by S. L. Scott
Although she always had a great voice, she had no interest in singing for a living. But for me, she would. I’d play guitar, and she’d sing, or I’d sing to her, or we’d just listen to the melody. Simpler days. Perfect times.
Meadow’s elbow slips my way, bumping into mine. When I turn, she says, “You took my sister with you when you left.”
“What do you mean?” I glance up at the beauty with the sultry voice and then back at my partner in crime who’s helping me see things in a new light.
“She’s hasn’t been herself since you guys split, Rivers. But tonight, I’m seeing glimpses of that light in her eyes. I’ve missed it.” Stella’s karaoke song ends, and she steps down from the stage. Meadow leans in, rushing her words. “If I could change anything in the past, it wouldn’t be something for me. It would be for her.”
“What would you change for her?”
Meadow’s gaze looks just past me and mine follows. Our conversation ends abruptly as Stella steps closer. I stand ready to get another round when Stella eyes me. “Another round?” I ask Ridge and Meadow who say yes. Turning to Stella, I ask, “Another—whoa!” Tripping into my arms, I catch her before she falls too far.
She gasps; her mouth wide open, matching her eyes. “Oh my God, Rivers.” Her grip is tight on my biceps, so I flex.
“Are you all right?” I ask, holding her beneath me. I set her back on her feet, but she still holds me.
“Good. So good.” A little squeeze of my arms, and the left side of her mouth rides up.
Just when the rest of the bar fades away, and I finally get to look into those pretty eyes, over the walls the beers have lowered, Ridge says, “Are you going to get it on?”
My head whips to the side to face him. “What?”
He says, “Are you going to get the drinks?”
“Drinks?”
He holds an invisible glass and acts like he’s gulping. “B. E. E. R. What did you think I said?”
Stella steps away, releasing me as I shake my head. “Forget it. Be right back.”
“Are you getting the beer or what, man?”
Annoyed, I snap, “I’m getting the fucking beer.” I glance once more at Stella before I leave.
When I reach the bar, she comes up right beside me. “Hey.”
Pleasantly surprised, I tap my hand against hers. “Hey.”
While we wait for the bartender to come over, I say, “You’re still a great singer.”
“I’m one hell of a good shower serenade and car singer.” She taps my chin. “You, sir, are still a charmer, but your charms won’t work on me.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I’ve spent years building a tolerance, making myself immune to you.”
Without touching her, I lean in, inhaling her sweet scent, and whisper in her ear, “Immune, huh? Guess we’ll find out.”
When she doesn’t reply right away, I tilt my head back to see her eyes, those gorgeous eyes. Her lips are parted, and she takes another deep breath before whispering, “Totally immune. See?”
I smile. “Clear as day.” Fine, I smirk.
Lifting on her toes, she presses her lips to the shell of my ear, and says, “Another round?”
“Beer or us?”
She lowers before me, and I already miss the feel of her breath against my skin. “We need something stronger. Shots?”
“Shot to the heart.” Whipping my beanie off, I rub my hand over my head just as the bartender presses his palms to the bar, and asks, “What can I get ya?”
“Four Jack Daniels shots.” I’m tempted to buy the bottle. If I can’t get the girl, I’m damn well getting drunk.
Some guy is singing a song about a ring of gold when I close the tab and take the glasses back to the table. As soon as I sit down, Stella taps her shot glass against mine, and says, “Bottoms up, big boy.”
We shoot the shots, and while she recovers from the whiskey, I ask, “Where’s your boyfriend tonight?”
Her expression sours and not from the alcohol. While Ridge and Meadow talk about the tour we just wrapped, Stella is staring at me. “You don’t have a girlfriend?”
“Nice deflect. But okay, fine. We can go around in this circle, but we’ll always end up back where we started. No. I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Have you since . . .?”
“Since us? No.”
Resting her chin in the palm of her hand, she asks, “Why not?”
