Reverb (Trojan Book 2)

by S. M. West

  “It’s true.” I step into the elevator, hitting the four button.

  “Hey, what do you want with that lady?” She hooks her thumb toward Eva’s room, down the hall.

  “Listen, I have to go. Thanks again.”

  Before she can say much more than you’re welcome and bye, the door closes and I exhale a sigh of relief.

  When I get to the pool, Eva is the only one in the water. She’s wearing a one-piece bathing suit. The pristine white fabric shines against her bronze skin and toned muscles.

  She floats in the pool like a starfish. Her long black hair is wisps of dark smoke invading the water. Thin straps sit on her shoulders and her nipples are hard, poking through the material.

  Heat coils in my groin as my jeans tighten.

  Fuck, I want her.

  I can’t live without her.

  She’s so still. Is she breathing? My eyes squint, staring hard and praying for life. The slow and steady movement of her chest, in and out, settles my racing heart.

  Like the song we sang together so long ago, “Everlong,” our breaths are joined. Her exhale is a release, giving me her. Mends my wrecked heart, filling me and making me whole, even if only for a breath.

  I scan the pool deck, and my gut clenches and my jaw tics. Miguel is standing sentinel in a suit, leaning against a tiled wall. He’s fixed on Eva, and his leer makes me want to smash his face.

  Maybe it’s because he senses me, although I think he clocked me the second I walked in, his gaze flicks to me. A smug smirk owns his face.

  “Jared?” Eva wades to the edge of the pool, questioning brown eyes boring into me.

  A hot ball of shame or something I can’t quite explain bulldozes through my chest, tumbling into my gut. “I needed to see you.”

  She grabs a towel from a lounge chair and wraps it around her body. Her hands squeeze the excess water from her hair, and out of the corner of my eye, Miguel approaches.

  “We have company.” I don’t take my eyes off her, watching to see if she invited him, knew he was here, but she looks surprised and upset.

  “Miguel, leave.” She holds a hand out, telling him to stay back.

  “Eva, I’m worried about you. Bianca told me.” He sneers in my direction, and I can only imagine what my lying former manager told him. “You don’t have to speak to him.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” The muscles in her neck are tight, tendons straining, and she winces, placing a hand at the base of her skull.

  “Are you okay?” I lightly touch her arm, and she recoils.

  Miguel doesn’t miss her rejection and feeds off it, stepping closer without a care for her warning.

  “Another headache? Let me take care of you.” His tone is softer, almost intimate.

  “No, I don’t need your kind of help. I am fine. Leave me alone. I have nothing to say to you.”

  “You heard her—leave.” I step in front of her.

  He puffs out his chest, getting ready to say something when she moves to stand at my side. He must see something to cause all the air to rush out of him, and along with it goes his bravado.

  “Eva, if you need my help, call me. Please. Don’t suffer.”

  She folds her arms over her chest, and he leaves without another word.

  “Jared, why are you here?”

  Glancing down at her, I notice the puffiness around her red-rimmed eyes. Her expression holds so many emotions, some of which I can only guess but don’t fully comprehend.

  All I know is this sharp pang in my chest makes me feel like shit. More than I already did. I’ve hurt her, unintentionally, and maybe even irrevocably. I don’t know how to make things better or how to make this all go away.

  30

  An end date to us

  EVA

  The lost boy I still desperately love stands before me.

  Yes, still, I love him despite it all.

  Yet lies stand between us. So many horrible lies have wreaked havoc with our lives. Mutilated our relationship and obliterated trust.

  “Have you ever wondered if our love would have lasted?” I’ve mulled this question over for way too long and it nags at me.

  He sucks in a jagged breath. My question is a potent mixture of loss and hope, and it’s like a bomb detonating between us. Everything hurts.

  Speechless, his lips press tightly and unshed tears glisten in his warm penetrating gaze. He looks away, and his mouth slackens, as if in defeat.

