by Lee Piper
He blinks again.
“And I’m sorry.” My voice breaks. “I’m sorry I wasn’t open with you about it. I didn’t want to show weakness. I didn’t want to ruin this amazing opportunity by letting fear rule me, because it will rule me if I let it.”
Silence.
“Which brings me to my second secret. Only two people knew of my phobia. The first was Wil.”
Her smile is soft.
“Who is the most compassionate person I know. She would rather cut off her right leg than betray my trust.” I swallow. “And the second is Reid. He’s always pushing me, challenging me, calling me out on the lies I tell myself. He knows what I’m capable of and it’s because of his belief in me, mixed with that stubbornness I was telling you about, that I’m here right now.” Bracing myself, I blurt, “And I don’t have a song written.”
Jasper blanches.
“But I’ll get it sorted between now and—” I gulp. “Going on stage. So don’t stress.”
There’s the very real chance he’s going to pass out. He’s swaying and everything.
“Wil?” I ask.
“Yeah?”
“Can you keep an eye on him for me? He doesn’t look too good.”
She chuckles. “Sure.”
“Thanks.”
And it’s weird, because I thought telling Jasper would be this clarifying moment where my past was cleansed and my fear miraculously disappeared. But it doesn’t. Even though I’m glad I told him, as I step toward the mic, I’m as terrified as I was the last time I performed.
I glance over my shoulder. Jasper is paler than I’ve ever seen him. Reid tips his chin, his belief in me irrefutable. Willow gives me a double thumbs-up, while Drake simply winks. Despite the chaos, the drama, and the confusion, they all have my back.
It’s time I earn it.
A lull, followed by muffled murmurs, washes over the crowd. When I reach the microphone, I pick up the guitar with unsteady hands and sling the strap over one shoulder. My fingers strum the nylon strings and I shake my head in bemusement as lyrics form in my mind. They’re honest, real, perfect.
Thank fuck.
My voice booms through the speakers. “I’d like to dedicate this song to the love of my life.”
Cheers erupt from the crowd as my hands work the instrument. My terror slowly eases as elation washes over me. A haunting melody forms, and I sway, losing myself in the music. When the riff peaks, I take a deep breath, trust the words will come, and sing.
I burn your name on my soul,
Smile wide, have it all,
Feel too much, cave and crawl,
Away, love.
You bleed your hurt into hate,
Curse my name, tempting fate,
Force my hand, it’s too late,
Again, love.
I tear the truth from the lies,
Cut my heart open wide,
Face the fear, scream and cry,
Alone, love.
You breathe my name to the sky,
Bind the wounds, whisper sighs,
Bodies fuse, hearts align,
Again, love.
We take the match, light the flame,
Lyrics born from the pain,
Sing the words, still the same,
You’re mine, love.
When the final bars fade through the speakers, there is silence.
Complete. Fucking. Silence.
I murmur a quick thank you, spin on my heel, and bolt for the wings. Slowly, a ripple of applause begins. It spreads, growing louder, wilder, as the remainder of the crowd joins in. By the time I step off stage, the noise is deafening.
Reid is waiting for me.
My body is in chaos. I’m conflicted between wanting to bawl, shout, and laugh, so I do nothing but stand and stare. “I did it.”
“You did it.” His eyes are bright, possession mixed with pride. “Come here.”
At his words, euphoria bursts through me. With a squeal, I launch myself at the man whose heart mirrors mine. I wrap my legs around his waist, tangle my hands in his hair, and kiss him like a woman possessed. “I love you.”
He grips my ass. “I fuckin’ love you.”
We kiss for the longest time, neither of us wanting to be the first to break away. However, when a not-so-subtle cough sounds close by, we eventually pull apart.
It’s Jasper. “We’ve got to go, sis.” He stares pointedly at Reid. “And you’re meant to be on stage.”
The two men have some sort of telepathic conversation, only this time I’m too high on adrenaline to care. After nodding to my brother, Reid sets me on my feet. I’m not a fan. I don’t want to let go but know I must. It’s his turn to shine now.
