Do it!
Everyone leaves!
Run to the clouds.
Everyone leaves.
Everyone.
A crystal stare flashes through my mind.
STOP RUNNING.
My back stiffens.
Stop running.
What if I can’t?
I crush my fingers into fists. “I can’t.”
You can’t what?
What?!
“C’mon, baby. Party with us.”
Pale yellow pills scream from her palm.
One last time.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Destined for rejection, binding imperfections, nothing but objections
They said, they said
“I have to get back.”
“You don’t mean that.”
I shake my head. I don’t. I do. My pulse hammers.
Stop running.
What if I can?
I push away from the wall. A hand grabs my arm and jerks me back.
“I believe he said he wasn’t interested. Thank you for understanding.”
I freeze.
Wouldn’t be if not for helping hands that cower under streetlights
The apparition in my brain stands a few yards away. Smooth dark waves reflect light in a crown. Penetrating eyes cut through my chest, straight to my lungs. I pull in a painful breath.
“Mila.”
My legs move first, the vacuum of her absence sucking me toward her. No thoughts, no plan because I’m completely consumed.
I’ll trade a slap for a touch.
Her gaze is on mine. So many questions. So many fears. Hope? Not yet, but not despair either. I pull her in, breathe her for whatever seconds she’ll allow before remembering what I am.
Instead of a slap, her arms tighten around me. Her breath against my neck warms my entire body, and the blood that resisted two gushing fangirls explodes for the woman who will never worship me.
“I missed you so much.” My voice cracks. She makes me want to…
Stop running.
“I missed you too.”
Fuck etiquette.
I guide her toward the wall and devour the lips I’ve been craving. She meets my attack, hungry palms shoving up my chest and locking around my neck. Her hips rock against me, and I wedge her against the wall.
“You said no to them,” she breathes through our kiss.
“I want to stop running. Help me stop?”
She pulls back, fingers framing my face. I let her look, let her see my sincerity, my pain, my shattered mess of a soul that had no chance two minutes ago.
“Then we stop.” She states it, makes it more than a possibility. Tears shine in her eyes. My beautiful rock, my witness, my champion ready to fight.
“How?”
“We go to the people who know.”
The muscles in my shoulders constrict. “You mean Jonas?”
Her eyes soften. “I mean whomever and whatever we need.”
With a hard swallow, I tear my gaze away.
Not bright enough to see my scars. Just enough to…
The hallway is empty when I look. The girls are gone, and with them…
No escape.
I made a choice I’m not strong enough to make.
Oh god, what am I doing?
I can’t. I can’t.
She won’t forgive me when I fuck up again.
She’ll leave.
They’ll all leave.
Everyone leaves.
Thump. Thump. Thump
Breathe.
What have you done?!
“You okay, babe?”
“Of course.” Her gaze is too intense to believe my smile. I push it brighter. “Let’s go find the guys. We’re overdue for a band meeting.”
“You sure?”
I throw my arm around her shoulders and start guiding us… away.
Attractive fraud, where’s your army now to defend the legend that only exists in
Could have beens
Would have beens
Should. Have. Beens.
“Jesse?”
My heart races, with fear, guilt. A mind reader? “Yeah?”
“That new song.” Her eyes fill as she reaches up to take my hand resting on her shoulder. The way she squeezes… “It’s amazing. What’s it called?”
I glance over. Draw in a deep breath.
“‘Agitator.’”
21: HEA
Life is rosy now. Happily ever after and all that shit.
Oh wait, no. That was the stupid cable movie Derrick made us watch because it had some chick from his high school in it.
My life? Fucking sucks.
Even my ocean ceiling mocks me from its perch. Majestic art to crappy paint job. Well done, sobriety.
“Brought you some coffee. You hungry?”
I try for a smile, manage a muttered “thanks.”
Mila has that look as she hands me a mug. She understands, and she doesn’t. Sympathetic and pissed as my head pounds and tries to ignore her.
“The lads are waiting for you in the rehearsal room.”
“It’s not even…” I check the time on my phone. Shit.
“The wedding is in three weeks. You need to finalize your set. I’ve been in touch with the coordinator about logistics. They’re going to take care of you.”
“Great.”
“Jess.”
I swing my legs to the floor and force myself up. “I’m gonna shower then head over.”
Lips that are usually so kissable press into thin lines as I strip and make my way to the bathroom.
“Have you rung that counselor yet?” she shouts through the door I didn’t close fast enough.
Water thunders from the tub faucet.
“I will,” I call back, pulling the lever to force the stream through the ancient showerhead. Can we do a bathroom remodel for twenty-six grand?
“You’ve been saying that for a week now!”
I pretend her intense volume is so I hear it over the pound of the shower when I step in, not her anger. Eyes closed, heart thrashing against my ribs, it feels good not to breathe.
Fifteen, twenty, twenty-five. My chest burns. Thirty, Thirty-five.
Thirty-six.
Thirty-seven.
If I never breathed again…
If I never breathed again.
