by Josephs, Mia
But his words were cut off when the room went black and she clutched her sides.
How did it get so cold?
Lita sat upright in bed, the familiar ache in her body over wanting Griffin but not getting him. She shivered. The room was dark and silent and way too empty. The air felt stiff, and her chest tightened.
She could not keep this up.
Sixteen
Griffin couldn’t sleep. Her smile over the decaf coffee he’d gotten for her on their way back. Her song. Her song. Something only he’d heard. And her playing his song. Dream of dreams, only so much better because she was still rock star Lita James, but she was also his friend, Lita, and that counted for so much.
He had to think about Stacy. Curvy body. Full lips. Adorable smile. Griffin spent hours tossing in bed trying to think about Stacy before giving up.
Maybe just imagining Lita wouldn’t be bad.
He thought about sitting in a studio with her. Watching her get frustrated and wanting to hurl her guitar across the room because she wanted everything perfect. He imagined the determined look on her face when she went back to work. Tweaked the riffs. Tweaked the lyrics. Got the song just right.
Softer into Midnight.
Even tough chick singers had softer albums sometimes. Everyone did. He wanted to explore that with her.
He thought about being the guy she asked for coffee in the morning and the guy she leaned against while she wrote lyrics… When she’d slow down in her writing, he’d touch her arm with the back of his hand. Slowly. And then slide his fingers under the straps of her tank and maybe touch her neck until he had her attention. Her smile. Her kiss. Her body.
What an amazing thing to be with someone so up and down and passionate.
Griffin rolled over in bed. No sleep for him. No way. The second he thought about being with Lita the way he was with Stacy, guilt started to gnaw at his insides.
Letting himself think through that fantasy definitely hadn’t been a good idea.
Night after night Griffin seemed to run into Lita, or Lita seemed to run into Griffin and they’d struck up a friendship, at least Griffin thought they had. The underlying tension and feeling of want hadn’t gotten any better, he’d just gotten used to it. And every day his conversations with Stacy grew shorter or stranger because he never knew what to say. As they got closer to the south, he still had no idea how to reconcile his heart and his head and all the things he knew were right.
Seventeen
“Why are we doing this again?” Lita asked Dave as they drove to Houston’s, a restaurant in Memphis that Dave’s friend, Max, had picked out. The back of the limo was like the back of a million different limos. Crazy that she used to think this was special.
It had been days and cities since the awkward almost-kiss, but there hadn’t been any backlash. She thought she’d ruined their friendship, but she hadn’t. The opposite. It was still hard to be in the same room as him and know that his heart rested with someone else, but Lita craved the time they did have. Griffin was totally unbothered by “Lita James” and hanging out with him was just…easy.
Dave scrolled on his phone. “Max is about to start managing Christian Meyer’s solo career and is leaving Kincaid.”
“I know, but Max’s move affects me how?” Lita asked.
Apelu shifted in his seat, always watching out the window.
Dave sighed. “You do know who I’m talking about, yes?”
“Of course I do. I believe I was the one who asked you what Christian was up to. I had a—” A conversation with one of the crew where he suggested I talk with Christian Meyer… She clamped her mouth shut.
“He’s a good connection to have. Max is a bit of a miracle worker in the business anyway, and he’s in town for a family wedding or something. Felt like a good opportunity.”
“So, we’re here to kiss ass.” She grinned at Dave. “Why didn’t you just say that?”
Dave shook his head. “Because I wanted to retain some of my manhood. Thank you, dearest Lita, for stripping that away.”
Lita mock bowed and Apelu shook in laughter next to her.
“This, I’m a pro at.” Lita winked.
Unease snipped away at her, though. Christian Meyer had been a huge name in rock since before she was in kindergarten. Would he really want to waste time with her?
Lita stared at the massive steak, mashed potatoes, asparagus… She closed her eyes because the food felt more like a mountain to climb than anything else. When had that happened? Why was she focused on the food instead of the business?
She thought back to breakfast. A few bites of croissant like most mornings and coffee. But… What else had she eaten, really? She’d been picking at her food but there had been so many extra stressful things lately—the tour, Griffin, feeling weak…
“Did you have anything specific in mind?” Max asked her over his wine glass.
Lita stared at him for a moment. Over tanned, dress shirt with pressed jeans and shiny shoes, but he was so much more relaxed than his pretentious prick outfit—in both posture and words. At the same time, so much rested with him. If Griffin was right—if her softer songs had a chance—the man across the table held the best chance at success. Going off her normal sound with Christian Meyer might make sense to her fans. Might lessen some of the backlash.
“In mind for what?” Her mind grasped at a blank. She’d been staring at her food. “I’m sorry.”
“Dave and I thought it might help both you and Chris to come up with a duet kind of thing. Bring his crowd to you and your crowd to him. People eat that shit up.” Max slid another bite of steak into his mouth. “Would you be up for that?”
Her night with Griffin hit her. “Actually, yeah. Yeah, Christian is going acoustic on this one, right?”
Max sat back with a small smile. “Yes he is. You did your research.”
“Nah.” She waved him off. “The luthier we brought with us has done his research.”
