“I know I hurt you, but if I ever meant anything to you, please just give me a few minutes of your time,” he beseeches.
His earnest expression matches his sincere tone, and I reluctantly nod, sitting on the other end of the couch, putting as much distance between us as I can.
He clears his throat, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say he was nervous. “It was really good to see you today, and it made me realize how much I’ve missed your company and your friendship.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “I’ve wanted to reach out to you so many times—”
“Why didn’t you?” I blurt, cutting across him.
“I was afraid you’d want nothing to do with me, and I wasn’t sure I could handle the rejection.”
That stings, and I want him to know it. “Afraid I’d give you a taste of your own medicine?”
His yellow-green eyes bore into mine, and they’re suffused with guilt and regret. “I deserved that, and for what it’s worth, I’m so fucking sorry, Zeta.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug it off, adding another layer to the wall around my heart. “It’s in the past, and we were just naïve kids with foolish notions.”
“Don’t do that.” He shakes his head. “Don’t dismiss what we shared.”
“I wasn’t the one who did that. That’s all on you, Rock Star.”
He sighs, dragging a hand through his dirty-blond hair. “Look, I didn’t come here to argue with you.”
“Why did you come here?” I fiddle with the bracelet on my wrist, confused and conflicted and wondering why the hell I’m entertaining this conversation with the guy who broke my heart and left me bleeding out through open wounds that have never healed.
“Take the job, Zeta. It’s a fantastic career opportunity, and the money’s great. I don’t want you to turn that down because of me. I give you my word I’ll behave myself. I won’t lay a finger on you”—his lips kick up at the corners—“unless you ask me to.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to work together, Ryder. I just don’t see how it ends well.”
He scrubs a hand over his stubbly chin. “We used to work really well together, remember?” I nod, thinking of how we used to spend most every afternoon writing songs. “And you’re passionate about music. You’ll be in the thick of the whole creative process, and I know you’ll get a kick out of that.” His voice is animated, his eyes bright, as he continues. “And you’ll love the house. It’s right on the beach, and it’s completely private, and you can swim or run or walk every day, hell, you can even do your yoga on the beach, and—”
“How do you know I do yoga?” Suspicion underscores my tone.
“I was speaking in general terms.” He shrugs casually. “Tons of New Yorkers are into yoga, it wasn’t a stretch suggesting it.”
He looks like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, and I’ve no clue if he’s lying to me or not. But in the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t matter, so I let it go. “The house sounds amazing, and I’m grateful for the opportunity, but it’s not something I can get behind. Sorry.” I stand, making it clear this discussion is over.
He rises, staring at me across the coffee table. “Zeta, please just think about it. Sleep on it.” His soulful eyes plead with me, and I hate that he’s starting to suck me in. “We could renew our friendship. Help heal the mistakes of the past. You may not need that, but I do.”
“Don’t try and guilt me into this, because that will only have the opposite effect.”
“That’s not what I’m trying to do.” He walks over to me, stopping a few inches from my face. “We were the best of friends before we were anything else, and I’ve missed that. You were the only friend I had who really understood me. And I know you too. I know you want to do this, but you’re purposely holding back.”
“You knew the girl I was, but you don’t know the woman I’ve become.”
“That may be true, but I’d like to get a chance to know her.”
I rub a tense spot between my brows. The intensity of this conversation is giving me a headache. Or it’s possible it’s the wine. “I’ll sleep on it,” I say, purely to get rid of him. I’m even more determined I’m not doing it now.
Tentatively, he reaches out, running his fingers through my hair. I feel his touch from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and the most intense longing infiltrates every nook and cranny of my body. I jerk away from him before I do something I’ll regret. “Thank you for dropping by, but it’s late, and I’ve got work tomorrow.”
A look of incredible sadness appears on his face, and he nods. Bending over the box on the floor, he opens it, pulling out my jacket, scarf, and the envelope with the written offer. “You left these behind,” he says, placing them on the table. Then he removes a gorgeous bouquet of colorful flowers, shyly handing them to me. “And this is by way of an apology for acting like an ass earlier.”
No one has ever given me flowers before, and the surge of joy lighting up my insides reminds me I’m on shaky ground. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
Our fingers brush as I take the flowers from him, sending fiery tingles zipping up my arm. Electricity crackles in the space between us and from his subtle intake of breath I’m guessing he still feels it too. I shouldn’t be surprised because it’s not like I ever fell out of lust or love with him. But he did…
My head is a mess as I walk him to the door, and I know I have to ask this. “Who was the girl?”
“What girl?” He frowns.
“The one you left me for.” I hate how pitifully sad I sound and how my throat tightens, my heart pounds, and my stomach twists into painful knots. Even after all this time, knowing I wasn’t enough for him and that I couldn’t hold onto him still hurts.
He takes his time answering me, rubbing his palms down the front of his jeans and shuffling nervously on his feet. In a quiet voice he says. “There wasn’t any girl, Zeta. I lied about that. There’s only ever been you.”
