Breathing Wisteria

by Rose, Amali

  “Do you think you’ll get back together?”

  “How big is his dick?”

  Skye’s mouth drops, and I laugh loudly, the tension between the three of us easing.

  “Cassidy!”

  “Oh, please, like you weren’t thinking it.” She turns to me. “We’re waiting, Red.”

  “Ugh, okay, let me see.” I start checking their questions off on my fingers. “No, I never saw him again. He moved to LA and I moved here. I actually have no idea. Like I said, we’re from a small town and we protect our own. I don’t see anyone from home spilling our secrets. Plus, I’m sure they all assumed we got divorced. We never got divorced because, well, I didn’t file because I couldn’t face him, or what had happened, I suppose. I have no idea why he never did it.” A shrug of my shoulders. “He came to see me because he heard I wasn’t doing well. A friend of ours suggested he come, and we talk things through, finally try and make peace with each other.” My heart drops at the next question. “No, we won’t be getting back together. He left early this morning to go back home.” I do my best to ignore the sense of loss I felt when I woke to an empty bed this morning, instead plastering on a cheeky grin. “And, it’s big. Like, big, big.” I hold my hands apart to give them a visual.

  Skye loses it, giggling in embarrassment while Cassidy’s eyes widen.

  “Well, damn.”

  “Can I ask you something?” Skye’s soft voice asks when we have all recovered.

  “Sure, ask away.”

  “You said you weren’t doing well? Why didn’t you come to us?” I don’t miss the hurt in her voice and I consider how to answer her.

  “When I first met you, it was all still too raw. Moving here, while allowing me a fresh start, it also gave me the perfect opportunity to pretend it had never happened. I was so broken, but it felt good to be around people who had no idea.” I shrug, helplessly. “By the time I realized I was stuck with the two of you, it was too late. The more time that went by, the harder it seemed. It just seemed easier to leave it in the past.”

  “Okay, Red, you’re forgiven.”

  I glance over at Cassidy in surprise, watching as she nonchalantly sips her ridiculously sweet drink.

  “That’s it?” I don’t even bother trying to disguise the surprise in my voice.

  “That’s it,” Skye confirms firmly. “It was your story to tell whenever you were ready.” Her hand finds mine and squeezes comfortingly. “Thank you for trusting us.” She leans back in her seat, pulling her legs up and crossing them. “I do wish you and Flynn had a different ending though. That would be an incredible story.”

  I ignore the shot of pain that tears through me at her words. Try to forget the sensation of coming home that overwhelmed me last night. He’s gone and it’s for the best.

  “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but that story is well and truly finished. There’s no happily ever after in my future, babes. You’ll just have to settle for your own.”

  Skye opens her mouth to say something but is cut off when my phone lights up and starts jumping around on the table between us. The name Flynn and a picture of us lying in bed last night, lighting up the screen.

  Cassidy raises an eyebrow.

  “You were saying?”

  Flynn

  “What?” Her voice hisses through the line causing a smirk to find its way to my lips.

  “What’s with the attitude, Cherry? I’m just calling to say hi.” I can practically hear her eyes roll.

  “I’m busy, and you totally just ruined a point I was— Stop it, Cassidy!” I can hear muffled voices in the background and a chuckle escapes as I imagine her getting torn a new one by her friends for keeping our history a secret.

  “I have to go.”

  The line goes dead before I have a chance to say anything. So, I do what any man in my position would do. Call back.

  “Oh my God, what do you want?”

  “You should get your phone checked, babe, the call just dropped. That can’t be good.” I don’t even bother trying to hide the sarcasm.

  “The call didn’t drop, I hung up on you.” She speaks slowly, enunciating each word.

  “Well, that was fucking rude.”

  A loud sigh hits my ear. “Just wait a second, yeah?”

  I hear her murmuring an apology and then there are the sounds of movement. My name is called, and I hold my hand up to Jett, my drummer, indicating I need a few more minutes. He nods, and I watch him saunter away, joining the rest of my band in preparation for our soundcheck.

