A Song for Us

by Teresa Mummert

  “I get two weeks, Tuck. Two fucking weeks or I lose her for good.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Tucker stood, patting me on the shoulder as he went up to Chris and said something quietly to him. Chris looked over at me and back at Tuck before he nodded. Then he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and walked toward the exit with his finger in his ear so he could hear.

  I tapped my finger on the table to the sound of the drums in the song. Tucker came back a few minutes later and nodded as he sat down across from me.

  “You want your chance? We’ll keep that douche bag out here for a few more hours. The club closes at three.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Things with Donna are weird now.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Cass said on the phone. She is handling that. Just go hang out with her. Get your closure so you can stop with this brooding bullshit.” He smiled as he peeled the label from his bottle.

  “I owe you one, man.” I stood, glancing around at the guys, who seemed oblivious to what I was doing. I slipped out of the club and hailed a taxi to take me back to the hotel.

  I was nervous the entire trip back. I didn’t want to put Sarah behind me, but I knew that was probably how this night would end.

  I paid the cabdriver as we pulled up out front, and my eyes scanned the tall building. I didn’t know if Sarah was already in her room, and I wasn’t even sure she would answer if she was.

  I rode up to our floor as my mind raced. I contemplated just going to my room and lying down, but as I passed by her door, I could hear her softly singing to herself. I couldn’t help but smile as I stepped closer.

  I knocked lightly and her voice abruptly cut off. I took a step back and waited for her to pull open the door.

  She looked surprised as she scanned the hall to see if I was alone. “What are you doing here? I thought you guys were shuttin’ down the club.” Her lips quirked in a smile and I relaxed.

  “Headache. I just needed to relax a little.” I cocked my head to the side as I took in that she was wearing only an oversize T-shirt. My eyes rested on the thin, pink scar that was on the top of her thigh about the size of the scars that covered her arm, and my heart hurt. I knew I couldn’t turn back now. I couldn’t live with myself if she felt that being with Derek was her only option. I’d put everything on the line for her.

  “Cass wasn’t feeling well.” We looked at each other for a moment. “I think Donna is up with her going over the scheduling.”

  “You want to hang out for a few?”

  “Oh . . . I don’t know if that is a good idea.”

  “I’d love to hear what you were singing.”

  Her cheeks turned pink and she smiled, embarrassed. “You heard that?”

  “Was I not supposed to? You sing onstage in front of hundreds of people for a living.”

  “This was just . . . I was just trying to flesh out some lyrics. It’s not really ready yet.”

  “Let’s hear what you got. Maybe I can help.” I took a step forward and she worried her lip but stepped back so I could enter.

  I looked around the room that was identical to mine but flipped.

  “You can”—she gestured toward the bed—“uh . . . sit if you want.”

  She grabbed a pair of shorts from her bag and went into the bathroom to pull them on. When she came back out, my eyes automatically went to her.

  “Derek is going to freak if he comes back and you’re in here.”

  “He won’t be back for hours. The club doesn’t close until three. If you want, we can go to my room. I have a bottle.”

  “Okay.” We grabbed her lyrics and her guitar and snuck up the hall to my room.

  She pulled open my fridge and grabbed the bottle of Jack.

  “I stopped on the way home. I figured it would be a late night. I’ll pour the shots. I want you to sing to me.” I took the bottle from her hand. My fingers wrapped around hers.

  “Okay.” She was so much more timid than her normal self. She set her guitar down against the counter.

  I grabbed two cups from the cupboard and filled them each with a double shot. Sarah came to my side with a paper in her hand, and I could see it vibrate slightly as her hand shook.

  I grabbed her glass and held it out to her. “To good friends and good music.” I held my glass in the air and she bumped hers against mine. We drank them down quickly and slammed our cups on the counter.

  “All right.” She cleared her throat and her eyes fell closed. She began to sing in a low, sad tone as if she were in pain.

  The flames lick at my fingertips as I’m drawn to the fire,

  I want to run but I’m consumed by the overwhelming desire,

  To let you in and break apart these walls,

  That contain me, don’t blame me, I’m trying not to fall,

  But it hurts to ignore it and it hurts to lie,

  By myself in this bed when I’m starting to cry.

  Her eyes rose to meet mine and I was speechless. It was as if she took the words directly from my heart.

  “Did you write that . . . here?” What I was really asking was whom she was writing about.

  She slowly nodded. Her face was nervous and unsure.

  “It’s perfect.”

  “Thanks.” Her voice was quiet. “I’m not sure where to go from there. I’m kind of . . . stuck.”

  “You’re not free . . .” I let my words trail off as I remembered her text message. I wanted to beg her to explain what it meant, but I knew she would close herself off again. “Would you like me to help you? We could figure it out together.”

  “Yeah . . . um . . . let me grab my guitar.”

  I poured us each another drink and carried them toward the main area of the room. Sarah sat down on the bed, her legs folded in front of her and her acoustic guitar on her lap. She strummed a few chords as I sat down next to her, my body angled toward her.

  “Thanks.” She took the glass from my hand and her eyes stayed on me as she drank it back. I did the same and took our cups, setting them on the nightstand.