After pressing my fingers to my lips, I gently place them on his full mouth. “Good luck.”
He wraps me in his arms, his nose buried in my shoulder. With a final nip, Reid releases me before striding to where his band is waiting. I ogle his broad shoulders as he goes, then I give Willow and Drake a wide smile.
Jasper tugs on my arm. “Sis, let’s go.”
We move to the rear entrance. After stepping into the unseasonably cool air, I shiver. “Where are we going?”
“To see Tobias.”
“You know where he is?” I sag in relief. “Thank God for that.”
But when Jasper doesn’t respond, my elation fades and an all-too-familiar knot forms in my stomach.
“Where is he?”
Silence.
“Jasper?”
Nothing.
Forcing him to face me, I grit out, “Jasper, where the fuck is Tobias?”
His expression is pained. “Memorial Hospital. He’s in ICU.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Taking a sip of tepid coffee, I grimace at the Styrofoam cup. Ignoring Jasper, my gaze darts up and down the hallway, searching for any sign of a doctor. “How much longer is Tobias going to be in surgery? He’s been in there for hours.” Sharp teeth worry my bottom lip. It’s going to bleed soon enough.
“Sis?”
“What?” Distracted, I drink. And spit it out again. “Fuck. How do people drink this shit? Tastes like a frog drowned in there.” I dump the cup and its contents in the trash before returning to one of the many plastic chairs lining the busy corridor.
“Why didn’t you tell me about your phobia?”
I wave Jasper away when an orderly rushes past, paperwork spilling from his arms. I stare at the orderly, willing him to look me in the eye and give me some answers, but he’s too intent on retrieving the dropped files to notice.
Leaning forward in my chair, I crane my neck toward the nurses’ station. “Might go and ask them again. It’s been ten minutes. Anything could have happened in that time.”
As I’m about to rise, Jasper grabs my wrist. “You’re avoiding my question.”
I jerk my arm away. “No, you’re avoiding the real issue here. The one where my best friend wrapped his car around a tree, the one where he had to be cut from the wreckage, the one where he’s undergoing emergency, serious-as-shit surgery right the fuck now.” A sob, followed by a hiccup and burp, is the pièce de résistance to my craptastic day.
Jasper’s eyes soften. “Don’t cry, sis. You know I can’t handle that shit.” With a muttered curse, he pulls me in for a hug. It’s difficult on account of the armrest separating our chairs, but we make do.
I sniff, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “I’m not crying.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
We relax against a poster outlining the warning signs for gonorrhea. The bustling noises of the hospital bleed into my convoluted thoughts until my head is so full, I can’t take any more. Breaking away from Jasper, I rest my elbows on my knees, force my gaze to the floor, and realize I’m still wearing the studio’s hooker heels that I didn’t have time to change out of in the rush to get here.
Jesus Christ.
But it doesn’t matter. It seriously does not matter. On a scale of one to o
ne hundred, the relevance of my outfit does not even make it on the goddamn chart.
“Fuck, Tobias,” I murmur.
My chest constricts. What if he doesn’t make it? What if I never get a chance to see him again? What if those jade eyes are gone forever?
“I didn’t want to let you down,” I blurt.
“Huh?”
Sighing, I turn to my brother. “I kept my phobia a secret because I didn’t want to let you down.”
“You lied to me.”
“I never lied outright.” One stiletto taps rhythmically against the linoleum. Tap, tap, tap. “I just didn’t tell you everything.”
He scrubs his hands down his face. “You could have fucking said something. I feel like a complete asshole for forcing you to front all those live performances.” His voice is anguished. “Were you really terrified?”
Swallowing, I nod. Tap, tap, tap.
Jasper swears under his breath. “You should’ve told me.”
Standing, I pace, my movements irregular and awkward. “And said what exactly? ‘Sorry, brother, I can’t sing tonight, I’m too freaked out someone in the audience is gonna be crushed to death’?” My eye roll is huge. “If we didn’t perform as promised, our fans would have lost their shit.”