  “Right.” Her voice draws my attention. “I’m here, what’s up?”

  “Did you get my note?”

  “I did, yes. Thanks for not waking me up. I would have had to kick your ass and I feel like that would have been a shitty way for the visit to end.”

  I laugh, grateful that she isn’t making this as hard as she could.

  “So, did you have an actual reason for calling or did your spidey senses tell you calling me right now would be just perfect?”

  I ignore her sarcasm, everyone around me is starting to get antsy so I know I need to wrap this up quickly.

  “Look, I’m going to be back in New York in a couple of weeks, so we’re going out to dinner. I get in on the morning of the seventh, so keep that night free.”

  “Flynn, we need you, man.” I glance back at Jett, nodding.

  “Right, I’ve gotta go, talk soon.”

  “Wait, wait, wait!”

  I catch her startled response right before I disconnect the call and a twinge of doubt settles deep in my stomach.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Shit.

  “I think it’s an excellent fucking idea, so how about you just take my word for it.”

  “Flynn,” she says with a sigh, her voice all soft and troubled.

  Turning my back on the hundred or so people all waiting for me, I duck into an empty corridor and lean against the brick wall, the cold seeping through to my skin.

  “Wyatt.”

  Silence greets me.

  “Talk to me, Wyatt. I’m not putting up with the no-talking bullshit.”

  “I’m glad you came to find me. Shit!” She groans. “That doesn’t do it justice. I was in a horrible place and I will always be grateful to you for that visit. Just getting to talk about her—”

  I hear her sniff on the other end of the line and my free hand subconsciously scrubs itself across my eyes.

  “It felt good talking about her with you, I feel like we never did that, and I wish we had.” Her voice lowers to just above a whisper and I have to strain to hear her. “I wish we had done a lot of things differently, maybe we could have survived.”

  “But we didn’t.” My voice is harsh, but for once I don’t have to worry about how the other person will perceive me. Wyatt never shied away from my hard edges, never expected me to be anyone other than myself.

  “No, we didn’t.”

  I can hear the noise on the other side of the door, people racing around, excuses being made, and the voices are growing more agitated by the second.

  “I fucked up back then. I made a shitload of mistakes, Wyatt, and I regret every single one of them. I let guilt take—”

  “You have nothing to feel guilty for, Flynn.”

  “What I’m saying is”—I brush her comment off, we both know it’s a giant pile of horsecrap—“that we need to leave the past where it belongs and focus on our future.”

  The line remains silent.

  “You know, I remember you being chattier than this, Cherry.”

  “We don’t have a future.” Her voice is firm. It’s her don’t-mess-with-me voice. I remember it well. It usually preceded a three-hour-long fight that would end with us fucking each other senseless.

  “Last night was amazing and I feel like we set things right. What we had never should have ended the way it did, and I feel like last night we gave ourselves the ending we deserved. But
that’s what it was, an ending.”

  “That’s what you think, huh?”

  A loud bang on the door scares the shit out of me and I slam on it yelling, “Just a fucking minute.”

  “I better go, Cassidy and Skye are waiting on me. Take care, okay?”

  “Right,” I rasp. “Wyatt?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re wrong.” Then I disconnect the call.

  “You coming to the party at Tucker Royal’s tonight? I heard Raina’s gonna be there.”

  Tucker Royal is one of the biggest assholes I have ever met, I don’t care how many fucking awards he’s won or how many millions of dollars his movies make. He will always just be a grade-A dickhead to me. As for Raina, the woman can suck a dick better than most, but she’s also bat-shit crazy. You ever see that episode of How I Met Your Mother where they talk about the hot-to-crazy scale? It could have been written about Raina.

  “Nah, I don’t think so.”

  “Aw, c’mon, man!” Wes, who after joining my band a year ago, still holds the title of new guy, tries to convince me. He’s laughably green and impressed by all the perks this lifestyle affords us.

