Ridge

by Scott, S. L.

  “Who are you, Meadow? Tell me.”

  My sister’s words coming back again.

  “I have my own dreams and goals. I proved I could stand on my own.” My tone sours even though I didn’t want it to. “I liked who I was when I was in London.”

  “You liked being without me.”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “We may not have been fucking others, but we weren’t a couple.”

  Crossing the room in three large strides, he stops when he’s next to me. Disappointment knits into his brow and reflects in his eyes as he looks into mine. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, sweetheart.”

  The door is opened, but I remain standing there, defiant to protect my needs and my heart.

  It closes, and he’s gone. And for someone who wanted the silence, wanted the quiet, his departure sounds so loud. Damn it. How did I botch that up so quickly?

  13

  Ridge

  Meadow Soleil Fellowes has to be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met.

  Intelligent.

  Funny.

  Quirky.

  A stunning mess of emotions.

  But stubborn as fuck.

  I still can’t figure out why she’s so stuck on this friends thing. At first, I agreed with her. She had been gone, and during that time, I wondered how much we really knew each other prior to her leaving anyway.

  I knew her well enough to want more with her. But when I thought about what more meant to me, was it getting to know her more or take it to the next level more?

  Beating around the bush was not something I did. I usually just hack right through it to get what I want, but Meadow’s different. So as much as I want to kid myself that I didn’t know exactly what I wanted when we talked in the desert, I did. I wanted a life. I wanted a life with her instead of being teased with the pieces that our limited time together doled out.

  She didn’t feel the same. Or if she did, she was stronger than I was.

  Or was she?

  I watch Meadow standing at the edge of the gas station in this one-light town. Something’s on her mind, a storm of emotions brewing inside her in such contradiction to how I know her to be.

  One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

  She turns on the fifth step every time. Repeat. Pacing relentlessly.

  The carefree smile she used to wear is gone, lost somewhere just on the other side of New Mexico.

  She’s unsettled, so when the gas starts filling the tank, I join her, hiking a foot up on an old, blown-out tire. While she stares across the street at a dilapidated building that once housed used furniture by the faded sign above it, she says, “I feel lost.”

  “We’re on the right track. I just checked the route a few minutes ago.”

  A soft smile graces her lips when she turns to me. “I’m scared of leaving. I’m scared of going. I feel lost in between.”

  “Why are you scared to leave?”

  Her arms slowly uncross, and a hand finds mine, her fingers weaving between my fingers. The hold is firm; though not tight, it’s tighter than usual for the normally carefree spirit. “I like what’s happening.” She licks her lips and the sound of the light changing from red to green draws our attention back to the street. “Between us, Dave. I like this. I like you.”

  “I like you too.” I bring her hand up and kiss it, keeping my lips pressed to the back of her hand.

  “There’s no one I’d rather be with right now.”

  “On the road trip, at a gas station on the state line, or the night before you leave to start your new life?”

  A humorless laugh precedes a sigh. “All of the above.”

  “England’s going to be great. You’ll see.”

  “Have you been?”

  “Once. The band did a promotion there. We were there for like ten hours before we were on a plane to Germany.”

  Her shoulders sag. “So no words of wisdom, then.”

  The wind picks up just as I whisper, “Come back to me.”

  “What?”

  “Come back. The only words of wisdom I have.”

  Stepping up on the curb, she’s eye level with me. Resting both her hands on my shoulders, she says, “You want me to come back, Dave?” I want you to come back and finally be mine.

  “Yeah.” This time her laugh is genuine, her cheeks a little wind-whipped pink. “Cherry cheeks.”

  She cups my face, her thumbs running over the scruff of my jaw but still gentle on my rough skin. “Cherry cheeks?”

  “They don’t remind me of apples, but of the sweetest cherries.”

  Her lips find mine, and she kisses me as if I’m just as sweet. When she pulls back, it’s just enough to search my eyes for answers to questions she hasn’t asked. “I’ll come back,” she says, the last part lost in another kiss.

  Maybe she was never mine to ask to do a favor for my heart, but I was hers.

  God, I was so hers.

  Hers for the taking if she wanted. Some guys might think that’s weak, but I know a good thing when I see it. And Meadow was and is a very great thing.

  “Prepare for landing.”

  The announcement moves me to sit up and double-check my seat belt. The flight attendant comes by and leans over to move my seat into the upright and locked position. “For safety, sir.”

  “Thanks.”

  The blonde is pretty, every hair in place, face made up with precision. Red lips. I close my eyes, thinking of the blonde, red-lipped girl I want to see. Her lips were the palest of pinks both times I saw her while in Austin. Her hair was a mess. Casual clothes as if she has no one to impress. She just didn’t see how much she impressed me.

  I pull my phone from my back pocket and hold it in my hand. As soon as the wheels touch down, I turn it on. By the time we’re pulling up to the gate, it’s searching for service. When I walk off the plane, I call her.

  “Hello?” she answers, her voice unsteady. I fucking hate that I caused that.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just sorry things were left the way they were.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology. You did nothing wrong. You’re doing everything right. I really do know I’m the one screwing up, and my screwed-up head is messing with everything else.”

