Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five

by Alexa Padgett

  Our ride was silent, so like the ride to The Vera Project hours earlier, but heavier. He sat in the passenger’s seat, somewhere between stunned and fuming.

  I tapped the steering wheel. Twenty minutes ago, we’d both been high on desire. Now, I swallowed hard and glanced at Hayden from the corner of my eye. He was leaving me emotionally, and I was powerless to stop it.

  I parked in the lot and turned to him.

  “Thank you for being here. With me.” His voice returned to having that formality he used when dealing with people he didn’t know. Exiting the car, he waited for me to join him, his hand trembling a little on my lower back as we headed into the building.

  One of the night-shift nurses let us in, obviously expecting us. “The mortician is on his way,” she said. “If you want to go see Miriam, now’s the time.”

  Outside the door to her room, Hayden dropped my hand; his body tensed. Opening the door would be like opening Pandora’s box. Only worse. There was no hope for reconciliation left inside. In fact, there was nothing.

  As the door shut behind us, I shivered. Hayden gripped my hand as though I was all that was keeping him afloat, pulling me in even closer.

  For the first time, Miriam wasn’t attached to any machines. Her pallid skin was slack, her eyes closed.

  “I didn’t realize the tension there. Around her mouth.” Hayden’s eyes rose to find mine. He held my gaze, his eyes drowning in a sea of uncertainty and pain. A place I couldn’t reach. “I just thought they were wrinkles.”

  My heart twisted at his shattered look. She’d pushed him away, left him alone for years. He shouldn’t feel bad he hadn’t seen all of her pain—she hadn’t bothered to see his. “You came for her. You were here when she needed you.” Even as I said the words, I knew they were platitudes. He dropped his gaze, our connection. I wrapped my arm around my elbow.

  “Mr. Crewe. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  More platitudes, but Hayden nodded at the staffer. I took in the dark, comfortable clothes, hangdog features, dark hair pulled back in a tight bun.

  “She was peaceful. We made sure she didn’t feel any discomfort these last few days.”

  “Be sure to tell Kelly I appreciate her assistance,” Hayden said.

  “Of course. We have the release paperwork for you, when you’re ready,” she said. “I’ll be outside.”

  “Got it. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  I stood there, near the door, unsure how to help him. With Hayden, up until this moment, we’d been in synch. Now, he was a beat off my pace, and I stood, frozen, unsure what he needed from me.

  “Give us a moment, Briar. I need . . . this is private.”

  I nodded, though he didn’t see me. I walked out the door, nodding to the staffer who stood across the hall. Even her shoes were sensible. I was inappropriately dressed in my sequined tank, skinny jeans, and heeled boots. I leaned against the wall and tilted my head back.

  I couldn’t be angry with Miriam for dying. She’d been so sick. And she was the reason I’d met Hayden in the first place. I peeked in on Rosie, whose chest rose and fell in the sharp, even movement of the oxygen machine.

  I stepped away from Rosie’s door and waited. The staffer and I studied each other, neither of us speaking. There was nothing to say, after all.

  Hayden met me outside the door within minutes, his face set, eyes empty. I swallowed down my tears. Those were for me, for my loss of him. Now wasn’t the time to let them fall. He took my hand, but his grip was loose. My heart stuttered.

  Dammit, he wasn’t allowed to pull back. I clasped his fingers tighter but he walked on, not acknowledging my attempt.

  “You don’t have to stay,” he said, his voice quiet.

  I flinched. I waited until he met my gaze.

  “I told you I’d be with you the whole way through.”

  The blank look cracked, and I saw the lost little boy behind the thick mask Hayden wore. His chin trembled before he mashed his lips together. I cupped his cheeks.

  “I’m here, right here. Don’t forget that.”

  The mask slipped further, his throat working to stave off the building sob as he tried to clamp the emotions back under his control.

  After an interminable minute, he pulled me close and buried his face into the curve of my neck. His breath slid across my skin in abrupt puffs. His arms plastered me to his front, but I was fine with that. I swayed a little, hoping the movement would be as soothing for him as it’d been for my niece when she’d been so overwrought after her father’s death.

