by Maxene Novak
When the opening notes for the transitional duet with Shane began, actual tears leaked out of my eyes from relief. Because the end was now in sight. I was mere minutes away from getting off my feet and getting mountains of ice on my ankle and hip. Just a few more bars to go.
A frown crossed Shane’s face as I reached up with my free hand to wipe away my tears while keeping my gaze locked on him. I prayed the audience would think I was just emotionally acting out the relationship drama of the song. And then I finally found a silver lining in the pain…it made it nearly impossible to feel awkward around Shane now. Because all I could focus on was the pain and surviving it.
Either someone had warned him about my ankle, or he saw me limp or something, because when it was time for me to turn and walk off stage for my exit, he broke from the choreography and walked with me, holding my elbow and gently tugging me towards him as if wordlessly telling me to lean on him even as the Drakes began the next song. I was both embarrassed and grateful for the help, because by now my ankle was constantly screaming at me and wouldn’t hold my weight hardly at all every time I needed to step on my right foot.
Finally I was off stage, and a stage crew member helped me down the stairs…
Where Jessie was waiting. He didn’t even say a word, just scooped me up and carried me off like some kind of knight in shining armor.
It was ridiculously hot. And mortifying. And adorable.
Thankfully all the stage crew members we passed were too busy to do more than give us a surprised glance.
“So…car to the nearest ER, or your bus?” he asked with a sympathetic smile after turning and backing out the arena’s exit door, my bodyguard of the day right behind us.
I sighed and carefully rolled my foot. “Honestly, I don’t think it’s broken. Just sprained probably. Maybe we could find a doctor to do a house…er, bus call instead? Last time I was stuck at the hospital for hours. And I think this time we’re supposed to roll out sometime around two in the morning or something?”
Jessie frowned but followed the guard to my bus, insisting on carrying me all the way inside. “Couch or bed?”
That was a tougher question. If he put me on the couch, odds were good I’d be there all night. But if he put me on the bed, then he’d probably leave. And I really, really didn’t want to be alone right now.
Because this twisted ankle was a few too many straws for the camel. Plus, now that there was no audience, I could feel the last of my willpower crumbling.
A tear leaked out, and I reached up to wipe it away, looking away and muttering, “Um, the couch?”
He set me down then went to the kitchen to grab me a handful of ibuprofen. “Got any plastic bags?”
I took the bottle of water and pills from him. “Er…probably not.” Plastic bags weren’t something I usually needed.
“Hmm.” He dug through the cabinets and drawers, finally ducking into the bathroom for a towel. Watching him clearly working the problem, one so not related to music and our forte, was enough of an interesting distraction to keep the tears at bay a bit longer. Finally, he returned with a hand towel full of ice cubes. He folded the towel over the ice cubes, twisted the ends, and wrapped two of my hair bands around them to keep the whole thing closed like a giant piece of candy. Then he sat at my feet and carefully set the ice on my now clearly swollen and red ankle.
I hissed through clenched teeth, fighting my instincts to move away. Finally, I blew out a loud sigh. “Thank you. Way above and beyond the call of duty.” I managed a smile for him and was surprised to see him so solemn. I shook my head. “I won’t die. Promise. You can relax now. The tour’s still on. Thank God they weren’t having me do much dancing this time anyway, right?”
His eyebrows shot up. “You usually dance more?”
I shrugged. “Before this year, yeah.”
“Before you…got sick?”
I nodded, feeling the post show adrenaline rush trying to fade on me now that I was forced to sit still. Then I remembered. “Oh shit! Meet and greet!”
I tried to swing my legs off the couch, but Jessie held them in place.
“Forget about it, champ. Stage manager already canceled it.”
I groaned loudly. “Great. Wait till the paps run with that. They’ll have me bedridden from AIDS or pregnancy by tomorrow.”
“Paps?”
“What I call the paparazzi.”
He grunted and leaned back on the couch. “Glad I don’t have to deal with that bullshit.”