Five
Four
Three
Two
One more second to break.
I step back and gasp in a torrent of humid air.
Amazing.
The far portion of the curtain shoves back, blasting me with icy air.
“What the hell?”
“The deal was, I come back and you get help. I came back. When are you going through with your side of the bargain, Jess?”
She’s pissed, but it doesn’t stop her gaze from traveling over my body. I lean back and wring my hands through my hair to give her a full view.
“And I haven’t used since you’ve been back.”
Her arms fold across her chest.
Fine, let’s play. Shampoo next. I work the lather through my hair, trying not to smirk at the thought of every cheesy softcore movie I’ve seen. By her expression, Mila isn’t amused.
“You can ignore me, but I’m not going away.”
“No? Can you do my back then?” I ask, eyes closed as I rinse the suds from my hair.
“You’re being a wanker.”
Damn she’s cute. I keep that to myself.
“Mila, I’m fine.”
I’m guessing she’s even more irritated that she can’t stop watching me rub soap over my skin. Maybe I have a future in porn? I keep that to myself also.
“Really? You woke up terrified again last night. That’s fine?”
My shrug gets lost in the violence of my rinse. I’m done playing porn god.
“I know you can hear me.”
I yank the faucet handle. “Pass me the towel?”
�
�Not until you talk to me.”
I reach past her and grab it.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m not a junkie. Look at me.” I hold out my arms. “Fine.”
“What do you know about PTSD?”
“Oh fuck me.” I step out, shove past her, and wrap a towel around my waist. I don’t remember my room being so far from the bathroom.
“You’re a textbook case, Jesse Everett!”
I shake my head, cold droplets of water spraying folded clothes as I hunt through a drawer.
“The nightmares? The flashbacks? The panic attacks? You survived some serious trauma and you—”
“Just. Stop.” The fire in my stare halts her barrage. “I said I’d call, okay?”
I’m not lying. I will call. Doesn’t mean shit because she has no fucking clue about the trauma I’ve survived. Neither will the name on that useless piece of paper. I’m not using. I’m not running. You won. Take your trophy and leave me alone.
Her gaze turns hot as she reads my mental tirade. “Coffee’s ready,” she snaps and storms to the kitchen.
Air releases from my chest in a long exhale.
Abuse her, use her, refuse her love.
You’re going to lose her.
Traitor, faker.
Wanker.
This one makes me smile. And feel like shite.
“Mila.” I stumble toward the kitchen while I work my legs into a pair of boxer-briefs.
She straightens from behind the fridge door, eyes brutal with indignation.
“You’re right, okay? I’ll call after rehearsal.”
Her expression relaxes into a hope I can’t stomach.
“This afternoon?”
“Yes.” I close the gap and shut the door. Securing her face with my palms, I search her eyes. “I promise.”
To call.
To play the part until everyone believes.
“Thank you.”
Those kissable lips finally use their power and harden my body into a carnal distraction. I kiss her back, losing my fingers in her hair as hers spread fire over my skin. Sorcery it is, the way every muscle responds to her and tightens in her hands. I groan when her grip on my ass shoves our hips together.
“The guys are waiting.” She teases my lower lip with a gentle bite, torments the rest with a cruel grind that shoves me against the fridge.
Fu-uck.
“Just some inspiration?” Am I begging? I force her grin to a gasp. We both gasp.
“Maybe if… ah, Jess.” Her head falls back, eyelids fluttering in the most poetic plea.
“What’s that, babe?”
“Ahh.”
Yeah, I don’t stop. Not sure I could if I wanted to. I flip us around and trap her against the stainless steel. Her hands slide up, grasping the edge of the freezer door as I slide down. Down. Slowly. Slower than she wants by the way her hips buck against my grip. I hold her steady with one hand and clear a path of bare skin with the other.
“Jess, just…”
“Just what?”
“Now.”
“Now?”
“I’m ready, okay?”
“For?”
“Stop being a twat.”
“Not a wanker?”
“That as well.”
I grin up at her, brush my lips along the edges of some seriously erotic satin panties. My girl, so strong and confident in her desire. There’s nothing hotter than being her prey.
Hate her.
Love her.
I burn for her.
Fire.
Heavy choir of flame
Dire anthem of consuming fate
Writhing in mutual desire
Burn, my candle. Blaze into demanding…
She gasps out a moan of pleasure.
Burn, my candle.
I push her through another.
“Oh god, Jess.” Her hands rake through my hair.
Burn.
Burn.
She collapses against the door in desperate appeals for air.
Burn.
Sear away the pain that remains
Of those ghosts from hell
Bent on drawing blood
Over and over and over and.
Over.
I close my eyes. Pull her into my arms on the cold tile floor.
“Thank you, love,” she breathes. “That was… Your turn—”
“No.”
“Jesse—”
My lips rest against her hair, now scented with a layer of beautiful scarlet. “The guys are waiting.”
She twists back a glance, and I force a smile.
“Yeah. Later then?”
“Later.”
