Between Breaths (The Seattle Sound Series Book 2)

by Alexa Padgett

  “I don’t want to talk about this damn cancer anymore. How are you holding up?”

  “Rosie—”

  “Talk to me.”

  I settled into my chair, placing my purse at my feet with inordinate care. I didn’t want to meet her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Will you stop with all the bullshit?” Rosie coughed. “I saw the pictures on my iPad.”

  “I didn’t know you could have one of those in here.”

  “Probably can’t. Stop looking at me like I’m crazy. I want to talk about your Piano McHottie.”

  A giggle burst from my lips. “You did not just say that.”

  “I didn’t say it right? Darn. I practiced it for a while.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s what one of the blogger people called Hayden.”

  “Oh. Well, you said it right then. I hate the paparazzi.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said that first day I came to see you,” I said. “When you asked me what I wanted to do now that I’d lost my job. I decided to go back to school to get a degree in grief counseling. I want to help families deal with this.” I spread my arm to encompass the room.

  Rosie’s eyes softened. “You have the best heart. I’m so glad Ken didn’t talk you into marrying him. He would’ve made you bitter and resentful. Like him. Except we can add entitled to his list.”

  Today really couldn’t get any weirder. “Ken isn’t that bad.” He was, but he was also her nephew.

  “That boy has always been a pompous ass. I blame his parents and even me, trying to give him some happiness in the form of material possessions.”

  “He’s just . . . such a doctor.” Which I’d wanted. Until I met Hayden.

  “He was born into it. His father was, too. I’m so glad I looked beyond that high society mindset and married my late husband. Best decision ever.” She smiled. “I can’t wait to see him again. He was the love of my life.”

  I gripped her cold fingers. “I want you to be happy.” My chin trembled.

  “I would be if I knew you were settled. So let’s talk about Hayden. He’s a much better person for you than Ken could ever be. Better looking, too. But he hurt you.”

  I twisted my fingers into the material of my tunic. “I love him. Hayden, I mean.”

  Rosie’s frail fingers gripped mine with an amazing amount of strength. “I know you do, lovely girl.”

  Her eyelids were sinking, her face slackening into sleep.

  “Was there something you wanted to tell me?”

  “Left the money to you. For the grief center. Love that idea. Don’t let Ken bully you.”

  “I don’t see Ken anymore. Which is good. How could he bully me? And what money?”

  Rosie struggled to open her eyes, failed. A frown settled between her brows even as her breath slowed, the cannula’s hissing loud in the quiet room. “Counseling,” she mumbled. “Do it. For me. And for you.”

  I raised the back of her dry hand to my cheek. “I will, Rosie. I’d do just about anything for you.”

  I sat with her, watching my friend fade.

  Sometime in the afternoon, Kelly came in and checked Rosie’s vitals, making notes in the chart. “She wake up again?”

  I shook my head.

  “Get some air, Briar. You’ve been in here for hours.”

  “I want to be here. In case she needs me.”

  Kelly pulled out her phone. “I’ve got this and I’ve got legs. Walk around a bit. It’ll do you good.”

  I stood, wincing as my hips popped.

  “I’ll just do a couple laps of the parking lot.”

  Kelly squeezed my shoulder. “We got this. You take care of yourself.”

  Problem was, I didn’t know how to anymore.

  Chapter 31

  Hayden

  Still nothing. I’d sent Briar a private message hours ago. Desperate, I’d called the hospice center. Frustration clawed up my shoulders when Kelly finally came to the line. I’d asked the receptionist—the one Briar put in her place that first day I met her at hospice—for Kelly, pretending I needed to thank her for her care of my mum. I didn’t want to give that receptionist anything she’d consider gossip, knowing she would sell Briar out faster than I could play glissandos on my piano.

  “Briar isn’t here yet,” Kelly said when I asked for her.

  “But it’s after ten. She’s always there by now,” I’d said, my frustration leaking into my words.

