“He did not try and blame you. What did he do, trip over his own two feet and land dick-first into another woman’s vag?”
Mya snorts. “I don’t even know. But things have been weird for a while now, I think he was sleeping with her before I caught them. The best part is, I saw them going at it in his car, parked outside our apartment.”
I scrunch my nose.“Oh my God, ew. Talk about The Real Housewives of New York tacky.”
“Funny thing is, I was already planning on breaking up with him. He started working longer hours, and we barely had sex the last two months. I knew I had to end it, but the bastard beat me to it.” Mya finishes her wine, and places the glass on my coffee table. I do the same, even though my glass is only half empty. “Are you really okay, though?” I ask. She considers it, and then shrugs. “I think I stayed with him because I didn’t really want to be alone, you know? Besides, I’d had enough of his bitching about me being here one week a month. So, I stayed with my crazy parents while you dealt with everything here, and now, you’re stuck with me.”
“Permanently?”
Mya shrugs. “Only if you don’t mind. I can always—”
“Of course, my home is your home.”
Mya shifts to face me, tucking one leg beneath her butt. “Now, it’s your turn.”
I frown. “My turn?”
“Yes, I want to know all the details about you and the God of Thunder.” She smirks, and I throw my head back with a groan. “You already know everything, you and I talk about it almost every night.” And we do. She’s been my go-to ever since Thorin arrived in Horseshoe Bay, and I haven’t kept a single detail from her. I’ve even been calling her during Eli’s late night feeds just to vent.
“That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it, Reese.”
“What else is there to talk about, Mya? You know all there is to know right down to the mini freak-out he had, and how he’s been icing me out since then.”
“Do you have feelings for him?” She asks bluntly, and I rear back as if she’s bitch-slapped me. By the look on her face I can tell that’s the reaction she was hoping for.
“If by ‘feelings’ you mean irritation, and annoyance, then yes. I have all of the feels for that man.”
“Stop deflecting.”
“I’m not deflecting,” I argue. “He’s a pain in my ass, but I have to get along with him because of Eli. And even if I did have feelings for him, which I one hundred percent do not, it wouldn’t matter. I feel like I don’t know him anymore, this version of him is just…different. And history dictates that Thorin doesn’t give a flying shit about anyone but himself. I can’t risk catching the real feelings for someone like him.”
“For someone who doesn’t care, you sure have a lot to say on the matter.”
I roll my eyes. “Mya, there is nothing between me and Thorin, and there never will be. At the rate we’re going, we won’t even make it to being friends. We have a better chance of becoming parents than actual friends. He can’t even stand being in the same room as me.”
“For someone so smart, you’re actually kind of dumb, Reesie.”
I balk at that. “What? Why?”
It’s Mya’s turn to roll her eyes. “Did a boy ever like you in kindergarten?”
Now, I’m confused. “Uh, I think so?”
“And was he mean to you? Did he pull your braids, or ever push you into the ground? Maybe throw mud in your face, or something?”
When I give her a confused stare, she explains, “When a boy likes you, he does all those things.”
“You’ve lost me, Mya. What the hell are you getting at?”
“Well, from what I can tell, you got under Thorin’s skin at the bonfire, and he’s spent the entire week being a dick, right?”
“Yeah, so?”
Talk about going off on a tangent. Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
“He’s got the feelings, Reese.”
“That’s the worst logic in the world, even for you,” I scoff. “Thorin’s being a dick because that’s what he does. That’s what rockstars do. In fact, now that I think about it, he hasn’t changed at all because he was a dick in high school, too.”
“Or, you’re so caught up in who he used to be, and what he did to you, that you’re missing what’s right in front of you.”
“Let’s say that, hypothetically, you’re right, our lives are too complicated and too different for me to even consider anything with him. We have a baby to take care of, I have a job, and he’ll be leaving in a few months. The band won’t stay here forever, and I wouldn’t expect him to give up his career, either.”
“Do you really believe that?” Mya asks, her expression earnest. She has an uncanny ability to get straight to the heart of the matter, and at this moment she’s probing mine. “Because, honey, whether you like it or not, your lives are now inextricably intertwined, and you have to learn to live with it.”
