I exhaled in a harsh gust of frustration and fear. Mum couldn’t tell him where to find me because I wouldn’t tell her. She remained stubbornly stupid—if it didn’t fit in with the reality she wanted to live in, then it didn’t exist. Like Jordan’s stalking. Never mind the many times I told her about my discomfort or fear. I even went to my school counselor, but my mum simply waved it away, explaining my fatherless childhood led to this ridiculous need for attention.
So no one believed me, and Murphy’s mum was accosted because of it. All in the past. I was in Seattle—granted the population was much smaller than in Sydney—but no way Jordan could’ve found me so quickly. It was unlikely he’d find me at all.
After another long glance around, still unnerved, I stepped into the bar.
Maura waved me over to a table in the middle of the room. I slid into the booth and muttered an apology. She shook her head, smirking.
“Please. It’s all good.” She sipped from her gin and tonic and winked. “Some nice gentleman at the bar got me all settled in.”
“And how do you plan to pay him back?” I asked.
Her grin widened. “With a smile and a kiss.”
I rolled my eyes. Maura was my opposite—tall, with a model’s lean figure, heaps of natural blond hair spilling down her back, and piercing green eyes. The woman knew how to flirt and she knew how to work every inch of her long-limbed figure. I was her petite, dark-haired friend who preferred to remain unnoticed and dressed somewhere between a librarian and a church granny.
“Sorry I’m late,” Noelle said, bumping me with her hip. Her brown ringlets bounced around her head in a halo of thick corkscrews. She wore her hair long to keep the curls tamed—her words—but I’d never seen those ringlets as anything other than wild. A man glanced over, his eyes dipping to Noelle’s hair. Yep, his thoughts skewed to holding all that glorious hair in a fist while he did naughty things to her lush curves.
I smirked at the guy, whose cheeks brightened. He smiled, a bit sheepish to have been caught, and turned back to his date. Hell, I got it. I was a straight woman and understood Noelle’s appeal.
With a single glance, she pulled me tight against her side. I rested my head on her shoulder, thankful for my friend’s continued support. We’d met nearly seven years earlier when she’d spent a year at my uni in Sydney. She ran into me one morning, late to class. After doubling back to make sure I was okay, she’d bought me coffee. Since she’d missed her class, I made up for it by showing her around Sydney—the good parts tourists didn’t see. Years later, when I’d needed a place to land after escaping Perth, I’d called Noelle. She’d invited me to come stay with her without asking any questions, waiting until I was ready to spill the rest of my sordid secrets. Well, most of them anyway.
After a few shuddering breaths, I pulled back.
Noelle tucked my lank hair behind my ear. “You look terrible.”
“Been a rough couple of days.”
“The meds aren’t helping?”
I sucked in my lip. “I just started the script.” This bottle. I’d been on the meds before I even moved here, but I’d been too embarrassed to tell Noelle. As another health care professional, she understood the pills’ purpose, and she’d know that, over time, the effect from the original dosage could wear off. Still, I’d used the pills as a crutch this week, and that couldn’t be healthy.
“Alpie’s not helping?” The question was rhetorical and Noelle continued. “You’ll feel better after the show. Alpie’s been learning new soothing sayings.”
Alpie was my bird, a beautiful rose-colored Galah cockatoo. I’d connected with her at a bird sanctuary Noelle dragged me to a few months before when I refused more intense therapy. While Alpie wasn’t a service animal, she did provide emotional support, and she made coming home easier. I’d never liked the idea of living alone.
“What did you teach her?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
“You’ll have to ask her,” Noelle said with a smug grin. “Good news is you’ll be much better able to sleep after the concert tomorrow. You can cocoon in that big bed of yours for a couple of days.”
There was a time, after I lost the baby, I wasn’t sure I’d ever leave my bed again. But eventually, after my depression abated enough, I craved the company of others. Problem was I couldn’t stand the idea of another man touching me intimately. A mistake, that. I should have tried harder to find someone, especially after I settled into my job with one of Seattle’s top OB/GYNs.
“You’re probably right,” I said with a sigh.
