"No truer words have ever been spoken." He patted me on the back as the doors to the elevator slid open. "How's Isabelle doing? Her mom told me what happened when she swung by here earlier to put stuff in the apartment."
"She's going to be OK. Just some bumps, bruises and a concussion. She's going to have to take it easy for a few days, but she'll be as good as new in no time," I assured him.
Joe held his hand on the elevator doors, keeping them open for me.
"Go get her put to bed. If you need anything, just ring me down here, and I'll make sure to take care of it. We all just adore that girl," the older man said with a smile.
"I do too. Thanks, Mr. Jones." I stepped into the corner of the elevator, and Joe let the doors close.
When we arrived on Izzy's floor, Joe dug out the key she’d given him as we were leaving the hospital. The door swung open silently. My eyes roved the space that used to be so familiar to me, cataloging the changes since I last set eyes on it either in person or through video calls. The walls were bare. The Sunflowers reprint was gone from the wall directly in front of me. The paintings and drawings and photos of us—gone. Images of the band, sights we'd seen together, gifts—all vanished. The front of the fridge was free of magnets and notes. The coffee table stood empty. The surface of her desk was bare.
My heart cracked. I'd been erased from her life. It was as if her apartment had been sterilized of my touch.
"You going to put her down?" Joe asked, snapping me back to reality.
“Yeah. Give me a minute.” I didn’t even think twice about traversing the now bare hallway and easing the door to her room open.
Sunlight filtered in through the partially opened blinds, illuminating another room barren of not only traces of me, but traces of her as well. Every surface was clear of any memento honoring her old life or her new one. The only thing I recognized from the space other than the furniture was the soft pink bedspread.
Shifting her sleeping form so I could free one hand, I pulled back the covers on her side of the bed. If that still was her side of the bed. Maybe that had changed too.
Gently, I eased her onto the mattress. After slipping her shoes off, I covered her. She burrowed into her pillow. I couldn’t help but watch her for just a minute. When the ache and desire reached detonation levels, I spun on my heel and went to find Joe. He was perched on the couch, systematically taking in the number of covered easels scattered around the living room.
She’d definitely been busy.
“What do you think is under the cloths?” Joe asked.
“Something spectacular, I’m sure.” I sat down on the corner of the couch.
He got to his feet and approached the closest easel.
“Don’t even think about it,” I barked as his hand snaked out to lift the fabric. “Izzy hates people seeing her work before it’s finished.” She’d often made an exception for me. But I’d never peek without asking permission first.
With a sigh, he stepped back. “Izzy’s mom left a note on the counter. She stocked the cabinets and fridge with your favorites.”
I chuckled. Sue had always mothered me growing up, maybe even more than my own mom. My mom was too distracted by the problems between her and Dad. At least my absence hadn’t erased me Sue’s heart.
“Ty texted. He’s got Izzy’s prescription and her new phone and is on the way up with it. With the doorman downstairs, I feel pretty confident you’ll be safe here. Just don’t go anywhere. Someone will be stationed close by around the clock should you need anything,” Joe said.
“Sounds good, man. Thanks.” I was exhausted and weary, so I had no plans on leaving.
A knock sounded on the door. When Joe swung the door open, he took the bags from Ty and brought it over to me. He stared at me hard for a long moment.
“D… be careful. Take care of her and yourself.” The big man marched to the door and left without a backward glance.
Not knowing what to do with myself in a place that used to feel like a home but now felt… I didn’t have the right word for how it felt… I wandered to the kitchen to see what Izzy’s mom had gotten for us. The fridge was stocked with tons of options, and the pantry was too. I grinned when I saw my favorite marshmallow cereal.
I checked the time. Izzy could have a dose of medicine in half an hour. Opening the fridge, I grabbed a bottle of water. Then I got one of her pills and went to check on her. When I peeked in her room, she was just how I left her—snuggled under her blanket, beautiful as ever. I sank down in the chair in the corner and let my gaze rove around the room.
