by Jayne Frost
His lips parted, but he looked away when the waitress came by to fill my cup and drop off more croissants.
“You know,” I mused, looking around at the people on the busy street. “I’ve never even walked the Champs-Élysées. Let alone eaten at one of these little cafés. This is like a major deal, right?”
Daryl stood sentry a few yards away, along with Dylan’s regular bodyguard. But we were tucked so far back into a corner, nobody noticed us.
Sitting back in his seat, Dylan scrubbed a hand over his face. “You hate Paris. So I doubt this ever made your bucket list. Are you going to quit dancing around the issue and tell me why you’re going home early? And don’t give me some bullshit about the press. What did Cage do?”
He got a better offer.
“Nothing.”
“Yeah right.” He scoffed into his next sip of coffee.
I sighed, brushing off his rancor. “You were the one who pushed me to sign Caged in the first place. You never had a bad thing to say about Logan. Do you know why?”
“Because I didn’t really know him,” Dylan shot back with a bitter smile, saluting me with his coffee cup.
“You do know him, though.” I searched the table for jam, unable to look him in the eyes. “He’s a lot like Rhenn.”
The knife with the strawberry preserves shook in my hand when Dylan tipped forward and growled, “How can you even say that? He’s nothing like Rhenn!” I met his gaze, and his face twisted in disgust. “But then I guess there are things you know about them that I don’t, huh?”
Of course, he would go there.
I set down my knife and folded my hands in my lap. “That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about his ambition. That focus that Rhenn had. Logan has it too.”
He snorted. “I don’t see it.”
Reminding Dylan that Rhenn, his best friend, had kicked him and Beckett out of the band and put Paige and me in their place was too painful to bring up. It wasn’t an easy decision, but Mac had made it clear that he wasn’t interested in signing Damaged unless there was something different about the band. Extra.
“You gotta bring something else to the table. Something to make the band stand out.”
That “something else” turned out to be a smoking hot female guitarist and a fairy-tale couple singing lead. And up until a few hours ago, I’d never thought about how much that must’ve hurt Dylan.
But if Dylan could forgive Rhenn, maybe I could forgive Logan too. Eventually. Even if he decided to take Mac up on his offer like I suspected he would.
“What time’s your flight?” Dylan asked, tearing off a piece of my untouched pastry.
I gazed around the city I hoped I’d never have to see again. So much magic, but not a drop to spare for me.
“As soon as you can get me to the airport.”
53
I poured another shot of scotch into my coffee cup and glared at the adjoining door in my suite. Someone was in Tori’s room. Only it wasn’t Tori’s room any more. Not for the past forty-two hours and seventeen minutes.
Reaching for my guitar, I caught a whiff of something rancid. Me. I was rancid. Pickled in alcohol, sweat, and tears.
Tears … really?
My head fell forward, and I tried to remember the last time I’d cried.
It came to me in dribs and drabs. Wilted petals from my mother’s prized orchid strewn on the carpet under the window in the trailer. Me, on my knees, trying to glue the blooms back onto the stem. And the back of Jake’s hand the minute before it came down hard across my face.
Now you’ve got something to cry about.
That was the last time … until now.
A knock at the door snapped me out of my haze.
Tori …
Struggling to my feet, I weaved across the room. At the last minute, my common sense decided to make an appearance, and I paused, the lock pinched between my fingers. “Who’s there?”
“Me.”
I rested my forehead against the wood. “Go away, Anna.”
But she didn’t. “We’re worried about you, Lo. Please open the door.”
Somewhat intrigued, I straightened up. “Who’s we?”
“All of us.”
Snorting, I pulled the door open and met the quiet concern painting her features. “Nice try.” I leaned against the jamb to keep from falling over. “You want to hear the voice message from Cameron? He didn’t sound worried when he threatened to beat the shit out of me.”
Cameron knew better than to show up spouting that kind of nonsense. I wouldn’t think twice about putting him on his ass. Or he’d land a solid blow and put me on mine. That would be almost as good.
