Yours Since Yesterday

by Jennifer Bernard

  “Are you so sure you know me? I disappeared on you.”

  “But that wasn’t your fault. I know that, but I think I was angry at you because,” the truth slid into place, “because it was easier than being angry at my father.”

  As soon as she said that, it made total sense. If she held on to her grudge against Padric, she wouldn’t have to face the fact that her beloved dad had betrayed her mother.

  Padric picked up her hand and brought it to his mouth for a kiss. He brushed his lips across her knuckles. “The thing is, it’s one thing to blame me. It’s another to blame yourself. I don’t want you to do that anymore. I want you to see yourself the way I see you. You’re incredible, Zoe.”

  Her heart skittered past the next few beats. What she saw in his face was much more than a light flirtation or an urge to explore an old attraction.

  “Stop it,” she whispered. “This can’t go anywhere.”

  His eyes darkened. “Why not?”

  “Because it can’t. Because you’re you and I’m…here. Not going anywhere.” Even though it wasn’t the most articulate way to describe the situation, hopefully he knew what she meant.

  “I’m still the same Padric Jeffers. You’re still the same Zoe. We’re just…more than before. Older, more experienced. More.”

  Her heart did another somersault at his mention of more experience. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled as she thought of what his “experience” would be like in bed.

  No. Bad direction.

  “Your experiences include conquering the world and dating supermodels. Mine are more along the lines of crashing and burning every time I get involved with someone. How can we ever make that work?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.” He touched her face, running his thumb across her cheekbone. The invitation in his eyes made her shiver deeply.

  God, it was tempting. But what if it went wrong? What if the same thing happened that always happened? Rejection and disappointment.

  “We just got our friendship back,” she whispered. “I don’t want to lose that.”

  He looked at her for another long moment, then nodded and sat back on his side of the blanket. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. You know where I stand. The ball’s in your court.”

  But did she know where he stood? What was he offering, exactly? A brief trip to bed, just to satisfy the chemistry buzzing between them? Or an actual—if impossible—relationship?

  Couldn’t she just ask him? This was Padric, after all. She and Padric had always been able to talk things out. But now the “things” were piling up like a highway collision.

  “Maybe you should tell me about this PJ party thing.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Back to reality. Padric braced himself for his least favorite topic in the world. He’d much rather keep watching that flush flood Zoe’s cheeks every time he flirted with her. He’d rather keep exploring the chemistry that flared between them. Find out how much of it was real. After his time as a star, he craved real more than anything.

  But if he was going to be real with her, he had to start with this. He didn’t want any barriers or secrets between them.

  “I wrote a song that some teenagers decided to interpret as a call to…brand themselves.”

  “Brand themselves? Like…cattle?”

  He cringed at the image. “No, not like that. It’s a thing that some frats do. It’s a sign of loyalty and…belonging, I guess. I have no problem with adults doing it, but these are kids. A lot of my fans are in that age group between middle school and high school. It’s a tough age and they need something to bond over. This PJ party thing started on one of my fan forums and just took off.”

  Zoe, bless her heart, didn’t react with the horror he’d feared. With a thoughtful expression, she sliced up the brie and filled a paper plate. “I can’t imagine the twins doing that, but some of their friends…yes. I can see it. They identify so strongly with their favorite bands or comic books or games.”

  “Yeah, until they grow up and regret it, and hate my guts.”

  She offered him some cheese and a sympathetic look.

  “So how is it your fault? You didn’t tell them to do anything like that.”

  He waved away the brie. The topic had soured his appetite. “I feel responsible. When I first heard about it, I wanted to come forward publicly and condemn it. But my management team thought it would be a mistake. They said it would give the story oxygen and make it bigger than it was. Their advice was to let it blow over. So I stayed quiet until I finally couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “You think you could have stopped it earlier?”

  He jumped to his feet and paced restlessly around the picnic blanket. “I still haven’t fucking stopped it. It has a life of its own now. But maybe I could have if I’d tried when it first got going.”

  “Maybe. But you don’t really know that. What’s that phrase you keep saying to me? Never underestimate the determination of a teenager? If these kids really see it as a bonding thing, it’s not really about you, is it? They’re bonding with each other.”

  “I never said it was ‘about me.’” He scrubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t care about being a rock star. I never have.”

  “That’s not what I—”

  “I write songs so I can reach people. To connect, to share the pain. I remember what it was like being a teenager, how fucking confusing and exhilarating and terrifying it was. I want to reach out a hand and say ‘I get it. You’re not alone. It gets better.’ That’s what I want to say. Not ‘put my initials on your skin and you’ll have friends for life.’ That’s not my fucking message, and it kills me that it got twisted that way.”

  Zoe was watching him with wide eyes. “Oh wow, Padric,” she said slowly. “I wondered if there was another reason you left your tour. Are you hiding out in the Eagle’s Nest questioning your music career?”

  He hadn’t thought of it that way, but Zoe had a way of putting her finger on things. “I question it. Yeah. Why write music when it’s actually hurting people? I’d be better off fishing for a living. At least then I’d only be hurting the halibut.”