Her point is valid, too valid. Even if I wanted nothing to do with Thorin, we’re connected now, and we always will be. Do I worry about what he’s going to do when his band is ready to release another album, and go on tour? All the time. But our past doesn’t allow me to give him the benefit of the doubt. Not even a little bit.
“If you’re not willing to consider that he actually cares about you, then consider that maybe you singing that song hit him where it hurts, and with all do respect, I think he’s dealing with enough hurt right now. You might not see it, but you kinda kicked him while he’s down, while he’s mourning. Or have you been so blinded by your need to avoid him that you’ve forgotten that he’s lost just as much as you have, if not more?” I bite the inside of my cheek, and allow her words to bounce around my head, the aftereffect being a guilt-ridden heart because, again, she’s right.
“I didn’t choose it deliberately,” I remind her. “They put me on the spot and that was the first song that popped into my head, so I ran with it.”
“But somewhere in your mind you must’ve known it would be the equivalent of resurrecting your past. Think about it, under the same sky? That was a promise he made you, and broke repeatedly. You may not have done it on purpose, but to him, it may have been a gut check he wasn’t prepared for.”
“What happened to being the president of the ‘Thorin is an ass’ club?”
“Yeeeeah, that was until I saw him. He looks miserable, Reese.” Mya’s expression turns sympathetic, and maybe somewhat sheepish. “I can admit when I’ve judged someone unfairly.”
I scoff. “And the teasing in the car? What was that about?”
Her slender shoulder moves up in the barest of shrugs. “I was doing my duty as your best friend, and giving him a hard time because the way he’s treated you this week isn’t fair, but, I know a man in pain when I see one. And he’s hurting, babe. Besides, how I treat him doesn’t matter, but how you treat him does.”
I cover my face with my hands, unable to deny a single word she’s just said. I didn’t mean to hurt him at the bonfire, but I did. I didn’t mean to kick him when he’s down, dealing with the same grief I am, but I did. And now I see that I’m at fault, as much as I hate admitting it. I peer at Mya between my fingers. “So, how do I fix it? Do I apologize for what I did?”
“Maybe,” Mya replies. “Either way, you can’t have a strenuous relationship with the man you’re raising a child with.”
I think about it for a moment, and decide the path of least resistance is the way to go. “I’ll just pretend the last week hasn’t happened, and focus on Eli.”
“And work. You need to get back to that, too.”
“Ugh, that means I’ll have to talk to Thorin and make sure he’s flexible. I have no idea what him and the band are up to, and I don’t want to force him to take care of Eli. If nothing else, we have to find a schedule that best suits him, he’s my number one priority now.”
Mya purses her lips, her forehead scrunched in what I know to be her ‘thinking’ face. It usually goes one of two ways—catastrophic or b
rilliant.
“For now, let me deal with the band. I’ll give Alex and Penelope a call in the morning,”—okay, we’re erring on the side of catastrophic, I can feel it—“And you work on patching things up with Thorin.” I open my mouth to argue but she clamps her hand over my mouth. “I know you expect him to apologize first, but put your big girl panties on and fix it. You cannot afford to have any kind of distraction, you have too much work to do.”
If Mya weren’t my best friend, she’s the kind of girl I’d constantly want to throttle because she has no filter, she’s always right and she can read people like no one else I’ve ever met. She’s also a Stage One Meddler. I exhale harsh enough that I hope her finger is covered in snot. “Good girl.” Mya drops her hand. “Now, we need to get some shut-eye because starting tomorrow, you’re back to work, and before you even ask, you will be doing a video introducing Eli to your fans.”
I pout, and she laughs at how pitiful I look while standing from the couch. “Are you always such a drill sergeant, or do you just like torturing me?”
“You knew what you got when we became friends, and when I started working for you, babe.”
“I know.” I stand, and wrap my arms around her. “And I’ve mentioned how happy I am that you’re here, right?”
