I sighed as I stepped back. “Perhaps I could have told you then,” I said, my voice filled with doubt, “but my mum hadn’t believed me, the staff at uni, even the police didn’t believe me.” Some things seemed destined to be repeated.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “I became someone even Jake hated. I’ve fucked up my band near as bad as I fucked up with you. So. I need to hear the rest, know what I’m dealing with. So I can sort this.”
“You want to sort me? Salvage your relationship with the band? With Hayden? Didn’t seem like he’s interested in being best mates anymore, and I’m guessing it’s because of something that happened with Briar.”
Murphy pressed his head back against the wall and swallowed. I watched his Adam’s apple bob downward. “Yeah, I tried to keep them apart.”
I wasn’t surprised; the feud between Murphy and Hayden hit the pages of both the music and gossip sites. Word was Hayden had stepped up when Murphy quit writing songs. Their musical differences poured over into their personal lives. Most music journalists didn’t expect Jackaroo to make another record.
“The hurt’s been bigger than my anger since I saw you again and talked to my mum. Stupid as it sounds, I miss the bub.”
“My baby’s death is separate from your problems with the band, Murphy. Don’t you dare try to use it to your advantage.”
He met my gaze and hurt built there, deep in his eyes. “That’s what you think of me? That I’d feed the media or Hayden some sanitized version of our story so they’d realize how wrong they’d been about me?”
“Don’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind,” I snapped. I didn’t really know this man, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
10
Murphy
She called me on it. But then, Mila always called me on my shit because it was just that—complete shit. “Is that why you didn’t tell me?” I bit my lip ring, fiddled with it, trying to find a calmer place. Nope. Not happening. “You never gave me the chance to know about the bub.”
“I protected you!” she cried. Her eyes were wild, her breathing short. “I did what I thought was best. Jordan wanted to kill you, and I couldn’t get anyone to listen. And, yes, before you ask, of course, I went to the police.” She shoved at my chest but I didn’t move. Instead, I clamped one of my hands over hers.
“I could have protected myself,” I ground out. “You and Kyle, too, if you’d let me.”
She narrowed her eyes, her lips a thin line of disapproval. “Oh, please. You’d give up the opportunity to be where you are now in this gilded lifestyle to raise a child in the same neighborhood we grew up in?”
“Yes.” The word ripped from my chest. I didn’t have to think about it. Mila’s eyes widened, her mouth parted.
“Fucking hell, Mila.” My hands tunneled through my hair. “I wanted you more than you could ever know. Any child that had come from us, yes—hell, yes, I wanted the chance at that. And as for the song . . . I’m a dickhead. Jake’s said it, Hayden’s thought it. I’m sure Flip has, too. I’m a complete arse, and that song was a fluke. We got lucky. I held lightning in a bottle. It hasn’t been anywhere near what I hoped.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Just all the sex, all the women fawning over you. You were living high on the lifestyle.”
“Because you lied to me!” I yelled. I slammed my fist into the wall. Alpie screeched long and loud, adding to the pounding building behind my eyes. “I didn’t know it was because you were trying to protect me, did I? So what did you expect? Me to mope around, waiting for you to come back so I could roll over at your feet.”
“Yes,” she shot back. Then she closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, but her answer, straight from her heart told me so much more than the rational argument she was going to make now. I knew Mila, and while she tried to look at every aspect of an argument, tried to remain rational and logical, her first gut instinct was led by her moral compass, which meant, no matter what she said now, she’d wanted me to wait around. To give her another chance. Hell, like any woman, she’d probably wanted me to fight for her—something I’d refused to do out of pride and hurt.
“No, that’s not fair.” Mila sighed, rubbing her temples. “I left to protect you, so how could you know? But . . . but I wanted you to because I would have if I could have. I would have done anything to protect you.”
