Dark On Me (Borrowed Faith Book 2)

by Ruby Rowe

  “I’m back.”

  “Where are you?” Olivia asks.

  “Uh, I’m traveling. I promise to explain more about what I do when we meet in person.”

  “And here I thought you were intriguing before. At least tell me where we’re meeting so I can make arrangements in the morning. I know Blair is coming with me, and possibly my brother. He’s protective, so I imagine he’ll want to join us once I tell him about you. Is that too weird?”

  “No, I get it. I’ll text you the info when we hang up.”

  “Are you going to tell me your entire name?”

  “Soon. Are you going to tell me your last name?”

  “It’s Bradford, and I guess I should get some beauty sleep.”

  “You’re hoping I’ll like you. Admit it.”

  “Oh, my gosh, I’m nervous enough. Don’t make it worse.”

  “I knew you were into me. I’m going to impress the shit out of you, and you won’t be able to resist spending more time with me.”

  “Aren’t you the confident one?”

  “I’m sending positive vibes into the universe. Peace, sex and rock and roll, babe.”

  “You have been drinking a lot.”

  “I’m going to get you to party with me.”

  “Maybe.”

  “There’s the rebel I’m cultivating.”

  She giggles, and I get a little hard.

  “I seriously need my beauty sleep. Night, Z.”

  “Good night, Butterfly.”

  Ending the call, I grin like a fool. Talking to Liv makes me so damn happy, but I’m going to be nervous as hell when I meet her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Apple

  “I had my housekeeper clean yesterday, but there’s probably still shit lying around. I guess she steps over it,” Tripp says with a bashful smile before we walk into his condo downtown.

  He lives far from my parents (at least with traffic) but it’s cool that he’s closer to the bay.

  “Did you live here with Nathan?” I stroll into the expansive living room and study the wall on my right. Hung up are photos of the band, some of Nathan and Tripp together and awards they’ve won.

  They’re displayed for everyone to see, and I’m happy Tripp’s proud of his accomplishments in music. It seems he’s hard on himself in every other way.

  “Nate had those put up.”

  I hold in a snicker. I thought too soon. Turning to face him, I wrap my arms around his neck.

  “You should be proud of all that you’ve accomplished. The odds were stacked against you because of your upbringing, yet you defied them.”

  He kisses me, and I melt against him.

  “Thank you. My sheets should be clean. I’ve been looking forward to twisting your body every which way in my king-size bed.”

  “We do have a little time before visiting my family.”

  “It sucks they’ve had days to stew over our phone call about the engagement.”

  “Mom’s happy for us, and she said Dad’s handling it better than she expected; except he’s worrying about whether I’ll still work for him or not. My brothers will be the hardest to win over, but they don’t have to like it. It would mean the world to me if they did, but I’m an adult, and they need to remember that.”

  Tripp looks toward the sliding glass doors that are free of any covering. The summer sun is shining in, and I love how it enhances the natural highlights in his golden-blond hair.

  “Are you going to stay here when I leave for the Canadian and European tour?” he asks, swallowing distinctly afterward.

  “I’m going to talk to my dad about working from the road. With technology today, I don’t see why I couldn’t. We’ll be here when the eMagazine launches, so that’ll help.” I turn his chin back to face me.

  “I have every intention of going on tour with you. I couldn’t bear for us to be apart that long.”

  He grins, his relief and happiness reaching his alluring eyes.

  “Really?”

  “Of course. I hope that hasn’t been eating at you.”

  “Only since I put that Band-aid on your finger.”

  “Sweetie, you have to get used to talking to me. You could’ve asked sooner if I was going.”

  “I worried I wouldn’t get the answer I wanted.”

  “Not a chance.” I poke his chest. “Now, give me a tour of your place.”

  “You make me damn happy. As soon as we christen my bed with hot, sweaty sex, we’re going to go pick out a ring. I’m not seeing your parents without one on your finger.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, angel.”

  Taking my hand, he walks me through his condo that is surprisingly airy and light. It has three bedrooms, and the rest of the home is spacious.

  “What’s in there?” I ask as we pass a closed door that Tripp didn’t point out.

  “That’s Nathan’s room.”

  “You haven’t emptied it?”

  Rubbing the back of his head, Tripp exhales a laborious breath, and my heart hurts for him.

  “It’s exactly like it was the last time he was here.”

  “Bed and everything?”

  “Yeah… I’ll open the door in the mornings, and seeing his unmade bed makes me feel like he’s here. I’ll imagine that he just sent some chick home he had between the sheets, a hookup he’d later tell me he regretted because of Faith, before going out on the balcony to drink mimosas and smoke.”

  Tripp chuckles. “He was such a girl sometimes. I like to think he’s going to walk back in any minute to wake my ass up. I try to catch up on sleep when we’re home. I mean, that used to be our routine.”

  Fighting my tears, I pull my gaze away from the closed door that holds so many parts of Nathan behind it. I clutch Tripp’s waist and stare up at him. What I’m about to say is difficult and not something he’ll want to hear.

  “From all the years I’ve heard from people on the other side, I’ve learned it can be hard for them to move on when their loved ones can’t. I hope you won’t get angry with me for asking this, but how do you expect Nathan to find peace in the afterlife when you’re hanging on to him so tightly in this one?”

