Chasing Alys

by Morgana Bevan

  And in the process, I’d jeopardised his career.

  I took a step towards him, my heart pounding and my eyes burning. The movement freed him, and he rushed towards me, his gaze intense and raw. Tears threatened to spill down my face.

  I swallowed, trying to push back the emotion choking me.

  “I’m sorry I trashed your tour,” I said, the tears winning.

  He stopped in front of me, his thumb brushing across my cheek, swiping them away. He froze, seeming to realise that he’d touched me and we hadn’t made up. He started to pull away and I caught his hand, holding it to my cheek. I tried to smile. He stared down at me with a wariness that stilled the air in my lungs.

  “I’m so fucking sorry about the picture. I never thought our fans would do that,” he said, his voice guttural with regret. “She surprised me at an afterparty. I pushed her away immediately. I should have told you, but I didn’t think it was anything important.”

  “It’s okay,” I promised, but he raced ahead, not hearing me.

  “Emily said you might be wary of all the attention I get from fans. If you want me to quit the band, I will. I’ll find something else to do. As long as I have you, I’ll be happy.”

  “Stop.”

  Panic filled his eyes. “Please, I can’t spend so much as another day without you. I’d do anything if you’d just give me another chance.”

  I held his face between my hands, making sure he heard me this time. “It’s okay. You don’t need my forgiveness.”

  “Yes, I do. I—”

  “No, you don’t. You didn’t make her kiss you. You didn’t make her tag me in it. You’ve done nothing but love me, scars and all. I’m the one that needs to apologise to you. I didn’t exactly make it easy for you. If I hadn’t rushed to conclusions, if I hadn’t left, I would have known.”

  He stared at me with a soft smile, his fingers toying with strands of my hair.

  “I don’t want you to quit the band for me. Music is too important to you, and I would never ask you to give that up. I’m going to have wobbles, but for the first time in years, I feel like I’m finally seeing clearly.” Tears clung to my lashes, my smile resolute. “You’re a risk worth taking. I don’t want to be safe. I want you.”

  Cautious joy lit up his face as he pressed his forehead to mine. “Just promise me you won’t leave again. If you ever have reason to doubt me, talk to me first.” His light eyes shone with adoration.

  My heart jumped with happiness. I’d give him anything he wanted if he’d just keep looking at me like that.

  “I promise. And you need to warn me if anything like it ever happens again. I’d rather be forewarned than taken by surprise by some tabloid paper or social media.”

  He nodded. “I’ll share it all, no matter how inconsequential it seems.”

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “I love you too.” He wrapped his arms around me and pressed his lips to mine, repeating the sentiment with his body.

  What started out as a soft, gentle kiss quickly turned heated. The pressure increased and a haze descended. My hands roamed his back, working under his tight t-shirt and dragging my nails across the delicious expanse of muscle there. He shivered, shuffling us back towards the worktop. My back hit the hard butcher block and he lifted me. Ryan gripped my butt, fitting me firmly against his growing hard-on before placing me on the worktop.

  There was something I wanted to say. What was it? Something about the tour…

  Ryan’s lips dragged along my neck and jaw. The thought slithered away as I shivered.

  Or was it what happens after the tour?

  My thin t-shirt went over my head and his hands cupped my breasts through the lace of my bra. His fingers plucked at my hard nipples and my head rolled back on a moan.

  No, that’s not right. Although, I definitely wanted to know that too.

  With a hand behind my head, he captured my lips again with deep drugging kisses. I leaned into him, breathing him in, savouring every caress.

  Emily’s words echoed in my ears. Ryan’s not so good at compartmentalising.

  I broke the kiss, panting. With a sexy grin that would ordinarily have me swaying towards him, he reached for me again and I leant back, evading him.

  “What happened to the tour?” I asked, my voice breathy but determined.

  Ryan’s brows puckered. “Matt’s rearranging some dates.”

