Reverb

by S. M. West

  I snicker, covering my hand with my mouth, and Pansy chuckles, leaning into Silas. He grabs a fortune cookie and whips it at a laughing Jared, all in good fun.

  The evening is fun, and while I hadn’t planned to stay the night, I don’t argue when Jared leads me to his room.

  We undress in the dark, wordlessly meeting in the middle of his bed. This is the life I was destined to live. In his arms, in his home, I feel more like myself, more at peace and alive, than I’ve felt since the night of the accident.

  Unable to find the words to describe how I feel, I cling to him, gratitude beating its way out of my chest. Every day was a fight, but I didn’t know what it was I was fighting for until now.

  To exist, pass time, I buried so much. At first, after the crash, finding the desire to live, the focus to heal, was out of the question. And for a long time, I was more than lost and numb. Almost robotic in my rehabilitation and all other things in my life.

  In order to survive, I chose to forget. I forgot what it meant to live, to hope, and in many ways, I’d forgotten what it meant to love.

  Now, Jared’s hands, mouth, and tender whispers breathe life and love back into my withered heart and soul. Like muscle memory, with his every touch and word, my body remembers the desire to dream, the thrill and passion of life, and above all, the need for love.

  26

  Worth every opposition

  JARED

  Dark glossy hair rains over my face and I blink, opening my eyes to Eva, smiling over me. She’s standing at the edge of the bed, and the sun is just beginning to rise.

  “Where are you going?” I push onto my elbow, still half-asleep, and glancing to my phone, I hit the screen.

  It’s not even seven in the morning, and the violet light of dawn is creeping in through the slats of the blinds.

  “I’m going to Pansy’s for yoga.”

  This time I groan, sounding very much like moody Silas, and I flop my head back onto the pillow. “I’m going to have to talk to her. I wanted to wake up with you…” I flash her a naughty grin. “I had plans for us. For you.”

  My fingers stroke her cheekbone, and her skin is so soft and sleek. Her lips twitch, spreading into a smile as her long, dark lashes flutter.

  She studies me with her warm, expressive gaze. “Go back to sleep, and I’ll be back before you know it—and then you can do whatever you want with me.”

  This time my moan is more a whimpering sigh of need, and my semi-hard cock jerks.

  “I wish I could.” My hands slide into her hair, cupping the back of her neck as I bring her lips to meet mine.

  The kiss is meant to be sweet and quick, but that’s like dumping an addiction-riddled gambler in a casino and expecting them to never place a bet. Fat chance.

  We kiss, and Eva curls into me, one hand on my chest and the other behind my neck. She succumbs, letting me get my fill. Still holding her head, my other hand slides down her back, dipping below her waist, and my fingers dig into the thin layer of her yoga pants, palming her ass cheek.

  Sweet Jesus.

  If I don’t stop, she isn’t leaving. I’m a greedy bastard.

  “You better go,” I murmur against her lips. “I’ve got to work this morning on some of my songs and then my afternoon is filled with conference calls. We’ll have to pick this up tonight.”

  She smiles against my lips before breaking away and pulling herself to standing. “Since you’ll be busy, I should go back to the hotel and get some clean clothes.”

  “No, come back.” Now I sit fully upright in bed. “I want you here.”

  “Why don’t you come by the hotel later when you’re done? I need to get started looking for places to rent. I don’t want to be living out of a hotel forever, and Pansy gave me the name of a realtor who can help.”

  Stay with me is on the tip of my tongue.

  Some would say it’s too soon, but it doesn’t feel like it. Having her live with me feels right and long overdue. Selfishly, I don’t want to waste any more time. Eva belongs with me. I also don’t want to scare her off, and it feels like not being honest will do just that. But telling her everything about my past may also cause her to leave me.

  Either way, I want there to be no secrets between us, and there will never be a right time to tell her. Later, tonight, I will tell her everything.

  “Okay. I’ll text or call when I’m heading over, and we’ll have dinner.”