“Ha! You wait. They’ll be all over you too any day now. And not just because you’re on this tour with me.” I grinned at him, grateful he looked like he was settling in for a stay. “Have you seen how crazy the fans are going over you every night?”
He grinned, and I thought for sure he’d want to talk about it. Instead, he said, “So, when are you going to tell me what you’re dealing with? I’ll sign a dumb NDA if that’s what you want.”
I blinked a couple of times at the topic shift. “Does it really matter?”
“Yeah, to me it does.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Because maybe I could help you more if I knew what you were dealing with. We’re…friends now, right?” His eyes twinkled with humor, no doubt thinking about what we’d done last night. And earlier today on my kitchen counter top. If that didn’t make us friends…
I fought a smile. “Yeah. So?”
“So, friends take care of each other. Now fess up already.”
I so didn’t want to talk about it. But revealing my diagnosis to Dani had taught me the best way to do it was like ripping off a band-aid…get it done quickly with as little emotion as possible.
“Fine. I have lupus.” Seeing his blank look, I explained, “It’s an autoimmune disease. Basically, my stupid immune system decided to start attacking the healthy cells in my body as if they were a virus.”
“Damn. And you said there’s no cure?”
He remembered our conversation about it from days ago? He really must care. “Yeah. They could give me chemotherapy or other immune system suppressors. But then that would leave me really open to infection. Not a good idea while on tour. So they’ve got me on steroids instead right now to try and calm it down.”
“And how’s that working?”
I snorted. “Other than giving me chipmunk cheeks from hell? Not at all, as far as I can tell.”
He leaned forward with a frown, as if getting closer to study my fat cheeks. It was hard not to lean away and try to hide them now that he was really looking so closely. But then he reached up to stroke my cheek. “Maybe your mirror’s warped. They look fine to me.”
“You should have seen them before the steroids,” I muttered, trying and failing to hide a grin. God, he was sweet.
He leaned back, still studying me like I was a puzzle he was determined to solve. “So, what does it feel like?”
“When what?” Realizing what he probably meant, I said, “Dealing with the lupus?” He nodded. “It sucks. Feels like…like you’re coming down with the flu. Every single day. But minus the super high fever. And the snot.”
He chuckled. “Body aches everywhere?” I nodded. “Any fever at all?”
“Low, usually in the afternoon and evenings. Which of course brings the chills and sweats. And lots and lots of tiredness. And it can affect the body in other ways too, like pretty much every part of the body. I get a lot of inflammation at my shoulders, knees, and hands. But it can affect your vision, mental abilities, skin, internal organs, and even make your hair fall out. Super sexy, I know. You didn’t realize you were basically hanging with a ninety-year-old in disguise, did you?”
He smiled, still studying me.
I tried not to squirm. “Anything else, Dr. Quinn?”
“Why don’t you want anyone to know about it?”
Silence fell between us for a moment while I considered how to answer. “Because it’s none of anyone’s business. Because I don’t want people to see me differently.
Because I don’t want anyone’s pity. Take your pick. It’s my life and my problem, not theirs.”
“If anything, don’t you think they might like you more knowing you’re fighting something life changing like this? And what about others who have this lupus thing too? What if you could be a role model for them or whatever?”
Sometimes he was so chilled out that I forgot he was actually older than me by a couple of years. Until moments like today.
I sighed. “If we’re going to keep having such Debbie downer discussions like this, I’m going to need a drink. Mind looking in the mini fridge on the other side of the kitchen? It’s hidden inside a lower cabinet. Second door back from the couch.”
He hopped up, found the mini fridge, and bottles rattled as he dug around.
My tablet beeped. I leaned way back, grabbed it from the kitchen counter, and tapped it.
“Ma’am, I have a Shane Reynolds here?” the guard said.
My eyebrows shot up. “Um, okay. Let him in.”