Anna sighed. “Maybe if you hadn’t kept your relationship with Tori a secret …”
I waited for her to bring up Mac. The meeting. The contract I’d ripped to shreds to prove to myself that I’d never entertained the notion of leaving the band. But I had. Drunk, I could admit it. Sober, I never would. So this little conversation was dangerous on many levels.
“You should run along,” I said, failing miserably to control the edge in my tone. “I don’t feel like talking.”
Head cocked to the side, Anna seemed to contemplate for a moment. “Too bad.” Brushing past me with a speed I didn’t expect, she skidded to a stop a few feet from the door. “Oh, shit.”
Turning, I took in the scene with bleary eyes. Overturned table. Broken laptop. Bed stripped free of all the sheets because I couldn’t stand the smell of the laundry detergent. And Tori’s note. I’d ripped it up and then taped the pieces back together. But I still didn’t know what it said.
Without a word, Anna crouched down and started to clean the mess.
“Don’t,” I said, sinking onto the floor next to the bed where I’d left my bottle of scotch.
Anna eased down onto her butt in front of me. “Have you talked to her?”
Lifting a brow, a humorless laugh scraped my throat. “What do you think?”
She bowed her head, nodding.
And even wasted, I could sense that something was off.
I took another swig of scotch. “Spit it out, Annabelle.”
“The media is saying that y’all are just friends. Twin Souls released a statement … um … confirming it.”
Pain wracked my body, every nerve protesting the lie. “Whatever.”
Anna’s gaze snapped to mine. “So you don’t care?”
“Of course I fucking care! I lo—” Swallowing that bit of truth, I cleared the lump from my throat. “It doesn’t matter. Tori Grayson’s in love with someone else. I never stood a chance.”
Brows drawn together, Anna blinked at me. “Are you talking about Rhenn?”
“Who else?”
Looking away, I tipped the bottle. A few more drinks and I could sleep. Or pass out.
“Lo?” When I didn’t answer, Anna dipped her head to catch my eyes. “Logan?”
With a weary sigh, I met her gaze. “Anna … just stop, ’kay?”
She scooted closer, and for a moment, I thought she’d just provide quiet comfort. Commiseration, or whatever the fuck. But then she blew out a breath and took my hand. “I’ve loved Sean … well, always.” Her shoulders curved inward, and I knew she must’ve been thinking about the four years they’d spent apart. Leading separate lives. Suffering. “And if he died tomorrow, someday I’d have to move on. That’s what he’d want, you know?” She paused, and I nodded. “But I’d never stop loving him. There would always be a piece of me that belonged to him. And I couldn’t love someone who didn’t understand that.”
A tear spilled onto her cheek, and I wiped it away, frowning. Rhenn didn’t have a piece of Tori, he had all of her. “It’s not the same thing. Tori doesn’t … she’s not ready to move on.”
“Have you ever thought that maybe it’s everyone else that isn’t ready to let her move on? Everywhere she goes, people ask about Rhenn. Stick cameras in her face just to see her reaction. And the only bit of emotion I’ve see
n from her in the last few years was in front of that church. She was on her knees in front of all those people… crawling to you.”
My hand began to shake, and I set the bottle down. Maybe … No. I couldn’t think like that. “It doesn’t matter now. She left.”
Before I could stop her, Anna reached over and plucked Tori’s note from the floor. Chewing her lip, she glanced over the message and then carefully folded the paper into a square and held it out for me.
“I want you to remember one thing,” she said, holding fast to the piece of paper until I met her gaze. “Tori didn’t vow to love Rhenn for all of his life. She vowed to love him for all of hers.” Confused, probably from the scotch, I blinked at her. “Think about it, Lo. You’ll get it.” Pushing to her feet, she smiled down at me. “Come find me when you’re ready to hear what’s in the note.”
I’d never be ready. One goodbye from Tori was enough.