  “Why does her death hurt so much?” he asked.

  “Because you loved her. Even though she hurt you, you loved her and wanted her in your life.”

  His breath puffed across my cheeks and his fingers dug into my sides as he gripped me tighter. “I need to do the paperwork,” he said. “I need this done.”

  The staffer led us to a small, clean office. Hayden shook hands with the mortician, a neat, balding man in a rumpled dark suit.

  “Thanks for coming tonight. I know this isn’t exactly typical.” Hayden’s voice was thick, his words clipped. I hugged his arm to my chest, trying to stave off the shivers building there.

  “Not a problem, Mr. Crewe. Sadly, this isn’t my only pickup here tonight.”

  The staffer handed over page after page, all designed to let go of Miriam’s earthly rights. Hayden was meticulous, reading each document before signing anything.

  “We’ll take the body to the funeral home now that we have your approval. Come by when you’re ready tomorrow. We’ll discuss the funeral procedure then.”

  The mortician flipped a page, his eyes moving with quick efficiency behind his bifocals. Did people choose this job on purpose, like some people wanted to be a chef or a firefighter?

  Some must, and I was thankful they did. The service was essential, helpful. This was a time when people made a real difference. Helping families in the grieving process was noble.

  “I have written here she wanted to be cremated. Do you have a copy of her will?”

  Hayden shook his head, jaw tensed so tight it looked like it might shatter.

  “I have copies of the file that the hospice director sent over yesterday. It’s all in here.”

  After a long moment where Hayden made no move to take the papers, the mortician set them on the table and rose. Slipping his bifocals into his rumpled shirt pocket, he made a show of stacking the papers.

  I couldn’t take Hayden’s stillness any longer. I slid my fingers along the back of his hand where it lay on the table, threading my fingers through his tensed ones.

  “Do you need anything else from us?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No. Condolences,” he said in a tired way that made me think it was his salutation, like anyone else’s goodbye.

  I rose, my chair scraping across the cheap pile of the institutional carpet. “Let’s go.” I tugged at Hayden’s hand. Urgency built in my chest. I needed him away from here, away from the memories of his mother.

  Hayden stood, his long body wooden with exhaustion. “Thank you for your help with my mum.”

  Hayden shook the mortician’s hand, and collected the papers he’d been given, his left hand still gripping mine. With each heartbeat, his grip firmed. Soon, I couldn’t feel my fingers anymore, but I didn’t ask him to let go. I hoped he considered me his anchor tonight. I needed to be that for him.

  Walking out of the building, Hayden turned back.

  “I hate that building.” His voice held an edge I didn’t like. In that moment, I stood before a man I didn’t know. How could I know him, when we’d only met days before? Then his eyes dropped to mine and they were so filled with sadness and longing, I couldn’t help but edge in closer.

  Some things—some people—the hours, days, weeks didn’t matter. I knew the fundamentals of Hayden’s character, same as he knew mine. That’s what mattered.

  I leaned my head against his shoulder. I had no words.

  “Let�
��s go.”

  He pulled me to my car, opening the door for me to slide in. “It’s quite late. You okay to drive?”

  “Sure. Where to?”

  He blinked, surprised. “My hotel.”

  I started the engine, hoping to quickly dispel the chill from the midnight fog. I drove to the hotel, trying to ignore the wet tendrils licking over my windshield. Water droplets formed and spilled across the glass, reminding me of tears.

  I pulled up to the valet stand and turned to Hayden. He was staring down at his hands clasped in his lap. The lighting was poor, casting most of Hayden’s face into shadow.

  “You’re coming up. Right?” he asked.

  “If you want me to, yes. I’d like to.”

  He raised his right hand to my face, cupping my cheek. “I don’t want to be alone.” His voice was soft, more of a plea.

  I nuzzled closer, turning to press my lips against his cool skin. “You’re not. You never were.”