  “How do we get back on track?” I’m bumped to the side, and a camera’s shoved in my face. “What the fuck?”

  “What’s wrong—”

  “I have to go.” I hang up and shove the phone in my front pocket with my hand still wrapped around it.

  I’m led to the side and told to follow a security guard in a dark blue jacket. He’s a big dude who takes life seriously by the lack of laugh lines on his face. “Follow me, Mr. Crow.”

  Inhaling a breath to correct him, I grunt and just let the name slide. It’s not worth the time it will take to explain. Shifting my duffle bag to my other hand, I’m flanked as we near the outside. “Do you have a car?” the main guard asks.

  “Yeah.” The doors are opened to a line of black SUVs waiting at the curb. “Black . . . fuck.”

  “We’ll find it.”

  Flashes are going off as I stand and wait back inside the doors. Even the paparazzi are kept at bay, though there’s no privacy. I tug my hat down over my brow and keep my eyes lowered. The guard next to me receives a message, and she taps my arm. “Your car’s here.”

  “Thanks.”

  The doors open, and my name is yelled. “Ridge? Look this way. Ridge. Over here. Ridge. Sign this. Ridge. Ridge. Ridge. Ridge. Ridge.”

  The door closes, their voices muffled until we pull away and I can’t hear them at all. Leaning forward, I ask the driver, “You have the address?”

  “Yes. We’re looking at an hour if there isn’t traffic on the freeway.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  I pull my phone back out and call Meadow back. “Are you all right?” she asks, worry getting the best of her.

  “Fucking paps at LAX.”

&nbs
p; “Are you safe?”

  “I’m fine, Meadow. I can handle it.” When she doesn’t say anything, I realize what I’ve done. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  “It’s fine. I can imagine it’s very stressful to live your life.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “In the spotlight.”

  “I don’t live in the spotlight. You know that. We spent time together and no one bothered us. No cameras to be seen anywhere.”

  “But for how long. How long do I get to spend time with Dave?”

  “What are you saying?”

  “The world wants Ridge.”

  “You’ve been around The Crows—”

  “Enough to know that when I was in London, it was nice to be me. Not part of the Crow clan or Stella’s little sister. Just me.”

  “And you’re not you with me?”

  She hems, then whispers, “I am.” Gathering strength, she exhales a breath. “I know how this story goes—”

  “Then tell me because I don’t.”

  “Everyone wants a piece of you—”

  “What do you want?”

  “I don’t want to be another burden in your life.” She could never be a burden to me. She’s my light. But it’s typical that she doesn’t realize it, always worried about me. Selfless.

  “You’re not, Meadow. You’re the opposite for me. With you, I get to be me.” I rub my temple, knowing we’re back to square one, or maybe I read the signs wrong and we’ve been here all along.

  “I don’t want to lose myself along the way.”

  And there it is. Her fears summed up. “I would never want that either.”

  “You asked me about us being off track. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, about us. I might not be what you need right now. I hate saying that because we do have a good time when we’re together and I don’t want to hurt you.”

  It’s my turn to step up and share that truth that’s simmering under the surface between us. “We can pretend we’re only friends, but we both know it’s more than that. I’m trying my best to navigate these waters with you, but now you’re saying you want to date other people?”

  “I like the time we spend together. It’s easy, but it comes with complicated feelings I don’t have time to untangle. I like you—”

  “You like me,” I repeat the words, incredulously. I almost don’t know what to say. Almost. “Okay.”

  “It’s not you, Dave.”

  “Then why does it feel like it’s exactly fucking me?”

  “I hate hurting you.”

  “You’re not hurting me, sweetheart.” No, you’re telling me I’ll never be enough. Story of my fucking life. “You’re opening my eyes.” She doesn’t need this in her life, and I don’t need to keep wondering where the fuck we stand. She’s worried she’ll hurt me . . . Let her go, Carson. Let her go.

  She’s made herself clear. It’s time I listen. “I think it’s best if we do our own thing. You do you. I’ll do me.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means you find what you need. I’m not that for you. I’ll do the same. And maybe we’ll both find that happiness that seems to find others so easily.”

  A short pause turns into an awkward silence. Sales 101. First one to talk loses.

  She finally says, “I want you to know something.”

  I fucking hate goodbyes.

  Meadow and I shouldn’t be doing this. But what the fuck can I do? As much as I couldn’t read her before—what we were, what we are—I know this goodbye doesn’t feel right.

  “I’ll always be a haven when you need it. I’m here for you.” Except now.

  This is not what I expected to hear. I don’t know the ins and outs of what we are to each other. My instincts tell me we still have unfinished business, but tonight I need the reprieve.

  She says, “I’m glad you made it back safe and sound.” Because she does care, more than she wants to acknowledge for some reason. “It’s late, so I’m going to bed.”

  Hacking right through that bush. “I’m not sure when we’ll talk next.”

  The statement makes her pause. The SUV comes to a stop in a sea of red taillights. Traffic. Fuck. I’m so ready for this day to be over.

  Meadow says, “Take care of yourself, okay?”

  “I will. You too, all right?”

  “Good night, Dave.”

