Reverb (Trojan Book 2)

by S. M. West

  “Let’s go before we’re soaked.” I kiss the top of her head once more and we break apart.

  Like a shield against the onslaught of rain, I hover over her tiny frame and we race to the passenger side of the Jeep. She clambers in and I slam the door, darting around the front of the vehicle and sliding into the driver’s seat.

  The loud rain pelts the windshield and blurs any view of the residential street.

  “You’re really wet.” Her fingers wipe at my damp cheeks, and she smiles while I pull at the soggy fabric of my Henley, now sticking to my chest.

  I whip it over my head and rummage in my bag on the back seat for a sweatshirt and something for her to wear.

  My chin dips at the light blue tank and sweater clinging to her. “Take that off.”

  She peels the first layer, trying to pull her arms from the skin-sucking sleeves. I fumble to gather the wet strands of her hair into a ponytail, lifting the thick bundle from her shoulders so she can easily remove her clothes.

  My fingertips graze the nape of her neck and she quivers. She could be cold or reacting to my touch. I’m betting the latter when her eyes smolder, dipping to my naked upper body.

  “Hey, perv, like what you see?” My teasing causes her cheeks to flush. “I love your eyes on me, but let’s get you out of these wet clothes.”

  Next to come off is her damp tank, exposing her tiny skin-tone bra. Her nipples pebble, and it’s my turn to feel a drastic shift in temperature.

  My insides blaze, the crotch of my jeans suddenly tighter and throat drier than a desert. The only thing to quench my thirst is Eva.

  The tip of my tongue peeks from my slightly parted lips, longing to taste the smooth expanse of bronze skin, glistening from the rain, between her small, perfect tits.

  “Can I drive?” She looks up at me, a sly grin mapping her beautiful face.

  Little minx. She knows what she does to me and is using my muddled brain, overloaded with thoughts of her, to get her way.

  “Are you okay to drive in this?”

  We stare through the windshield at the heavy rain. It’s torrential.

  “I’ll be careful. And it isn’t far.”

  Pressing my lips together, I mull it over. The drive is short, and we could stick to the side streets mostly.

  Eva has her license, although she’s still a new driver. This will be her first time driving in these conditions.

  One look at her and I’m a goner. As if there was ever any other answer than yes. “Okay, but go slow.”

  I chuckle, running a towel I found among my clothes through my hair and then doing the same for her. We put on dry clothes, and she slides over my lap into the driver’s seat.

  We’re almost derailed by the switch. Her small, tight body resting on mine is enough to make me lose my shit. But I won’t take her in the car, not too far from a party when anyone could walk by and see us.

  It isn’t like we haven’t gotten carried away in my Jeep before. We have, but it’s been in a secluded place and I’ve planned for it, being sure to protect Eva.

  Cruel slashes of rain cut across our vision at a mind-numbing speed. She slows, inching toward the red stoplight. Traffic isn’t heavy at this time of night, the weather likely having something to do with that, and we’re the only car headed south.

  Green flashes atop the light box, and the Jeep rolls forward into the empty intersection. She shifts the gear, releases the clutch, and returns her hand to complete the ten and two position on the wheel.

  To my right, a black SUV speeds toward the intersection, oblivious to the fact that their light is red. They don’t have the right of way.

  The Jeep’s rear passenger side is hit. Glass shatters and metal twists.

  Smash. Pop. Screech.

  We’re spinning, Eva screams, and my hand reaches blindly for her. Lightning fast and my world is turned upside down.

  Everything has a before and after. Most moments are inconsequential and, in a blink, forgotten.

  Yet some claim you forever. Either strengthening or plaguing you till the day you die. The crash is one of them, gorging on my soul.

  Limbo

  “Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.” ~ Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven.

  13

  A game of tag

  JARED

  Running hard and fast, away from me, her raven hair trails behind her. I race after her.

  “Eva!”

  Her melodic laughter carries through the air, fading as she dips over the hill. Not once does she look at me.

  Look at me.

  I sprint. In pursuit. I’d laugh if I could. It feels like a game of tag, yet my stomach twists with dread. This isn’t child’s play, fanciful and meaningless, even if it’s laden with nostalgia.

  The first time I ever saw her was much like this. She was running, free with the wind.

  A butterfly.

  No, she was being chased.

  She’s now a speck on the horizon. Her red dress is a burst of…it looks a lot like blood.

  Panting, I gulp in air, pushing my legs as hard and as fast as I can. My chest burns. I’m dizzy, no longer able to see her.

  “Eva!” Frantically, I spin and spin and spin.

  So much pain. My body is heavy, tight, throbbing. I feel like I may explode with the pressure and agony.

  I’m upside down, belly rolling, nauseous. Enclosed and stuck, I beat my fists against glass. Like bats, Eva also hangs upside down. Hair covering her face.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  Blood runs through her strands.

  Blood is everywhere.

  A small hand hangs awkwardly, and I grab for her. Lifeless. Her fingers slip from my grasp and an icy chill cling to my bones.

  The bellow startles me, vulgar and savage, kicking my heart near out of my chest. The yelling continues, incoherent. Enraged and sad.