The bus door opened, and Shane’s head soon appeared as he slowly climbed the steps. The door shut behind him, but he stayed at the stairwell as our gazes caught each other and held on.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Hey Shane,” Jessie called out, still squatting down before the mini fridge. “Want a beer? She’s got all kinds.”
“And Bailey’s. But I only share that with people I like.” I smiled a challenge at him.
Shane held very still. “I should go. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Everything inside me started to sink. “So you were only concerned about the tour continuing? Because honestly, even if I was on crutches, I’d still be performing.”
“But you’re canceling meet and greet tonight.”
I scowled and crossed my arms over my chest. “Yeah. Not my call.”
“Stay. Have a beer,” Jessie said as he crossed the kitchen like it was home already. “Or water, if you must?”
Did Jessie’s voice have a little edge there, or was it my imagination?
He was too far behind me for me to be able to see what his face looked like.
Shane’s gaze flicked up to Jessie for a long minute, and I got the feeling they were doing that silent communication thing I’d seen band members do often. Something darkened in Shane’s eyes as he turned around.
“I’ll be back after meet and greet.”
Then he was gone, and Jessie appeared at my side with a glass of ice and Bailey’s.
“You’re a God send,” I murmured in gratitude as I took the glass and started chugging. I usually never drank because I was a light weight. But tonight was starting to become an awfully good night for drinking.
Then I realized something. “Hey, shouldn’t you be at meet and greet?”
“Nah. I already handled most of the line during your show.”
“How’d you know about my ankle anyway?”
“Crew member mentioned it.”
And he’d just dropped everything and come running to the stage?
As he walked by with a beer, I stopped him by reaching out to touch his thigh. He turned and squatted down beside me, his eyes searching my face.
I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck and tugged him in closer for a kiss. “Thank you, Jessie. You’re a pretty good friend.”
“With benefits?” His tone was light, but his eyes weren’t. I didn’t know which to believe.
I hesitated. “It’s not that I don’t want to. But…are you sure this is such a good idea? Groupie sex is supposedly pretty free of…complications. And this?” I waved a finger between the two of our bodies so close together. “This is probably the exact opposite of complication free.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” His eyelids lowered halfway, giving him a sexy sleepy look. “Could be worse.”
“Like how?”
“You could be married.” At my questioning look, he added, “I don’t mess around with married women. Ever. Learned my lesson on that one a long time ago.”
Which was how we wound up discussing his first, a Mrs. Robinson cougar kind of thing except she was a bartender who slipped him drinks while he was still underage at the local bar where he got started performing on his own.
“You are a real ninja player, aren’t you?” I murmured, grinning at him.
“Oh, you have no idea, sweetheart,” he murmured right back. “Drink up. The emptier your cup, the sexier I get.”
That made me laugh, and I was still chuckling when Shane returned and I told the guard to let him in again.
I tried to hide the surprise that he’d actually returned, then gave up. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one.
“Thought you’d bail for sure on us,” Jessie said by way of a greeting.
I studied Jessie’s body behavior, wondering if the return of that edge to his tone was jealousy. We’d only been together the one night, and that was with Shane. So why the jealousy now, if that was what this was?
“I still can if you’d rather,” Shane retorted.
Silence. I thought about breaking it, then decided to let them work out whatever their male issues were here and now.
“Only if we’re not imposing on your busy schedule,” Jessie shot back. “Beer’s in the mini fridge on the right. Third cabinet door back from the couch.”
I opened my mouth to correct him, but Jessie flashed me a look. And that’s when I saw the mischievous glint in his eye. Oh. He was messing with Shane.
Shane climbed the remaining step, circled around Jessie, and stopped to look at me. “So…are you okay? You never really said.”
I shrugged. “Nothing broken. It’s only red, not black or purple or whatever. And it’s already starting to feel better with the ice on it. But thanks for caring.”
He hesitated, and I thought for sure he was going to say something. Instead, he picked up my surprisingly empty glass on his way to the kitchen. “Want a refill?”
