Heartstrings: A Dirty Affliction Novel

by Regina Frame

  Jinx slid his eyes over to Honor. "See you later, Honor."

  "Bye, Jinx," she muttered, as she stared at the gossip rag Jinx had brought with him.

  Scrubbing my hands over my face, I glanced down at the magazine. The cover was a picture of Honor and me standing back to back during war of the guitars. In the upper right hand corner of the page was a picture of my fucking mother with tears in her eyes as I shouted at her back stage. The caption underneath the picture read, Chance Roberts: how the mighty have fallen.

  "Fuck the media. They don't know a damn thing about me. They don't know the kind of shit I've been through. They haven't a clue what I struggle with daily," I mumbled.

  When I lifted my eyes to hers, she was watching me quietly and saying nothing. It was time that I finally told her why I was so broken.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chance

  "I need to talk to you," I choked out around the growing lump in my throat.

  When I met her eyes, they were wide with curiosity, but there was also understanding. She was the only woman who had ever truly gotten me.

  "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready."

  "When I was five years old, my mother walked out on me on my birthday." She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes for a moment. I knew she was thinking back to the birthday party that she'd planned for me, only to have me flip out on her. "My dad, he was a drunk. He was also a mean son of a bitch. My parents were constantly fighting, throwing things at each other, but for the most part, they left me alone. That is, until the day she left and my dad turned that anger on me."

  My body began to shake as I relived the horrible memories. "He would find any excuse to make me the target of his rage. I can't tell you how many times he burned me with his cigarettes, and then dared me to cry. I learned quickly that crying was a bad thing. In my father's eyes, it was a sign of weakness."

  Her hand flew to her mouth as a loud gasp escaped her lips. "He came into my room one night and pulled me from the bed by my hair. He was pissed that I'd forgotten to shut off the kitchen light after I'd done the dishes. That was the night he broke my arm, and again, he dared me to cry." I fisted my hands on top of the table, trying get my emotions in check.

  "There was one person in my life that cared about me, and that was my first grade teacher. She made sure I got at least one meal a day, and when there was a class trip, she paid my way so that I wouldn't be left behind. My dad was so angry when he found out that I'd gotten to go on a field trip without a permission slip signed by him, he stormed to the principal's office the next day and got her fired. The fucker gloated about it for weeks."

  I picked up the gossip rag and stared at the picture. If you didn't know any better, you'd think I was living the life. Chance Roberts was on top of the world. It couldn't be farther from the truth.

  "The next school year, I met Jinx. He was one of the coolest kids I'd ever met. We became good friends that year. I have to give him credit, because if it weren't for him, I'd probably be dead by now. I'd be another statistic in a system that failed. We were on the playground one day when he asked me about a sore on the back of my neck. I made up some bullshit excuse that I'd been bitten by a bug or some shit. I don't really remember exactly. The next thing I knew, a couple of the teachers pulled me into a classroom, asking questions about it. That was when the Department of Human Services visited my pop and, after an investigation, I was placed in foster care."

  "Oh, Chance," she whispered, her shaking hands flying to her mouth. "I had no idea."

  I shook my head and focused on a spot just above her head so that I didn't have to look her in the eye.

  "Nobody but Jinx knows. That's why I was so upset with him earlier. He knows all this shit, and I just don't understand why he'd want me to put myself out there."

  "Did you at least have decent foster parents?" she questioned.

  "I lived in twelve different foster homes from the age of seven until I aged out of the system. One of them, I was only there for two months before they moved me again."

  "Twelve? Oh my God, Chance. That's horrible."

  "Yeah. Well, I was a shit. I didn't get along with the other kids. I wouldn't let anyone in, because I didn't want to get attached. I knew if I did, it would only hurt more when I was forced to move on."

  "I wonder what ever happened to the teacher that got fired?" she questioned.

  "You've actually met her. Miss Jackie." Her brows shot up in surprise.