“What’s got you so peppy?” Maura asked, smirking at Noelle. She leaned forward and sucked on her straw.
“You won’t believe who I met today!” Noelle said. “Briar Moore. You know. The one who’s dating super-hottie Hayden Crewe from Jackaroo.”
I jerked, knocking Noelle in the leg, unable to control my body at the mention of Murphy’s band. Why did everything lead me back to thoughts of him?
Noelle pulled my hand up onto the table and patted it.
“No need to hate all things Aussie, Mil. Sure, you’re easier to understand now that you speak American, but even you have to admit those Jackaroo guys are talented and hot.”
They were. All of them. I only really knew Murphy and Jake, but Hayden and Flip appealed to the female population, too. After leaving Perth—and Australia—for the last time, I’d become a closet Jackaroo gossip junkie. Correction: a Murphy Etsam gossip junkie.
During way too many late nights spent crushed by Murphy’s man-whore ways, I’d learned interesting new tidbits about Hayden. He was an introverted man, but now he was stuck with the job of leading a band.
Best not left to Murphy anyway. He lacked the ability to organize and hated schedules. I frowned. Or he had. I used to be the one who prodded Murphy, getting him to work and his gigs on time, thrilled to be useful. But I hadn’t been there to help in a long time, and clearly, Murphy had changed.
The waitress appeared, asking, “Your pleasure?” which irritated me. Why did everything have to be sexual?
Maybe it wasn’t. Didn’t matter, though because Murphy didn’t want me. I was going to die, unsexed, unloved, still paying the price for trying to protect the only family that ever mattered.
“Vodka martini,” I said.
“Whoa! Bringing out the heavy guns, aren’t we?” Noelle said. “No need to go nuclear this early in the evening. I’ll have a gin and tonic. Light on the gin, real heavy on the tonic.”
I shrugged as the waitress left, unwilling to share my inner turmoil. Maura ordered another drink before she asked Noelle to dish on her meeting today. She wrapped her pretty pink lips around her straw as she made eye contact with a guy across the bar. She winked before turning back to us.
“So Briar Moore wants to start a counseling program for families of cancer patients. Especially those with low chances of recovery. She received some private grant from a patient and met with the cancer chief to discuss possibilities. She’s super nice. Not at all what I expected.”
“What did you expect?” Maura asked. “And is she pretty? Some of those pictures the paparazzi took when Hayden ditched her weren’t flattering.”
“She’s gorgeous. She has these blue eyes that just kind of catch you up in them. She’s taller than me and in extremely good shape. And, man, can she listen. Like all her focus is on you. It’s intense.”
Maura snickered as the waitress set down our drinks. I snagged mine, taking a big gulp.
“You’re a little in love with her,” Maura said.
Noelle shrugged. “I might’ve been if Hayden hadn’t shown up. That guy rocks. In every sense of the word. He oozes music and raw sex appeal.”
I took another gulp and motioned to the waitress to bring me another. She nodded.
“What’s up, Mil? You’re quiet and slurping down liquor faster than Maura.”
“Hey!”
“What?” Noelle said. “You know you drink too much.”
Maura glared
, pushing back her drink.
“I thought I heard Jordan calling my name just as I came into the bar.” I shivered. To cover it up, I downed the last of my drink.
“You’re coming home with me tonight, shug,” Noelle said, eyes filled with concern.
“Tell me more about Crewe. I want to hear about his intense hotness,” Maura said, throwing her straw across the table at Noelle. It hit me in the hand and I picked it up.
“He’s the front-liner of the band,” I said. “He and Murphy used to split singing duties, but the fans like Hayden’s voice better so he’s taken on the front-man spot. From the current reports, that’s caused tension in the ranks. My guess is Murphy feels threatened, especially since his song catapulted them into super-stardom.”
Both Noelle and Maura gaped at me for a long moment. The waitress dropped off my drink, eyeing us with concern, before either of them shut their mouths.
“You know the members of Jackaroo?” Maura asked.
My gaze fell to the table top. “No, I knew Murphy Etsam. He was my boyfriend.”
“Holy fucking shit!” Noelle’s eyes were wide. “How didn’t I know this? He’s the Murphy you left because of Jordan?”