I step back as if slapped, my jaw slackening with shock. Peering into his eyes, I see the truth shining back at me, and I’m staggered.
I’ve always had tons of unanswered questions because of the way we broke up, but I never doubted there was someone else, because I was hardly the catch of the century and he was so amazing and gorgeous and attentive, and I knew girls must’ve been throwing themselves at him while I was still in juvie. I also knew he was a virgin back then, and horny as fuck, so I guessed some girl had tempted him with her magical vajayjay and that’s why he’d left. That knowledge, and the accompanying pain, crushed me for years, and it took me a long time to move on.
His statement has thrown everything upside down, and I don’t know how to think, how to feel. I don’t know if this changes anything or not.
The world spins, and I sway a little. He reaches out, holding onto my elbow, keeping me upright, as concern, remorse, and regret flare in his eyes.
“Why then? Why did you do it?”
He stares straight at me, holding nothing back, and so much passes between us in the moment it almost undoes me. His eyes radiate with pain when he answers. “I was scared, and I believed you were better off without me.”
Tears prick my eyes, and I can hardly speak over the emotion wedged in my throat. “You cut me out of the decision, and you didn’t even have the guts to break up with me in person. You were just gone.”
“Because I knew one look at your face would shatter my resolve and I wouldn’t go through with it. I also knew you’d come looking for me, so that’s why I lied about the girl, but there was no one. I swear.”
He takes hold of both my hands, his eyes welling up. “The truth is, I intentionally hurt both of us because I believed I was doing the right thing for you. I loved you enough to walk away even though it killed me, and if I had to do it all over again, I’d still make the same call, because I couldn’t take car
e of you back then. But I can now, and all I’m asking for is a chance to get to know you again. No strings or expectations. Let’s just do this and see where it leads.”
He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand in soothing circular motions, like he used to always do, and the feel of his callused skin against mine sends memories scurrying to the forefront of my mind.
“You hurt me so much, Ryder, and I don’t know that I can ever forgive you. I don’t know if this makes any difference,” I truthfully reply.
For a split second, I think he might actually cry, but he composes himself. “Everything I said earlier still stands. Don’t refuse this opportunity because of me. I promise I won’t do anything to make you uncomfortable, and maybe this will help both of us to forget about the past, because I think you need that as much as me.”
CHAPTER 22
Ryder
My heart is heavy as I exit the building where Zeta lives. Pulling the collar of my jacket up and keeping my head down low, I run across the street to where Mike has the SUV parked. I climb in the back, and he starts up the engine. “Where to, boss?”
“Home.” I stare out the window, not really seeing anything. I was all fired up on my way over to speak to her, but now I’m definitely feeling the blues.
She’s going to turn it down.
She’s built a cage around her heart, and she’s determined to keep me out.
The fact she still loves me is of no consequence if I can’t get through to her. I remove the flask from my inside jacket pocket and gulp back a few mouthfuls of vodka.
“You doing okay, Ryder?” Mike asks, glancing briefly at me through the mirror.
“She’ll never forgive me,” I murmur, keeping my eyes locked on the window as we navigate our way out of Queens.
“What’s the deal with this woman anyway?” Mike must have guessed by now she’s important to me, but he’s never asked me about her before.
I meet his gaze in the mirror. “She’s my one and only, Mike. She means the world to me.”
He nods. “I thought as much.”
We don’t talk about Zeta anymore, and that’s one of the reasons why Mike is so damned good at his job. He’s discreet, and he knows when to put a sock in it.
My inclination is to drown my sorrows in the usual way, and it’d be easy to block all my feelings out, but I can’t get despondent at the first hurdle. Nothing worth fighting for in life comes easy, and I’ve got to stop feeling sorry for myself and finally fucking do something to take back control of my life.
I pull out my cell and call up my financial guy. I don’t care that it’s almost midnight. I pay him enough to take my fucking call no matter what time of the day or night it is. He answers on the fifth ring. “Mr. Stone. What can I do you for?”
“Two things. That financial transaction I asked you to take care of a few months back, that was done, right?”
“I handled it. The debt has been cleared, and the monthly mortgage payment is being redirected into an interest-bearing account.”
“Good. There’s something I need you to do for me now, and it can’t wait.”
“Whatever you need, consider it done.”
“I need you to purchase RockOut magazine.”
“You’ve lost it, dude. You’ve seriously fucking lost it.” Gar looks at me like I’ve grown ten heads overnight. “Are you shitting me right now, or you actually fucking did it?”
I shrug, refilling my coffee cup. “I did it. I’m now the proud owner of RockOut magazine.”
“You really love this girl?” Scott inquires, looking genuinely interested as he leans his elbows on the counter in my kitchen.
“She’s the only girl I’ve ever loved. The only one I ever will.”
“So why are we only hearing about her now?” Micah asks, crossing his legs at the ankles.
