The Heartstrings of Harry
Robin Knight
sep. 2025 · Mulligan's Mill Bog 5 · Tantor Media Inc · Oplæst af Gabriel McKnight
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6 t. og 22 min.
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Om denne lydbog
HARRY: Me, I'm just a simple guy living the simple life in Mulligan's Mill. I run the hardware store. No one here suspects I'm gay—least of all that I've been quietly in love with Dean Reeves for years. He's my best friend's son. I watched him grow up gentle and gifted, always strumming something on his guitar, lost in his music. But when he turned eighteen—when he stepped out of his backyard music studio, taller, broader, with something magnetic about him— I haven't been able to unsee it since. Now he's a real-life rock star, and he's coming back to town for a break. Just for a while, he says.
DEAN: I tell everyone I just need a break from LA—the noise, the pressure, the weird messages from that stalker. But the real reason I'm going back? Harry Dalton . . . my dad's best friend. He was always there when I was growing up, but after I turned eighteen, something shifted. I started noticing the way his forearms flexed when he lifted lumber, the way his laugh rumbled low in his chest. I've been trying to convince myself it's just a crush. That he'd never look twice at a kid like me, especially now that fame and fortune have left their dirty marks on me. But I still can't stop thinking about him. Coming home is supposed to be temporary. But if Harry looks at me like I'm not just some kid with a guitar . . . I don't think I'll ever want to leave again.
DEAN: I tell everyone I just need a break from LA—the noise, the pressure, the weird messages from that stalker. But the real reason I'm going back? Harry Dalton . . . my dad's best friend. He was always there when I was growing up, but after I turned eighteen, something shifted. I started noticing the way his forearms flexed when he lifted lumber, the way his laugh rumbled low in his chest. I've been trying to convince myself it's just a crush. That he'd never look twice at a kid like me, especially now that fame and fortune have left their dirty marks on me. But I still can't stop thinking about him. Coming home is supposed to be temporary. But if Harry looks at me like I'm not just some kid with a guitar . . . I don't think I'll ever want to leave again.
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