  It’s me. I’m the crazy person, causing madness and mayhem. A blinding white light stings my eyes.

  Doctors and nurses rush at me. I should stop fighting. Clamp my mouth shut, but I can’t stop myself. It hurts so fucking much.

  My insides bleed, an agonizing hole of nothing.

  She’s dead.

  “Watch his abdomen.” Kind eyes land upon me.

  A doctor stands to the side, instructing amidst the chaos. I’ve seen this doctor before, in moments of consciousness. I think she might have even been nice to me.

  Orderlies hold down my arms, someone restrains my legs, and a nurse carries a needle toward the bed. She grabs the IV line and inserts the sharp point.

  “He’s lucky,” some asshole says. “I was told the Jeep was destroyed. He has a few broken ribs and wrist, a mild concussion, a punctured lung, and a bruised spleen.”

  You forgot my heart.

  The asshole doesn’t mention I lost my heart.

  Yeah, I’m real lucky.

  Three of us were mangled in the wreck—the other driver and the two of us—but I was the only one to survive. Living doesn’t seem fair especially since I no longer have anything to live for.

  I swallow a swell of sadness. A dense, sluggish fog settles over my body, weighing me down. My world is black.

  Regret, guilt, and anger taint every breath I take. I close my eyes and I see her. Always her. She is everywhere and gone forever.

  Loss and grief plague me. She hounds me day and night. My life is overrun with her ghost, never far from my thoughts and forever etched in my heart.

  14

  Not a fairytale

  EVA

  His cool lips press against my closed dry ones. A stabbing pain shoots from my neck into my skull and nausea swirls, climbing up the back of my throat.

  “I—I…” Unable to form words, I flee from the altar, the wedding ring firmly on my finger.

  “Eva.” Miguel’s concerned tone carries after me through the chapel.

  There are a few gasps of worry as I
leave the man I just married, standing in a church filled with our guests. My father calls my name and there’s the clippity-clack of high heels close behind me.

  I should feel guilty for not explaining to everyone why I have to go, but I just can’t. I need to lie down.

  Miguel can make the apologies and excuses. He’s the consummate host and will have the guests forgetting about the runaway bride in no time.

  He, of all people, knows too well how debilitating my headaches can be. They are a souvenir from the crash only I survived. Something I’ll have to manage for the rest of my life.

  All of this could have been avoided. It’s been ten years since the horrific accident that altered my life and forever killed the light in me.

  I know better. The signs were there, telling me I was in for a massive headache if I didn’t slow down and relax. I know how to live with this nasty side effect, how to treat and even prevent the headaches, so long as I listen to my body before it’s too late.

  Now it’s too late.

  I didn’t listen. I ignored the signs, pushing past the tension mounting at the base of my spine. The aches and pains. I was too caught up in wedding plans.

  And if I’m being truthful, I was consumed with making peace with my decision to marry Miguel.

  I’ve known him most of my life. A friend in Spain who we’d see on summer vacations. But that changed.

  After the collision, when I was able to fly, Papi and I moved here. Abuelo had the resources and money to get me the medical care I needed. My father put aside his overblown pride and dislike for the man and, come to think of it, it seemed he couldn’t get us to Spain fast enough.

  And when I got here, still in no condition to walk, Miguel became my steadfast companion. Bianca was barely around, off living her life.

  Miguel was the only one who stood by my side and took care of me. He was a true friend. But only a friend. I had no plans to marry him.

  Over the past decade, he has proposed so many times and every no was as hard as the last to say. Not because I didn’t mean them but because I didn’t want to hurt him and lose my friend.

  He wouldn’t take no for an answer even if I never loved him like I thought I’d love my husband…the only man I will ever love.

  One day, exhausted, I finally relented. If I couldn’t have love, I would take friendship. It was Miguel who pushed for that kind of logic. I’ve been nothing but honest with him.

  “You okay?” Bianca enters the small room where I sit on a chair, head back against the wall and eyes closed.

  “I’ll be fine.” An eyelid cracks open to find my sister pulling down a blind.

  “You just ran off. Is that any way to treat your husband?” Her tone suggests this is all my design. Like I have a choice and my headache is made-up.

  I love my sister, but it’s at times like this I am reminded why I should be grateful she stays away for long stretches of time. She lives in California.

  “Eva.” Miguel bursts into the room, rushing to my side.

  “I’m okay.” I clench my teeth and wince. “It’s a headache.”

  Every word pierces the back of my head. His hand sweeps across my forehead and he leans in, examining my pupils.

  He isn’t a doctor, not even close, but he’s helped me through enough of these episodes to know what to look for.

  “Where are your pills?” His clipped tone is inconsistent with the worry marring his olive complexion.

  “I’ll be fine.” I push, trying to straighten in the chair and show him I can shake this off. “I just need a few minutes.”

  I hate taking the medication. The pills are hard on my stomach and they knock me out, and that’s why I don’t have them here.

  “Miguel.” I clutch at his arm for strength. “I don’t have them.”

  “Well, I do.” He pulls the bottle from his coat pocket.

  Frowning, I don’t understand why he’d even ask about my pills if he had them. It hurts too much to think, and maybe that’s why it doesn’t make sense.