  “I haven’t thought about it.”

  “You can remember him every day from what you feel in here…” I point at his heart. “And the memories you hold here…” Cradling his head, I glide my fingers through his hair.

  “I get what you’re saying, but I’m not ready.”

  “When you are, I’ll be here to help. Maybe we could turn the room into something he’d love. A little family room to relax in and listen to music. We could add some large beanbag chairs and hang photos of him on the walls since he loved attention so much.”

  Tripp covers one of his ears as his eyebrows pull together. Letting go, he rounds his eyes with astonishment.

  “He just spoke to me. I heard him.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. He said, ‘Right on.’ He likes your idea … and you, but I already knew he wanted us together.”

  The fact Tripp believes he heard from Nathan and could tell me about it leaves me euphoric. He’s healing every day.

  Looping my arms around his neck, I stand on my tiptoes and crash my lips against his. He envelops me in his strong embrace, and once I hear his low, sexy growl, I know he’s going to introduce me to his bedroom next.

  I can’t wait.

  Zain

  “Mr. Richie and Ms. Cottrell, I can’t thank you enough for picking our place to perform tonight,” the bar manager says in the small room at the back of the joint.

  I’d guess him to be in his mid-forties, and his hair’s getting too gray to sport that long ponytail. “We have everything set up, so as soon as you two are ready, I’ll introduce you.”

  “Sure thing,” I reply. “I appreciate you letting us crash your bar last minute and for not announcing it to the public.”

  “No problem. Is there anything either of you need?”


  “We’re good here,” Faith says.

  The man leaves, and I mumble, “Fuck, what was I thinking?”

  “Dude, chill. I love the idea, and this chick will, too,” Faith replies.

  Gripping the back of my neck, I stop and look at her. As if she thought it was best not to steal all the attention tonight, she covered her assets in black leather pants and a loose gray top that hangs off one shoulder.

  “Maybe you should sing the song like we originally planned,” I suggest.

  “No. You’re going to sing it. You wrote it, and it’s personal to you. Let’s face it; some of the audience is going to tape us and share it everywhere. It’s the perfect opportunity for people to see another side of you. A real side of you.”

  “I’m not doing this gig for anyone else.”

  “No, but it won’t hurt if it gets you some positive press.”

  “What if Olivia gets angry because I didn’t tell her who I was?”

  “She’ll understand why you waited, and she’s going to think it’s cool as shit that you’re famous.”

  Walking over to the mirror, I look at myself. I’m fucking exhausted, and I think it shows around my eyes. I fool with my dark hair, trying to decide if it’s too messy looking.

  “It’s hilarious to see you this worked up over a woman you haven’t even met.”

  “You have to peek out there once she’s here and tell me if I’m gonna like what I see. It’s fine if I won’t want to jump her bones. She’s nice, smart and funny. That’s what matters, right?”

  Faith crosses her arms and gazes at me like she’s seeing me for the first time.

  “I’m impressed, Z. I like this side of you.”

  “Thanks, I guess. Pete and Larkin are going to be pissed we did this behind their backs. Will Asher give you shit about us going rogue?”

  “Yeah, but then he’ll get to punish me for it.” She winks, and I vomit a little in my mouth.

  “Gross. He’s old, and I don’t want to imagine him in his boxers while you’re chained to his bed.”

  “He’s not even forty, and I’ve never said he wears boxers. You’re creating this image all on your own.”

  “So, he does chain you to his bed. Disgusting.”

  “You’re trying to distract yourself from what we’re about to do.”

  “Yeah, and it’s not working.” I walk over to the small table next to the loveseat and pick up my bourbon.

  As Faith takes her turn admiring herself in the mirror, she says, “With the lights, you won’t be able to see the back of the audience. Just imagine it goes on for miles like when we’re playing in arenas.” She grips her hips and turns around. “We do this every night.”

  “Not in intimate settings where I’m the lead vocalist. I don’t know why, but I have this dire need to impress this chick. She’s different.”

  “I see that. You’ve got this, and I’ll be right by your side to save you if you slip up.”

  “Thanks, Faith. I knew you were the one who would get me through this.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Olivia

  “I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Landon says as we walk down the sidewalk to a dive bar in San Francisco’s Mission District, an artsy, old, eclectic neighborhood. It’s a far cry from the gated golf course community we’re accustomed to.

  “You’ve said that a bunch of times, but no one forced you to come.”

  “I wasn’t letting you meet this guy without me. This isn’t our scene, and who knows what’s behind those doors,” he replies as we approach the aged, two-story building.

  As we stare at the front of it, chipped paint and all, Blair says, “I think it’s cool we’re doing something different. Is he meeting us right inside?”

  “He said a buff guy with buzzed hair would be at the door and to tell him my name. It’s all so mysterious.”

  “I checked this place out online, and it said it was open mic night,” Blair adds. “I bet your date is the screamer in a thrash metal band. He probably wears thick black eyeliner, no shirt, and leaves the top button of his tight leather pants undone so you can see his happy trail that leads to his sterile package; you know, since the circulation to his ballsack has been cut off one too many times.”