  His head lowered again, and I placed a hand against his chest, holding him off. His hands landed on my hips, and he met my concerned gaze with patience.

  I nodded, relieved. “So, it’s not cancelled?”

  “No. My performance was suffering, so we’re tacking on some do-over shows and rescheduling this week to the end of the tour.”

  “And the label was okay with that?” I asked, my brows lifting with surprise.

  Ryan chuckled. “Matt made up some story about a really bad cold.” He shrugged. “They seem to have bought it, but I was sounding pretty fucking pathetic, so I’m not all that surprised.”

  It felt like someone had wrapped a fist around my heart and squeezed. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, my gaze falling to his chest.

  “I don’t hold it against you.” He tucked a finger beneath my chin and forced my head up. “So you shouldn’t either. If our positions had been reversed, I would have done the same.”

  “Somehow I don’t believe that.”

  He smirked. “Okay, so maybe I’d have smashed a couple of guitars first.”

  “Only a couple?” I asked, faking an affronted tone. Ryan’s eyes creased at the edges, laughing at me. That was better. I preferred this to the dark, forlorn shadows beneath his eyes when he’d arrived. I swallowed, wishing I didn’t need to ask my next question.

  “What happens now?” My voice turned serious, barely audible.

  “When do you go back to work?”

  I shrugged. “I’ve had a couple of calls, but between Dad and…” Phantom pain stabbed at me. I met his understanding gaze, and it eased. “And I wasn’t really capable of finding Coordinator Alys.”

  He toyed with my fingers at my side, a vulnerable edge entering his eyes. “I have a proposition for you.”

  “Okay?”

  “Finish the tour with me.” I opened my mouth to comment, but he silenced me with a finger against my lips. “Matt’s offering up a second assistant position. You wouldn’t need to worry about money for five months and you could line up a production job for when we get back.”

  I wouldn’t give up TV work, but right now, all I wanted was more time with Ryan. If he had to be on the road then that’s where I wanted to be.

  “It sounds like a great idea.”

  With a sweet, understanding smile, he lowered his lips to mine.

  “And until then…” I whispered after the first gentle caress.

  “Well, I owe you makeup sex, so I was thinking we’d start there.”

  I hummed in agreement, my fingers bunching the edges of his shirt. I tugged him towards me, my legs wrapping around his. He kissed me, long and deep until we were both breathing heavily, the atmosphere charged.

  “Now tell me you love me again,” he murmured against my lips.

  My lips curled at his insistence. “I love you.”

  “Again.” His fingers danced along my waist, teasing me.

  “I love you.”

  He sighed. “I’ll never get tired of hearing those words.” His expression softened with a tenderness that stole my breath. “I love you too.”

  Epilogue

  When I’d agreed to join the tour, the reality of it hadn’t really sunk in. Five months on a tour bus with my best friend and four musicians… what could go wrong? Between the hangovers and the lack of sleep, the answer was: plenty.

  We had some great laughs, but we also bickered and lived through screaming matches. I scarred myself with some visuals that would never fade, and I learnt far too many intimate details about the guys. I also could have done without catching Jared
in a bunk with a groupie.

  But through it all, Ryan and I remained strong. Or as strong as you can be when you find yourself on an emotional crash course with a new partner. It cured me of many of my doubts, and for the first time in my life, I could truthfully say that I wholeheartedly trusted my partner.

  But as fun as it had been, now we were home at last, and I was in no hurry to go back. I’d definitely missed my bed.

  “Can I come out now?” Ryan called from my bedroom, startling me into dropping a champagne flute.

  Swearing, I crouched to pick up the glass, opting to balance on my toes as I searched. All the while, I kept reminding myself I was barefoot and dealing with hardwood floors. Glass scattered in this place.

  “What are you doing?” Ryan asked, his voice suddenly far too close.

  I glanced over my shoulder to find him staring around the room, his brow puckered.

  “Right now? Trying not to cut my feet open.”