My phone rings. Taking it out of my back pocket, I blink at the unfamiliar number before canceling the call.
Instead of arguing with me, Jasper stares at his clasped hands. “Your heart was never in it.”
Spinning on my heel, I glare at him. “That’s where you’re wrong. My heart was always in it. My actions might not have said so, but I need music just as much as you do.” Exhaling, I face the nurses’ station. No change.
What the fuck is keeping them?
“It was my head that was the problem.”
“I’m so fucking sorry.” Jasper’s eyes, though bloodshot with worry, are entreating.
My gaze skims my brother. His hair is a mess, his clothes are rumpled, and he looks as though he needs a twelve-hour sleep. Moving back to the chair, I attempt a smile. Only my makeup is so dry, chunks of it flake off.
“Don’t be.” Dusting the debris from my pants and tucking a limp barrel curl behind one ear, I shrug and nibble my sore bottom lip. “I needed the push. And I’m sorry we didn’t win. It’s all my fault.”
“Your fault? You saved our asses tonight.”
“But you heard what Vivienne said. We needed all of the original band members or else we’d be eliminated.” Shaking my head, I mutter, “We were disqualified the moment I stepped foot on stage.”
Jasper grimaces. Where there was once hope in his eyes, now there is none.
“I fucked up. Tobias wouldn’t have stormed off if it wasn’t for me. He wouldn’t have drunk so much, he wouldn’t have crashed his car.” Staring at the fluorescent lights, I blink, refusing to fall victim to my tear ducts again. “If it wasn’t for me, we could have had a real shot at winning the contract.”
“Shiloh.” My eyes widen. Jasper never calls me by my first name. Ever. “I’m only gonna say this once, so you’d better listen up.”
Warily, I nod.
“You didn’t tell Tobias to leave, you didn’t force the drinks down his throat, and you sure as fuck didn’t tell him to get behind the wheel drunk. I love the guy, I do. But those decisions are on him, no one else.”
Silence.
Tap, tap, tap.
My swollen bottom lip trembles. I hate it. “Why are they taking so long?”
He shakes his head, as lost as I am.
“What if—”
“No.”
“But—”
“Sis, stop it. He’s going to be okay.” Pulling me against him, his cheek rests on the top of my head. “He has to be.”
To keep the fear at bay, I dig my fingernails into my palm, relishing the sharp sting.
“What’s with your hair? Feels like fishing wire.”
I snort.
“And stinks like potpourri.”
“What do you know about potpourri?”
“Mom used to love that shit. She said it smelled like heaven but Dad reckoned it stank like rancid cabbage, remember?”
A grin tugs the corner of my mouth. “Yeah, I do.”
A harried nurse walks past.
“Have you called his parents?”
It’s hard not to string together every expletive known to humankind at the thought of those self-centred asswipes. With the will of God, I grit out, “Yep, while you were getting coffee.”
“What did they say?”
“His mom’s cell went straight to voicemail, but his dad answered.” My air quotes are stellar. “He’s ‘snowed under at work and will get here sometime in the next few days.’ Then he mentioned something about negotiating a private room for Tobias. You know, because he cares.”
Jasper’s jaw hangs open. “Motherfucker.”
I nod.
“Did you call Tiffany?”
The mention of her name has my fists clenching so tightly, my nails break through skin. Warm slickness trickles over my hands. “I called, let it ring a few times, then hung up.”
“Don’t you think she has a right to know?”
Turning, I scowl. “I think she has the right to be a decent human being, but the bitch hasn’t managed it yet.”
“Sis—”
Holding up one bloodied hand, I stop him. “No. The entire time they were together, she was a goddamn catastrophe. The woman lied, manipulated, was possessive, and don’t forget she freaking cheated on him.” Flicking lifeless hair over one shoulder, I shrug. “If Tiffany wants to know what’s going on with Tobias, she can pull her head out her own bleached asshole and return my call.”
Before Jasper has a chance to recover from my gag-worthy imagery, an impossibly tall, impossibly tired-looking man dressed in scrubs steps in front of us. I skim the length of his hospital garb, relieved they’re blood-splatter free.