My chest tightened as I held her gaze, the green swirls flaring through her eyes. “I don’t know what to do with that,” I murmured. “Mila, I’m so—”
“I can’t do this right now. There’s so much baggage between us. And, quite frankly, I don’t want to hear some half-assed apology. You knew me.” She pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and her lower lip trembled. “I need some space.”
With that, she stepped into her room and closed the door. The lock clicked into place.
No, she couldn’t leave yet! How badly had Jordan hurt her? Bollocks. I’d gotten sidetracked, then angry. The not knowing what the bloke did to her ripped at me. I turned to stare at the bird, which was watching me with its head tilted at an unnatural angle.
“She got a bloody bird,” I said. “Just stay over there.” Great. Now I was talking to a feathered rat.
Since Mila wouldn’t talk to me, I called her friend, Noelle. She’d given me her mobile number earlier, before Mila came to the hospital, so I had someone to contact in case Mila refused to see me—Noelle’s words.
“What’s wrong?”
“Mila’s fine. Just mad at me.”
“She has a right to be.”
“My mum says I got enough stubborn for six people.”
I liked Noelle even more because she didn’t respond to my obvious opening.
“Why are you calling me?” she asked.
I sighed. I wandered out to the living room and crossed my arm over my chest. “How bad did her uncle hurt her?”
“Why don’t you ask Mila?”
“Reckon I did.”
“And she said she doesn’t talk about that, I bet. Well, I can’t say. She doesn’t talk about it.”
“Please, Noelle. I want to help her.”
“Help her, or assuage your guilt?”
I rubbed my hand up the back of my neck and then fiddled with the piercing in my eyebrow. “I never stopped caring about her. And up until today, I had no idea why she broke up with me.”
“Past tense.” Noelle would point that out. Alpie dipped her head up and down over and over like she was agreeing with Noelle’s words. “And you have a funny way to show your ‘caring’—flaunting all those women. You’re known as the wild one in the band.”
“Never said I was a saint. Or even much of a decent bloke.” I hesitated but the changes in Mila’s demeanor were startling. “You knew her before. She’s not Mila.”
“She’s not,” Noelle said, her voice low. “You have to understand. She moved here as soon as she could, got a job so she could pay her bills and have health insurance, but she never does more than work, go to therapy, and go home. Alone.”
“She has a bird.” Nope. Still couldn’t wrap my head around that choice. A cat, maybe. A dog would be fine as long as it wasn’t some miniature version that existed only to make women coo. A ferret or hamster, even a fish would be better than a screechy feathered heathen.
“She hated coming home to her empty house,” Noelle said, voice low. “Mila’s not meant to be alone.”
That sinking feeling in my guts stormed back through me. No. Mila was meant for a house full of kids and their friends. She thrived in a nurturing, take-charge role.
“But . . . a bird?”
“You don’t get it,” Noelle’s words were clipped with impatience. “Every time she checked her laptop, she’d be so sad. I didn’t understand why because I didn’t know her Murphy was you—Murphy Etsam. I know she can’t sleep without her pills because I flat-out asked her about them when she stayed here before she bought her house. Hell, some days, she barely functions with them. So if Alpie makes her lif
e even a tiny bit easier, lay off.”
“What’s she on? Why? Are they hard to ween off?”
“That’s not the point.”
“Oh, I think it is. You said she’s taking stuff to sleep. Does she take other stuff? Is that why she hasn’t dated? Do men make her anxious?”
“She knows every one of your exploits and conquests. Each one cut her a little more and that’s on top of the depression from the miscarriage. So why are you pushing this?”
“You think I lived this perfect and glamorous life, but I hated it, and I was angry I hated it. I get you think I’m to blame for her pill problem. So, that’s one more reason I owe it to Mila—and to myself—to make it right now.”
“Talk about a half-assed apology,” Noelle huffed.
“Jordan attacked her after he’d threatened my family. He held my mum at knife point. This doesn’t get any more personal.”
Once again, Noelle pondered her words long enough for me to worry she’d hung up. “You could, you know, talk to her about that. See what Mila wants.”