  “I told Brax I would stop by tonight, see the monster.” The mention of Brax, my best friend and old bass guitarist, the guy he replaced but can never truly replace, shuts him right up.

  “You’ve got interviews tomorrow, starting at eight, so be ready.” My manager, Campbell, joins us, shoving a list of entertainment outlets at my chest. His usual frenzied energy is slightly subdued and when I look at him closer, I realize how tired he looks.

  “I’ll be ready. You good, man? You look like you could sleep for a fucking month.”

  He loosens his tie before scrubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, just a situation turning out to be more difficult than I first thought.”

  “Should I be worried?” To be honest, I’ve never really paid much attention to what Campbell does. We have the perfect working relationship. My strength is writing and playing music. His strength is everything else.

  “Have you ever needed to worry?” he questions sharply.

  I hold my arms up with a low chuckle. “Point taken. You should take the night off though, go get some sleep.”

  “Yeah, I will after I’m finished here.” He motions to the chaos behind him where an army of roadies are dismantling the set in record time. “Say hi to Brax and Mel for me.”

  “Will do.” With that, I turn and make my way through the winding corridors of the auditorium, meeting two of my bodyguards at the exit door.

  “What’s it like out there?”

  “Not too bad.” Zane, the larger of the two and the head of my security, reassures me. “Maybe a hundred, but they’re a pretty easygoing bunch. At least they were before they see you.” He smirks.

  “Giselle’s out there though,” Connor warns.

  “Shit.” Giselle Cross, owner of the blog Giselle’s Inside Scoop. She knows everything from the last person you fucked to the type of laundry detergent you use, she has a fucking vicious mouth and the female equivalent of a hard-on for me.

  I have no idea how she hasn’t dug up the fact that I’m still married, but I sure as fuck am happy that she hasn’t.

  “Alright, let’s get this shit show over with and get me to Brax’s place.”

  I take my position behind Zane and Connor, slide my sunglasses down to block the glare from the flashing cameras and take a deep breath.

  This is the part of my job I hate the most. I have no desire to have my picture splashed on the covers of magazines or to be on television. I just want to be a musician. Unfortunately, this is the shitty price I have to pay for people to hear what I create.

  “Okay, ready.” On my word, Zane pushes the door open and the crowd, who had seconds before been a quiet mass, turns into a hysterical mob.

  The flashes from the cameras blind me despite my sunglasses. The crowd, mostly young girls, pushing to get past the barricades, scream shrilly until I feel like my eardrums are going to burst. It’s an overwhelming barrage of sensations that prickle along my skin like a fucking nightmare. But, I suck it up and get to work. I sign autographs, pose for selfies, answer the most ridiculous fucking questions you can imagine, and I do it all with a grin on my face that hides the fact that I would literally rather be anywhere but here.

  When I’m finally nearing the car and I can practically taste my freedom, I’m pulled up short by a quiet but commanding voice.

  “I heard you were in New York for a few days, Flynn. Was it business or pleasure?”

  I look up into Giselle’s icy blue eyes and I swear to God I have never wanted to harm a woman before today, but the antagonistic expression she’s wearing sets off all of my protective instincts. Make no mistake, my need to protect Wyatt is powerful.

  “Just checking out some possible venues for some smaller gigs. Have a great night.” I get a glimpse of her narrowing eyes at my brush-off before I’m ushered away to the waiting SUV.

  I spend the twenty-five-minute drive to Brax’s Pacific Palisades home going over everything I did in New York and kicking myself for being so careless. After my talk with Charlie, I just booked the first flight I could get and took minimal precautions to prevent getting recognized.

  Getting to Wyatt had really been the only thing on my mind.

  The large gates in front of Brax’s impressive home open wide allowing us to enter and I spot Mel by the front door straight away.

  Tiny, with a messy blonde bob blowing in the light breeze, she waits with a smile on her face and a wriggling toddler in her arms. As I step out of the car, Brax walks up behind them and whispers something in Mel’s ear. The monster takes full advantage of her distraction and works his way free, racing to me faster than any two-year-old should be able to move.