  “Sounds good.” Her gaze deepens and she bends, brushing her lips against mine.

  I belong to Eva.

  I scribble the last few lines of a song I’d been working on all morning across my tablet with the stylus. It just came to me as we wrapped my last call for the day. Eva and I are meeting at the hotel for an early dinner, so I need to leave soon.

  All of the songs coming to me are about her, in one way or another. I hadn’t planned it this way but in most cases, that’s how my best songs come to me.

  Since she left this morning, Eva has been on my mind, and it got me thinking about how long I’ve been hers.

  Unknowingly, I gave myself to her the moment she ran down the middle of the street that day I stood outside the Garcias’ house. Yeah, we were strangers, and it took time to get to know each other. And I resisted it only because I was scared and didn’t understand what I was feeling. But that’s when we began.

  Eva was the wind—wild, free, and unattainable. I was mesmerized and didn’t even know it.

  In a blink, she stole my heart.

  I’ve never had a relationship with anyone like I do with Eva. And I’m not talking about a relationship with the opposite sex, I mean anyone. Not even Ike, when I was a kid, or Silas or any of the band, and I’m tight with all of them.

  The click of the intercom gives me pause. “Mr. Grange, you have visitors,” says Ned, the security guard at the gate, through the speaker. “Alonso Ramirez and Miguel Aguilar are here to see you.”

  Of course. I had anticipated this, and in some ways, I’m surprised Eva’s father didn’t come sooner. Although, the addition of Miguel disturbs me in an all-too-familiar way. His presence, and all the feelings that go with it, is like picking at an old scab.

  “Let them in, Ned.”

  “Will do.”

  I don’t know Miguel, only the little Eva would say about him from her summers in Spain, but I never did like the man. And Bianca was all too happy back then to feed my insecurities with her tales of Eva and Miguel this, and Eva and Miguel that….

  That’s why I brought him up to Eva last night. I want to understand why he is here, but we never did get back to talking about him. Now I have a sinking feeling that I will learn all there is to know.

  I make my way to the front of the house, wondering how they found out where I live. Bianca is the first person that comes to mind. Eva wouldn’t have given them my home address, and if she had, she would have warned me or stayed here to meet with them.

  The front door opens and they enter. Eva’s father is obviously older, but he still looks healthy, good for his age at almost fifty-five. His once jet-black hair is now sprinkled with flecks of silver, and his face is more lined. Miguel is a short man, maybe five feet six, stocky with olive skin, black hair and eyes.

  They both look at me with a flicker of satisfaction in their eyes. This little drop-in suddenly feels a lot more like an ambush.

  “Mr. Ramirez, I don’t have a lot of patience or respect for you, and I don’t owe you the time, but I’m willing to hear you because of your wife and Eva.”

  His eyes widen and features sharpen. “Leave my daughter alone. I won’t have you…”

  He pauses, cold, hard gaze raking me up and down, scorn in every sweep. “A street thug and druggie, taking advantage of Eva. Her future is filled with possibilities and you…you’ll ruin her.”

  I huff, tightening my jaw to keep from shouting at this man. “I may not be good enough for her, on that we agree, but I love your daughter and I want to give her nothing but the world.”

/>   “You love her?” His voice is thunderous, but I don’t even blink. “You don’t know what love is. You had her running around in the middle of the night, opening her legs for you like some whore. And she was here last night! If that is your kind of love—”

  I growl, pouncing toward him, thankfully stopping myself short of pummeling him. “You shut your mouth. Don’t ever talk about Eva like that. She’s the best kind of person there is, and it would break her heart to hear you right now.”

  He snarls, and despite his diminutive size, gets into my face. “What? And let me guess, you’re going to tell her?”

  “How the fuck do you call yourself a father?” Disgust races up my throat like rotting meat. “How you could tell her a sick and twisted lie—that I died in that crash—is beyond me. You not only wrecked her more than she already was, you took her chance at happiness.”