  “I’m sorry, Hayden.” But Kelly’s voice had said she wasn’t. “Rosie’s dying. She won’t make it through the day. So you’ll just have to wait until Briar’s ready to talk to you. Which she shouldn’t after you decided to kiss that other woman.” The connection clicked off. Great. I’d been hung up on by the hospice nurse.

  Dammit, I needed to be there for Briar today. Like she’d been there for me. Instead, I was playing the piano in some venue in Prague. Should be one of the biggest thrills of my life, seated near where some of the greatest masters had played.

  Such a hollow victory.

  From the look Ets threw me, he was seriously angry about my last stumble during one of our most popular songs. I bent over the keyboard, trying to push everything but the feel of the keys from my mind. Didn’t work. I was worried about Briar. When we walked off the stage before our encore, I pulled my phone out of my pocket again.

  Nothing.

  Gnashing my teeth, I flipped through the aggregator sites. My heart nearly stopped.

  She stood outside the hospice center in the dusky light of late afternoon, in the spot where I’d first seen her. Her right hand wound around her left biceps like she did when she was trying to hold emotion in. Some of her hair caught in a faint breeze, lifting from her shoulders to fly around her in a halo of mink brown. Her soft lips were parted, as if she was about to speak.

  Even through the lens of the camera, the sadness pouring off her was crushing.

  “What the fuck, Crewe?” Ets slammed his hand into mine, knocking my phone to the ground.

  “If you broke that, you’re buying me another,” I said. He’d picked a bad time to mess with me. All the emotions swirling through me were now focused on this dickhead who thought he owned my life.

  I bent to pick it up.

  “Get your head in the game, Hayden. This is the real deal. What we’ve worked years for. Some piece of ass isn’t going to take that from me.”

  I’d just bent to pick up my phone, but with his words, I stood as I slammed my fist into his jaw.

  “I told you not to talk about her,” I snarled into his face, gripping his shirt.

  “Oi!” Jake stepped between us. Jake was way bulkier than either Ets or me, and I stumbled back, but I continued to glare into Ets’s reddening face.

  “We have to go back out there. You know, to the concert that twenty thousand people paid good money to see us perform,” Jake said.

  I pointed my finger at Ets. “Keep him away from me.”

  Ets growled back as Jake pushed him toward the stage. “Get out there, mate. Go do your ladies’ man thing.”

  Jake and Flip turned toward me. I shook my hand, balling it into a fist and wincing at the sting. “You need to play,” Jake said. “Don’t muck this up for us, Hayden.” He stalked onto the stage. I inhaled a sharp breath.

  Flip squeezed the back of my neck, his fingers helping to relieve the worst of the tension there. “It’s hard, being so far away. I get that. So does Jake. But Ets has a point. You gotta keep your head in the game. We need this tour, Hayden.”

  I nodded. Bending, I picked up my phone. The case was dented but the screen remained intact. I read the headline below Briar’s picture: Broken Hope Hasn’t Stopped Angel of Mercy.

  I clicked the phone off, trying to work through the frustration and anger churning through my gut. Stepping back onto the stage among the screams and shouts, I walked straight to my piano. I sat, my eyes on the keys. I waited, expecting Ets
to start with that catchy guitar riff. He struggled with his cable.

  Flip tipped his head toward me. I placed my fingers on the keys and let them drift, picking up the melody I’d started in Seattle. My stomach settled, but my thoughts stayed focused on Briar’s eyes in that picture. When I’d needed her, she’d been there, standing close, sharing her warmth and her love.

  My fingers danced over the keys, the yearning pouring out. I was aware, in a vague way, that I’d hit my zone. The crowd was silent, but I kept playing, letting the emotions flow out through my fingertips.

  I blinked, feeling better than I had in days. Coming back into the present, I glanced up, my lips twitching up in a grin.

  “I just got some bad news backstage,” I said into my mic. The crowd waited, silent. “In case you haven’t heard, I’m dating a lovely woman. She’s the perfect age and height for me.” The crowd laughed, as I’d intended. “Briar’s strong, really strong, but her friend’s dying of cancer. Like my mum did last week.” The crowd’s ahh was soft. They were listening, hard.