Everything was neat and clean. No works in progress were scattered about. No discarded clothes. No funky jewelry. Everything seemed to be tucked away. The only thing out of place sat in the back corner of her dresser. It was the only spot of color in the room besides the pink comforter.
Unable to resist, I got up and walked over to the dresser. With trembling fingers, I picked up the soft, multi-colored stuffed bear. Pressing my nose to the fabric, I inhaled the scent that for years had reminded me of Izzy. Trapping one of its ears between my thumb and pointer finger, I stroked the squishy material.
Finding this in a place devoid of me and the Izzy I’d always loved, lit a tiny flicker of hope in my heart. The question was should I nurture and fan the flame or let it snuff itself out? Which was best for her? Best for me?
Chapter 15
Izzy
Slowly, I became aware of my surroundings. The soft blanket clutched in my fingers, the cool pillow beneath my cheek, the scent of strawberries and lavender filling my nose—I was home in my bed. I tried to make sense of things. It took me a moment to remember being at the hospital, getting hit, my artwork destroyed… Dawson. My eyes flew open.
My vision was filled with him. His lips spread in a wide smile, bringing out that dimple I loved so much.
“I see you found my good luck charm,” I said with a grin. He looked so adorable in the chair clutching it to his chest.
“Huh?” He looked confused.
“Groovy, my bear,” I explained nodding to the muted, tie-dyed bear.
“Yeah. I can’t believe you kept him,” Dawson said, peering down at the stuffed creature.
I frowned at him. “He’s the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes after my kidney transplant. Seeing him made me smile for the first time in weeks, months even. The transplant was the day after my birthday. I was so depressed. And then this little guy magically appeared and brought a spot of color back into my life. Somehow, he gave me the nudge to fight a little harder. Why wouldn’t I keep him?” I asked, not understanding.
Leaning forward, he planted his elbows on his knees. “Because this bear was from me,” Dawson whispered. “And you erased every piece of me from your life.” He waved one hand around, indicating my barren room.
“He’s from you? I don’t understand.” I scooted up to a sitting position. Had I banged my head hard enough to lose my memories?
“This bear was your birthday present that first birthday after… things went to hell with us. I was out with the guys in Beijing and saw this little guy sitting in a window.” He turned the bear around to look at its cute little face. “I was drawn to the colors. His fur was like a watercolor. Made me think of you. Then when I saw his name was Groovy, it reminded me of the song ‘Groovy Kind of Love’.”
♪ Groovy Kind of Love by Phil Collins
“You sang that to me the first time we were apart for over a month. It cheered us both up,” I continued the story softly.
What were the odds that the surprise, anonymous gift which had brightened my darkest days had been a gift from Dawson?
“Yeah. So, when I saw him, I knew I had to get him for you. I wrote a note and boxed him up that day. I’d been trying to decide what to send you for your birthday, but I was at a loss. I mean what do you send the girl who was your whole world and owned your heart, then walked away? Groovy was a sign. Finding him made me not feel so blue. Gave me a little hope that the dark
ness would recede soon,” he said, his eyes shimmering with unfettered emotion.
“I didn’t know he was from you. I thought you’d forgotten my birthday,” I admitted. It had hurt so badly when I thought he’d forgotten me.
“I’ve never forgotten your birthday,” he said vehemently, his fingers squeezing the bear tightly.
“I guess I’m seeing that now. The CD you sent for my last birthday only arrived a few weeks ago,” I admitted.
“What? I mailed it weeks before your birthday,” he said incredulously.
I shrugged. “International postal system.”
“So, if you didn’t know I sent Groovy, then you didn’t read my letter?” he murmured.
“No.” I fidgeted with a loose thread on the edge of my comforter.
“And you were in the hospital when you got him?” Dawson’s brow wrinkled, trying to figure things out.
“Yeah. In Atlanta. I was in the hospital for weeks before my surgery. Mom must have opened the package when she came by my apartment to pay my bills and stuff,” I offered.