  He climbed out of the car, came around, and helped me out. Tossing the keys to the lone valet, he began to walk fast, his long legs eating up the distance to the elevators.

  With each breath, his emotions untethered further. By the time the elevator dinged for his floor, I expected him to howl out his anger. He pulled me down the hall toward his room, slamming the door open in his haste. I managed to close it with more care.

  “Hayden, it’s after midnight. People are sleeping.”

  He spun me around so my back was against the door. His breathing was erratic as his body pressed me into the unforgiving wood. The door handle dug into my hip. His fingers splayed through my hair as his mouth slammed against mine.

  The kiss was all demand. I braced my hands against his forearms and let him take. He plundered my mouth, each swipe of his tongue deeper and harsher. His need burned into me. I answered his as best I could, trying to keep up. He broke the kiss long enough to yank my top over my head. Fabric caught, ripped, but Hayden just kept pulling.

  “I need you,” he groaned against my throat. “Right now. I need to be with you. In you.”

  “You have me.”

  “I need you, Briar.”

  I speared my fingers through his hair, letting my body give its answer.

  23

  Hayden

  The driving rush to lose myself in her body was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I was rough, but I couldn’t stop. More, I didn’t want to. Briar made that sexy noise where her breath caught in her throat, and my brain flashed to a maelstrom. I tore her pants down her legs with a quick jerk, then popped open the button of my jeans as my teeth found her nipple through her lacy bra. The noise she made was between a grunt and a scream, and I wanted more. Wanted to bury myself in her softness. Briar would help me forget. Briar would ease me, love me, keep me from shattering.

  I yanked down my zipper, quickly freeing myself from my clothes. I shredded the delicate silk and lace of her panties. Her eyes were large, her teeth gripping her swollen bottom lip as she stared up at me.

  We met there, the two of us. We met in lust and it was beautiful. She was beautiful.

  “Briar, I need. You.” I knew she didn’t understand what I was telling her. I’d do better later. Right now, I didn’t want to be alone. She wouldn’t let me be alone. She’d promised and she’d meant it.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and tugged at the short hairs on my nape until I kissed her again. I couldn’t wait. I slammed into her body, shuddering with thanks that she was ready for me. I pumped out, the pace frantic. Too hard, too fast but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t slow down.

  Now that I was in her, the need to fall into oblivion built. I gripped her bum, pulling her thighs up to my hips as I pounded into her, desperately reaching for the pleasure and peace she’d offered me in the past.

  She clenched around me, spurring me on. Her mouth and body were my only tether. Nothing else mattered as long as Briar’s soft warmth surrounded me.

  Her fingers tensed against my neck. I liked that. Too much. I lifted her higher, taking all her weight onto my arms. I used her hips as a counterbalance to my frantic thrusts. My fingers gripped her harder, needing to set the pace as she writhed, twisting her mouth free to gasp for air.

  “Hayden. God. Please.”

  I held her tighter, molding our cores together, as I carried her to the bed. Even though everything in me screamed against it, I let her slide off my body. She made a sound of distress. I reached around her and pulled the covers back. I unclasped her bra, shoving the straps down her arms. My mouth surrounded her nipple, laving, sucking, biting. Her fingers sifted through my hair as she took a shuddering breath.

  She didn’t understand the drive to own her was still strong. Stronger now that she was naked, just like she was supposed to be. I pushed her backward, ready to finish what I’d started. Her nipple popped from my mouth as she fell, an inarticulate sound ripping from her throat.

  I kicked off my shoes and pulled off my jeans and underwear. I yanked my shirt off my head. She leaned up to kiss my navel. I wanted to hold her there. But no. I didn’t want to be gentled.

  In a quick move I flipped her over so her front was on the bed. Yanking her hips up, I slammed back into her. Her fingers scrambled for purchase in the sheets as I regained my momentum, her hips held high and tight against my thighs.