Dave’s brows came together in confusion and Lita said, “Griffin.”
“The new kid.” Dave nodded. “Ryker’s brother.”
“That’s the one.”
“So, you might be interested?” Max asked. “Chris should be home from camp about the time your tour is up. Maybe after you’re rested and he’s back in his routine, we could get you two together to lay a few tracks.”
“Yeah. Sure. Sounds great. I’ve been working on a few new things.” She smiled wide. “Camp?”
“Rehab.” Max smirked. “Camp sounds juvenile, but infinitely better. He was trying to do a good thing by having his Rolling Stone interview while he was in rehab, and it totally worked. Huge fan love for that move. That kind of thinking is why I left when Chris left Kincaid. That, and one guy is infinitely easier to deal with than a band. Not that he’s my only, but you get the idea.”
“Ah.” Lita tried to give him a good smile, but her stomach rolled with the smell of the butter and cream and grease.
“You haven’t touched your food.” Dave pointed.
Lita frowned at her plate. “I got hungry an hour or so ago and ate like three power bars,” she lied. “Maybe they have soup?”
Anything easier to eat. Or simpler on her stomach. Or less weighted. Why did they have to do a dinner meeting?
“It’s ninety outside.” Max took another bite. “But you could ask.”
With both men staring at her, the whole idea of not being able to do the simple task of scooping up potatoes and putting them in her mouth felt childish. Stupid. She picked up her fork and twirled the end in her mashed potatoes like when she was a kid and didn’t want to eat.
One bite. Surely she could manage a bite while they waited for the server so they could ask about soup. One bite. Before thinking too hard, she slid the fork into her mouth with a teaspoon of mashed potatoes. Immediately they stuck to the roof of her mouth and she pushed her tongue around on them, but it felt like the mush was expanding with each movement. Her stomach rolled over. And then rolled o
ver again. What was wrong with her?
Oh, crap. She was about to throw up all over the table. In front of Max, who could lead to Christian Meyer, which could lead to big things in her career.
She closed her eyes and imagined every eye in the restaurant trained on her.
Her hands shook.
Her chest tightened.
“I’m not feeling so great.” She rested one hand on her stomach and snatched her water with another. Maybe a sip of water.
The second the water hit her mouth, it was as if the water had turned into potatoes. She leapt from the table and ran for the ladies, her stomach heaving just as she found a toilet.
Lita kneeled and shoved the door closed behind her, resting her face on the cool tile wall.
Please don’t let anyone come in.
She worked on breathing with her eyes closed. In. Out. In. Out. Wiped the corners of her mouth with toilet paper before attempting to stand. Her knees shook and her thighs quivered as she slowly regained her ability to be upright.
What was going on with her? She tried to think back again at the last time she’d sat down with a real meal and eaten. It had been… Well, whatever. She was on the road. She always did more snacks than meals on the road. But even her snacks. It was if something always interrupted her. Her thoughts. More news… Stress.
She thought about the other night and her odd panicking before the show.
Lita walked back toward the table and rested against her chair. “I really need my bed.”
“Thanks for meeting with me.” Max smiled the kind of businessman smile she’d gotten used to. It said they were probably going to make a lot of money together and she wished so hard she felt good enough to celebrate that.
Dave nodded and Lita moved for the door. She’d never been a big eater, but she’d always been able to eat. It was one thing to not want to eat on a bus and in green rooms and hotel rooms, but when faced with a fantastic meal at a great restaurant… How was she not able to take one stupid bite?
Who even had that problem?
The car moved back toward the hotel and Lita pressed her face against the glass as she blinked over and over. She had to start really paying attention to her body. And now.
The second the car stopped, she leapt out, clutching her leather jacket in front of her and letting her blond hair fall over her face as she pushed into the hotel.
Her room. That’s what she needed. Her room. Only Bridget was there, and Bridget meant hovering. No. No hovering. Not now. Her chest tightened further. Painfully tight. Like a vice, but logically she knew it was her head and not her heart doing this to her. She was so horribly weak.
“Apelu?” she asked.
“Darlin’?” he teased.
Was she doing this? Was it okay? “Griffin’s room?” she wheezed.
“You okay?” His large arm rested behind her. “I’ll take you.”
The elevator lurched and nearly sent her stomach into another uproar.
She followed Apelu down the hall, clutching her sides as if she’d fall apart if she were to let go. Her chest. Tighter. Her lungs. Tighter. Her head screaming louder that she was weak. So weak for letting this happen to her body.
It’s in my head. In my head. In my head…
He gave the door a couple bangs and it jerked open a minute later to reveal Ryker—his hair gelled and messy, reeking of cigarette smoke.
“I’m headed out.” Ryker glanced behind him. “Assume you’re after Griff?”
Lita nodded, her throat swelling, and Ryker slid around them.
Griffin appeared next in a white tank and pajama pants. Slung low on his hips. Looking...way too good for them to be alone.
Apelu backed up. “Walk her to her room or call me?” he asked Griffin, and Griffin nodded.
