by Lee Piper
Selena’s smile grows as she watches the interplay. “After you left, Benedict here offered to show me around.” Facing Benedict, she trails her fingers up his arm and over his shoulder. He’s smaller than Zeke, not as broad or muscular. Whatever. I don’t care.
Selena’s glances at Zeke, her voice coy. “There are so many helpful people in the music industry, don’t you think, sweetie? Everyone is clamoring to do anything for you.”
Zeke’s fists clench.
I swallow the bile in my throat.
“But you know all about that, don’t you?” She stares pointedly at him, then me. Tilting her head, Selena considers me. “She’s a bit young, don’t you think? And not at all your usual style. She’s very… cute.” Something in the way she sneers the word tells me it’s not a compliment.
After an internal check of my legs, I’m relieved to learn they’re once again responsive. And just in time too. I need to get out of here; this conversation is toxic.
“She’s none of your damn business,” Zeke growls.
I pause, my heart shattering into splintered shards.
“Oh, sweetie.” Selena bats her eyelashes, ignoring Zeke’s outburst. “If she’s sleeping her way to stardom, then it’s everyone’s business.”
“I’m not sleeping with her.”
His ex-wife faces me, her venomous eyes scanning my body. Even though I want to be far, far away from this poisonous woman, I refuse to cower under her gaze. Instead, I tilt my chin, daring her to do her worst.
“You’ve always had a soft spot for strays,” Selena throws at Zeke. “It’s the hero complex in you. And this one screams charity case.” She gestures to my outfit. “Look at her. Threadbare tank, last season’s jeans, and those shoes….” After shaking her head in disgust, Selena adopts a condescending tone. “Oh, honey. You’re desperate for your first royalty check, aren’t you?”
Gritting my teeth, I vow not to engage. After all, she’s the one acting like a petulant child here, not me. Who does this, anyway? Who openly discredits someone for their own petty satisfaction? Anyone with a conscience would never treat another human being this way.
“Or is it my ex-husband’s money you’re after?”
Do. Not. Engage.
Man, it’s hard. I want to rip her fingernails off with pliers and then use them to gouge her eyes out. What a bitch. What a rude, selfish, conceited—
“Why the fuck do you care, Selena?” Zeke spits. “Willow’s no one, a nobody.”
I gasp.
What. The. Hell.
And narrow my eyes at him.
Selena snickers, Benedict coughs, and after taking in my thunderous expression, Zeke curses under his breath.
“Willow,” he warns, no doubt seeing the daggers I’m glaring his way.
“Don’t Willow me,” I grit out.
Despite wanting to tear the place down before drowning in my own tears, I refuse to be anything but a professional. After all, what I say now will reflect on my band, and I won’t have any negativity falling on the boys simply because Zeke and his bitch of an ex-wife are bona fide asshats.
Facing Selena, I plaster on my best fake smile. “Nice seeing you again.” I shake Benedict’s hand. “I’m Willow, by the way.” Finally, I turn to Zeke. “Don’t worry about driving us back. Drake, Shiloh, Reid, and I will find our own way.”
Spinning on my heel, I storm through the crowd, my gaze trained on the door. Once I’m outside I’ll call Shiloh to tell her and the others to meet me out front.
It’s difficult maintaining composure, especially when my vision blurs and I trip over a bass guitarist’s foot. Why he’s sprawled on the floor with two half-naked women on top of him, I’ll never know. But I’m not one to judge.
Refusing to be deterred, I stomp through the exit and am halfway down the hallway when a hand grasps my elbow. I’m spun, my hair a mane of tangled fire as it swirls around me.
“Willow, stop.”
I yank at my arm, but Zeke holds firm. “Get your hands off me!”
“Not a fucking chance.” He pulls me further along the hallway, only pausing when he pushes open a nondescript door and thrusts me inside. It slams shut behind us. When he hits the lights, I blink, my eyes taking a moment to adjust to the brightness.
A storage room.
Zeke Danton dragged me into a goddamn storage room. How freaking apt. Not that I get a chance to admire the stacked boxes and plastic crates full of who the heck cares because I’m soon pushed against the door.