  “Why won’t you answer?” I’m insistent, pushing down my irritation at not only his silence but at life and the raw deal we were handed.

  “No, I haven’t.” He releases a rough sound. “I’ve never questioned our love. I’ve never wondered if there was an end date to us.”

  His hands rise to my face, cradling my jaw in his palms. His touch hurts—I want him to both stop and never let go.

  “Eva, of all the things I’ve second-guessed and wondered about in my life, our love has never been one of them. You—and our love—are the only things I’ve ever counted on.”

  Shaking my head, tears spill down my face, hitting his fingers, and an almost silent “no” slips past my lips.

  “No, what?”

  “This second chance might have been a mistake. Not us, but now.” I latch onto his strong wrists, squeezing before pulling his hands from my face.

  I slide my feet into my flip-flops, brushing past him on my way to the door.

  “What are you saying?” A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

  “I’ll always love you, but maybe what we had was all we were ever meant to have. And maybe we didn’t stand a chance the second time around.”

  “Eva.” His hands reach for me, but I step aside, opening the door to the hallway.

  “Jared, I just…” My words are shaky, tears winning the battle as they fall fast and free. “The lies and betrayal of my family and now this…I just don’t know. What happened is in your past, and I won’t hold that against you.” I stare up at him, his beautiful face twisted and blurry. “But with Bianca…she may never admit it, and I don’t need her truth to know that, on some level, she planned it.”

  “What?” He isn’t surprised, more upset.

  “Yes. This pains me to say it but I can’t forgive her. And I don’t think she wants or needs my forgiveness. She’s no longer my sister. And as for my father and Miguel, I want nothing to do with them.”

  “And what about us?”

  I don’t have an answer for him. Or the answer he wants to hear.

  “I left Spain for a new start, and at the time, I thought I’d find it here. Even without knowing about you. And now, I’m not so sure. Maybe I’ll stay or settle down somewhere else in the States or Europe. I’m not sure.”

  “And us?” He pushes for an answer.

  “I am no longer sure there is an us.” I walk through the door, my back to him, wiping at my tears.

  “Eva, please.” The raw vulnerability in his voice causes my breath to catch in my throat, slicing through my chest and stabbing my heart.

  31

  Slay all the dragons

  JARED

  Stupefied and reeling from Eva’s verbal face punch, I somehow make it to the ground floor. She isn’t fighting for us. She’s walking away.

  With my hand in my pocket, I search for a guitar pick and come up empty. Fuck.

  I always have one on me. It helps to soothe the pain, stop the bleeding. Then I remember it’s in my jacket, which is in my car. Dammit.

  Quint’s in the lobby, waiting by the elevator, and he dips his chin the second he sees me.

  I have a hard time holding his stare. “What are you doing here? How’d you know I was here?”

  “Silas called and I checked your car GPS.” His expression is sheepish, and as much as I want to rail at him and then blast Silas for not minding his own business, I can’t.

  They care.

  They are my family.

  “Wait for me in the car.” I don’t inte
nd to sound like an asshole but do.

  “J, that isn’t a good idea.” He steps toward me, scowl firmly etched into his dark features.

  He scans the large space, people milling around, always assessing the surroundings for any potential problems. “You can’t just stand around here. It won’t take long for someone to recognize you.”

  I appreciate his vigilance. He’s only doing his job, but the thought of going back to my place depresses me. Eva is all I can think about, and I don’t want to be far from her. Not now when I may have lost her.

  No, I’m not giving up. She may think this is over, but I need time and maybe that’s all she needs too.

  “Quint, you work for me, not the other way around. Wait in the car.”

  I turn on my heel, ambling toward a small crowd gathered at the entrance to the hotel bar. A few heads turn in my direction and I make my way into the dimly lit room.

  As I sit my ass on a leather stool, Quint’s thwarted attempt to save me from myself is a dull pang in my chest. A voice in my head yells for me to leave, to go home and go to bed. I haven’t slept in days, and a bar is the last place I should be. The last place for an addict when they are down on life.