  It’s hard to believe that all these years have passed and so much has changed and yet this man still despises me. All because I dare to love his daughter.

  “Alonso.” Miguel rests his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Calm down. Take care.”

  Eva’s father clasps one hand at the back of Miguel’s neck in an affectionate squeeze. Despite the conflict and my distaste for Alonso, there’s a dull ache in my chest at the obvious friendship between these two men.

  If only I could have pleased Mr. Ramirez like this man does. Things could have been vastly different, and maybe it could have changed the course of our lives.

  Something silent but planned passes between them, and they turn to me.

  “I don’t believe you two have met.” Alonso has a hard glint to his eye. “This is Miguel Aguilar. Eva’s husband.”

  The man—no, her husband—holds out his hand, and I wince, the words finally hitting me like a ton of bricks. Like a side jab to the kidney. Like being held underwater while fighting, struggling to break the surface for air. To breathe.

  Her husband? Why didn’t she say something? I’d sensed he was important, something to her, but her husband?

  And then New York. We had sex. Last night. Nausea swells in my gut. I’ve been an unknowing participant in adultery before. I’m sure of it, given the number of women I’ve been with. The odds alone suggest it, but this is Eva.

  The Eva I knew would never cheat on her husband.

  And I’m not going to lie, I don’t give a fuck about infidelity in general, but Eva’s mine. No one else exists for me with her in the world. I thought she felt the same.

  “Jared…Jared…” Miguel’s deep voice cuts through the fog, the questions, and the pain.

  I pin him with a tight-lipped glare, not trusting what I may say or even if I could push out a word. A vise clamps down on my chest, squeezing the air out of my lungs.

  “I wish I could say it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He’s pompous, puffing out his chest in his simple but respectable suit. “But as I’m sure you’ll agree, there isn’t anything pleasant about this.”

  Without waiting for me to lead the way, he walks into the room with Alonso following after him as if I’m the guest in this house. If I wasn’t still reeling from being thrown off guard, I’d react, set them straight.

  The words—her husband—keep sucker punching me. Everything hurts. My chest burns and throbs, cleaved like a hot knife slicing through butter, splitting my heart in two.

  Eva is married. Not mine like I will forever be hers.

  “How…how long have you been married?” The coarse words tear a path along my now dry throat, sure to scar.

  “For some time. You see, I was there when Eva came to Spain. Broken, just out of a coma, and struggling to recover. She wasn’t in good shape. But I took care of her.”

  I can’t stand his grating, arrogant tone as if his hands are twisting, mutilating, ripping my organs from my body.

  Gut-wrenching and confounding, none of this gels with the hours and days I’ve spent with Eva. None of this makes sense. Why wouldn’t she say something?

  “I love Eva, and if you feel the same, I am asking you to leave her alone. She’s happy. Her life is full, and our future is in Spain.” He brushes at an imaginary speck on the sleeve of his suit, no longer looking me in the eye.

  “It’s unfortunate that either of you had to discover the truth. You were both better off not knowing—”

  “Better off?” I lunge for him, eyes narrowed to thin slits and teeth bared, sticking to my upper lip. “What the fuck do you know about what is better for me or Eva?”

  Spinning on my heel, I stab her father with my pointed glare. “You lied to us. All of you. Thinking you could play God.”

  Religion isn’t something I believe in, but this man does, and how dare he think he can play with people’s lives. Determine another’s fate.

  “You took it upon yourself to decide my life, and that’s where you’re wrong.” I’m snarling in his face, and he inches backward on shaking legs. “You crossed a line, and I can’t and won’t speak for Eva, but for what you bastards did, I’ll never fucking agree to anything you ask. Never.”

  “Jared.” Miguel’s voice is calm, smooth. Again, as if he’s in control, and I can no longer take it.

  “Get the hell out of my house.” I thrust an arm out, pointing at the door. “Now!”

  Without my needing to call security, two of my guys, hulking and alert, rush into the room. No words are required. One look at me and they are hauling both Miguel and Alonso toward the exit. Neither man protests nor says another word.