Lita stepped inside, feeling almost as childish and stupid as she had in the restaurant. She gasped for air again. And then again. “I can’t keep this up. I’m so weak. So weak.”
The door closed behind Apelu and she clasped her hands over her mouth as the first sob hit. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Her voice stretched through the room in a long whine.
Griffin’s arms were around her in a second, and she let go, as if all the pieces of her were falling around her on the floor. Her legs weakened, and she leaned against the warmth of him as he held her up. Her body shook. She’d been holding on to things she didn’t know she’d been holding on to. Every uncertainty and stress came out in a flood of tears.
“I’m going to walk backwards so we can sit, okay?” he whispered, and she let him lead her.
She didn’t notice the moment when she went from standing to sitting. She didn’t know how she ended up half in his lap with his arms around her, but she let herself cry and let herself be held. And she breathed. And she wasn’t sorry about where she’d ended up.
Eighteen
Lita had cried herself out, but still hadn’t spoken. Griffin and Lita both rested against the headboard of his bed, and he knew when he called Stacy he’d have to say something. He’d already been vague about sitting up with Lita almost every night, but this felt different. Her coming to him in tears, curling up on his lap, and sharing his bed was definitely different than plinking around on guitars after a show.
Her fingers slid down his arm until they reached his palm and he clasped her hand in his having no idea what to say. He didn’t know what was going on, so anything he said would just be empty words anyway.
She took slow breaths in and out as if still concentrating on simply breathing.
“I can’t eat,” she said quietly, her voice hoarse from crying. “I don’t even get it. I don’t know how long it’s been since I ate a real meal. How have I not noticed this? How has my body kept working? The stress… It’s like. I should know this. I can deal with this. I don’t even know what happened tonight, Griffin. I don’t know how to stop it. How to get strong again. My fingers throb after playing and my legs shake. I don’t know what to do. On top of all that, I feel pathetic for feeling this way and not knowing how to fix it.”
He squeezed her hand wishing it felt friendly instead of like he was falling for her. “Do you need to stop the tour?” he asked quietly.
She shook her head. “No.”
He knew that would be her answer before the question left his mouth, but he also knew he had to ask. “You need to tell Bridget.”
Lita shifted next to him, snuggling in closer to his side. He wanted to pull her into him. Hold her until she was ready to talk, but he knew this wasn’t something he could fix—at least he was smart enough for that.
“I don’t know how. And she has to know, at least sort of.”
“You told me about you. You can tell her.” Bridget was the one who helped Lita. How had she not done more before now? Griffin had worried about her sunken cheeks and weight since near the beginning. Did Bridget not notice? Or was she ignoring it? Or...
He stared at their hands together instead of her face. The desire to kiss her, to hold her, to sleep next to her, to feel her body against his… It was too much to deal with.
“Is it worse?” he asked. “Is it harder to eat now than when we left?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I can’t remember the last time I sat down with a big meal in front of me, you know? But when I think back, it’s like I do these little bites of everything instead of anything that’ll actually fuel my body. And right now I look down at myself and I know I’m too skinny, but what if that changes? I watched this show about this super skinny girl who still thought she was fat. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want women to look at me and think I’m healthy. What will I do if I panic before every show? What do I do if I keep throwing up my food when I don’t want to?”
Everything came out in a rush, and he wanted to answer her right away, but he wanted his response to carry some weight.
“It’s not going to be easy, but you’re aware. That alone is a big deal. You’ll work it out.” But he wasn’t sur
e that she would be able to work it out—at least not without help.
“We’re close to your home,” Lita said quietly changing the subject, and he let her. Griffin wanted some time to think about what to say or do for her.
“Yeah,” he mused. He probably wouldn’t talk to Stacy about how Lita had come to him tonight until he could tell her in person. He’d want to know if another guy had held Stacy while she cried.
Lita sniffed. “I guess your girlfriend will come out.”
“In a couple days, yeah.” He leaned his cheek on Lita’s head. He hated how mixed he felt.
Lita’s hand touched his, their four hands now laced together and his heart pounding loudly in his ears at how close she was. How reachable she was. How totally out of possibility she was.
“What are you going to tell her?” Lita asked.
Of course Lita knew he’d say something. “Right now, I have no idea because…” Because he really wanted to be here with Lita.
“I’ve complicated things for you.” Lita’s fingers traced the veins in his arms, rushing the need for more through him.
“I don’t know if I can walk away from promises, no matter…” He had to tell her. Say something. “No matter how I feel about...you.”
“Yeah. I know.” Lita relaxed even further. “It’s one of the things I like about you.”
“One of them, huh?” he teased, the reality of this amazing, strong, talented woman seeing anything in him hitting hard.
“Your dedication, determination to do the right thing, the way you work so hard and the…” She squeezed his arm. “It doesn’t much matter.”
No. She was right. It didn’t matter. He just wanted it to.
“I’m staying here tonight.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped a few things into it.
He was afraid to speak. Afraid to break whatever bridged between them, as much as he knew he should. Instead he silently pulled the blankets out from under them as she took off her shoes. He lay down and held out his arm until her face rested on his chest, and her body lined up with his before tugging up the blankets.