Eyeing her, I find she’s still cute when she does things like that which remind me of her when we were younger. Feeling bold, I ask, “Have you thought about me over the years?”
“Yes,” she answers so easily.
“I never stopped thinking about you.”
She sits up but lowers her gaze to my hand as I turn the empty shot glass around. “We shouldn’t go there, Rivers.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t think clearly when I’m around you. Add in shots of whiskey and my mind is muddled with too many emotions.”
I keep pressing forward. “I almost contacted you so many times.”
“But you chose not to.”
“I did call you. You didn’t answer.”
Her hands go to her chest in mock offense. “Oh, I’m sorry. You tried for two weeks,” she scoffs. “I’m glad I was worth two weeks of attempts.”
I rough my hand over my head, trying to figure out what to say to keep her talking versus setting her off again. “I got mad, I guess. I was on the verge of doing a lot of things I shouldn’t like barge into our apartment. Coax Meadow into getting you to meet me. I sat outside your school like a fucking creeper trying to get the nerve to talk to you. But I was so angry that you gave me no option to tell you my side.”
“So what? You left me to save yourself?”
“You forced me, Stella.”
“No one forces you to do anything,” she says. “I know you. Don’t try to bullshit me, Rivers.”
“I’m not . . .” Someone bumps into me when they pass by, drawing my eyes away from her. “Let’s go outside.”
She walks past me without argument. We weave through the tables together and out the door until we’re standing alone inside the parking garage where the bar’s located.
The thick air lingering from the hot day seems to revive her, giving her strength. She walks out of my reach, and I let her, keeping the distance she appears to need. Her back is to me, her head down. “Stella?”
This time, she doesn’t run or leave. She turns around and lets me see the pain as it pours from her eyes streaking her cheeks. “What do you see when you look at me, Rivers?”
“I see an amazing woman before me. You’re beautiful. Successful.”
She smiles sadly. “You see the girl I used to be, and I haven’t been her in a long time.”
“What happened?”
“You took most of me with you when you left.” Scuffing the sole of her shoe on the cement, she lifts her eyes to me. “So much has changed. I’ve changed.”
Meadow’s words come back to me on the tail of Stella’s declaration, matching the sentiment.
“Who are you now?”
“Oh no. I don’t have to define who I am just because you’re back. It’s not going to be that easy.”
“Easy? Do you think this has been easy for me?”
“You left pretty damn easily.”
“I left because you told me to.”
Rushing me, she shoves me in the chest, and yells, “You can’t blame me. I didn’t cheat on you. I didn’t leave you.” Her words echo through the garage. “You did this. You, Rivers!”
I grab her wrists and hold her steady. “I’m sorry. I fucked-up by leaving with her, but I’ve told you, I did not fucking cheat on you.”
Surprise colors her fine features. “So you didn’t cheat on me physically, but you did cheat on me emotionally. But what’s worse is you left me here to face those men—” She suddenly turns her back to me, covering her face.
“What men?”
Turning around, she gulps back her tears. “I hate you. I hate you for ruining what was good. I hate you for coming back. I just . . . hate you so much.”
Each of her words stabs me in the heart until my love for her bleeds from me. “I would never hurt you on purpose. I swear to you.”
“But you did.”
Fucking tears—hers become mine, but I refuse to let them fall. Seeing hers hurts enough. “What can I do? I’ll do anything.”
Her tears stop falling as she looks into my eyes. Taking a deep breath, she closes her eyes and then exhales. When they reopen, she says, “Please just leave me alone, Rivers. I loved you with everything that I am, and it hurts too much just to see you. That’s the anything I need you to do. I need you to let go of what we used to be. Don’t stay in Austin for me.”
The door opens, and Meadow walks toward her sister, shaking her head. I want to tell her that I tried, but her harsh glare keeps me silent. With her arm around Stella, they walk toward to street. Seeing her pain and feeling it through her words cut deep. I did that to her, and it might be too late to fix it.
Ridge stands next to me, and says, “Didn’t go so well, huh?”