  Alcohol isn’t my drug of choice. Coke. Narcotics. Yes, please. But as any addict will tell you, it’s a slippery slope with other addictive substances. In a pinch, anything will do.

  The shitty thing is, I started using as a way to deal with losing Eva. To shut out the never-ending misery and unbearable pain. Now she’s alive, I shouldn’t need to numb my feelings, yet here I am, desperately seeking an escape.

  If she wants out, to turn her back on me…can I walk away? I’ll always fight for her. Always.

  But if I’m the only thing standing between her and her happiness, I can’t hurt her…I can’t deny her that. Fuck, I’d sooner bow out, even if it kills me.

  “Good morning.” The young bartender, in a crisp white shirt and black dress pants, smiles at me. “What can I get you?”

  It doesn’t matter to him we’re just shy of noon. The state of California keeps the alcohol flowing almost around the clock.

  “Whiskey. Neat.”

  “Any preference?” He raises his hand to the array of bottles to choose from.

  “Give me your best.” I barely give the selection a glance.

  “Sure thing.” He sets a bowl of peanuts down in front of me before turning his back.

  My fingers tap out the rhythm to the latest song I’m writing. Despite my turmoil, my muse started talking to me in New York and she hasn’t stopped.

  Shit, New York was almost a week ago, yet it feels like a lifetime ago. Then I was planning a future with Eva, and now I’ve lost her.

  Unrestrained heartbreak hurts like a mother…I should call my sponsor or Silas. Or get Quint to drag my ass to the car.

  My drink is placed in front of me. “Name’s Aaron. Give me a holler if you need anything else.”

  “Thanks.” Trembling fingers wrap around the glass of amber liquid.

  Poison, that’s what it is and a big part of the appeal. I can’t resist the temptation to fill this cold and dark void within me. Drown my sorrow—truer words were never spoken.

  The loss of Eva is a wound that will never heal. Drugs or alcohol or whatever only numbs the pain for a little while.

  I nudge the glass away, resting my hands flat against the wooden surface.

  It’s just a drink. Just one. It doesn’t have to hurt. Just enough to take the edge off. No more.

  And it isn’t like I can’t handle it. I’ve always been able to hold my liquor. Sure, sometimes I’ve overindulged but never to excessive amounts. Could one drink undo a year of being clean?

  Eva.

  She may be gone. It isn’t like I have to have my shit together for her.

  Fuck no. This isn’t about her. I didn’t get clean for her. I did it for me. For a chance at a better life. A chance to live and actually feel. Experience the highs and the lows because that’s what being alive is all about.

  And I want to live.

  I want Eva.

  “You good here?” The bartender dips his chin to the untouched drink before staring at me.

  “Yup. All good, Aaron.”

  “I gotta ask, are you Jared Grange? Bassist for Trojan?” He beams like he won the lottery when I nod. “Cool. Love your music. Miss the band.”

  He waits a beat, expecting or hoping I’ll respond. I just hold his gaze, silent.

  “All right then.” Nodding and smiling, he saunters to a group on the other side of the bar.

  A hand slaps me hard on the back and I jump, swiveling in the chair. Miguel sidles up next to me. He’s no better than I am, but suddenly all my shortcomings pummel my body like a bag of bricks.

  I’m a worthless street kid, only good for trouble or a good fuck or a number one hit. But that’s about it. Not good enough to have the heart of the woman I love.

  His smile is phony. ”She told you to leave too, I see. Eva doesn’t want you anymore than she wants me.”

  My gut roils. That may be true, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of telling me so. ”How would you know what she wants?”

  “I just saw her.” His gaze holds a cold glint.

  I huff. “Bullshit. Just like you made me believe she was still your wife. Did you really think you’d get away with another lie? As if I wouldn’t ask her.”