“How bad?” I had to know. “How bad did he hurt her?”
Noelle’s exasperation blasted through the phone. “What do you think happened, Murphy? This isn’t a freaking Disney movie.”
Bloody . . . I slammed my fist into the side of Mila’s bookcase, causing the avian monster to screech loud enough to nearly burst my ear drums. . . I didn’t want anything bad happening to Mila. Didn’t want to even think about it.
“She needs a new therapist—she hasn’t dealt with whatever Jordan did to her.” Noelle let that sink in. Someone called her name and she sighed. “I have to go. I’m working.”
“Did he rape her?” My stomach ached and I wanted to hit something. Hard. Over and over again.
“I don’t know. The only detail I know—because I was there when the doctor told her—is she’ll never have another child.”
11
Mila
I sat on the edge of my bed, shivers turning into big body-wracking shudders. Jordan’s attack on Noelle shocked me, but seeing Murphy, having him here in my house . . . Everything was wrong.
If I hadn’t met Murphy, then my life wouldn’t be so convoluted.
Drifting from one flat to another, I’d spent more time at the uni’s computer lab and library than my supposed home. Jordan’s demands of my time increased while I was at home, he’d made it clear he expected me to be there and to spend time with him.
I hadn’t wanted to do either. Especially after Murphy Etsam had walked through the door. Stopping in the shadow next to the bar, my heart thumped out an oh yeah, oh yeah beat.
Tall, his build then tended toward rangy. He’d worn old, soft jeans and a gray tee. The dark metal in his lip ring gleamed dully in the neon lights. He’d turned his head to speak to the person behind him, who’d laughed. When he turned back, he smiled, those grayish eyes gleaming with sardonic humor.
That’s when I’d noticed the guitar case in his hand. Right. The musicians. My boss, and the bar’s owner, branched out into live music, trying to find something to draw the college-aged students from the nearby University of Sydney.
I’d stepped forward, clearing my throat. “You’re the band?”
“That we are, sweetheart,” he’d said. And, oh, what that voice did to my insides. It was deep, a little cocky, perfect to croon love words late at night.
I cleared my throat again, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. “Howard’s stepped out but I can get you settled. My name’s Mila.”
His brows pulled low. “The owner left you alone?” He’d sized me up, not in the way I wanted but as if ticking off all my faults: my lack of stature, my small hands and delicate features, tight ripped jeans, red halter top. My long dark hair swished against my bare back. “You’re a mite. What if some drunk harassed you?”
“We just opened for the night,” I’d said, keeping my voice light even though he’d just stated my greatest fear. No need to tell him about the mace in my back pocket and the other bottles I kept behind the bar. “Normally Minskee’s here. That’s our bartender, but he’s down with the flu.”
“Right,” he’d said, his brows still pulled low as he took in the place. “Oh. I’m Murphy Etsam and this is my brother Jake.” He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder. “Rest of our mates should be here in a mo’. Jakey and I, we wanted to get a feel for the place before we set up.”
“You can put your instruments in the break room in the back and I’ll pour you a pint.” I’d motioned toward the door tucked off to the left.
He hadn’t known me. There was no reason for him to show an interest in me, especially when his brother settled into a booth, surrounded by no less than a dozen women. More had peered Murphy’s way, and why wouldn’t they? He glowed with that sheen of glamour. Not like Hollywood fake, but the natural beauty so few are blessed with. That straight nose, those thick brown slash-mark brows, the masculine perfection of his lips. Even the deep dimples in his cheeks only served to highlight his chiseled cheekbones and flashing gray-blue eyes.
As I’d worked my way deeper into his gaze, catching a glimpse of his disappointments and old hurts, I’d wanted to tell him of my own. I wanted to pour out my whole life story to Murphy Etsam, the sexiest musician I’d ever seen. So I had—to a point. I might not have been willing to date but, like every other female in here, I desired to connect, to feel wanted by a gorgeous male.