“You could say that.”
“I just did.” He adds, “Meadow’s hot.”
“Not now, Dave.” Yeah, it’s a punk-ass move to call him by his real name, but what-the fuck-ever. I’m in a mood. I head toward the street, following the ladies, but give him a friendly salute with my middle finger.
They’ve made it to the corner, and Stella’s arm is in the air to hail a cab. Running off instinct, panic makes me pick up my pace and start running. Just when Stella sees me, I take hold of her, the two of us swirling until I slow the momentum from running to capturing her in my arms. Then I kiss her like I’ve wanted to for so long.
Holding her to me, her feet are off the ground. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she kisses me right back. My lips are greedy, hers soft and sensual. When I begin to pull back, she becomes possessive.
My girl.
My woman.
Star of the night.
Star of my life.
Our lips slow, and we begin to part. Her eyes remain closed until I set her back on her feet.
Exhaling, she leans her forehead against my chest. I wrap my arms around her and hold her at the corner of South Congress and Riverside as if it’s only the two of us in the world. Ignoring the traffic and the honking cars, the cheers and the shouting telling us to get a room, I kiss her again because damn, I’m kissing Stella. “My Stella.” Again.
When she looks into my eyes, the streetlights reflect off the glassy surface. A slow clap draws our attention to Meadow and Ridge, who are both laughing. Meadow says, “About time.”
There’s enough light to see a pink deepen Stella’s cheeks. That’s when I know for sure. She’s not seeing anyone else. “Hi.” I can’t ignore how good it feels to hold her in my arms again.
But I don’t want to do anything tonight that she’ll regret tomorrow. She was pretty damn firm when she said she doesn’t want me in her life. I want her back forever, so putting the brakes on now is probably the wisest move I can make.
Standing next Meadow, Ridge asks, “What are we doing?”
Stella turns to me. “What are we doing?”
“I want to keep kissing you, Stella. But we’ve been drinking and you’re—”
She nods like it’s coming back to her. Fuck, I hate being the good guy. “You’re right. I should go.” She takes a step back, and I already hate the distance. “Right . . .”
I touch her cheek because she’s just so damn beautiful I can’t resist. “This is not goodbye. I promise you if you let me, I’ll build us back from the ground up. But tonight, you need rest.”
“Yes, you’re right. You know me when I’ve been drinking.”
“I do know you.” I’ve given control back to her, so she thinks this is her idea. It’s the only way to remain unscathed in the sobering morning hours. “More than anyone, Stella.”
She takes my hand and holds it between us. “Okay. So, I’ll . . .”
“Yes, I’ll see you soon.” I close the distance once again and kiss her on the forehead. This is the right thing to do because this is focusing more on her than me. I can only hope she’ll see that this time we’ll be different, that I’ve changed, that I’ve grown up.
All it takes is for me to come clean, and then there’s no stopping us.
9
Stella
The car pulls into Meadow’s apartment complex and stops. We hop out and trek past one building to hers in the back. Once we’re inside, my shoes come off first, and then I pop the top button of my jeans. “God, I can finally breathe.”
My sister tosses her keys on the coffee table and slips off her heels. “I was prepared to come home alone.”
“For about five minutes there, I was prepared for you to come home alone too.”
“So what happened?” She pulls off her shirt as she walks into her room.
I kneel over my bag but realize I forgot to grab a tee to sleep in because I usually come over more casually dressed. Shoot. I can’t wear this top. It will mess it up. Pulling my jeans off, I grab my toothbrush and head to bathroom. “I need to borrow a shirt to sleep in.”
“No prob.”
While she goes to her dresser to get one, I load up my toothbrush and hers. “I put it on the couch for you.”
Brushing my teeth, I lean against the counter and try to focus on the act instead of what happened tonight. But I can’t. I stop brushing and look at my lips in the mirror. They tingle from his kiss, from the kiss I gave him back. I touch my bottom lip, liking the deeper shade of pink and how it’s fuller, a little swollen.
