His clothes mostly back in order—though his shirt was still unbuttoned and giving her a breathtaking view of a narrow strip of his chest—he leaned against the counter beside her.
“I have to ask, even though I already know your answer,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest.
She met his eyes and saw the same anguish over parting that she felt in her own chest and belly.
“Come to LA with me,” he said.
“I can’t. I want to.” And for a few seconds she almost faltered and told the world to fuck off. She didn’t need a career or friends or to do the right thing. But she couldn’t be that kind of person. “You have no idea how much I want to.” She squeezed his forearm. “You could stay here with me.”
“I’m enough of a selfish asshole to do just that,” he said.
She grinned. “No, you’re not.”
He opened his arms, and she stepped into his embrace, settling her face against his beating heart. He hugged her close. His voice rumbled deep against her ear as she snuggled even closer.
“Can’t you get away this weekend? Or even one day? Sed’s getting married. My invitation says plus guest. Don’t make me look like a loser by forcing me to bring Zach.”
She chuckled and squeezed him tight around the waist. “I’m sure the tabloids would love to print that story. How’s Zach doing? Did he get things sorted out with his boyfriend?” She still couldn’t believe Enrique Sanz was gay. He’d dated a fair number of A-list actresses over the years. Roux had had quite a crush on him at one time.
“Zach’s heartbroken. Refuses to get out of my bed.”
“Um . . . I’m sure the tabloids would love to print that story too.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’d rather them print the one about how I ran off and eloped with the sensational keyboardist of the up-and-coming band Baroquen.”
Her breath caught, and she pulled away to gape at him. Was he serious? His grin told her that he couldn’t possibly be. She slapped his arm. “Don’t joke about stuff like that.”
“I’m not joking. I have a jet at my disposal. Say the word and we’re in Vegas getting hitched in a matter of hours.”
Her heart thundered out of control, and she stepped away. “You are moving way too fast for me.”
“I’m moving way too fast for me too,” he said, capturing her upper arms in both hands. “I just don’t want you to get away.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded.
“You seemed pretty freaked out about saying I love you.”
“That isn’t what freaked me out.” But she didn’t want to discuss her silly, irrational fears. “Is Exodus End really going to play at Sed’s wedding reception? That’s crazy.”
“Don’t change the subject. Tell me what had you so afraid.”
She shook her head and turned her back on him, fingers automatically going to the bullet dangling from her old bracelet. “It’s nothing.”
His arms slid around her waist from behind, and he rested his cheek against the top of her head. “It isn’t nothing. Tell me.”
Having those thoughts return now caused the familiar panic to rise up her chest and into her throat. She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out of the bathroom. There was no good place for them to hide in there. She pulled free of his grasp and bolted for the door, opening it and almost crashing into Jordan who had a fist up ready to knock on the heavy wood.
“Oh good,” she said, “you’re done. We have to get in the air if we’re going to make it back by morning.”
Roux dashed past her, sadness over Steve’s leaving crowding out her silly panic. She didn’t know whether to scream or cry, so she hurried to the huge window that faced the airstrip and clutched the waist-high windowsill, settling her forehead against the cool glass and sucking deep breaths into her lungs. She knew the instant that Steve stopped beside her. She could feel his presence.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to try to get away.” His tone was teasing, and she was glad he was trying to lighten the mood, because she couldn’t take any more heaviness pressing in at her from all directions.
“I’m not trying to get away from you.”
“You just won’t tell me something as important as why you’re afraid. You don’t think I can handle it?”
She could see him struggling not to reach for her. He went so far as to shove both hands into his pockets.
“I don’t want you to think I’m silly,” she admitted. “My fears are completely irrational. I know that. But it doesn’t make them feel any less real.”
He watched her closely but didn’t crowd her or say anything. Maybe that was why she couldn’t keep quiet.
“When I realized that I love you, my first thought was that my father would shoot you too. Take you from me like he took everyone I loved. I couldn’t stand to lose another person I love that way.”
Steve wasn’t so special in that regard. Sometimes she still worried that some asshole with a gun would kill her sisters or Mama Ramona, but she hadn’t experienced crippling panic over those kinds of thoughts for years. It must be because loving Steve was so new. She simply hadn’t had time to convince herself that the chances of him falling to the same tragedy that had taken her family were slim.
Steve took one step closer, but still held himself stiff, listening closely to what she was saying but not interrupting. He must think she was a fucking lunatic. She didn’t want him to think of her that way, so why the hell couldn’t she shut up?
“There was no good place to hide in that bathroom.” She pointed toward the dimly lit hallway that led to the bathroom. “If someone came in there, we’d be sitting ducks.” The fear of huddling in that dark closet, the sound of Daddy’s gun firing again and again, the feel of his hand wrapping around her ankle and of being dragged out into the open, the strange acceptance of knowing she was about to die—all those sensations were as vivid and real to her now as they had been when she’d experienced them over a decade ago. She covered her chest with her hand, as if that would have stopped the bullet that almost ended her life, stopped it from affecting her life to this day.
“Good point,” Steve said.