“And brought him to cheer you up in the hospital. Which if she’d told you he was from me, he probably wouldn’t have cheered you up.” He nodded to himself, the smile dropping from his lips.
Mom had failed to confess that little detail weeks ago when she’d come clean about Dawson’s phone number changing. Maybe I needed to have a talk with her. She couldn’t make decisions about my life without talking to me. I was an adult now. Or maybe I should just let it go. Fussing with her now wouldn’t change the past.
“Well, I’m glad he cheered you up,” Dawson said with a half-smile as he stood and walked over to me. He tucked the soft toy into the curve of my arm.
“I’m glad he was from you. What did the letter say?” I asked curiously.
His face flushed red. “Oh, just how much I missed you and wished I knew what went wrong. I apologized for everything that happened with the tabloids and videos. And how much I would always love you,” he rambled.
Reaching over, I pulled back the far corner of the blanket and patted the sheet.
“Are you sure?” he asked awkwardly, tucking his hands into his back pockets.
“Get over here, Daw. Don’t make me beg,” I teased. As I eased back against my pillow, I winced.
“Are you in pain? You were actually due for a pain pill almost two hours ago, but I didn’t have the heart to wake you. You looked so beautiful and peaceful.” He looked worried.
“So, you stared at me while I slept, like a creeper?” I teased.
“Guilty as charged.” He grabbed a pill from the nightstand and a bottle of water. Holding open his palm, he offered the pain medicine to me.
I scrunched up my nose in thought. “I’m a little uncomfortable, but I’d really like to stay awake for a while. I think I’ll wait.”
He put everything back on the nightstand and eased onto the mattress next to me, back where he belonged. One corner of my mouth quirked up.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked as he propped himself up against the pillows.
I tucked my chin shyly. “Nothing. I just enjoy seeing you back on your side of the bed.”
“I wasn’t sure if you still slept on the same side of the bed or not when I tucked you in. I figured there was a chance that you’d switched… if Beckett liked the same side as you.”
I lifted my gaze back to his. “Beckett never slept over in my apartment, so he didn’t have a side in my bed.”
Dawson growled and angled his body closer to mine. His lips pressed against mine. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear you say that he wasn’t in your bed.”
He nipped my lip, eliciting a mewl from me. My fingers gripped his shirt.
“But I can’t tell you how much it shreds my guts imagining him touching you, him kissing you… him inside of you,” his voice was ravaged by pain.
He pulled his mouth from mine and rested his forehead against my own. A war rioted on his face, causing one to rage in my heart. I opened my mouth to speak, but his thumb swept across my lips, freezing the words in my throat.
“I know I have no right to feel that way, but I can’t help it. It makes me want to punch him for touching what was mine. We promised each other forever. Every beat of my heart only ever said your name,” he said and collapsed onto his back like voicing his feelings had drained him.
“I wasn’t with Beckett to hurt you or get back at you. You disappeared. You didn’t take my calls or answer my messages. You moved on first. I was just trying to live again. Trying to find some semblance of love and happiness. It didn’t matter that I was lying to myself the whole time,” my voice trembled—from indignation or heartache, I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was a combination of both.
He peeked over at me. His fingers wrapped around my wrist. "Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this right now,” he said sadly. “Your pulse is thundering. Your blood pressure is probably too high.”
“I don’t give a shit about my blood pressure right now.” His eyes widened at my use of a cuss word. I blushed in shame. I rarely ever cussed. I tried not to ever let my emotions get the best of me. But I was failing miserably.
“Dawson, this is a conversation we need to have if we’re going to move on from everything in any capacity. Whether it be as friends, as everything or as nothing, we both need the closure,” I pleaded.
“I can’t watch you get hurt,” he croaked.
“Not dealing with this hurts worse. It has hurt every day for the past two years. We both screwed up back then. Gave up too easily, didn’t fight hard enough, moved on without properly ending things.” My chest heaved.