  “Billy! How’s it going, little dude?”

  He throws himself at my legs, clinging on, mumbling into my jeans.

  “Hurry up and get your ass in here, it’s two hours past his bedtime and he point blank refused to go until he’d seen your ugly mug.”

  I laugh and throw Billy up into my arms, making my way inside. Mel wraps her arms around me, squeezing tight. This woman gives massive hugs for someone so little.

  “It’s so good to see you.” She reaches across to take her son. “Okay, Billy Bug, it’s time for bed.”

  Saying goodnight to the indignant toddler takes longer than you’d think but as soon as we’re settled in the huge living room, bourbon in hand, I let out a sigh of relief. My eyes wander around the room taking in the comfortable furniture, an eclectic mix of Mel and Brax’s different styles which somehow work together to turn this monstrosity of a house into a home.

  “You ready to come back yet?” It’s the same question I’ve asked every time I have seen him since he left the band last year, to work as a session musician.

  His answer is the same as always. He laughs in my face.

  “Not a hope in hell, asshole.”

  “C’mon, I pay so much better.” He levels me with a look of pity. Yeah, money isn’t a problem for Braxton Havenworth.

  “Don’t you miss seeing my face every day?” I lift my hand, glass in hand, and gesture toward myself.

  “I get to see Mel’s pussy every day, which is much higher on my list of priorities.” He downs the rest of his drink in a single gulp. “You gonna tell me how it went, or are we going to play twenty questions?”

  I watch him get up and pour himself another drink from the full bar in the corner of the room.

  “It went well.” I rest my head on the back of the sofa, letting my eyes close.

  “Did you fuck her?”

  I open one eye and squint at him. “What part of what I told you would make you think we would fuck?”

  “The part where you’ve been stupid in love with her for as long as I’ve known you.”

  My head falls back on the couch, my eyes close once again and I ignore his question.

  Brax is the only pe
rson I have ever confided in about my past. I met him in a tiny dump of a club. It was my tenth day in LA and I was trawling the bars and clubs, looking for any that would let me play. He was a rich, obnoxious asshole who was slumming it and I was a poor-as-piss, broken asshole looking for a break. We met, we drank, and we drunkenly confessed our greatest sins to each other never thinking we would see the other again.

  At least that’s what I had thought. Two days later he had tracked me down and offered me a regular gig at a club owned by one of his cousins.

  “She thinks it was us saying goodbye,” I snort out.

  “Has she met you?” he asks incredulously, now settled back comfortably in the armchair across from me. “What are you going to do? Because I know there’s no way your stubborn ass is giving up that easily.”

  I give him a sly grin. “Of course not. I have a plan, but I’m going to need your help.”

  Wyatt

  “How did you get this pass again?”

  Cassidy, Skye, and I are standing in front of one of the fanciest day spas I have ever seen. Like, it-probably-costs-more-than-my-annual-salary-for-a-manicure type of fancy.

  I turn to the girls, taking in their skeptical faces still staring at the beautiful handcrafted sign, Serenity by Havenworth. The understated elegance reeks of money and I am suddenly very nervous.

  “I got an email saying I won it.”

  “Won it, how?” Even Skye isn’t convinced.

  “I don’t know,” I reply slowly. “It said I was the lucky winner of the contest from their grand opening celebrations or something.”

  “Did you enter a contest?” Cassidy sounds even more unconvinced than Skye. “I mean this doesn’t seem like the kind of place that gives away prizes, you know?”

  “I-I. Maybe? Look.” My voice turns defensive. “I rang them to confirm it and they had all of my details, so I must have.”

  People are rushing around us, jostling and bumping, as we stand like idiots in the middle of the sidewalk, all of us hesitant to take the first step inside.

  “Okay, this is ridiculous. We’re booked in for their Pamper Day package so let’s get in there and get ourselves pampered.” I take each of them by the hand, ignoring the dubious look they’re exchanging and pull them inside.