  “She will be my wife again. We have a long history, and I know her better than you ever will. What was it? Two, three years tops that you knew each other. Me,”—he rests his hand flat against his chest as if humbled or honored—”I’ve known her almost her entire life. I’ve always been there for her. You were kids. Your first love. You didn’t know anything about life and love. What makes you think you’d still be together today if there’d been no car crash?”

  My jaw hardens and teeth clench, and I study the guy with intentional malice, looking for any signs of the same from him.

  “I just know we would be.” I won’t give him any inkling of my latest conversation with Eva, what was discussed once he left us at the pool.

  All that aside, she’s my soulmate. The half of me that keeps me alive and keeps me believing in all the good in this world.

  “What do you want, Miguel?”

  “You should know she will come back to Barcelona with me. She’s done with you.”

  Did she tell him that? Does he know what a piece of shit I am? Was he listening to our conversation and then spoke with her afterward?

  He doesn’t need nor is he looking for a response from me to continue his diatribe about how great he is and that Eva belongs with him. Fucker.

  “She was curious. That’s all this little visit to LA was. And now she knows her life with me is better than anything you can offer her.”

  My fingers curl around the glass, lifting it to my mouth. It’s the drink or I hit the bastard.

  “And in case I was too polite or not clear enough for you earlier,”—he lays his hand on my shoulder and leans in—”stay the hell away from her. You come near her again and I’ll share all the gory details of your past with her.”

  “Nice try, but you can’t keep me away.”

  I press the glass to my lips, the burn of the alcohol singeing my nostrils. I pull it away—no longer sure drinking is my only option.

  With his phone out, he thrusts the screen in front of me. Pictures from my past—some from online, and others I have no clue how he got his hands on—but needless to say, all filthy. Stuff I wouldn’t want anyone to see, least of all Eva.

  Sure, they aren’t anything new. We’d talked about my past in New York, but I didn’t need him rubbing her face in it. And especially not now, not after telling her about Bianca.

  That alone has her torn up and questioning me. If she doesn’t already hate me, all she needs to see is this smut and she sure will.

  “If you have Eva as you say you do, why are you threatening me? You should be confident.”

 
“You’re the problem.” He shoves my shoulder, spilling the drink over my hand and onto the bar.

  “Shit.” I wipe my wet hand with a napkin and then the surface, all the time clenching my jaw. My teeth ache.

  I push back from the bar, done with this conversation and this jerk. A second longer with him and I’ll lose it. He follows suit, mirroring my every move.

  “And if I have to take her back home against her will, I’ll do it to save her from herself.” He screws up his smug face and balls his fists.

  “Are you fucking kidding?” My growl is low, deliberately, to ensure no one but him can hear me. “You will not do anything against her will.”

  Aside from the bartender, no one has approached me, but I’ve not gone unnoticed. I’ve been famous long enough to know when I’ve been recognized.

  People are watching, some even weighing their options, waiting for the chance to make contact.

  “As if I’d listen to anything you had to say.”

  “I’ll make you listen.”

  He straightens the lapels of his jacket in a weak attempt at dominance, and I can’t resist another verbal jab, to knock him down another peg.

  “And if that doesn’t work, maybe I’ll be the one to leak to the press how you embezzled from her family’s company.”

  He whips his head up to look at me, something close to fear and anger invading his gaze. I lean in closer, lower my voice further. More for my reputation than his.

  “I’ll tell all about how you didn’t retire. You were fired. I’ll make sure everyone knows that you’re a liar and a cheat.”

  Without warning, he lunges and pushes my shoulder once again, this time much harder, and I stumble backward, crashing into a table.

  Gasps and murmurs erupt around us as I fall to the floor, hitting my head on the edge of a chair. Little black dots dance in my vision.

  “Are you okay?” a woman asks.

  On my knees, I push to standing and place my hand on my head, feeling a little dizzy. “I’m fine.”

  Miguel’s chest heaves, nostrils flared like a bull ready to charge. “You wouldn’t dare…”