  “I’m going to hurl,” I reply. Landon laughs, and I don’t find this amusing. “What if Z seldom brushes his teeth and it’s all I can focus on? What if his hair is full of dandruff? He doesn’t have to be gorgeous, but good hygiene goes a long way.” Reaching the front door, I halt. “Stop. I need a safe word in case I want to bail. And, on a positive note, I need one that says Get lost. I want to be alone with him.”

  “You’re not being left alone with this guy,” Landon replies protectively. “You barely know him.”

  “That’s my call, and we already addressed how you don’t get to be my overprotective brother tonight.”

  Blair snaps her fingers. “If you want to bail on him, just say you have to get up early to prepare for a 4th of July family picnic. If you want us to give you space, mention that you have no plans tomorrow and can be out late.”

  “That works. Ready?” I take one last look at my attire and wonder if I’m overdressed. I’m in light skinny jeans, a shimmery black tank top and heels. Thankfully, Landon didn’t wear a polo shirt. He and Blair both thought to dress less conservatively tonight.

  I open the door, and the rock music we heard outside becomes considerably louder. A man’s eyes veer our way. He’s got to be the guy Z was referring to.

  He’s super fit with short blond hair and looks like he could play for the NFL. His black blazer is stretched tightly over his biceps as he stands with his arms crossed. He’s intimidating, but I get the nerve to approach him.

  “Hi, I’m Olivia. Do you know Z?”

  He looks me up and down before a broad smile spreads outward from his lips.

  “I do know him. I’m Nash. Come with me.” He starts walking, so after stealing a quick glance back at Blair and my brother, I follow the man.

  We walk across a checkered-patterned floor and into a large open area. There are high-top tables on each side, and the middle is open for people to stand and face the stage that’s straight ahead of us. The room’s crowded with onlookers, but it’s not packed yet.

  We follow Nash to the front table on the left, and after removing a Reserved sign propped on top of it, he holds his hand out.

  “These seats are for you and your friends.” Reaching inside his blazer, he pulls out a folded piece of paper. “Z said to give you this.”

  Glancing at the note and then up at the man’s eyes, I take it from him. My hands are shaking as I hop up on the front left chair to face the stage. Blair takes the right one, and my brother sits at the back of the round table.

  “Read it,” Blair orders.

  “I’m so nervous.” Covering my stomach, I take two deep breaths to gather my wits before I open the folded note.

  Olivia,

  I would never lie to you, but I did omit some pertinent information about my identity. When you realize who I am, please don’t leave. Give me a chance to explain. Friends listen, right?

  Zain

  I jerk my head in Blair’s direction as I pass Landon the note, knowing he’ll swipe it from me if I don’t.

  “I think you were right about him being a musician.”

  “Why? What does the note say?”

  After reading it, Landon hands it off to her.

  “He was passionate about music when we talked, particularly rock music.”

  “Then sterile thrash metal singer it is,” Landon replies.

  “Can you attempt to be positive? At this point, any guy has to be better than Ken, and what do you know about thrash metal?”

  “Your brother is cooler than you think. I have more than one secret in my closet.”

  Hearing someone tap the mic, I give my attention to the stage. A man who’s all grins with excitement in his eyes is looking out over the crowd.

  �
�Audience, you’re going to be thanking the rock goddess above that you chose to show up tonight. We have two surprise performers, and your jaws will need scraped off this floor when you hear their names and listen to the set they’re about to play for you.

  “They’ve never done anything like this before, so I hope you already took a piss break because you won’t want to miss a second of their performance.”

  Moving away from the mic, the guy whispers to a young man at the side of the stage.

  “Holy shit,” Blair says, “this Z sounds famous.”

  “Maybe he’s only famous to those who frequent this bar.” Noticing the two stools on stage and the lowered mics in front of them, I clench my stomach again and survey the room.

  No one but Nash has spoken to us, and since there’s only three chairs at our table, I’m guessing Z isn’t joining us. That means he must be one of the musicians performing tonight.

  The man returns to the tall mic and grins. “Ladies and gents, it’s an honor for me to welcome to the stage Faith Cottrell and Zain Richie from the band Borrowed Faith.”

  The loud gasps in the room startle me. Everyone begins to yell and look around at each other as I try to process what the man said.

  I know that band. Landon leans forward at the same time Blair leans into me.

  “Holy shit!” she says.

  “Holy shit’s right,” my brother adds. “Sis, you’ve been talking to the lead guitarist of Borrowed Faith. Z is for Zain. Zain Richie.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Blair says as she jerks back up and stares at the stage. Opening and closing my dry mouth, I watch Z, the guitarist of a band I listen to on the radio, take a seat on the stool before me. Have I really been talking to Leon Richie’s son?

  This can’t be right. There’s no way I accidentally called one of the most famous musicians in the world. No. Way.

  Blair finds my hand under the table and gives it a squeeze.

  “Girl, your life just changed forever.”

  Zain’s eyes meet mine before he gives me a nervous smile. He holds my gaze, singling me out, while the clapping and hollering from the audience ensues. He’s not looking at anyone else.