  “I like that,” I said as she strummed. I watched her mouth as she slowly began to sing. Her voice was unbelievable. “Let’s work on a chorus.” I grabbed the paper and her pen and began to jot a few lines down.

  At night when I close my eyes, I think of you in another life,

  No longer hiding

  What I’ve been fighting

  We took turns strumming the guitar and writing. Sarah loosened up and was starting to act like her old self from the tour. She was focusing on getting out her feelings, and nothing but honesty was in her lyrics.

  “Why are you not a singer?” she asked as she poured us another drink and my eyes scanned her soft legs from the bed.

  “That’s for the pretty people,” I joked.

  She shot me a flirtatious glance. “You’re pretty.” She sat down next to me, her bare thigh against my jeans.

  “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or insulted.” I took my glass and held it in the air. “What to?”

  “To this . . . this is nice . . . ,” she sighed.

  “To what?” I asked as my eyes searched hers.

  “This . . . us.”

  “To us. That’s better.” I drank down my shot.

  She smiled and tossed hers back. “You really are more than just a pretty face.”

  That caused me to laugh loudly and I bumped her with my shoulder, but she winced in pain.

  “What? What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Sarah . . .” I leaned away a few inches so I could pull up her short sleeve over her shoulder. A purpling bruise marred her creamy skin.

  “What happened?” The playfulness had left my tone. “Did he do this?”

  “No. Jesus, E. He doesn’t hit me.” She shook her head and looked down at her lap. “I was fucked-up the other night. I couldn’t snap out of it. I tripped going into the bathroom.”

  “When you texted me and I didn’t answer.”

>   She slowly nodded and I felt like such an asshole. I ran my hand through my hair as I turned more toward her, our bodies dangerously close. I reached out, my eyes on hers as I took my finger and slowly pushed up the leg of her shorts to expose the barely healed scar.

  “And what about this?”

  She pushed her shorts back down and her eyes watered over. She glanced toward the door as if she was contemplating running.

  “You don’t have to hide from me, Sarah. You never did before, and you don’t have to now.”

  “That’s from a long time ago.” She wiped at a tear as she struggled not to break down.

  “Please don’t ever do that to yourself again. Please . . .” Her eyes met mine and my heart stopped.

  “Okay,” she whispered. Her bottom lip quivered and I knew she was trying so hard to be strong.

  I reached out and ran my thumb over her lip and her breathing stuttered. I wanted to lean over and kiss her, but I forced myself not to. I would be whatever she wanted me to be for her, as long as she didn’t shut me out.

  “Sarah, I want to know what is hurting you. Why you are hurting yourself.”

  “I want to tell you. . . .”

  “You can tell me anything.” I ran my thumb over the back of her hand and she began to relax a little. She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and began to speak in a quiet, shaky voice.

  “I never really felt safe at home after my mom married Phil. He would always make inappropriate comments, hug me just a little too long. I didn’t know what to do. He was my stepfather.”

  My mind raced as Sarah began to tell me everything she’d endured as a child. Part of me had always suspected abuse given the few details she’d let slip about her past and the way she behaved around Derek, but never to this magnitude. It made perfect sense now why she reacted the way she did to Derek’s behavior. I cringed as I thought of the first time she was alone with me in my room and I’d wanted her so badly. She was probably terrified of me.

  “I will fucking kill him.” I knew it wasn’t what she needed right now, but I couldn’t fathom that no one had tried to protect her.

  “It’s over, E. He can’t hurt me anymore.”

   “But he is still hurting you. Everything you do is a direct result of your past, of what happened to you.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

   “Where is he?” I couldn’t hide my anger and I knew I was squeezing her fingers too tightly.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to my mother in years . . . or my sister.”

  “Do you think they are still together?”

   “I don’t know. Even if they aren’t, I don’t think I could ever go back there. When I left . . . I left for good. I never looked back. I cut all my ties to my old life, cut everyone out completely and just fled. . . . I never wanted to be reminded of him in any way again. . . .”

  “You don’t have to.” Her eyes met mine for a brief second, and I knew she understood just how far I was willing to go to protect her.

  “People always talk about a house with a white picket fence.” She shook her head. “We hid a lot of secrets behind that fence.”

  “Why didn’t you tell someone?”

  “Who would I tell?” Anger flashed in her eyes. “My mother knew I hated Phil. I wanted them to break up from day one. I doubt she would have even believed me.”

  “I believe you.”

  “You’re different.”

  “I’ve been called worse,” I said with a laugh, and she smiled. It was a small victory and I hated that she was with someone who didn’t give a damn about her feelings. “Why haven’t you told Derek?”

  “Embarrassed, I guess. Or maybe just scared. Scared he’d freak out, not be able to handle it.” She was fighting back tears now. “I’m just . . . I’m scared to be left alone.”

  Again I had that nagging thought that Sarah would hate me for keeping the truth about Derek from her, but I couldn’t hurt her any more. Not now. I just couldn’t, even though I knew it was only a matter of time before she caught him in the act again.