  But something else niggles at me. He would have had to go through my things to get the pills. We don’t have secrets, but why would he do that?

  He would have gone through the bag I had packed for the few days we have planned in Madrid. I won’t call it a honeymoon.

  He has business for my grandfather’s company in the capital, and he asked me to come with him. Since it’s right after the wedding, it made sense. Besides, we may be married but it isn’t like that.

  “Where did you get those?” I look up at him, and he only shakes his head as if annoyed with me.

  “Take these.” He thrusts the two pills into my hand and snaps a finger at Bianca. “Water.”

  My sister arches a brow, none too pleased with his commanding nature. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s concerned, nothing more.

  “If I take these, I’m out for the night. I’ll have to go back to the hotel.”

  He knows all this and all he does is nod, staring at me expectantly as she hands me a glass of water.

  “Take them. Now.” His fingers caress my cheek. “You will be better in the morning.”

  15

  Darkness and drought

  JARED

  A blurry dark mass of hair, arms, and legs flies down the hall of the thumping house. Her cries are muffled by the partiers scattered everywhere.

  Music, shouting, and laughter blares throughout the record label’s mansion. Usually these parties are a blast. This one is awful.

  Just like my life.

  Fuck, maybe the incessant bass is in my head and no one else hears it.

  Wouldn’t be the first time.

  My numb, clumsy fingers fumble for the zipper and button of my leather pants. Stringy hair hangs in my face, and there’s a vile stench coming from somewhere.

  I stagger from the room, rubbing a hand down my bare, sweaty chest, and gag. I need another hit. Something to even out this tilt-a-whirl and erase the memory of the fucking ménage-à-trois fest.

  What the hell was I thinking?

  Oh, right, I wasn’t.

  Boom.

  My teeth clack together and my chin hits the floor. I’m face first on the carpeted hallway. The tinny taste of blood floods my mouth. Did I bite my tongue? Fuck my life.

  “Shit, J, you okay?” A strong hand curls around my arm, hauling me onto my side.

  I roll, leaning my back against the wall. My gaze sluggishly tracks up the person in front of me. Black beat-up combat boots, jeans, bare chest, and blond hair is everywhere.

  “Silas?” I squint, not sure if it’s my bandmate standing before me or if I’m so fucking high, I conjured him.

  Wouldn’t be the first time.

  If it is him, there’s two, or is it three of him? And he looks pissed—or is he gonna be sick? Just how I feel.

  “How did you do that?” I ask, waving my fingers in the space where I just saw more than one of him.

  I grab, reaching for him. To see if he is real. Nothing. There’s only air. Maybe he isn’t here?

  “Do what?” He brushes his long hair off his face.

  “Make yourself a double.” I can barely make out my words.

  “Shit, you’re way more fucked than I am. And bleeding.” He bends down, peering closer to me.

  “Bleeding? Where?” My hands slap at my body, or at least that’s what I’m trying to do, but I don’t feel a thing.

  “Here.” He taps at my chin, and I reach up with a hand and wipe at the small bit of blood by my mouth.

  “Yeah. Bit my tongue.” I don’t feel any pain.

  I’m like a balloon in the sky and I’m floating. My body lifting into the air.

  Sweet.

  “Listen, I’m leaving.” Something hits my face. His hand?

  “Ouch.”

  “Listen, J, what happened back there…”

  Tilting my head to one side, I press the back of my skull against the wall, hoping to stop the merry-go-round. Silas is pointing to the bedroom we
both were in.

  “Fuck, never again. Biggest fucking mistake.” My hand presses to my chest where my heart is or where there’s only a gaping black hole.

  My hand sinks into nothingness.

  That’s what I feel—nothing.

  No organ.

  No blood.

  No arteries.

  Nothing has been there since losing my greatest love.

  My only love.

  “Agreed. Now you should get out of here. Want to come with me?” He tugs on my arm, and he helps me up.

  I’m pretty sure I’m unable to get to my feet on my own, and he leads me down the stairs.

  People are fucking everywhere. The noise is thunderous. Too much going on. Just way too much.

  My arm pulls from his hold and his voice comes at me from a great distance, yelling my name. I’m not interested in what Charlie has to say and I keep going.

  Charlie? Where the fuck did that come from? It’s Silas. But the man in question now glides toward me and I slap my hand on his shoulder.

  “Ah, Charlie! Just the person I was looking for.”

  He can end my misery. Maybe not forever, but for a little while.

  “Hey, Jared.” His voice is ear-splitting and I wince.

  “J, fuck this.” Silas grips my arm, pulling me back from Charlie and my bliss. “You don’t need any more of that shit. We’ve already had too much.”

  “Fuck off.” I wrench my arm from his grasp, stumbling into my dealer.

  My friend swears behind me and says, slurring, to Charlie. “Don’t give him shit.”

  “I’m not his keeper.” Charlie’s arm slides around my waist, leading me away from the middle of the foyer and Silas.

  We walk down a dark hall where there are fewer people and less noise. This is much better.

  “You gonna hook me up?” I think my tongue is swollen, and none of what I’m saying makes sense.