I stuffed the letter in the pocket of my T-shirt, right over my heart. “Okay.”
Anna held out her hand to help me up. Reluctantly, I took it. And despite the warmth and the comfort and the unconditional love she tried to convey, I’d never felt so alone.
54
Six days after I returned to Austin, I climbed out of my Shelby, clutching the gift basket like a life preserver. Under the best of circumstances this wouldn’t be easy. But doing it now, with my heart shredded to pieces, what was I thinking?
Closure.
With or without Logan, I needed it.
Reflexively, my hand crept to my heart. The heaviness in my chest felt a lot like mourning. Only not. Because there was hope. Logan had given me that. A promise that something brighter lived beyond the darkness. Even if he couldn’t be a part of it.
A car door slammed, and I straightened my spine, shifting my attention to Daryl who was taking his sweet time walking up the long drive. Behind his sunglasses, I could see his eyes darting around, assessing for threats.
“How did it drive?” I asked, my gaze drifting to the truck parked behind the Shelby.
Daryl handed me the keys with a grim smile. “Like a dream.”
Fingering the R on the fob, I shifted my feet. “I don’t know how long this is going to take.”
“No worries. I’m not going anywhere.”
It was true. After the Paris fiasco, I couldn’t shake Daryl with a stick. He’d insisted on coming to Austin to help me deal with the fallout from the press and all the extra attention. It had taken Mac less than twenty-four hours to launch an offensive. His latest tall tale involved me turning over the unreleased Damaged songs to Logan to use on his “new album.” Though Mac had never come right out and said the word “solo,” it was implied.
That was another reason I was here. To dispel the rumors face-to-face with the one person most directly affected.
You can do this.
My confidence wavered as I climbed the steps. Before I lost my nerve, I rang the bell. Slow, heavy footfalls sounded behind the door. And then he was in front of me, framed in soft light like an angel.
Miles.
Just seeing him brought me back to that night. And I guess it was the same for him, because he swayed in his spot.
“Belle.”
Belle, where are you?
Rhenn’s voice drifted on a breeze. And maybe Miles heard it too, because he cocked his head in that way he used to when he was poised behind his drum kit, waiting in the dark for Rhenn’s signal to begin the show.
“Hey, Miles,” I managed over the lump of tears clogging my throat.
He smiled, soft and wistful. And then he lurched forward, the brunt of his weight on his cane as he enveloped me in a one-armed hug. “It’s about time you got here.”
Miles smirked, fingering the little bow on my present. “A gift basket? Seriously? What’s in here, like, crackers and—” He dipped his head, poking at the cellophane. “Olives? You brought me olives? What the fuck?”
Sinking back into the leather sofa, I glanced over the offering with a frown. He was right. It was stupid. Miles was like a brother to me, and after five years of distancing myself, this was the best I could do. Gourmet snack food.
“There’s other stuff in there too,” I said weakly. “I picked up some of those English shortbread cookies you like.”
He perked up. “Walkers?”
I nodded and gave him a meek shrug.
“Fan-fucking-tastic! I love those things.” He waggled his brows, and then in his best fake British accent, he said, “Let’s have some, shall we?”
My heart throbbed painfully as I watched him tear open the wrapper. Why did I stay away so long? But I knew. Hell, we both knew. Even sitting here brought the most painful memories to the surface.
Miles handed me a cookie, and I flinched as my thoughts shifted to Logan. You taste like cookies. It was like my past and my present were locked in a battle for equal footing. Balance.
“Thanks.”
Miles relaxed against the cushions, hauling his bad leg onto the coffee table. “You’ve been a busy little bee, haven’t you?”
His tone held no censure, but still, I squirmed. “Yeah. It’s been …” My tongue tied as all the adjectives found their way to my lips. Wonderful and magical and painful. And everything.
Miles nibbled his cookie. “Well, spill it. I’m all ears.”