He tugged me into his arms. “Deep breaths. Slow your heart rate down, then we’ll talk. I promise.”
His heartbeat filled my ear. I concentrated on it, inhaling with every two thumps of his heart. Eventually, the thundering of my own slowed to a regular rhythm.
“For the record, I didn’t move on,” he said softly against my hair.
I pulled back. “I saw the photos. I even emailed you the one from the tabloid that shattered my heart and convinced me you were done with me. You were kissing another girl.” The ache in my chest grew just like it was yesterday. “The girl who took my place in your music video,” I finished on a whisper.
“That photo had to be old. I swear, it was not a new picture of me,” he tried to defend himself.
“How can you be so sure? There were lots of photos in the gossip rags where your arms were around groupies. How can you possibly remember each girl you screwed, let alone kissed over the past two years?” Blood rushed in my ears, making it hard to hear. My vision swam.
“I am a thousand percent sure that the photo was old because there has been no one since you,” he said quietly and calmly.
I had to have heard him wrong.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Once the whooshing in my head stopped, I said, “What?”
“There. Has. Been. No. One. Since. You,” he emphasized each word. He leaned forward, making me slide backwards. “Since I kissed you goodbye in Europe, these lips haven’t touched anyone’s lips or other body parts. Not unless you count the little girl I kissed on the cheek at the children’s hospital in Vietnam.” He thrust his pelvis against the juncture of my thighs. “And this cock hasn’t been inside anyone else, in any capacity, since you got off my tour bus two years ago. Every single piece of me from the random thoughts in my head, to the beats of my heart, to the lyrics of my soul, to the DNA in every cell of my body belongs to you. Only you. That includes my kisses, my affections. Those things weren’t mine to give away. No matter what poor imitation of you was trotted out in front of me.” His hips circled against my center seductively again.
I moaned at the contact but frowned over the words. It was impossible. “H-how is…” I stammered unable to coherently speak my thoughts.
“What’s wrong, flutterby? Cat got your tongue?” he teased as his finger stroked my cheek.
&nb
sp; I nodded, making a chuckle burst from him, shattering the tension sizzling between us.
“You want to know how I managed to go two years without hooking up with anyone when sex is constantly thrown at me?” he asked so easily.
I nodded again. At least my brain was working a little.
“The first year was easy. I kept holding out hope that when all the scandal died down, you would reach out. I didn’t even notice the women Lila posed me with for publicity photos. I always stood there stiffly. Detached. Anyway, after a year with no word from you, I did try to erase you from my mind,” he stated openly.
A tear trickled out of my eye over his admission that he’d tried to eliminate me from his thoughts. He thumbed it away.
“But even drunk and high, I couldn’t get out of my head and heart enough to seal the deal with anyone else. When each attempt ended in embarrassing failure, I stopped trying for the most part. Every so often, I’d think maybe it had finally been enough time. But her scent or her sound would be wrong. Her skin wouldn’t feel right under my fingers. It seems that loving you is written in my DNA, and I don’t have the power to erase that.”
My heart wanted to believe him. But my head was cautious. “What about the picture of you kissing the girl from the video?”
“I swear on every note of music I will ever create, that I did not kiss anyone after you. Not even in that music video. I couldn’t do it. Have you even watched the video?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Someone texted me the video before it even released. But I only watched long enough to see some girl who wasn’t me grinding against you while you played the song that used to get me so worked up.” I blushed, remembering.
He dug into his jeans pocket and produced his phone. His back settled against the headboard.
“First of all, I don’t know who sent you that video since I didn’t even have your new number. We’ll talk about that in a minute. But whoever did it was trying to hurt you, hurt us. Come here.” He drew me across his lap.
While he’d been talking, he was searching for the music video on YouTube. Moisture blurred my vision like a Pavlovian response as soon as the first note played. His eyes stared into mine. “Trust me,” he begged.
Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1 Page 63