  "From Heartstrings?"

  "Yes. I promised myself that if I ever made it with my music, I'd take care of her. She's been more of a parent to me than either one of my blood relatives. When I started Heartstrings, I contacted her and asked her to run it for me. I pay her a good salary, give her a place to stay, doing something that she loves. For the rest of her life, I'll make sure that she has everything she could ever need."

  Honor stood and took several steps toward me, her blue eyes smoldering. She lowered herself onto my lap, straddling me.

  "You are the most amazing man, Chance Roberts."

  She traced my bottom lip with her thumb, her eyes locked onto mine as if she could see my very soul. Which was scary, because I was nothing like the person she just described, and I never would be. I'd been damaged since I was five years old, and there was no coming back from that. If she could truly see what kind of man I was, she'd run and never look back.

  "No." I shook my head and tried to look away, but she wasn't having it. She gripped my face in her tiny hands and pressed her lips to mine. My chest tightened almost painfully, and something shifted inside me. "I can't be the man you need me to be."

  "You're everything I need you to be." She grabbed my hand and placed it over her racing heart.

  "I'll just hurt you. You don't understand. It's what I do. I hurt people."

  "I'll take my chances," she whispered against my lips.

  Her soft lips moved against mine and our tongues tangled and explored. Her sweet vanilla scent filled my nose, and she tasted like fresh peppermint. Everything thing faded into the background, and the only thing that existed was the two of us. The whole conversation with Jinx. The magazine article, and the fact that I'd just laid my heart bare for her disappeared as I took her to bed and lost myself inside her for hours.

  ***

  Honor

  I rolled onto my side and took in the man lying next to me. He looked tired even in his sleep. He'd kept me awake most of the night, talking in his sleep and thrashing about. I could only make out parts of what he was saying, but what I was able to understand was heartbreaking. I had a feeling that what he admitted to me about his childhood was just barely scratching the surface.

  I slipped from the bed, careful not to wake him, and headed to the kitchen for some coffee.

  Booger met me with a happy tail wag. "Good morning, buddy." I reached down and scratched him behind his ears. "You ready for breakfast?"

  Reaching in to the refrigerator, I grabbed the zip lock bag of chicken that I kept prepared for him and poured it into his bowl. I then grabbed my cup of coffee and my laptop and headed outside to sit by the pool.

  When I checked my email, there was one from my uncle, letting me know that Trevor had been arrested and he'd call me with details regarding my statement to the police. That was one weight off my shoulders. I felt like I was constantly looking over my shoulder not knowing where he was.

  I fired off a quick email to Jackie at Heartstrings, and asked if I could come by and see Matt. She messaged me back within minutes to say that Matt would love that. I didn't tell her that Chance wouldn't be with me. I'd explain everything face to face.

  After firing off a couple more emails and updating my social media page, I showered and headed for Heartstrings. I didn't have to worry about making excuses as to why I needed to leave alone, because Chance was still sleeping when I left.

  ***

  When I stepped out of my car and into the garage, my ears were assaulted with the loud music comi
ng from inside the house. It was so loud I could feel the vibration of the bass in my chest. Chance, his friend Dane, and the redhead from my first night there were in the den playing guitar hero and pounding back shots, and if I didn't know better, I'd swear that was pot stinking up the place.

  "Sparkles," Chance greeted, loudly to be heard over that insane thump of bass.

  Dane turned from the screen long enough to shout, "Hey!" before turning back to their game.

  My eyes slid across the room where the redhead was sitting cross legged on the floor with what looked like a bottle of vodka in her hand. I guess being that I lived there, I should have at least said hello, but I refused to shout so I stepped up beside her.

  She tilted her head in my direction, and that gave me the opportunity to look at her. I mean, really take her in. She was wearing way too much makeup for someone her age, because it had settled into the deep creases around her eyes, and she had on so much mascara that it looked like she had tarantulas on her eyes. She could very well pass for one of those women who stood on the street corner.