“Miss Thackery?”
“Yes, um, that’s me. Miss… Thackery.”
He is tired. It’s in the stoop of his shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes. However, when he speaks, his voice is clear and those caramel irises are bright, alert, missing nothing at all. I really wish they’d miss the disheveled state I’m in.
Jasper gives me a sharp nudge, bringing me back to the present. “Sorry, what did you say?”
The man’s gaze darts between Jasper and me. “I’m Doctor Burton.”
At the name, I jump to my feet. To his credit, he doesn’t balk at my tits which, thanks to the leather corset, are tucked beneath my chin.
“Are any of Tobias’s blood relatives available? I need to report on his present condition.”
“We’re his only available family. We, ah, filled out the paperwork and everything.”
“Can a nurse or other member of staff confirm this?”
I point at the curly redhead typing away on a computer. “Allison can. She’s the one who gave us the forms.”
Beside me, Jasper nods.
Doctor Burton sighs. “One moment.”
It doesn’t take long to confirm our story, and soon enough, he’s back again. He shakes his head, knowing we’re in no way related to Tobias yet he has no evidence to the contrary. “Your brother is out of surgery and in recovery.”
I clasp my hands together as though in fervent prayer. Beside me, Jasper exhales a loud breath before pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Is he okay? Can we see him? Oh my God, is he okay?”
Doctor Burton holds up a placating hand. “He sustained several broken bones that needed to be reset and, due to suspected head trauma, underwent an MRI.”
“Head trauma?” Yep, my pitch reaches a whole new realm of piercing.
The doctor winces, taking a small step back. “The results came back normal. He does, however, have a concussion, so he’ll need to be kept under close observation for the next twenty-four hours.”
“He’ll be fine though, right?”
; Doctor Burton gives a small smile. Something tells me it’s rare to be on the receiving end of it. “Yes, with time and physical therapy, we expect him to make a full recovery.” He goes into explicit detail about the process while I nod and pretend to know what he’s talking about. “Tobias is a very lucky man. It’s not often I’m able to deliver such positive news after a car accident like his.” Reaching into the pocket of his scrubs, he pulls out a business card. “Here are my contact details. If you have any further questions, feel free to contact me on either of these numbers.”
Blinking, I take it.
Doctor Burton takes another step back. “A nurse will show you to his room shortly.” And with a quick nod, he’s gone.
My gaze lands on Jasper. His hands are clasped behind his neck while he stares at the ceiling, breathing hard.
“He’s going to be okay.”
Dropping his arms, he blinks. “Yeah. Thank fuck for that.”
A sweet, middle-aged nurse arrives and leads us to Tobias’s room as two police officers exit. They give a cursory nod. “I’ll leave you to it, but remember, he’s very drowsy. He needs to rest.”
After we promise we won’t interfere with his much-needed rest, she winks and scurries away.
As I reach for the door handle, I pause. Jasper is still. Very still. He stares at the closed door, a combination of fear, anger, and bewilderment flashing across his features.
I raise a questioning eyebrow. “Coming?”
Steeling himself, he steps forward, only to shift back again. He shakes his head, jaw tight. “Nah. I’m gonna hang here for a bit.”
My hand clasps his forearm. It’s tense. “Don’t you want to see him?”
He shrugs, the gesture so familiar, I can’t help but smile. “It’s all still a bit raw, you know?”
My smile fades. “The accident?”
“Yeah, the accident, his drinking, missing out on the contract.” Jasper’s Converse high-tops scuff the smooth linoleum. “I’m being an asshole, I know. But if I go in there, I’ll say something I’ll regret. It’s best I stay out here.”
As I open my mouth, my phone rings. Frowning, I retrieve it, wondering if Tobias’s parents or Tiffany have miraculously grown a heart. One glance at the screen confirms that no, they haven’t. They’re still the narcissistic jerks they’ve always been. My brow furrows when I realize it’s the same unknown number as before.