  She laughed a little at that. “Well, I’m sure the harbor rats would welcome you back. And they’re more into tattoos than brands.”

  She didn’t seem to be taking this as seriously as he would have thought.

  “That’s your advice? Quit and start fishing again?”

  “I didn’t say that. You’re the one who mentioned fishing.”

  “You didn’t think it was a bad idea.”

  She squinted up at him from her kneeling position by the blanket. “Are you saying you want my advice?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Like, my honest advice as your friend? Or some feel-good advice to make you feel better?”

  Ouch. Zoe’s directness had always been one of his favorite—and most challenging—things about her. “As a friend,” he muttered.

  Hopefully he could take it.

  “Okay, as your friend, it seems to me that you’re kind of feeling sorry for yourself and that you need to snap out of it.”

  “Snap out of it?”

  “Yes. You’re a world-renowned recording artist. Millions of people listen to your songs. I mean, not me, but I’m probably one of the few.” She wrinkled her forehead at him, trying to soften her words. It didn’t really work. “You can’t control how millions of people interpret your songs. Every person has their own reaction. Once you release it, it’s out of your hands. Right?”

  She was making a certain amount of sense. He’d seen such wildly different reviews of his work that he knew it was true. But it didn’t absolve him.

  “Yes, in a way, but these are kids.”

  “Kids have brains, too, and willpower. A lot of willpower, take it from me. You’ve seen the twins in action.”

  He couldn’t argue with that.

  “Good judgment, on the other hand…” She shook her head. “D
on’t get me started. The point is, if you’ve publicly stated that you don’t support these PJ parties, and you want them to stop, what more can you do?”

  “What Mary said. Quit writing.”

  “Okay, Padric Jeffers. I’m about to tell you something about yourself. Are you ready for this?”

  He braced himself, because he remembered that tone of voice. This was Zoe Bellini’s “deliver harsh truths” voice. “Bring it, babe. I can take it.”

  “You can’t stand being the bad guy. You never could. You have the kindest, sweetest heart, and you always loved making people happy. Remember that time Mindy in fifth grade had a crush on you? She kept leaving notes on your desk, and you made me steal them. That way you wouldn’t have to reject her, you could just tell her you’d never seen any of her notes. She really hated me for that.” Zoe rolled her eyes at the memory, which he’d completely forgotten about.

  “But Zoe, I knew she was having trouble with her stepdad. I didn’t want to make her life worse.”

  “Which was very sweet and kind. But reality isn’t always sweet and kind. The truth was, you didn’t like her the way she wanted you to. And instead of telling her that, you got me to play the bad guy. The note-thief.”

  Now it was all coming back to him. The way Mindy’s hopeful eyes had followed him in class. Her two braids swinging against her coat as she searched for an answer to her note. The crushing disappointment on her face when her desk was empty.

  Okay, so it hadn’t been his finest moment. “I was only eleven.”

  “I know that, but have you really changed that much? You say you write music to make people happy.“

  “I do.”

  “And you’ve made so many people happy. So many! But now not everything is perfect in rock-star land. Some of your fans are making you feel like the bad guy. And you’re not used to that.”

  He turned away from her, feeling as if each word was chasing him like a heat-guided missile. “I’ve had bad reviews, people who hate my music. Doesn’t bug me.”

  “That’s different. A bad review doesn’t make you the villain.”

  The villain. Images of various PJ brands flashed through his mind, reddened skin and raised scar tissue, each one like a brand on his own soul. He felt each one down to his bones.

  “But if you’re going to put your art out there,” Zoe continued, “you have to take the bad with the good, don’t you?”

  He wheeled on her. “How would you know? You aren’t putting your art out there at all.”

  Her entire body winced as that blow landed. Instantly he felt like an ass. He fucking was an ass. “Sorry,” he muttered, digging the heel of this hand into his forehead. “That was out of line.”

  “No. You’re absolutely right. I haven’t put my art out there.” She almost said more, as if there was something else to add, then stopped herself. “As long as we’re sharing truths, you are correct.”

  She crumpled up her paper plate and stuffed it into a pocket of her backpack. Then jammed the remaining crackers back into their plastic tray.

  “Zoe—”

  “It’s fine. Don’t stress about it. Point taken.” She tossed the rest of the picnic remains in his pack. “But attacking me doesn’t change your problem. Which is that you’re feeling sorry for yourself and hiding away in Lost Harbor, and that’s selfish, because you’re letting a few people deprive everyone else of your music.”

  Selfish? Zoe had never paid one bit of attention to his songs, and now she was accusing him of being selfish? “You haven’t even listened to my music. Don’t you think you should before you spout off about it?”

  Fire filled her eyes, and all of a sudden she was every bit the Bellini. “I don’t have to listen to it to know that people love it. You asked for my honest advice, remember? If you don’t like it, that’s on you.”

  She jumped to her feet and shouldered her backpack.

  In mutually agreed-upon silence, they set off up the mountainside. The air was beginning to chill down; evening was approaching, although it wouldn’t get dark until sometime around midnight.