Oomph.
I glower at Zeke. His clenched fists cage me in, his nostrils flare, and his breathing is harsh. “Now listen carefully.”
I’d like to say his close proximity stokes my anger further, that the fury swirls and sparks—a volcano about to erupt. But I’d be lying.
It does much, much worse.
However, I refuse to fall victim to our chemistry. I refuse to fall victim, period. That shit ends now.
Pushing against his chest, I yell, “No! You listen to me!” Not expecting my outburst, he moves back, shocked. “Don’t ever speak to me like that again. How dare you? Contrary to what you might think, I am someone. I’m a daughter, a friend, a fucking talented musician. I’m a vegetarian, pagan, and occasional storm chaser. I might not live in a fancy house, schmooze with the big names, or have a platinum record on my wall, but I can assure you, I am somebody.” My chest heaves. “You’re just too blind to see it.”
Pause.
Blink.
“I see you.”
With Artemis as my witness, I’m going to kill him.
“You don’t see shit,” I spit, so angry, I’m shaking. And swearing. That only ever happens when I’m seconds away from going postal. “You’re so twisted up in Selena, in her manipulative mind games, that you don’t see anything except negativity and spite.”
He screws up his face in disgust. “I don’t give a flying fuck about Selena. That bitch is nothing to me.”
Planting fists on my hips, I jut my chin. “You’re a liar.”
Zeke raises his eyebrows in challenge. Taking a step forward, he growls, “Already told you once and sure as fuck won’t say it a third time. I. Don’t. Lie.”
The air crackles with tension—some of it pleasurable, a lot of it cruel. It’s so multifaceted, so complex, I can barely see right from wrong anymore. But I’ll be damned if I let this man corrupt me.
My voice is strong and sure. “You saw her during Heathen’s set.”
“So? Doesn’t mean I—”
“You were pissed off when she introduced Benedict.”
“That’s because—”
“You wanted to beat him to death.”
“He’s a fucking—”
“You let Selena put her hands all over you.”
“Shut up and let me—”
“And you shamed me in front of them!” I yell.
Silence.
That’s right, asshole. I fucking see you.
Zeke’s eyes are intense, full of truths he won’t say. And it hurts. His palpable reserve conveys more than words ever could.
Turning, he roars, kicking the tower of boxes. They crash to the ground with a deafening clatter.
“You need to stay away from me,” I warn his heaving back. “If it’s not music related, I don’t want anything to do with you.”
Eyes downcast, he runs his fingers through his hair, tugging the ends. And my stupid heart, the one that screamed for me to say the words, starts crying because I did.
Turning, I wrench open the door and leave.
It doesn’t take long to make my way outside, and it takes even less time for Shiloh, Drake, and Reid to find me. I’m leaning against a brick wall, freezing my ass off while staring at the stars. They’re hard to see, blanketed by the city lights and thick clouds. I can barely make out three of them. For some reason it makes me inexplicably sad. I sniff, rubbing icicles posing as hands up and down my arms in an attempt to generate some warmth.
“Told you
she was out here,” Drake calls over his shoulder.
Shiloh and Reid nod, striding to where I’m standing, concern etching their features.
Drake rests a heavy hand on my shoulder. “What happened? We saw you run out of the after-party, and then Zeke blew up at some chick before following you.” He scans the empty street as though expecting to find him. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Shivering, I rub my biceps faster.
Reid crosses his arms, both tattoo sleeves coming alive with the movement. He narrows his eyes at me. “Wil.”
I blink. Over and over again. “I’m fine.”
“Shit, you’re gonna cry,” Shiloh murmurs. “You’re doing that thing with your eyes. You only ever do it when the dam’s about to break, and judging by the number of repetitions, I’d say this is a category nine situation.”
I choke back a sob, my palms a whir.
“What did she say to you?” Reid demands.
“Yeah, and who was she?” Shiloh chips in, halting my manic movements with her hands. Thankfully, they’re warm. “You’re one of the most chill people I know. She must have been a total whore to upset you.”
“I’m not upset. I—”
Reid tips his head, calling bullshit.
“Who was she?” Shiloh repeats.