  His eyes dropped to the partial champagne flute I held. Without a word, he backed out the way he’d entered. When he returned moments later, he wore shoes and carried the hoover and a bucket I kept in the cleaning cupboard. He held out the bucket, and I let the glass clatter to the bottom.

  Without warning, he bent down and tucked an arm around my waist, picking me up. My feet landed safely on the sofa. I watched, chewing my lip, as he cleaned up the mess.

  When the glass was cleared away and replaced with a new one, Ryan sat down next to me, his eyes taking in the room again.

  We’d been back in the UK for three days and we’d yet to discuss our plans for the immediate future. I decided tonight was going to be that night. We had the flat to ourselves, and well, there was no time like the present to make unnerving life-altering decisions.

  I hadn’t really done that much to the living room. On the table I’d laid out some tapas-style foods and a bottle of champagne. The biggest change really was the red-and-gold banner hanging across the windows, welcoming Ryan home.

  “I like the addition,” he said, nodding towards it.

  My lips quirked slightly. “Thanks. It was a test of my arts and crafts skills.”

  It really was. It had taken me around an hour just to get the letters cut out. Yes, I could have bought one, but this was better, more personal.

  Ryan laughed. “Then I definitely appreciate the effort.”

  I pulled a small gift bag out from the side of the sofa. Ryan’s brow furrowed when his eyes fixed on it.

  “You got me a present?”

  “Kind of.” I handed him the bag and watched while he pulled out the tissue I’d stuffed in the top.

  When he opened the lid on the small black velvet box, his eyes widened. He removed the key and held it up, his gaze fixed on me and a small smile toying with the edges of his mouth.

  “Red, are you asking me to move in with you?”

  I nodded.

  “Won’t Emily mind?”

  I shook my head. “She agreed before she left.”

  Emily had returned to Cardiff for two days. Enough time to wash her clothes and repack. She flew to India this morning before I’d fully processed her plan. She didn’t know when she’d be back, only that she was done with Rhiannon now and determined to travel Asia and see where it led her. I envied her bravery, but I wouldn’t change my present for anything.

  It would take me a while to get used to her absence. We’d lived together for so long it still felt like she was just out for the day. I’d adjust, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t miss her. I had warned her to expect a stream of texts by the time she landed.

  Ryan was grinning at the key, speechless.

  It was going to be a week of adjustments for me, but as changes went, this was the best kind.

  “That is, if you still want to move to Cardiff.” I reached out, pretending to take the key back. He held it to his chest, out of reach, and I chuckled at his childlike expression.

  “No you don’t. You gave it to me, so I’m keeping it.” He pulled out his own key ring and slotted mine onto it.

  “I’m going to take that as a yes to moving in.”

  Leaning into me, his smile grew. “I’d love nothing more than waking up next to you every morning, Red. Of course I want to move in.”

  His head descended and I met him halfway, our lips brushing in what I expected to be a brief kiss. Months on the road with watchful friends had left us starved for alone time; however, we had plans to make.

  I pulled back, holding him off with a hand pressed to his chest.

  “Slow down. There’s plenty of time for that.”

  Ryan sat back, but his fingers remained in my hair, toying with the ends.

  “When do you want me to move in?”

  “Now?”

  “Look who’s impatient now.” Ryan grinned. “I need to pack up my flat in Glasgow. How long do we have before you start on that film?”

  “I’m in from Monday until end of September.” I’d take filler roles between October and my next contract starting in February. The tour ended in June. There just weren’t enough dry months left for new productions to start up, and all the ones running already had their production teams in place. I wouldn’t mind some time off anyway. Touring was exhausting.

  “Okay, I could go pack up my flat in Glasgow on Tuesday with the guys. It’ll probably be easier for us to rent one big van anyway.”

  “Are they still moving down?” I asked, a hesitant smile pulling at my lips.

  “Red, they’ve already rented a flat in the Bay.”

  I blinked. “How did I miss that?”