  "Hi. It's nice to see you again," I stated, giving her a small smile. She looked at me from head to toe—from the pink chucks on my feet, the dark denim that covered my legs, to the fitted gray tee shirt that stretched across my full breasts. For once in my life, I was thankful that I wasn't an A-cup.

  "Why does he call you Sparkles?" she asked with a snotty tone.

  My eyes moved to Chance, but he wasn't paying attention. He and Dane were still wrapped up in the damn game.

  "Um … I'm not really sure. I guess you'd have to ask him that," I answered politely.

  "Well, it sounds stupid," she mumbled, before tossing back the shot she'd just poured for herself. What a bitch. There was no way in hell I was spending five more minutes with the woman.

  "Hey, babe. Would you bring me a clean shirt? I wasted a perfectly good drink when I spilled it down my shirt earlier," Chance asked.

  It was then I noticed that he was right. The whole front of his shirt was wet and sticking to him. Before I could agree, Ms. Personality spoke up.

  "I'll get it," she beamed up at him from her place on the floor. "I know where you keep them."

  "Thanks, April. You're a doll," he replied.

  What the hell? How did she know where he kept his shirts? I wondered if he had slept with her in the past, and I thought she was with Dane. I was totally confused as to what's going on between those three, but the one thing I did know was I wouldn't play the jealousy card, because I was pretty sure that was what she was hoping for.

  I busied myself in the kitchen, away from the three of them. I had promised Matt earlier that I'd bake him some cookies and bring them when I came to visit the next day.

  After baking two dozen cookies and sealing them in an airtight container, I headed for the shower.

  Music still floated from the den, but it wasn't as loud as it was earlier. Now I could hear them talking and laughing, but not once did Chance come looking for me, which hurt like hell and pissed me off at the same time.

  After my shower, I threw on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top and crawled in bed under the cool, crisp sheets. Sometime in the night, I awoke when the bed dipped and he crawled in beside me, nuzzling himself against my back. He reeked of marijuana and alcohol. When his hand roamed down my side and stopped between my legs, I froze. As much as I'd like an orgasm, there was no way in hell I was doing that with him. For fuck sake.

  If he didn't care enough to wonder why I hadn't joined in on their fun, I wasn't giving it up to him now. I grunted in my pretend sleep and rolled to my stomach, forcing his hand to drop.

  "Fuck," he hissed and rolled to his back.

  I lied there, perfectly still, while the tears from my eyes dripped onto my pillow. When his breathing evened out and I heard a light snore, I closed my eyes and went to sleep.

  ***

  Honor

  Ever since his mom showed up he'd spiraled into a deep depression. A self-destruct mode with a short fuse, ready to blow in the blink of an eye. I'd tried talking to him, but he'd kept me at a distance, refusing to fully let me back in. Just when I thought I was getting through, he'd shut down on me, and that hurt. Before we became lovers, we became friends, and now neither seemed important to him.

  He was building those walls faster than I could scale them, shutting me out, and it was killing me to watch him day in and day out, slowly slipping away. Killing himself more with each drink, each pill that he took.

  Chance Roberts was a broken soul with haunted eyes and a heavy heart, and it felt like all we'd done for the last few weeks was argue. Argue over the fact that he needed to get out of bed, and then once I got him to join the land of the living, we fought about the drugs that he kept pumping in to his body.

  "You've got so much going for you."

  "Are you kidding me? Look at me. I mean really look at me. I'm the guy who's been to jail for drugs. I couldn't tell you the number of women I've slept with, because honestly, I lost count a long time ago," he gritted out. "I'm the guy who can never give someone a child, because if my own parents couldn't stand the sight of me, why would I want to reproduce?"

  His words hurt my heart and made me want to cry for him, but I held them back.