I longed to keep it superficial. To fall into an easy conversation about music and Europe and the weather. But that’s not why I was here. I shifted my gaze to his leg, then over to the bar in the corner with all the empty shelves that once held every brand of liquor under the sun.
“You first. How’s everything going?”
He shrugged. “Fair to Midland, as Paige used to say.”
Her name slipped easily off his tongue, falling into the yawning cavern between us. Standing at the edge, my toes dug into the uneven ground.
“How was rehab?”
Brows drawn together in an angry slash, he spat, “It was fucking rehab, Belle. How do you think it was? If you want to get real, let’s get real. Why are you here?”
Cheeks flaming, my gaze skittered away. But everywhere I looked, there were things I wanted to avoid. Photos and trinkets and pieces of our shared history.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly as I met his gaze. “Really, Miles … I’m so sorry … for everything.”
With some effort, he put both feet flat on the ground. I thought he might get up and leave me here, locked in this room with all his pain. And I couldn’t blame him.
Instead he scooted closer and slid an arm around me. “Still carrying that guilt, Belle?” He drew back, looking down his nose at me. “Two martyrs aren’t enough?”
I blinked at him. “Huh?”
“What are you apologizing for? You didn’t do anything.” He inhaled a controlled breath. “I told you to come and see me if you ever wanted to know the details about that night. But you never did. Instead you just … disappeared. If you want to be sorry for something, be sorry for that.”
Like me, Miles had never done an interview about the accident. All of his recollections stayed locked up in his head. And every time he tried to speak to me about it, I shut down. Until one day, I just stopped talking to him altogether.
Snaking an arm around his waist, I held on tight. “Tell me. Start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”
His heart pounded against my ear, mimicking the sound of thunder that followed me into my nightmares.
“All of it?” he asked.
I nodded, and when I squeezed my eyes shut, I was there in the field, rain soaking my skin and smoke filling my lungs.
“The voices. That’s the first thing I remember. Rhenn’s and yours. Paige was … she was already gone. The rain … I’d never felt rain like that. And there was so much of it. I think it was the adrenaline, but I managed to push myself up. I was an equal distance between you and Rhenn. But I knew if I went to him first, he’d chew my ass for not making sure you were okay. So I made a choice.
” His voice cracked. “I couldn’t … I couldn’t see anything, so I didn’t know he was so bad off. I managed to get to you pretty quickly. You were babbling, but I thought you were going to be okay. I don’t know why … I just felt it. My leg though, it was hurting so badly by then. And I …”
“You couldn’t move.” I slanted my watery gaze to his, my throat so tight I could barely get the words out. “And I asked you to. And I’m sorry. It’s my fault that your leg is so fucked. If I wouldn’t have begged you then maybe …”
His eyes turned soft as he peeled back the hair sticking to my face. “Is that what you think? That’s awful selfish of you.” I hiccupped, my response coiling around my tongue, but Miles pressed a finger to my lips. “Rhenn was my best friend. You didn’t have to ask me, Belle. I would’ve gone to him anyway. Even if it cost me a leg, or an arm, or my fucking life. I would’ve gone. And it was worth it,” he gripped my chin, and looked deeply into my eyes, “to be with him at the end.”
I heard the words, but my brain shut down. And then I was shaking my head. “But he was … I thought he was …”
Dead. I’d always believed it.
“He was pretty far gone by the time I got to him.” Miles went on, eyes unfocused and tears falling freely now. “I told him you were okay. That you were going to be okay. And he smiled at me, Belle. It was so sweet, that smile. And then he said …”
Sobs wracked Miles’s thin frame, and I scooted closer, burying my face in the crook of his neck. “Please tell me. I need to know what he said.”
Miles pressed a kiss to my forehead, and I felt his lips curve. “He said … ‘What a ride. I wish I could see how it ends.’”
55
“I don’t mean to alarm you,” Miles said as he handed me a cup of tea. “But there’s a really scary dude wandering around outside.”
I cocked my head and laughed. “Are you usually this calm when people show up in your yard?”