Huh?
“I didn’t think of how something like that might affect you.”
He wasn’t going to tell her that no one would have tried to attack them in a million years? Not tell her she was being irrational and not to worry, that they’d been perfectly safe? That was what she was used to hearing, and none of those words made her feel more secure or less panicked. Mostly they just made her feel stupid.
“Are there certain places that make you feel vulnerable?” he asked, taking another step closer.
She licked her lips and shook her head. “It wasn’t the place,” she said. “It was a feeling.” She huffed out a laugh. “And not a feeling I’m willing to give up now that I recognize it.” But a feeling she’d been avoiding for years. She just hadn’t realized why she never allowed herself to fall in love in any of her past relationships. Steve hadn’t given her a choice. She had to love him. She would have to find a way to cope, because she refused to let her father’s actions take love from her now that it was hers. “I love you. That feeling is what makes me feel vulnerable.”
“I can’t just stand here and not hold you right now,” he said.
Her heart twisted, and a tear leaked from her eye to course down her cheek. She remembered the first time he’d said that to her out on the balcony when she’d tried to scare him away by telling him about her past. Was that the moment she’d started falling for him? She took a step closer, and he threw his arms around her, pulling her securely against his chest. Here she felt safe. Only here.
After a moment, Steve stiffened and looked over his shoulder. Jordan was standing behind him, tapping him on the back. He had to leave. Roux knew he had to, and she forced herself to be grateful for the moments they’d stolen rather than bitter that the time had
already slipped away from them.
“It’s only a week,” she said, more to herself than to him.
“But we can’t see each other on tour either,” he said. “Your rule.”
“We can if you’re dating Katie Williams—unknown fangirl—rather than Roux Williams—unknown rock star.”
He laughed and drew her in close for a tight hug. “Are you sure Roux won’t be jealous?”
“She’ll be too busy being fabulous to be jealous.”
Jordan cleared her throat, her arms folded over her chest, and her foot tapped against the floor. “Any day now,” she grumbled under her breath.
Roux had wanted to surprise Steve with her idea to lead a double life on tour. She was convinced that no one would ever figure out that Katie and Roux were the same person. She looked totally different in stage makeup and costume. That was how she’d have her cake and eat him up as much as possible. She’d learned long ago that compromise was the best way to get more out of life.
“Call me, text me, send me nude photos,” he said, kissing her several times before drawing away an inch.
“I won’t be totally nude,” she said, giving him a stern look. She smiled when he scowled, and then she lifted her arm to catch the light in the bracelet he’d given her. “I’ll be wearing this.”
“And the panties? I never did get a good look at them.”
“Maybe.” She kissed him once more and then lightly pressed on his chest. “Now go before Jordan taps a hole into the floor with that foot of hers.”
“This foot of mine is about to land squarely in the center of a certain drummer’s backside,” Jordan said. “You promised you wouldn’t dally if I did this for you, Steve.”
Steve held up one finger and then turned to gaze deeply into Roux’s eyes.
“I love you,” he said, his words making Roux soar.
“I love you too.”
The instant he pulled away and she was no longer cocooned in his aura, she felt the loss. She forced herself not to run after him, not to get on the plane, not to give in to what she truly wanted. They had plenty of time to be together. This parting was only temporary. Of course, one never knew when one’s time was up. She fiddled with the bullet on her bracelet. He’ll be safe, she told herself. No one is going to hurt him.
“Wait!” she gasped just before he followed Jordan out a door that led to the tarmac.
She unfastened the bracelet she always wore as she hurried after him. “Here,” she said, pressing the bullet into his hand. “Keep this with you. It will protect you.”
He lifted his brows. “It will?”
Of course it wouldn’t. That was silly, but . . . “I want you to have something of mine.” She pressed her hand to his chest. “Something of me.”
“Your love is enough,” he said, but he squeezed the bracelet into his fist and pressed it against his chest. “But I’ll treasure this and return it to you when I see you again.”
He kissed her once more, and then he was gone. With her forehead pressed against the glass door, she watched him hurry to the plane. Some unseen force tugged at her gut, trying to pull her toward him. Even after he turned and waved and she waved back, that feeling didn’t go away. Nor did it leave her when the jet’s door was shut or even when the plane was taxiing. The link between them was strong, and it was going to be one long fucking week without him.
Twenty-Three
Steve couldn’t stop smiling. Even Zach—who was stuck in a pathetic self-loathing loop—noticed.
“Did you just graduate clown school or what?” Zach grumbled. “All that smiling gets creepy after a while.”
Steve wiped the grin off his face for almost a full second before it returned. “Can’t help it,” he said. “I’m happy. And I know your misery would like some company right now, but too bad.”
A car pulled to a stop at the corner where they were waiting for their Uber, but it didn’t fit the description of their ride.
“You could have left me to wallow in my misery alone,” Zach said.
“You’re not spending another day in my bed. It’s starting to smell like you. Talk about creepy.”
“If you want me to go home, I’ll go home.”
“And where would that be? Did you find an apartment when I wasn’t looking?”