  “I can’t be there for her like she was for me. This here, this is what I want to say to her. I miss you, Sweet Briar.” I paused a beat, considering. What the hell, I was in neck deep, might as well let the wave take me right under. “I love you.”

  The gasps and sighs from our fans lifted around us, almost a living entity all its own. I glanced over at Flip, who shook his head, but I caught the flicker of amusement before he slid into the deep, smooth beat of our next song. I followed, waiting for Jake and Ets to join in. Another round and I leaned in and sang the lyrics, wishing I were singing to Briar. We played four more songs, the longest encore we’d ever done. When the last song ended, we took a bow to the loudest applause I’d ever heard.

  I moved to center stage and bowed along with the rest of the band. I dipped my head a little and the sound of females screaming reached a hysterical pitch.

  “Good move there, mate,” Jake said out of the corner of his mouth. “You saved the show and then some.”

  After bowing one last time, I walked off the stage, catching the towel one of the roadies tossed at me.

  “You’re still a wanker,” Ets said, his shoulders stiff, a bruise forming on his jaw. “You’ve done nothing but screw us up all week. So don’t think your sensitive little stunt out there today made up for it.”

  “Wouldn’t want to think I’d get an ounce of forgiveness from you, Ets,” I replied, scrubbing the towel over my damp hair. “I’m off to the bus. Gotta get ready for the trip to Berlin.”

  Ets growled but he was smart enough to stalk off. He’d dick over a couple of women tonight and be back to his bright, shiny arsehole self in the morning.

  “Beautiful melody,” Flip said.

  I nodded.

  “One of the best things you’ve ever played.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Got a name?”

  I considered for a moment. The tangled mess that punctuated my relationship with my mum, the time I’d had with Briar before—the life I wanted with her forever. “Between Breaths.”

  “Gonna have lyrics?”

  I nodded. Flip smiled as he tugged at his tribal earplug. Took me a few months to get used to those. He’d gotten relatively small ones, but I kept hearing my dad’s voice in my head: Short-term body manipulation is a long-term body sentence.

  I hadn’t understood that at sixteen, probably because my dad was over seventy by then, and he wasn’t just old, he was doddery. My body manipulations were a tat and that eyebrow piercing my dad had hated. Removing the bar so soon after getting the piercing hurt but at least the holes had healed.

  “Took some balls to say that out there. I don’t think I’ve told the world I love Cynthia.”

  I shrugged. “Rosie means a lot to Briar. She deserves to know she’s got people around who care right back.”

  “Maybe, but you know the media’s going to lick this shit up. I’ll walk you to the bus. You’re going to be inundated as soon as they find you.”

  “Not why I did it, mate.”

  “I get that, but as part of the band, I’ll say thanks anyway. We’ll ride this news-wave high.” Flip raised his triple-pierced brow. “As long as you keep playing like you did that last set.”

  I entered our bus. Grabbing some clothes, I headed toward the tiny shower stall. I’d get cleaned up before I tried to call Briar again. Maybe this time, I could actually comfort her. Maybe . . . Crikey, I sounded like a lovesick teen girl.

  I needed to be there, in the same place as Briar so we could talk through all the shit I’d messed up.

  Chapter 32

  Briar

  I don’t know how long I’d been standing outside before Kelly ran through the hospice doors and toward me. She didn’t have to say a word—I knew the look on her face. I sprinted inside, wishing my heart would be fast enough, hard enough for both Rosie and I.

  By the time I reached her room, Rosie was dead. Kelly held me while I cried. But I didn’t cry so much for Rosie. She’d been tired and so ill; deep down I was glad she’d never suffer again. I cried for me and how much I’d miss her. I cried because I wanted Hayden there to hold me the way I’d held him when his mom died.