He’d stayed for the end of my shift, even helping to stack the chairs with me. I let him drive me back to the flat I shared with three other girls at the time. The nicest one I’d ever stayed in, that flat just a block from Bondi Beach. But I’d planned to move out of the room I shared with Kari in another few weeks. I couldn’t ever settle down for too long. Jordan would find me if I did.
Ten more performances and Murphy had worn me down enough to say yes to his date request. We’d held a steady, happy course while Jordan searched for me, one of the more than four million city residents.
I blinked my eyes open, shocked I’d fallen asleep. I rubbed my hands over my eyes, trying to focus my mind. Turning my head, I glanced out the window. Straight into Jordan’s eyes. I scrambled, falling off the bed, eliciting a startled yelp from my dry throat.
“Mila?” Murphy’s voice sounded close, just on the other side of the door. He’d probably been there the whole time I slept. The sweetness of the gesture collapsed under the burgeoning terror. Murphy brushed his knuckle over the door, a whisper of a sound. “You okay?”
Jordan brought the large bush knife up and made a slashing motion across his throat. When he smiled, I finally found my voice.
The first scream was breathy, the second was full-lunged and hysterical.
My door crashed open in an explosion of sound and splinters. “What is it?” Murphy asked, eyes darting around. “Are you hurt?”
I lifted my finger and pointed at the window where Jordan stood. “He . . .” Jordan darted down my side yard toward my back garden. I swallowed, my throat too dry for more sound. “Jordan. There.”
Murphy charged toward the window and I watched, numb and slow, as he slid up the sash. “No!” I managed. I stood, stumbled over and gripped his wrist. “No! Don’t leave me.” Panic surged and my nails dug deep into Murphy’s skin. “He has a knife.” Nausea pressed up into my throat. I hated that knife. Hated how it felt pressed to my cheek, my throat, my breasts.
Murphy leaned further out the window. I yanked harder, trying to get him inside. Safe. When tugging didn’t work, I threw myself against him, grappling my way closer to the window. He pulled his head back through the window, his eyes dark, his mouth flat. I slammed the sash closed, my breathing ragged. Murphy locked the double clasps before he turned, his arms sliding around my waist.
“I won’t leave. Hush now. Hush, love.”
“He had a knife.”
“So you said.”
“He swiped at his throat with the knife. Like he meant to . . .” I shuddered, pressing even tighte
r into his chest. Alpie flew in and landed on my arm, sidestepping upward and shoving at Murphy at the same time. Murphy fell back, his face a mix of shock and fear. I wrapped my arms around my waist as Alpie shushed, rubbing her beak up and down my cheek.
“He’s going to hurt me, Murphy,” I said. My voice broke. “He told me before, in Perth, if I saw you again. That he’d kill me and you if you touched me.”
12
Murphy
A powerful motivator, fear. I’d used it to my advantage when I feared my mum would lose the house after she kicked my father out. I used it again, pushing myself creatively, playing scales, songs, harder songs, everything I could, to prove to myself no fan would laugh at me when I went up on stage. Fear was what could happen, not what was happening. And many times, thanks to preparation, fears never came to fruition.
But this moment of fear wasn’t healthy. I drew Mila back to my chest and wrapped my arms tight around her, ignoring the bloody bird. But her heart raced and her fingers clenched too tight against my skin. As her fear escalated, I couldn’t force down my own, couldn’t focus on her warm body snuggled up tight to mine.
I glanced back at the window where Jordan had stood. He planned to hurt her again. And again. Until he stopped.
Bollocks, I was in so much trouble with this woman. Jake would nod his head if I told him all my acting out had been to try to stem the hurt caused by her betrayal. Only I hadn’t been smart enough to see that or to come find her and ask her to explain her reasons.
“Noelle said Jordan lived with you whilst you went to uni.”
My fingers found her lower back even as she stiffened; her back felt like steel coated in flesh. “I don’t want to talk about him.”
Seattle Sound Series, The Collection: Books One to Five Page 60