“Only about a million times,” she laughs, hugging me just as hard.
“I love you, Mya.”
She lets me go, kisses my cheek, and slaps my ass. “I love you more, now go to bed.”
She traipses off, a smug grin on her face, and I can’t help but feel lighter now that she’s here. She’s right about Thorin, but I’ll deal with that.
Eventually.
When apologizing to him won’t feel like pulling teeth without Lidocaine.
Chapter Eleven
Thorin
The waitress drops off another round of beers, and Fletch winks as she sashays to another section. We’re sitting at a high-top table, nestled in the corner of Jameson’s, the best pub and grill in town. One of the things I love about this place is that even if you’re famous, no one bothers you. You see them in the supermarket, and they say hello, but then go about their business. Sure, we’ve gotten a few glances here and there, but no one has come up to ask for an autograph, and I have to admit, I like it. After almost a week of being cooped up in the rental, the guys wanted to get out, and I don’t blame them. Alex had a Ford F250 delivered yesterday, so that the guys could get around town, and I bought myself a Ford F250 Super Duty like Reese’s, but instead of cherry red, I went for ‘Blue Jeans’ blue. It’s been four days since Reese’s friend, Mya, arrived, and when the tension got to be too much, I escaped to the band’s rental house down the road. Unless I’m watching Eli, I’m with the guys. Granted, I’ve been acting like a dick towards Reese, but I’m still smarting over what she did at the bonfire. I don’t want to believe she did it just to get under my skin, but damn if it didn’t scratch at old wounds. It brought our past back, and while I knew we’d have to address it eventually, it’s just too soon after losing Ryan and Mel. As far as our routine with Eli goes, we’re solid, but that’s about it. We tolerate each other, nothing more. I hate it, but no way am I apologizing first.
“So,” Benji takes a sip of his Corona, “when do we start on our next album?”
During my many visits to the house, we’ve been messing around with lyrics, and sounds, unhurried because the record label has yet to ask about our next album. But the guys are itching to get back into it. So am I.
“Not sure,” I reply honestly. “I can’t exactly leave.” Not that I’m in a hurry to. Having Eli has changed things, and so has Reese. I missed so much of my brother’s life, I don’t want to miss any more. I’ve been all over the world, sang in some incredible cities, but nothing could have prepared me for how good it would feel to really be home. Where I grew up. Where I learned to play music. Fletch leans forward. “Not sure I want to leave yet. I like it here.”
“More than New York and L.A?” Carson asks.
Fletch purses his lips. “It’s different here, slower. I wouldn’t mind writing a few tracks while we’re here, and then maybe laying them down in L.A.”
“Or,” I scratch the scruff on my chin. “We can record it here.”
Benji frowns. “How? There’s no recording studio here.”
“There could be.” I look at the guys. “There’s an old dilapidated barn on the ranch. What if we had it converted into a recording studio? We can write some new stuff, record it here.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Carson says, and Benji and Fletch nod their agreement.
“I want to change our sound,” I add, fidgeting with the label on my beer bottle. We do rock, and we have a few tracks that have a mix of country, but lately there’s been a need for something new. “Something that speaks to being home, putting down roots.” For a split second the thought of settling down with Reese enters my head, but I’m quick to shut it down. Not happening. I get that she’s now a permanent fixture in my life, and I have no choice but to accept it, but it won’t ever be more than that.
“We do have a lot of memories here,” Fletch says, grinning. “I mean, we’ve done three albums of what feels like the same stuff, you know? I’m down for trying something else.”
“Count me in.” Benji leans back. “Friday Night Lights, man.”
I snort. “God, we caused so much shit at those field parties. We could probably write an entire album about that alone.”
“And getting laid on the flatbeds of our beat-up pickups,” Carson chuckles. “Man, those were the fuckin’ days.”
“And streaking across the quad after Fletch lost a bet to me,” I laugh. We reminisce about the good ol’ days, laughing at our antics, but in the back of my mind, I think back to everything that happened with Reese. It’s involuntary, thinking about how I screwed up, and before I can will myself not to do it, I think back to the night of our senior prom.