  What a disaster this trip had been. Instead of bringing him and Zoe closer, it had pushed them apart. The best friend he’d ever had was now stomping up the trail ahead of him.

  Looking sexy as hell, with her wild dark curls flowing over her shoulders and her backpack bouncing just above her round ass.

  Fury became her. Even though the things she said still rankled, he wanted her just as much as before. Maybe more.

  No one told him the truth anymore. Only Zoe. No one else had the nerve.

  That was one thing that hadn’t changed in fifteen years.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zoe’s anger, as always, burned hot and fast. By the time they reached the top of the ridge, most of it had drained away. But she knew that Padric didn’t operate that way. Whenever they’d fought in the past, he took longer to work through it. She’d be ready to forgive and forget, and he’d still be nursing the wound.

  Besides, she was in the right. Wasn’t she? He’d asked her opinion and she’d given it.

  Though, she hadn’t really thought of how it must feel to be him. Instead she’d jumped right to the “selfish rock star” interpretation.

  But he wasn’t being selfish. He was being human. Which was what made him such a beloved singer in the first place. Because he genuinely cared about people. She would never want to change that about him.

  As they wound their way down the Larkspur Trail, the light turned the deep gold of late evening. It hung in the branches like mist, as if the ancient spruce trees knew magical secrets barred to humans. Squirrels chirped as they passed and migrating songbirds chittered back and forth. The fresh breath of the forest felt like a kiss.

  Zoe replayed their conversation over and over again. And she realized even though they’d had a fight of sorts, it felt so good to be talking again. SO GOOD. Really, she’d rather quarrel with Padric Jeffers for a week than spend an hour with any other man.

  Crap.

  She realized something else as well. He’d made a couple of really good points.

  She stopped abruptly. He nearly collided with her, and swore.

  “Everything okay?” He steadied her with one hand.

  “Send me a playlist,” she said. “As soon as we get back.”

  “Okay. But Zoe, just because I—”

  “Just send it. Promise?”

  “Sure.”

  She threw up a hand so he wouldn’t say any more before she got her apology in. “You were right about something. I should listen to your music. But you’re wrong that I haven’t heard any of it. I watched a video of you singing ‘Lost Chance.’”

  “And?”

  “It was really great. If I’m going to be honest with you, I should also be honest with myself. I was jealous. You put yourself out there and share your art with the world and the world loves it. And I can barely bring myself to show one piece to my friends.”

  “Including me.”

  “Including but not limited to you. So I guess from my perspective, you’re complaining about something I can only dream about. So my advice was worthless. At least, it’s worthless until I listen to more of your music.”

  Padric touched her arm gently, as if not entirely sure of his welcome. “Your advice was not worthless. It was just hard to hear. I’m not used to people laying it all out there like that. People tend to pussyfoot around me.”

  “Well, I’m not a pussyfooter, I guess.”

  “That’s for damn sure.” His lips quirked up in a smile. They stood on the trail, energy vibrating between them. Wind whispered in the treetops and made the giant ferns edging the trail quiver.

  Her breath caught in her throat, and she remembered what he’d said—the ball’s in your court. Did he still mean it?

  “I submitted an application for an art fellowship.”

  His face lit up. “You did?”

  “I did. Just the other day. Actually, you inspired me to do
it.”

  He touched her cheek, so lightly she almost thought she’d imagined it. “I shouldn’t have lashed out at you,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too. I should have thought more about what it’s been like for you.”

  “I’m a big boy. You were right. I’ve been licking my wounds here.”

  “You’re entitled to do that. You care about people. You don’t want them to hurt themselves. That’s completely understandable.”

  Now the apologies were coming fast and furious, from both of them.

  “But then I turned around and hurt you instead of just listening to you. That’s fucked up. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m more sorry. If one of my sisters hurt themselves because of me, I’d want to tear the world apart. Just because you’re a—”

  “Spoiled rock star?” he said dryly.

  “I did not use those words. I was going to say ‘beloved mega-star.’”

  “‘Beloved mega-star.’ It’s kind of a turn-on when you say that. Can you say it some more?”

  All the anger between them had vanished, as if whisked away by the evening wind. A kind of wild flirtatiousness took its place.

  “I could probably be talked into it,” she said. “With the right kind of persuasion.”

  His eyes flared and he took a step closer. “More snacks?” He gestured with his head toward his backpack.

  “Mmmm, no. I’m pretty satisfied on the hunger front.”

  “Champagne? Somehow it didn’t feel right bringing out the bubbly at a crash site.”

  She lifted her eyebrows in astonishment. “I forgot you still had it. You hauled a bottle of champagne down a mountain and back up?”

  “Not just any champagne. Veuve Clicquot.”

  “I almost want to pop it just to see how fizzy it got with all this hiking.”

  “Sure, we can—”

  “No. Not really.” She slid one step closer to him. “You’re leaving out the most obvious thing.”

  “Oh yeah?” The gleam in his eyes told her she was going to have come right out and say it.