  Sweat formed and dripped from my temples, my chest. My arms screamed with the effort of holding her up in such a position. But I was focused on her tight, hot channel. Shock sliced through me when she tightened further, her chin tipping to the side. She shoved her fist into her mouth as her body tensed past the point of bearable. She screamed and sobbed as she unwound around my pounding.

  When she cried out my name, I went over the edge, too. The release was so deep and hard, I had to brace my arm on the bed. This woman was my salvation.

  I leaned my forehead into her back and let the release take me in long shudders as my arm kept her hips tight against mine.

  My vision tunneled to just Briar, the softness of her mink-brown hair and the delicate ivory of her skin.

  She sprawled across the bed, her breathing returning to its normal rate. My muscles quivered as the last shudder eased from my body.

  I groaned and fell to the bed, managing to land beside her. Her eyes were closed, her lashes a black sweep against her cheeks. I pulled the sheet and blankets over us before I tucked her tight against my chest. Where she belonged.

  Briar placed her hand on my chest as her trim thigh slid between my legs. I settled my head on top of hers, smoothing my fingers down the fine silk of her back.

  “I love you.” She whispered the words.

  Letting out a breath, the last of my tension ebbed from my body even as something hard and heavy built low in my gut. Before I could think too much about it, the oblivion I’d been chasing for the last hour—that much-needed sleep—slammed its fist into my skull. But my dreams were shattered fragments I couldn’t quite catch.

  Light was just creeping over the horizon when I woke, feeling more drained than I had when I’d started the night. Briar was curled on the other side of the bed, the sheet low.

  Her hips were covered in bruises in the shape of my fingers. All over her beautiful skin.

  I levered upward and leaned over Briar’s soft, prone body. Multiple contusions marred the soft skin on her hips and waist. Fainter markings from my teeth covered her breasts. I winced, horror building in my chest, as I counted each one.

  No. I wouldn’t hurt Briar. I wasn’t like my mum. Since she told me of her bipolar disorder, I’d studied the list of symptoms, knew each by heart, knew I had less than a ten percent chance of being diagnosed myself.

  But the proof of my delusions lay before me.

  24

  Briar

  The suite was quiet when I woke. Sunlight streamed through the window. I stretched, winced, and stretched some more. I bit my lip, my body achy but my heart full. I loved that Hayden turned to me in his grief. He was so wall
ed off with everyone else, but the need on his face, the grief and desire in his eyes as he leaned in to kiss me last night brought it all into focus.

  For whatever reason, he needed me just as much as I needed him. We could figure this out. I loved him enough to try. And he’d already asked me to meet him in Europe.

  I sat up. Hayden must be in the shower. I dropped the sheet and walked toward the bathroom. The door was open, the room empty. He must be in the living room then.

  Brushing my teeth, I decided to shower before I found him. I needed to head over to Rosie’s and feed Princess before I took him to the airport. There was no way that cat could survive much longer without another meal.

  I knew Hayden had to leave. And that hurt, deeply, but we’d talk about how soon I could meet him. With a plan in place, we’d both feel better.

  I wrapped myself in the hotel robe, combed my hair, and walked into the living room. The table was set with a large coffee, a fruit salad, and a croissant. He’d already learned my favorite morning meal. My smile was quick, warm.

  The note next to the breakfast spread gave me pause. Went to the funeral home to hammer out the details. I need this done. ~ H

  He’d pulled back again. Uncertainty crept across my skin. Something in his note—no, I wouldn’t worry yet. I ate my breakfast slowly. I dressed and filled a to-go cup with more coffee, checking to make sure I had the room key card, my purse, and my car keys before heading down the elevator.

  As the elevator doors opened to the lobby, I hit a wall of cameras. The reporters’ voices rang out, questions thrown so quickly I couldn’t process what they were asking. They pressed in closer, trying to get another picture of my face, then another.

  “How long have you and Hayden Crewe been seeing each other?”

  “Do you plan to join him on tour?”

  “Did you know of his mother’s illness?”

  “Are you attending his mother’s funeral?”

  “Why didn’t you leave with him this morning?”