Sighing, I swallow the lump in my throat and stare at my scuffed shoes. “Zeke’s ex-wife.”
“What?” Drake coughs. “Fuck me, he moves fast. Dude was all over your tits last night.”
Taking a deep breath, I meet his eyes.
He stares at me, realization dawning. “Get the fuck out. You like him?”
“He was all over your tits?” Shiloh shrieks.
Even though he’s motionless, fury rolls off Reid.
“You told me nothing was going on between you two.” My best friend lets go of me, the hurt in her voice obvious. “Why did you lie to me?”
“I’m sorry, okay? Hooking up with Zeke was a moment of insanity, and whether I like him or not, it’s never going to happen again.” Facing Drake, I nod. “And, ah, yeah. He was married.”
Drake steps away, groaning. “Jesus, Wil.”
Pushing off the wall, I pace. The frigid wind whips my cheeks, and even in the relative darkness of the side street, I’m certain they’re pink. “Look, they divorced before we started recording, so it’s not like he was cheating or anything. And I’m not justifying our actions here. I’m explaining them. Massive difference.”
“Does she know about you and Zeke?” Drake asks.
“There is no me and Zeke!”
His eyebrows raise. “A bit heavy on the protest, don’t you think?”
Pausing, I narrow my eyes at him.
“Does she know?” Shiloh asks.
On a loud exhale, a cloud of frost materializes before me. “I don’t know. She insinuated Zeke and I were hooking up, but then flaunted the fact she had something going on with Heathen’s manager.” Shaking my head, I mutter, “The chick’s crazy.”
“And what about Zeke?” Shiloh asks. “Does he know it’s over between you?”
“Hell yes. I couldn’t have made it clearer if I wrote it on a cake and shoved his face in it.”
Drake nods, seeming appeased. Shiloh gives a half smile, somewhat satisfied. However, Reid is thoughtful. “We need to watch out for this woman,” he muses. “From what you’ve told us, she sounds volatile as fuck. Who knows what she’ll do when threatened?”
“Threatened?” I scrunch my nose, my body shivering. “Why would she feel threatened?”
Reid’s gray eyes turn soft. “Because you’re you, Wil.”
I blink.
“Any man with half a brain knows what you’re worth.” Drake grins. “You’re honest, intelligent, loyal, gifted. Not to mention cute as fuck. I feel like we’ve been over this. You’re not turning into one of those insecure chicks, are you?”
Throwing my head back, I growl, “What is it with people calling me cute? I’m a force of nature, damn it, not cute.”
Chuckling, Drake throws his arm around my shoulders. “Sure you are, babe. Sure you are.”
I try to pinch his flat stomach, but my fingers are unresponsive. “Quit calling me babe.”
He laughs harder. “See? Even feisty Willow is cute. You’re like a ginger kitten.”
Groaning, I give up and bury my head against his warm chest. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re freezing. Come on, let’s call an Uber. You need a hot shower and some of that tea I hate. You know, the one that smells like a flower threw up in it.”
“Chamomile?”
“Yeah, that one.” He faces Reid. “You coming?”
Reid shakes his head. “Nah, I’m staying at Shiloh’s.”
Stepping toward Shiloh, I murmur, “Forgive me?”
Rolling her eyes, she pulls me into a hug. “Of course, I forgive you. Just quit with the lies already. They only ever fuck people over.” She gestures to Reid. “I should know. I tried keeping shit from my band, remember?” Shaking her head, she murmurs, “Caused a fuck-ton of trouble.”
I nod. “Yeah, I remember.”
We exchange goodbyes and soon enough Reid and my best friend are strolling hand in hand down the side street.
I sigh, refusing to dwell on the fact I’ll have to face Zeke in the morning. “Must be nice having someone to go home to.”
“Depends on who it is, I suppose,” Drake mumbles, tapping away at his phone. “I sure as fuck wouldn’t want to go home to a troll. Lucky for Reid, he’s found the love of his life.”
“Yeah, lucky.”