  “Have you ever thought about finding your real dad?” I didn’t want to press her, but there had to be someone she could turn to. Derek obviously wasn’t that person, and I knew once she left here with him, I’d probably never see her again.

  “He’s been gone since I was six, E. If my mom couldn’t find him, he doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Whatever happened between him and your mom is between them. You can still have a relationship with him.”

  “Oh, like your relationship with your dad?”

  “Things with my dad are different, Sarah. He blames me for my brother’s death and used me as a punching bag.” It wasn’t fair to ask her to do something that I wasn’t willing to do myself, and I honestly am scared that he won’t want to see me. It is hard to put yourself out there for someone and be rejected.

  “I know. I’m sorry. I’m just saying time can change things. You never know.”

  “Maybe you’re right. If I could talk to him man-to-man, I might be able to put some of this shit behind me. You could do the same, you know?” The thought of being able to move past what had happened seemed like a dream. My father and I couldn’t make up the years we lost, but it would be nice to have a family again.

  She sighed loudly as hers eyes darted everywhere but to mine. “He left with the neighbor lady and never looked back. It doesn’t even matter. I have Derek.”

  I struggled against asking again why she was telling me all of her secrets and not him, but I didn’t want to hurt her more.

  “If he is what makes you happy, then I am happy for you, Sarah.” I couldn’t bring myself to let go of her hand even though the contact was becoming almost painful. “But I think you should tell him about what you went through.”

  “I can’t. He wouldn’t understand.”

   “If he loves you, he would.”

  She looked over at me again and I knew she could see what I was feeling written all over my face.

  SARAH

  I HAD THOUGHT ABOUT telling Derek about my childhood a million times, but I always just assumed it would cause him to run. I wanted to believe that it would just be too much for him to handle, but deep down I often wondered if he did really love me. It scared the shit out of me that I was able to open up to E, something I could never do with Derek. E said himself if Derek loved me, he would react the same way E had, and I wanted to know how much E really cared for me. He didn’t judge me, didn’t try to pull away. He just listened.

  “You understand . . .” An unasked question was in my words.

  E nodded, his free hand running over my cheek and trailing over my jaw. “I do.”

  My heart thudded in my chest as the pad of his thumb ran over my lower lip. I felt my body leaning toward him as his gaze dipped to my mouth and back to my eyes. He pressed his forehead against mine, his eyes falling closed as mine did.

  I felt emotionally exhausted. Spilling my secrets had been too much. “What are you thinking?” I whispered.

  “You don’t want to know.” He laughed and shook his head.

  I smacked him on the arm and pulled back from him. “You are such a perv.”

  “I don’t get many complaints,” he joked, and suddenly I remembered. He was with Donna. All of a sudden, I’d never felt so exposed to anyone.

  I was struggling not to let myself give in to what I was feeling. Every time he touched me, his fingers brushed against me, it ignited a fire inside me that spread clear down to my toes. I had never felt that with anyone before; my fear and guilt from my past had usually drowned out any other feelings for anyone.

  “I’ve missed you.” The confession slipped out as I stared into his sad blue eyes. The corner of his mouth pulled into a smile, revealing one of his dimples. His arms slipped around my neck and he pulled me to him. I didn’t try to pull away.

  “Is this okay?” he whispered into my hair as he hugged me. I could only nod because the feelin
g of him pressed against my body was overwhelming. I spread my fingers out over his sides, sighing as my palms flattened on the straining muscles of his back. “You have no idea how much I missed you, Sarah. So much.”

  I closed my eyes and inhaled the unmistakable scent of E, Polo Sport and whiskey, as his chest rose and fell quickly against mine. I could feel his heart hammering in his chest in time with mine.

  “Do you know how hard it is to stay away from you? I’ve been dying to pull you into my arms since the wedding.” His voice broke as he whispered his confession.

  “You can’t say things like that.” The guilt of what I was feeling was killing me inside, but I didn’t have the strength to pull back from him. For a brief moment I was released from my cage.

  “I’m sorry.” His lips moved against my cheek. He slowly pulled his body away from mine, and I immediately regretted what I’d said.

  Without thinking I put my leg over his lap so I was straddling him. He groaned at the more intimate contact. I rested my forehead on his and my mouth fell open as my breathing increased. He never made a move to kiss me, but somehow this felt more intimate.

  We sat perfectly still like this, enjoying the high of being so close. I could feel how much he wanted me as he pressed against my center. I brought my hands to his chest and placed my hand over his heart as it thumped against my fingertips. His hands moved up my thighs and the tips of his fingers slipped just under the edge of my shorts and over the thin scar I had put there.

  “Sarah . . . ,” he growled, and I felt it through every inch of my body. I slowly opened my eyes, my breathing embarrassingly loud in the quiet room. “If you keep panting like that, I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you.”

  I looked into Eric’s eyes. The intensity of his gaze made me realize that I was getting in too deep. “I shouldn’t be here.”

  His fingers slid to my hips and he held me firmly against him. My body sagged and my lips brushed over his as he spoke. “Stay with me. Just let me hold you.”

  “You know I can’t.”