Zach crossed his arms and turned his face away. “I have a place.”
“I’m not going to let you go begging to Enrique for a place to stay,” Steve said.
“If I don’t have anywhere else to go, he’ll have to take me back.” His miserable look was momentarily replaced with a hopeful one.
Steve resisted the urge to punch him. He knew Zach still wanted Enrique, but he needed to get over him and move on. Zach needed someone who would lift him up, not bring him down, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to find that someone moping around Steve’s house. That was why Steve was taking him to the dumb wedding reception rehearsal.
They’d been practicing the songs for a couple of days, so Steve didn’t see the need for an on-site rehearsal. Not that he didn’t like hanging out with his band when he was on a tour break. What was he thinking? He fucking hated it. They needed to get out of each other’s faces for a week or two. He’d much rather be spending his break making a nuisance of himself at Baroquen’s rehearsals in New York. He absently rubbed the bullet dangling around his wrist. He’d had to get a chain extender so he could wear Roux’s bracelet, but he was grateful for the constant reminder of her. He needed to send her something special today so that she knew he was thinking of her.
Their ride finally arrived—driver apologizing profusely for making them wait, but traffic was what it was.
“If you’d let me pick up my bike,” Zach grumbled, “we wouldn’t have to wait or pay for a ride.”
“We tried that, remember?” And Zach had fallen apart at the gate of Enrique’s estate when the ass refused to even speak to him. Zach had completely forgotten his entire reason for going there until it was too late to choose a less desperate strategy. “If someone had picked out something a little less custom for his birthday, we wouldn’t have to wait or pay for a ride either.”
Zach’s birthday wasn’t for another seven weeks, and the bike Steve had gotten him on a whim—mostly to cheer him up, but also to replace the one at Enrique’s house—would probably be delivered after the fact.
“You spoil me, is the problem,” Zach said, smiling for the first time that day.
“Character flaw,” Steve said before he slid into the back seat of the Mini Cooper. His knees were immediately in his face.
“You don’t have to buy people things to get them to love you,” Zach said, flopping the front seat back into Steve’s shins.
Tiny cars and long legs did not go well together. He should have made Zach take an Uber, and he could have ridden his bike, but Zach probably would have gone back to Enrique’s house and had a mental breakdown on the street. There were still photographers milling about the area, and the latest story from Enrique’s publicist was that Zach was some deranged fanboy whose misguided obsession was not returned by the actor. Enrique wouldn’t even admit he knew him. Steve would really like to punch the guy in the balls. Assuming he had any. Fucking coward.
Zach made small talk with the driver while Steve used his phone to order an enormous bouquet of flowers to be sent to Roux. He wasn’t sure if she liked flowers. Maybe he should send her a puppy. He knew she liked those. He settled for mentioning the puppy on the message card and imagined their future life together in his tiny house and surrounded by dozens of rescue pets.
“What are you smiling about now?” Zach asked when he let Steve out of the back of the Mini Cooper at the reception venue. “Let me guess. Roux.”
“I need to get used to calling her Katie,” Steve said.
“She doesn’t look like a Katie. Are you sure you want to hide your relationship? It didn’t work out so well for me.”
“We aren’t hiding it. Just not letting any outsiders know what she
does for a living.”
Zach rolled his eyes. “That’s kind of a big deal.”
“It will be fine,” Steve said.
The guys were all there waiting when Steve entered the room. Their minimal stage setup reminded Steve of their early days before they hit the record charts and could pull a crowd. He had only one bass drum, a snare, and a few toms and cymbals. On what, exactly, was he supposed to expend his copious energy? The set list—which included Elvis, Neil Diamond, Chuck Berry, and even Madonna—reminded him of nightmares he’d had about playing the wrong song in concert before a huge, pissed-off crowd. He still wasn’t sure how they’d been talked into doing this. Curse Dare for being so damned likable. It was impossible to stay perturbed at the guy, even when he made promises to his brother’s bandmates that prevented Steve from enjoying his week off.
Dare looked up from the tuning peg he was adjusting. “Wow, only thirty minutes late.”
“You’re lucky I showed up at all. Don’t you guys have better places to be?”
“I gave Jordan the next week off,” Max said, “so if you need to run off to New York again, you’ll have to fly commercial.”
Steve cringed. That would make it loads easier to stay away from Roux for the next seven days. He hated flying commercial.
“Hey, Zach,” Logan said. “Steve isn’t planning on passing his drumming duties off to you, is he?”
Now there was an idea.
“He’s put me on suicide watch.” Zach grinned. “Doesn’t trust me to be left alone.”
“Don’t even joke about that,” Steve said. “Your task is to help take the metal out of my drumming.”
“Why the fuck would I do that?”
“Because someone has a soft spot for his little brother, which results in lame gigs.” Steve lifted an eyebrow at Dare, who didn’t bother to deny it. “Speaking of your little brother,” Steve continued. “He wouldn’t happen to know a nice guy to get Zach here out of his funk, would he?”
Staged (Exodus End World Tour, #3) Page 29