  27

  Worth every tear

  JARED

  An uncontrollable desire to destroy and to numb this agony barrels through me with the force of a freight train. A swishing and swooshing noise fills my ears and my knees buckle as I collapse into the closest chair.

  Hands in my hair, I hang my head and squeeze my skull. Desperate to stop the overwhelming desire to numb this pain, end this misery.

  Eva.

  Before I lose control, I must do something.

  “Quint, bring the car around,” I bark into my phone and then send a quick text to Eva, letting her know I am on my way.

  She probably just arrived at the hotel, but this can’t wait. I could arrange to have her come back to my place, but I can’t wait and continue to stew in my riotous thoughts. I need to move.

  I need to do something, and if I stay, I’ll be destructive. Take action in a way I’ll regret and may never come back from.

  Even with this news, it changes nothing.

  I should walk away. Let her go. But I’m not that kind of man. I’m a selfish bastard.

  Married or not, she was born for me like I was for her. Eva is the only one I’ve ever loved. She’s my soul. My song. I won’t walk away from her.

  We belong to each other.

  The drive and ride in the elevator to Eva’s room is a blur. I spoke with my sponsor in the car on the way over here but I’m not sure it helped. I’m agitated and suffering from the urge to change things I have no control over. And yet just the sight of her when she opens her hotel room door drowns out all the noise and chaos in my mind.

  “Hey, I missed you,” are the first words out of her mouth.

  When I texted to tell her I was on my way, she wanted to talk then, while I was on the way over, but this needed to be done in person. I march into her room, turning to face her questioning gaze.

  “Your father and Miguel paid me a visit.”

  “What?” She’s surprised and rueful. “How did they know where you lived?” It isn’t even a beat and recognition flashes in her deep brown eyes. “Bianca.”

  “Most probably.” I press my lips together, hoping she’ll say something to make all of this go away. Make it so she isn’t married to him. Make things the way they are supposed to be.

  “What did they want?”

  “You’re married to him.” The blast of words hits her. I’m having a hard time turning my unstable and unnamed emotions into a calm and coherent thought. “Why wouldn’t you tel
l me?” Black and fathomless, that’s what this is. Not only was she taken from me more than a decade ago, but she’s no longer mine.

  I avert my gaze, not sure I can look at her, accept her marriage and that she isn’t mine.

  “I’m…I was married to him.” She clings to my forearm, imploring me to look at her, see the truth. “But we’re divorced.”

  “Divorced?” A mixture of relief and confusion, a tidal wave of highs and lows, races through me.

  It isn’t what I wanted to hear, but it isn’t the worst outcome either. Divorced. It shouldn’t matter that she married someone else if she’s now free. Like Eva said, our past is our past, but a sick part of me hates that the fucker was married to her.

  She hesitates, nibbling on her bottom lip and fingers pressing into the flesh of my arm. “Say something.”

  “How long were you married? When?” I hate the sound of my voice, broken and maybe even with a hint of betrayal. I have no right.

  “Not even two years. He asked me many times over the years, and I turned him down every time.” Her gaze softens and an icy, nostril-flaring anger fills me.

  “What made you change your mind? Say yes?”

  “I don’t really know. This sounds horrible, but maybe I was tired of saying no. I loved him—”

  Her admission is like a sledgehammer to my chest, and I pull away, no longer sure I want to hear what she has to say.

  “Not like that.” She grabs at my waist, wanting me to look at her, and I slowly turn. She’s squeezing her eyes shut like in pain, and when open once more, they glisten with tears.

  “It’s not what you think. It was friendship. He was important to my recovery. Papi wanted me better but he was too scattered, too emotional to do any good, and Abuelo…” she scowls, releasing a sharp breath. “He only knew how to fix things by throwing money at them. I had the best doctors, therapists, treatments, but I needed more than that. I was drowning in my grief over you. I didn’t want to live, to try to heal. Most of all, I needed a friend.”