When my lips were pressed to his, I forgot about him leaving and about Naomi. I forgot the pain of our time apart and how I was forced to pay a debt.
It felt good. He felt so good I was tempted to take it further. But I didn’t need to. For that moment, I felt happy and free to be me again. “I think when he pulled back, he healed a little piece of me.”
Meadow pulls her brush from her mouth. Her face scrunches, and she asks, “By not kissing you again?”
“I liked kissing him, but when he put the brakes on, I realized he listened to me. He heard my needs. That he’ll wait . . . I don’t know. I just find that so incredibly sweet.”
She spits in the sink, points the brush at me, and rolls her eyes. “Good grief, Stel. I’ve had too much to drink to overthink this with you. We need sleep and clear heads. None of this is making any sense right now, and the alcohol makes everything worse. I would have jumped him, but that’s me.” After rinsing her mouth, she says, “And you need to really think about why you told him you’re dating someone because you’ll only be able to move on if you’re honest with him.”
“The Crow Brothers are on top of the charts. He’s got more than he ever dreamed, Mead. So why now?”
“You.” Before I can protest, she eyes me in the mirror while tapping her brush against the edge of the sink. “Just hold on to how you felt at the end of the night. You were happy. Now the alcohol is sloshing your brain. I’m going to bed. Stop thinking and try to sleep.”
After spitting and rinsing, I reply, “You’re right on one thing. My mind is ruining a perfectly good night.” Grabbing a washcloth, I clean my face free of makeup. Walking out, I cut through the bedroom and into the living room. “This is why I never go out. I overthink everything and then regret sets in and ugh. Do you think it was chance or destiny that we ran into them?”
“You’re doing it again. Stop overthinking this. Sleep.”
“Why can’t I just enjoy the night for whatever it was?”
“Because you care,” she calls from the bedroom.
I snort. “Pfft. I think that’s a little heavy-handed—” Picking up the shirt, I hold it in front of me with both hands. “Really, Meadow? Not funny.”
“I think it’s quite funny.” She comes into the liv
ing room but detours into the kitchen. “Anyway, it’s just for sleeping.”
I’m about to toss it at her, but my grip tightens instead of loosens, and I hold it to my chest. It’s not like anyone will really know. I’ll be sleeping in The Crow Brothers shirt, not staring at it all night. I put on a good show of irritation for her sake, though. “I’m too tired to argue.” I swap tops and grab the pillow and blanket from the closet to set them up like I did for months before I rented the guesthouse. The routine almost feels ingrained in me as a phantom ache returns to my back, pulsing from where it used to hurt every morning. I lie down and punch the pillow under my head a few times. “I think my overactive brain is dooming me to a life of singledom.”
“Here’s a reality check for you.” While she fills two glasses with water, she says, “You won’t be single because you’re cautious after getting burned. You’ll be single because you’re still hung up on Rivers.”
“I—”
“Eh! Nope. I’m not going to listen to it. You two either need to deal with your issues, or you move on once and for all. But when I say deal, I don’t mean kiss or have sex to cover up the past. The past will always come back to haunt you. I mean talk to him, really talk to him about everything. Sober. Get it all out there so there’s nothing that can hurt you again moving forward.”
“I wasn’t going to sleep with him.”
“You were tongue fucking him. When you stopped, I saw that look in your eyes. And if I saw it, he saw it.”
“He kissed me first.”
She mimics my higher pitched defensive tone, “You kissed him back. Nana nana boo boo.” After bonking her head with her hand, she adds, “My point is you guys were a bunch of jumbled hormones of I-want-to-but-I-shouldn’t-but-I-really-want-to. Just deal with your issues already so we can all get to the happily ever after part.”
My mouth is hanging open. “Just deal with it?” I’m lost for other words. She knows what I went through after the breakup. She knows how much he hurt me. Her speech might be full of truths, but she needs to work on her bedside manner.