetitions of the chorus that the Colosseum’s audience had never been graced with—Ellis floated back to himself slowly. He hadn’t even realized Henry had set Betsy aside or blown out the candle until he slid under the covers and used his strong arms to pull Ellis against his chest.

Then, speaking into the darkness, his voice barely above a whisper, Henry murmured, “No matter what happens, I’ll never be more than a heartbeat away. For you. Forever.”