“It’s complicated.” I wonder how much to say. I’m not sure how much Zeta tells people about her past, but if she’s going to live with us for the next few months, I doubt it’s something either one of us can keep hidden, so I figure I might as well set the scene. “We actually met in juvie.”
“Fuck. Me.” Gar runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head and sulking.
“What now?” I regard him warily.
“She’s sexy, fiery, smart, and a badass, and she just has to be the one woman I have zero chance of nailing.”
I slam my mug down, coffee spilling onto the counter. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that.”
“Man, you’ve got to put a lid on that crap,” Scott interjects. “You can’t speak like that around her or about her. Show some respect.”
Gar shoves up his middle finger. “I don’t need another lecture. I already got one from the pussy over there.” He points at me. “And contrary to popular belief, I’m not an asshole. I’d never hit on any of your women, so give me a fucking break, and get off my back.”
I’m not sure how much I believe that statement, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. “Okay, relax, we’re cool. I’ve told Rod to make arrangements for next weekend, so you’ve all got this week to sort your shit out.”
“And Zeta’s really on board with this?” Scott asks with a hint of disbelief.
I smirk. “She didn’t have much of a choice. I seriously thought she was going to punch me in the nuts when she found out.”
Micah chuckles. “I would’ve loved to have been a fly on the wall for that meeting.”
Because I wasn’t taking any chances, I offered double the market value for the magazine, and the owner didn’t hesitate to accept. The paperwork was pushed through fast, and that’s how I found myself at RockOut’s offices this morning addressing a group of my new employees. Most were shocked and excited. A few were nervous until I explained it was business as usual and there would be no changes. I’ve zero desire to run a magazine. It was purely a means to an end, so Harrison Meadows will continue in his role as CEO, and he’ll report to Rod and my financial guy. They’ll look after my investment.
Zeta was fuming, and she threw a hissy fit, screaming and shouting and flinging obscenities at me. It was seriously hot, and I don’t know how I resisted body slamming her into the wall and fucking her senseless, but I did. Even the thought of being inside her makes me painfully hard.
I don’t blame her for her reaction.
It was a serious asshole move on my part, but I can’t lose her again, and I’m taking no chances. Once I win her back, I’ll transfer ownership of the magazine into her name or I’ll sell it. Whatever she wants. But I’m not sorry I’ve done this if it means I get a second chance with her. That’s worth every temper tantrum she wants to direct my way.
I’m at the twenty-four-hour bar around the corner from our usual meeting point, sipping a beer and trying to quell the rage burning me from the inside out.
It’s the same every few months when I have to make the drop-off.
This is the one aspect of my life no one knows about, so I’ve no choice but to handle this myself even if I truly hate it.
I despise seeing his face up close and personal.
And I loathe handing over the cash.
But he has me by the balls, and we both know it.
So here I am. Eight years later. Still beholden to my past. Still being blackmailed with no end in sight, and it’s playing havoc with my emotions. The nightmares are always more frequent after one of the drop-offs, and it’s why I usually drown myself in drink, drugs, and pussy for days after I’ve faced him, because I just can’t handle thinking about it anymore.
The guilt is never ending.
Guilt for the boy who didn’t get to live his life.
Guilt over abandoning Zeta like that.
Guilt over what I did to Luc.
I’m a bad person.
A selfish asshole, because I should be pushing Zeta away ag
ain not trying to reel her back in.
But I need her.
Fuck, do I ever need her.
Since we met again, things have been that little bit more bearable, and I know letting her back into my life will help ease my suffering. That last year in juvie was one of the most stable periods in my life—because of her.
She turned my world from dark to light.
She gave me hope and fostered self-belief.
I always felt like I could do anything when she was by my side.
Her love literally lifted me to new heights.
She made me feel worthy for the first time ever.
I’ve never felt the same connection with any other woman. They are just nameless, faceless fucks who help me get out of my head for a while, but I’ve never felt anything when I’m with them, never allowed anyone to get close enough to try.
Not like with her. Zeta only has to step into a room, and I’m drawn to her in a way I can’t explain or describe.
“Looking for some company tonight, sexy?” The bartender cuts through my thoughts, leaning forward on the counter, deliberately flashing me her tits.
“Not tonight, Rita.” I only ever come to this bar when I’m meeting him. A couple times, I’ve been so traumatized after the drop-off I’ve come back inside and practically drank the bar dry.
The last time I was here, I fucked Rita in the lane out back, but I was so smashed I didn’t even wait for her to come. I was rough, and I came fucking hard, then pulled up my pants, and walked off without a word. I felt bad about that the next day. I always try to ensure the girl gets off, but I was a selfish jackass that night. If I was a normal guy, I doubt she’d be asking for seconds, but most girls have an agenda when it comes to rock stars.
I generally stick to groupies, because most encounters take place when we’re on tour, and the chance of bumping into them again is slim.
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