  “We were keeping it quiet.” His grin turned coy. “I was kind of hoping you’d ask me to move in.”

  “Did you have a room, or were you going to be homeless?”

  Ryan laughed. “Dan insisted there be a fourth bedroom just in case. I knew I wouldn’t need it.”

  “So much faith. I like it, music man.”

  Ryan took my hand, pulling me closer until I fell into his chest. Staring up into his smiling face, pure contentment settled over me. We didn’t know what the future held, but with him, I could get through anything.

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  Not ready to say goodbye to the Rhiannon men? Turn the page for a sneak preview of Winning Nia. Will James learn from his past and get his second chance?

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  Winning Nia Excerpt

  Wandering into the corner shop next door, fate slapped me in the face when my gaze landed on a familiar styled head. My heart sank.

  I hadn’t seen James in years, but I’d done enough internet stalking in that time to know what he looked like now. He’d been a lanky, clean-skinned boy the last time we’d seen each other. Now he was ripped with black ink flowing down his left arm and his short dark-blond hair neatly swept back. He’d well and truly changed.

  Unlike me. Aside from quitting my safe job for freelance life, I had done nothing daring with myself. My hair was still the same shoulder-length light blonde. I’d toyed with dying it brown, but Sophie had talked me out of that disaster waiting to happen. I couldn’t imagine my icy-blue eyes paired with any other colour at this point. My dress sense hadn’t even changed—neutral would always be my first choice. Sometimes I’d throw in a pop of colour here and there, but usually, I was happy with my neutrals. They matched best with my trusty ankle boots.

  My eyes narrowed on the shelves of brightly coloured confectionery in front of me.

  Is chocolate and wine really worth facing him?

  Frozen in the aisle opposite, I debated the answer to that question like I was trying to solve world peace. I was tired, so I could skip the wine, but dammit, this was my routine. Every other Friday night,
I bought red wine and dark chocolate from the corner shop as my version of a pat on the back for a job well done. I’d started it in uni when I’d landed my photography gig at Axel’s.

  I can go without it, but why should I? He is the intruder.

  The thought of skipping a week because James freaking Tyler just happened to walk in before me did not sit well. It would set a precedent, send the wrong message. I wasn’t afraid of him; he was just some asshole who’d smashed my heart to smithereens multiple times.

  Gritting my teeth, I picked up my wine and my chocolate. With my head held high and my shoulders pushed back, I joined the small queue for the checkout. I put blinders on, focusing on my phone and acknowledging absolutely nothing around me except that small screen.

  Nia: Why didn’t you warn me that your brother was back?

  Little dots bounced in the chat box as Sophie typed. I scowled at them. What use was having an inside track if she didn’t dish up the info?

  Sophie: Didn’t want to alarm you.

  I growled, my fingers flying over the buttons.

  Nia: Well I’m alarmed. He’s in my shop.

  Sophie: Shit. I’m sorry.

  As apologies went, it wasn’t helpful, but I wouldn’t hold it against her. If I’d been forewarned, I would have still been in this predicament.

  “Nia!” That familiar lilting voice said.

  I stiffened. My heart pounded with a mixture of excitement and dread. I couldn’t explain the excitement; it shouldn’t have been a factor.

  My mind drifted back nine years. One minute, he was calling me nearly every single night at nine on the dot or distracting me with an endless stream of texts. At first, I’d assumed balancing university work and the band was too much for him. So I’d waited, expecting him to surface eventually. That didn’t happen.

  Instead, when he came home for Christmas that year, he’d meticulously avoided me. I’d go in the front door with his sister and my best friend, Sophie, and he’d slip out the back with some made-up story or another. By then, I’d assumed he’d changed his mind about making things work between us. Neither of us had needed to tell his family we’d broken up. The tense atmosphere spoke volumes. I used to love going to their house for Christmas; it was fun and festive there, unlike mine with my father barking orders at my mother all the time.