  "Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?" He didn't even blink, so I continued. "I see a man who would do anything for those he cares about. A man who gives freely and doesn't expect anything in return. A man with an amazing talent, who shares that talent with the world. Shares with those hundreds of thousands of people who pack themselves in venues across the world just to spend three hours with you." I managed to choke out the last few words before the first tear rolled down my cheek.

  "Is that what you see?"

  I nodded my head, my bottom lip quivering.

  "Want to know what else I see?" This time I didn't wait for him to respond. "I see a man who loves a woman, but thinks he doesn't deserve her. Am I right?" My stomach balled into a painful knot as I waited for him to respond.

  "Yes," he admitted.

  "You deserve the girl, and all the love she has for you." His green eyes studied me, but didn't speak. "I love you, Chance Roberts. But, I can't do this anymore. Worrying myself sick that your next fix will be the one to finally take you away from me. Because I've had the people I love the most taken from me, and I don't think I could survive the next time."

  When he leaned forward and rubbed some of the coke on his gums, I knew that what I'd just confessed had fallen on deaf ears. He didn't tell me that he was sorry. Didn't tell me that he loved me, even though I'd just confessed my feelings for him.

  "You told me you'd stop with the drugs." I reminded him of the promise that he'd made a few months ago. "We're all broken at some point in our lives. We just have to find the right person to help put us back together."

  His green eyes blazed with anger. His feet hit the floor and he shot to his feet, startling me for a moment. He was so fucking high. I don't think half of what I'd said had sunk in. He was just angry at the world, and maybe even at himself, so he was lashing out at anyone and everyone, and I just happened to be the one standing in front of him at the moment.

  "How would you know?" he snapped. "Don't try and tell me that you know what I'm going through or you know what it's like. Everybody spews that shit!" He grabbed the empty bottle of Jack sitting on the coffee table and hurled it at the large flat screen hanging on the wall. Pieces of the bottle and shards from the screen littered the floor beneath. My stomach bottomed out and my heart thundered in my chest, but I did not step back. "The shrink I paid a shit ton of money to a few years ago tried to tell me the same thing. I walked out of that place worse than when I walked in."

  "I'll admit that I haven't suffered at the hands of an abuser and I didn't grow up in foster care." I lifted my chin and looked him in the eyes. "I will say that I know what it's like to lose someone you love. To feel like the world is closing in on you. I know what it's like to be at
the bottom of that dark hole with the temptation to pull that dirt in and pray to never see the light of day again."

  "Yeah. Okay," he bit out, piercing me with his green glare, not believing a word of what I'd just admitted.

  I pushed the long sleeves of my tee shirt up and lifted my arms, palms facing up. He looked down at the infinity symbols I had tattooed onto my wrists and gave me a questioning stare. I reached for his hand and traced his finger over the scars underneath the ink.

  "Yeah. I know what it's like to give up," I cried. "I know what it's like to want the hurt to go away so bad that I tried to take my own life." By now, the tears were streaming down my face as he continued to run his finger over one of the scars. "You matter to the guys, and you matter to me." My voice came out broken.

  His eyes slid to mine, and he just stared for a few moments as if he were trying to process what I'd just revealed.

  "You're trying to make this into something that it's not," he explained, a little calmer this time.

  I was getting nowhere. My mind was made up. I didn't want to do it, but in my heart I knew it was the right thing to do.

  "I'm leaving."

  He opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it, not saying a word. I grabbed my bag and my guitar case from the hallway and headed toward the door. With each step, I felt a little more defeated. Please don't let me leave. Please don't let me leave. I hesitated when I reached the door, but the silence said everything.

  I walked out, and he let me go. I didn't even make it a block away before I pulled over. A soul crushing pain bore down on me, making it hard to breathe. I was a fool, blinded by my feelings for him, and now I may not recover. I just hoped that he got help before it was too late.

  ***

  Chance

  My hair was wet from sweat, and the sheets were sticking to me. Nausea churned in my stomach, threatening to rid itself of the contents—Oxy, cocaine, and liquor.