As we move to the main road, my thoughts drift to the man I left behind. The contradictory, confusing, infuriating storm. I’ve made the right decision. My head knows this even though my body hasn’t received the memo. But my heart…. I rub the dull ache throbbing in my chest. My poor heart is bleeding.
An obnoxious sound pierces the silence. Over and over again it wails, the shrill tone intent on splitting my head open.
Goddamn, my head hurts. Thumps. Pounds.
When I attempt to rub my temples, a wounded moan escapes. My body aches, correction, burns. A wildfire is localized on the small of my back, the flames licking their way over every ridge and valley of my spine. My joints scream in agony when I roll over and attempt to find the cause of the noise. I want it gone.
Sticky sheets entangle my limbs, and beads of sweat blur my vision as I lean over the edge of the mattress, desperate to find my phone.
My phone.
That’s where the commotion is coming from. But why would someone be calling me in the middle of the night? And what’s it doing on the floor?
Man, it’s hot in here.
“Hello?” I rasp. To be honest, I’m not sure I even accepted the call. Along with core body temperature, it seems motor function is an issue at the moment.
“Wil?” Deep, throaty, masculine. I know that voice. How do I know that voice?
The back of my skull throbs.
“Wil, you there?”
I want to reply, to say something in the affirmative, but my esophagus is aflame and my tongue is ash.
“Willow? What’s going on? Where are you?”
“Bed.” The word grates my larynx, and I grimace.
“But it’s after five. Why aren’t you down here arguing with me for offering you a ride to see your mom? What’s going on? Are you sick?”
Too many questions. No energy.
“Hot,” I mumble. “Hurt.”
“You’re hurt?” The voice booms. “The fuck?”
I wince, then whimper because it’s painful to wince. And breathe. And exist.
“What was that noise? Swear to fucking God, Wil, if someone so much as—”
Too exhausted to hold the phone any longer, I let it slip from my sweaty fingers. I don’t know if I hung up on who I was talking to. Heck, I don’t even know who was on the other end of the line. All I know is I can’t move back to th
e center of the bed because I’ve got no energy. Surrendering to whatever evil is plaguing me, I hang off the edge of the mattress, a limp and ragged doll.
Darkness.
“Willow?”
Blinking, I lift my head. Pale light teases the edge of the curtains, causing a soft glow to brighten the bedroom. Even though it’s muted, sharp pain shoots behind my eyes, and throwing an arm over my face, I groan.
There is the chink of glass as something is placed on the side table, then rustling as I’m propped upright. My body screams bloody murder at the unexpected movement, and I cry out in pain.
Someone swears under their breath.
A hand holds out a glass of water, while the other cradles two tablets in its palm. They’re large hands, strong with ribbon-like veins crisscrossing the underside before meeting at a juncture in the wrist. I’ve definitely seen them before.
The glass is placed against my lips. “Drink.”
I do. Cool water slides down my throat, a temporary balm against the flames intent on incinerating me from the inside out. I want to moan my gratitude but am too scared of the ramifications.
“Open your mouth,” the familiar voice commands. My lips part and pills are placed on my tongue. “Swallow.” More water is offered, and again I sip, my throat resisting the medication at first, but finally allowing it to pass through. “Good girl.”
Zeke.
I’m too weak to enjoy the fronds of pleasure attempting to uncurl in my stomach at his low rumble. They haven’t a chance against the fireball that has taken up residence there anyway.
I’m repositioned lying down, sheets are tucked in around me, and fingers skim the side of my face.
A sharp inhale. Cursing. Footsteps. Rustling in the bathroom. A tap running. Being shut off. More footsteps.
Nirvana.
A cold compress is gently placed on my forehead, and I sigh. Goose bumps spread over my skin, the shock of the cool cloth a stark and welcome relief. I relax into the mattress.
“Sleep.”
Don’t mind if I do.
I’m woken several more times with the words doctor’s here, virus, take these pills three times a day, and hydration and rest over the course of… I have no idea. Hours? Days? It all blurs together. And I’m still so hot. I’ve sweated through the bedsheets, and, fed up with continuously feeling as though I’m about to burst into flames, feebly attack my tank top. I want to rip the damp material from my clammy flesh, but those hands are back to stop me. I whimper.