I snatched up my fresh glass. I nodded, miserable. I sipped my drink. The vodka felt like gasoline as it slid down to my stomach.
“Wait! Oh my god!” Noelle shrieked, and all the heads in the bar turned toward us. “You’re the girl. You’re ‘She’s So Bad.’”
I set my glass down with exquisite care. I both hated and loved that song. I hated that Murphy thought that of me. I loved that he’d loved me enough to pour all his feelings into a song.
Noelle wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry, Mila. You’re nothing like the girl in that song.”
“But I am. As far as Murphy’s concerned, I am that girl. Some of the lyrics are from the note I left him. He wanted me to be sure I knew he’d written that song about me.”
“I’m missing something,” Maura said, leaning in. “You dated Murphy Etsam from Jackaroo? The super-hot, broody, man-whore lead guitarist?”
I nodded.
“And his song, the one that made the band an international phenomenon, is about you?”
Again, I nodded, my throat too clogged with emotion to speak. Noelle petted my head.
“Give me more than that,” Maura moaned.
I licked my lips. “He loved me,” I sighed, willing my eyes not to tear. “But then Jordan . . .” I pulled the ring from my pocket where I placed it earlier, needing the false sense of security it gave me. I slid it on and off my finger, debating whether I wanted to wear it or just hold it.
Noelle gripped my hand, her eyes focused on the simple silver band. “I’ve never seen you wear a ring. Wait, Murphy gave you this?” she asked, her voice full of sympathy.
“Yeah, about a week before I broke up with him.”
I didn’t drink often. My experience with Jordan taught me to be ever-vigilant.
Only with Murphy did I ever give over and have more than one drink. I knew he’d keep me safe. And he did. Until I let him go.
“Why?” Maura prompted.
Noelle squeezed my arm. She knew what came next. I placed my other hand on top of hers, watching it shake.
“The stalker found me again.”
“Step-uncle,” Noelle said.
I shrugged, dropping my hand away. “He’d lived with us for a while when I was in my last year of high school and my mum insisted I call him Uncle Jordan.”
Maura shook her head, her eyes never leaving my face. “I’m confused.”
“Jordan has an obsession with Mila,” Noelle said. “A very unhealthy sexual one.”
The worst of the tension drifted from the back of my neck, easing the pounding in my skull as I finished the last of the liquid in my glass. There wasn’t enough. I still hurt. The fear clawed through me, ripping at my insides; I needed to be numb.
I looked at the ring on my finger, my chest aching with the need to scream building there, my mind clouded with memories of that horrible night that altered the trajectory of my life. The fear was overpowering, especially when Jordan held that knife and threatened to use it on Murphy, his brother, and mother. So, after leaving Murphy with the note, a note I’d struggled to write, I let Jordan pull me into his car and take me back to my mother’s house. I let the letch touch me, kiss me, pet me on that sagging couch. And because he still held the bloody knife, I kissed him and touched him, too.
When Jordan fell asleep, a sated smile on his face, I took all the cash in his wallet—over two thousand dollars. The bastard owed me, I reckoned. I walked to a bus stop. From there, I called the police with an anonymous tip, stating the Etsam brothers and their mum were in danger from a rabid fan. Sure enough, I read the police picked Jordan up in front of Susan’s house the next day. He’d threatened her with the big knife the night before in his car but no charges were filed.
I traveled aimlessly until I got short on funds. I ended up in Perth working at the hospital because it’s what I knew. For a month, I spent most of my time glancing over my shoulder.
One time, I hadn’t looked for Jordan fast enough.
2
Murphy
The song’s lyrics were a poison in my gut, and typically they were just waiting to burst out of my mouth. Tonight, though, the words felt thick and clunky on my tongue. I hated performing this song, always had. Sure, I should be thrilled with its success—this angsty rip into a girl’s character catapulted my band, Jackaroo, into the stratosphere.
But this wasn’t a girl. No, the woman I railed against was Mila. I sang the hell out of the next line because she was bad. She’d left me, not caring I still loved her, and never bothered to come back. And I’d proven I didn’t need her or her love. I made lots of points to prove it.