“Definitely,” I sighed, laying my head back on the end of the couch. I could feel the alcohol and ibuprofen trying to loosen up my muscles, and while my ankle had settled down to a dull throb, the usual daily pains were still very there and very loud.
Shane searched around for a few minutes, finally found the mini fridge with only a muffled “asshole,” and refilled my Bailey’s, in the process discovering a bottle of Jameson in the cabinet. I never drank whiskey and told him he was welcome to the whole bottle if he wanted. Jessie decided to join him, and soon we were all kicked back with glasses and starting to finally relax.
Then two drinks turned into four. I heard myself giggling too long at some joke Jessie told, and even Shane was grinning, and I realized we were all drunk.
Jessie walked over to me, bent over, and gave me a silly attempt at a leer. “Hey. Just got a great idea. Let’s go to the kitchen.” He waggled his eyebrows meaningfully, and I remembered the kiss earlier on the kitchen counter top.
My lips parted, and I struggled to focus on his lips. “Hmm. That could be…fun.”
Jessie started to scoop me up, then suddenly Shane was there with a hand on Jessie’s shoulder to stop him.
“Jessie, she’s hurt. You should be taking her to bed, not the damn kitchen.” His words sounded funny, a little slurry in places.
Jessie straightened up and turned to frown at him. “You’re not worried about her ankle?”
Shane blinked but kept frowning. “I’m not? Then what am I worried about?”
“All the shit you keep fighting. Why don’t you just let go and relax already? You don’t have to be in control of everything all the time.”
I bit my lower lip to hold in more giggles. Jessie was right. Shane was a control freak.
“Hey. I’m here, aren’t I?” Shane said, his eyes darkening to thunder clouds.
Jessie stepped closer to him, getting right up in his face despite the couple of inches in height difference. “But you’re still trying to control. Let. Go.”
Then Jessie grabbed the bac
k of Shane’s neck and pulled him forward for a harsh, almost brutal kiss right on the lips.
I felt my mouth drop open as the kiss lasted two seconds. Four seconds. A minute.
Then Shane jerked his head back, his eyes flared wide as he stared at Jessie in obvious shock. “What the fuck, man?”
They stood there for a tense minute, and I couldn’t look away, my heart pounding loudly inside my head even as the rest of my body seemed to turn to liquid and melt down into the couch cushions beneath me.
Suddenly, Shane grabbed the back of Jessie’s head and pulled him in for another harsh kiss, and I wondered if their lips hurt from the bruising force they had to be pressed against each other with.
When the kiss stopped this time, they both turned to me, and my heart rate really took off. Oh my. I couldn’t decide which one to look at, my gaze darting back and forth between two equally intense and sexy men.
“My turn to do the carrying,” Shane growled, bending over to carefully scoop me up. I wondered how someone could look so intense, sound so borderline scary, and yet handle me so gently like I was made of glass.
My arms looped around Shane’s neck of their own volition as he carried me towards the bedroom, but I had to look back and make sure Jessie was following. He was, and I was able to relax.
Oh yes. I wanted this so badly.
Shane laid me down on the bed, immediately ducking his head to kiss me, and I clung to his shoulders, feeling the slightest trembling in his body as his hands cupped my cheeks for a moment, then slid down over my body in long caresses that covered everything yet still weren’t enough. I needed him everywhere at once, my own hands feverishly moving over his chest, kneading his shoulders and the back of his neck, then digging into his back. But I couldn’t reach enough of him, and his clothes were in the way.
Cool air brushed over my skin, and I realized the entire time we’d been kissing, Shane’s fingers had been removing my clothing.
Jessie must have found the tablet, because he dimmed the lights until they were barely on. I would have preferred them to be totally off, but this was an okay compromise. At least I could look into Shane’s eyes every time he glanced up in between placing soft kisses in a trail down to my breasts and still lower over my stomach and then to where I needed his mouth most between my legs.