Jessica fluffs her hair, and turns to her friend, Sarah, for yet another make-up check. When she’s satisfied, she turns to me, and straightens my tie. “What is with you tonight, Thorin?” She snaps, noticing my sour mood. “If I knew you were going to be so damn pissy, I would have come with someone else.” With a huff, she drags me over to the arch trellis covered in roses where the photographer snaps pictures. She grabs my arms and wraps them around her waist. “Smile, and look like you damn well mean it,” she gripes through gritted teeth. “Do not ruin this night for me.” Her mouth splits, showing off her straight white teeth, and she pushes her chest out. As if her blue two-piece dress doesn’t already show off enough of her damn tits. I smile, play the dutiful boyfriend, and after three different poses, Jessica pulls me to the side. She looks pissed, but what’s new?
“I’m going to get some punch, and when I come back, you can at least pretend you want to be here with me.” When she gives me her back, her blue skirt flowing behind her, I exhale in relief. Yeah, I’m going to have to pretend because this is the last place I want to be. I mean, its senior prom, I’m nominated for prom king, and yet, I’m counting down the minutes so I can leave. I shouldn’t be here with Jessica, but I was too much of a pussy to tell her I didn’t want to come with her anymore. She’d bitch about it, and tell me that the prom king and queen always come together, as if we’ve already won. But whatever. I wasn’t in the mood for another fight because that’s all we do. For the last few months it’s been fighting and sex, but now it’s just fighting, and to be honest, this is not how I imagined my senior prom. Most guys don’t give a shit about this night, they just see it as another excuse to get laid, but I knew exactly what I wanted my senior prom to look like, who I wanted to come with. Too bad I fucked shit up real bad. My mind drifts to Reese, and I wonder what she’s doing tonight, if someone asked her. She’d love how romantic everything looks, right down to the fairy lights hanging from the ceiling. It’s everything I know she would have expected—the color scheme, the decor, the cheesy rose arch for photographs. My eyes sca
n the crowd for her, but my search comes to an abrupt halt when Jessica appears at my side. She hands me a solo cup, and it’s been spiked so hard I can smell the whiskey. Whatever. I chug it in one go, and lead Jessica onto the dance floor. She flaunts herself, like a damn peacock. The song is slow, so we’re tightly pressed together and holding her in my arms just feels so wrong. Our friends join us, and soon the dance floor is filled with couples. I stare over Jessica’s head, praying for the song to end, but there’s a commotion at the door before the entire gymnasium falls quiet. “You can’t come in without a ticket,” someone says close to the doors.
“Fuck you, Beth-Anne.” I know that voice. I swivel so fast, Jessica trips on her five-inch heels. “What the fuck, Thorin?” She screeches. I’ve already tuned her out. The crowd parts, and Reese stands still. She’s already crying. Why is she—shit. I take a second to take in how beautiful she looks, wearing a powder pink dress with a layered tulle skirt that flows around her ballet pumps. It’s what she’s always wanted to wear for this night, and it’s a gut check when I realize I remember exactly what she wanted to wear. Her blond hair flows in ringlets around her shoulders, clipped back on one side by a diamond-crusted clip I know belongs to my mom. My mom did this for her, I just know it. That makes me feel worse.
“I can’t believe it,” Jessica snickers beside me, loud enough for everyone else to hear. “You actually showed.” I frown, but keep my gaze on Reese. She starts walking towards me, a piece of paper clutched in her hands, her make-up already ruined. She stops in front of me, and shoves the paper at my chest. “I waited for you,” she whispers, her voice hoarse.
I open the note, confused as fuck. The scribble reads, Go to prom with me? - Thorin. What the hell? It’s not even my handwriting. Jessica starts cackling next to me, and almost doubles over. Some people join her, others watch me.
“You actually believed he asked you to prom,” Jessica laughs, wiping under eyes. “You’ve reached a new low, Peppa Pig. As if Thorin of all people would ever bring you to our senior prom.”
Under The Same Sky (Horseshoe Bay Book 1) Page 11