  It wasn’t until after midnight that I finally shuffled into Rosie’s apartment. I was exhausted, but Princess explained her need for food in no uncertain terms. I fed her and then waited on the couch—the next part of our recently developed ritual. She rubbed her head into my chest as I stroked her soft, luscious fur. Princess’s purr relaxed me, and I stretched out on the couch, pulling the throw over my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry your mom’s gone,” I told the cat. She blinked up at me before rubbing her cheek into my chin. “Yeah. We’ll be okay.”

  Lia showed up at ten thirty the next morning with the Seattle paper. Her knocking woke me from the longest sleep I’d had all week. My exhaustion had moved past the physical into the emotional when I’d finally fallen asleep in the early hours just before dawn.

  “You’re supposed to be headed back to Rathdrum.”

  Lia shook her head. “We stayed at Simon’s so Asher could do some mixing. And I figured you’d need my shoulder, especially after I saw the most recent picture.”

  “I do,” I yawned. “But maybe coffee first.” I rubbed my eyes.

  “I’ll make some,” Lia said. She pointed at the paper. “Read that. There’s more, but that article’s a good place to start pre-caffeine.”

  I stared, openmouthed, at my face in the photo and the headline, Broken Hope Hasn’t Stopped Angel of Mercy. I skimmed the story, which went into detail—too much detail—about my relationship with Hayden, his mother and her battle with both mental illness and cancer, and finally Rosie.

  There was so much in there, I didn’t know what to address first.

  “Hayden has to be upset about his mother’s condition being in the paper.”

  “He’s already responded to the reports. And Asher said Hayden mentioned it to him.”

  I absorbed the information, still skeptical. I picked up the paper again. “Rosie left me her condo?”

  Lia shrugged. “That’s what the paper’s reporting. The wording is the bulk of her estate. That sounds significant.” She moved into the kitchen while I continued to read. “Did you know?”

  “I figured she was well-to-do. Ken’s whole family is. She said I’d need to fight Ken off.” I shrugged.

  Lia came back with two mugs of coffee made from the beans Dave had given Hayden. I’d been saving them . . . but I hadn’t been to the store, choosing to order takeout and share the fish I’d found in the freezer with Princess, and they were the only ones left in the place. I sipped and sighed, melancholy dancing with the acid in my stomach.

  “How are you holding up? And remember, I, like the rest of the world, saw the picture. Shoulder,” Lia said, patting the spot.

  I leaned my head against her, remembering how I used to do this when I was little. “I miss Rosie. But I’m in worse shape emo
tionally because I fell in love with Hayden.”

  Lia wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “I know.”

  “Because of that intrusive picture? I can’t think of when they could’ve snapped that. I was outside for all of ten, maybe fifteen minutes.”

  “No. The way you acted at The Vera Project. I’ve never seen you so in tune with anyone before. Don’t get me wrong, Bri, I love you, but you’ve always taken care of yourself—built a wall that’s hard for most of us to break through to get to the soft core you keep so guarded.”

  “You know why,” I said.

  “I do, and I get it. But I’m worried. He didn’t just hurt you.” She stroked my hair. “It’s like he broke a piece of your soul.”

  The tears gathered in my eyes, but I blinked them back. “I’m pretty sure he shattered it. Dammit, I didn’t want you to see this part.”

  Lia stopped petting me, her hand curving around my shoulder, hugging me close like she did after Dad died. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

  “I didn’t expect him, the feelings. I mean, I felt a connection . . . we both struggled with our relationships with our mothers. But somehow he wormed his way inside my heart before I knew I needed to keep him out.”

  “And you can’t pry him back out without losing part of you,” Lia said, her voice soft.

  “Exactly.”

  “Mom called me this morning. She’s worried about you.”

  “She’s called me, too. Last night. I ignored her. Like I always do.”

  Lia sighed. “Maybe it’s time to mend that bridge.”

  “Why? Are you saying you’re going to forgive her for how she treated us? For kicking you out at seventeen?”

  “I’m saying I don’t want to be angry anymore. Just like I don’t want to see you this hurt. With The Asshole, you were a little gloomy but more disappointed with yourself than anything. This time it’s so much more.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the sting in my nose. “He’s never called me. Text, sure. A private message. That’s not enough.”