∞∞∞
Fucking ghosts, man.
“What’s he doing here?” I let the door to our practice space crash shut behind me.
Parker steps between us. If only blocking my view would make the intruder go away.
“I know, man, but if we told you he’d be here, you would have freaked.”
“Damn right I would have.” I start opening the clasps of my guitar case.
“He has a lot of good ideas.”
I glare up at Traitor Two, then over to One. “So do we.”
“Jess, you said it yourself. We’ll need a shitload of production on this album, and he’s one of the best.”
“Was.”
“Is,” Jonas corrects. “I’ve been back, working mostly with Seamless, for six months now. I’m booked with projects again.”
“Great. Congratulations.”
Parker sighs. “Jess, can we just—”
“Are we practicing or what?” I sling the strap over my shoulder and move to my mic.
The door creaks again, drawing our attention to… Mila.
Fantastic.
Her gaze settles on Jonas long enough to reassure me that she wasn’t involved.
“Mr. Everett,” she says, way politer than I was. Their stares have a conversation we all can follow.
“The boys have informed me that you’re representing them now,” Traitor One says.
“I am.”
“I’m hoping we have a chance to work together.”
Her brow lifts in a comforting level of doubt. “If the band has interest in that possibility, I’d be happy to discuss it.”
“We’re interested,” Parker says at the same time I say “we’re not.”
We exchange a long look that results in a stalemate.
I woke up impatient of this bullshit. “Okay. Prelude. For flow, we’ll run the ‘Water Music Suite: Air’, ‘Ave Maria,’ ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ then the bridesmaids’ processional.”
“That’s the German song?” Derrick asks.
“Will you stop calling it that?” I say. “It’s Canon in D. Every person on the planet knows it as that.”
Derrick shrugs. “Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t realize you were so protective of old-people songs.”
I shake my head. “Moving on. After the bridesmaids are in, we signal Wes and Tracing Holland to come out for the processional. Then we don’t play again until the recessional.”
“The leaving music,” Reece translates for Derrick, who gives him a middle finger.
I glance over at Mila. “Also Luke will be there and we’re planning to cover ‘Greetings from the Inside’ with him at the reception.”
Her forehead lifts again in surprise. “Luke? At an Alton wedding?”
“Holland Drake’s plus one,” I explain.
“Ah. That’s a good collaboration for you,” she says. “Let’s talk to Jay about grabbing audio of that. In fact, maybe we can get the entire opening set for some special releases. What’s on the setlist for the reception?”
I take her through our plan, and she nods. After a quick glance at our guest, she clears her throat. “I just have one suggestion. The bride is a fan, isn’t she?”
“Sophia? Yeah.”
“Okay, then she will really appreciate”—
another look at the man—“‘Jonas.’”
I follow the exchange as well and lift my chin slightly in challenge, waiting for him to protest his anthem.
He doesn’t flinch.
“Move it earlier in the set to make sure she hears it,” Mila continues. “Maybe get her attention first with a lead-in?”
“I have some ideas for the track,” Jonas adds, eyes finding me. “I’d be honored if you allowed me to work on it.”
Reece and Derrick try their best to shrink into the floorboards. Parker’s face brightens with hope. Mila remains stoic, her attention shifting to my studiously casual stance behind the mic along with everyone else in the suddenly too-small space.
I run a slow chord to test my tuning. And another as I work on the slightly-flat B string. Closer. The high E is out too.
“We’ll get back to you.” My voice doesn’t sound like my insides are exploding beneath my shirt.
∞∞∞
I spend the rest of our rehearsal pretending Jonas doesn’t exist. When he speaks, I let Parker respond. When we wrap, I bolt from the room without so much as a glance at the man who seems to think he’s earned a seventh shot at my trust.
My streak continues when I call the counselor and learn he doesn’t have openings for a while. I assure them that’s fine and I don’t need the alternative references or emergency numbers they offer.
Check.
Check.
And check.
I’m golden by the time I toss back a few shots of the cheap shit stashed above the fridge. 26-K should be enough to get us decent alcohol. Note to self and my cheap-ass roommates.
Mila enters on the tail end of the burn. I don’t know why I feel guilty.
“I have an appointment with Seth for two days after we get back from Toronto.”
“You called him?”
I nod, force a smile. “He’s booked until then.”
“That’s great, Jess. Did he sound decent?”
I shrug. “Didn’t talk to him. Just the intake person.”
Her gaze lingers on the bottle and my incriminating shot glass, but I would have looked worse trying to stuff it out of view.
“So your father made an interesting offer.” Glacial eyes sear a hole through the liquor label.
Is that why you’re drinking? Would you be high if I wasn’t standing here?
“Interesting? That’s one word for it.”
“What do you think?”
I shrug. “Let him have the damn song.”
Clearly not the answer she was expecting.
Are you drunk already?
“Are you sure?”
“I have nothing to gain by fighting this. Parker’s got his heart set, and who knows, what if he actually comes up with shit we can use?”
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