I missed my next cue, catching it a moment too late. To cover up the mistake, I bent down to do some fan hand-touching. The sheilas lapped that sappy tripe up. I would have my pick at the end of the night as I did every night.
I didn’t much care. Not about the women. Worse, though, I no longer cared about myself either.
Not since I near-ruined my best mate’s chances with his girl. I glanced over, but Hayden avoided meeting my eyes, just as he had every time we were in the same vicinity. Since that night in Amsterdam.
I finished the song on the building growl the fans seemed to love. I held my arms out wide, breathing hard, as I finished the last song of the second-to-last stop on what could very well be our first and only world tour. The audience screamed their love, a few sets of panties appeared on the stage and a girl just in front of me flashed her tits.
I glanced over in time to see Jake rolling his eyes. He expected me to take the girl back to the bus because I usually did. I didn’t know how to tell him what I was just beginning to understand myself: the sex couldn’t solve the problem. I was the problem—my hurt at Mila’s actions. But my actions caused the rift in my band.
Hayden walked over to stand next to me. He bowed and the decibel level went up, way past eleven. The girls preferred him. I smirked at him, my eyes dropping to the growing pile of ladies’ undies. His lip curled in distaste and he shook his head in an almost imperceptible negation.
The reason why stood not ten feet from him just in the stage wings. She and Hayden were pretty much surgically attached—either via hand, hip, or lips.
Briar’s eyes slid from Hayden’s back and caught mine. She crossed her arm over her chest and clutched her opposite elbow but she didn’t relinquish my gaze. Instead, she raised a brow. I’d made a point to stay out of her way—neither she nor Hayden were much interested in my apology even though I’d tried to give it multiple times. I tipped my chin to her, an acknowledgment of her status. Hayden stiffened, his hands fisting. Not wanting to push our tenuous peace any further, I turned back to the crowd and took my bow.
Jake stood on my other side. No one touched me. Just the women who didn’t kn
ow how deep my rottenness delved. Flip joined us. My gaze flicked down to the girl who’d flashed me. She was pretty. They all were. But I didn’t have much interest in her.
Fuck all, I wanted Mila. Stupid though it was, I missed her. At least, the woman I’d thought she was. Until she ripped my heart to shreds.
Might as well make the most of the tail end of the tour and try to forget my driving need for the one woman I couldn’t find, let alone have. Only the gig at the Tractor Tavern left. Flip was desperate to get back to Cynthia and his two-month-old son, John. But Harry’d added these shows in Seattle to the end of the tour so Hayden could spend more time with Briar, get her settled in her new counseling program and help her sort out some of her friend Rosie’s last wishes. At least, that’s what Harry said. More like, he and the rest of the record label knew as soon as we split, we weren’t going to get back together any time soon. If ever.
Probably to the guys’ surprise, I hadn’t argued the point. In fact, I was glad for the four days in one place. Key Arena was huge, but not one of the biggest venues we’d played. After the Tractor Tavern gig tomorrow night, I was at loose ends. Seven months on the road, pretty much a show every night. We were burned out from the constancy of seeing each other and working, sure, but I’d burnt too many bridges with my bandmates to call them my mates. Or us much of a band. Our chemistry had been sliding for weeks. Even before I made the fatal mistake of trying to keep Hayden away from Briar. Not my place, and I’d known it then, but I hadn’t wanted my best mate to fall into the same angry trap I couldn’t crawl out of—all because of a woman who wasn’t what he needed. I’d been wrong about them. Much as I shouldn’t feel it, under my anger with Mila and my shame for how I’d treated Hayden and especially Briar, was grief. Hayden got his girl in the end, and I . . . Bollocks. I hated feeling this lonely.
I slid the mic back into its stand and made my way off stage. I asked the roadie to find the girl who’d flashed me. If not her, then another pretty one as long as she didn’t have brown hair and brown eyes. I steered clear of any woman with features or coloring similar to Mila. Screwing a look-alike was too pathetic, even for me.
Hold You Close (Seattle Sound Series Book 3) Page 2