  “Bye, Meadow.”

  I slam the phone down on the seat next to me. Fuck. Fuck. “Fuck!”

  The driver’s attention hits me in the mirror. “Everything okay?”

  “No.” I turn my gaze out the window, a sickness churning in my gut. Wishing time to fly by, I’m unsettled in the back of this SUV. I need out. It takes another hour.

  When I reach the house, I punch in the other code and the door releases with a click. I lock up the house and set the alarm. Grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I head upstairs and dump my bag on the floor.

  On the nightstand is a little basket of goodies—another bottle of water, a mini Jack Daniels, granola bars, and M & Ms. I sit on the bed and read the note.

  Glad to have you back.

  See you in the morning.

  H.

  A light knock on the door gets my attention. “Come in.”

  The door opens just enough to reveal Jet holding the baby in his arms. “Hey. I wanted to check on you.”

  “For you or for Hannah?” I say in a piss-ass fucking mood. I can’t take it out on him, though. Jet’s doing me a favor.

  “She’d kick my ass if I didn’t, and this little one was up anyway.” Violet’s asleep in his arms, so I don’t know what he’s talking about.

  “She’s trained you well.”

  A tired smile crosses his face. “Hannah or Violet?”

  “Both.”

  We chuckle. “You’re probably right. How’s your mom?”

  “Sleeping a lot. I visited with some of the family while there, but I’m glad to be back.”

  “Get some rest. The next leg of the tour is intense. We need you rested and ready.”

  Glancing toward the baby, I say, “You too.”

  “I’m tired, but I’m happy to give up a few hours of sleep to be able to do this. I miss her when I’m gone.”

  “She’s getting big.”

  Even though he’s looking down at her, I can see the pride in his eyes. Just before he leaves, he says, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Hey, thanks for letting me stay here.”

  “Anytime, man.”

  The door is closed, and I lie down. Too much of the day weighs me down. I left out the part about my mom being too out of it from the meds to even know I was there. I left out the part where I was sitting by her side holding her hand and some relatives I barely know asked for my autograph. I didn’t mention that my dad took me off her visitor’s list because my presence is a distraction he claims she doesn’t need. Fuck him.

  Fuck the world.

  Meadow’s a hard habit to break, and I come so close to calling her back. Holding the phone in my hand, my grip tightens as I will myself not to follow through. After everything earlier, calling her again would make things too serious. Meadow said she’d be my haven, but even she can’t shield me from this pain.

  14

  Ridge

  The connection was instantaneous. It was as if no one else existed the moment I laid eyes on her in that crowded bar.

  Rivers is so damn preoccupied with Stella that he is almost oblivious to the hottie next to her. I’m given a beer and a shot as a consolation prize while he treks through the bar on a mission.

  Our friend’s band is on stage and mentioned a Meadow with Rivers’s ex. Seems a few people know her name. By looking at her, I want to know more. I down the shot and set the glass down on the bar before heading down to where Rivers went.

  Before I get there, Rivers is following Stella through the crowded place. Meadow watches but doesn’t seem happy. Do I go, or do I stay?

 
; I’m clapped on the back before a decision is made. “Fucking hell. Dave Carson in the flesh.”

  I know the voice. It’s someone I’ve avoided many times over the years until he inserted himself in my life last year in some big ego-driven show to stake his claims on Hannah.

  Hunter Hix is the kind of guy you can’t give an inch or he’s moving in and taking over your bedroom. The Crow Brothers’ success and fame is probably not an easy pill to swallow. But neither was finding out he was fucking my longtime girlfriend.

  With my eyes on his filthy hand that’s resting and pressing down on my shoulder, I knock it off when I turn around. “Hix. When’d you get released?”

  “That’s not funny, fucker.”

  Maybe not to him, but it’s true. Robbing the bar where you just played a gig was not his brightest idea. That’s what fucking desperation will do.

  I chuckle because my comment was still funny as fuck to me. “Did Shannon wait for you, or did you meet a new girlfriend behind bars?”

  From the side, I’m shoved into a group of guys, spilling their beers. “What the fuck?” I right myself, charging forward before he has a chance to react. Grabbing him by the throat, I walk him backward through the crowd, which parts for me like the goddamn Red Sea, until his back hits the wall. “If you ever fucking touch me again, I will break your fucking arms and every fucking finger you have. You won’t be able to play guitar or play with the balls of the guy who made you his bitch.” His throat is pinned by my hand, so I don’t really expect a response. He’d be wise not to even try.

  Security flanks me. “Let him go, Carson.”

  I release him and wipe my hand on my jeans. Taking a step back, I give him enough room to slink his sorry ass out of here. Hunter holds his throat and hacks up a lung. With a red face, he tries to level me with a look. “That’d be better fate than being a little bitch for the Crows. Fucking losers. Go play your pop on the radio, you fucking pussy.”

  “Pussy. Something you don’t get much of these days. Assault falls as a violation of your parole, fucker. So who’s the little bitch now?” I’d say I heard what he said next, but I was too busy walking away. I’m not interested in him enough to muster any more fucks to give. I had better business to tend to. The little beaut who originally caught my eye.