Rockers After Dark: 6 Book Bundle of Sexy Musicians

by Chase, Deanna

“No.” I scratched my neck, setting my half-finished plate aside. I was still hungry, but too nervous to really eat anything. “They’re part of the Peace Corps—they’re setting up some schools and libraries in Nigeria right now. They’ve been gone off and on since I was eighteen.”

  He frowned. Rubbing my knee. “Do you talk at all? Do they know about this?”

  I gave them a halfhearted attempt at a smile. “They know about you. But no, I didn’t tell them about this because I didn’t know for sure and I can’t always reach them. They’re busy.”

  Licking his teeth, he tossed his other arm behind the couch. “That’s why Angel’s family is so important to you, then? It makes sense.”

  “Does it really? Or are you just saying that?” I tugged at the hem of his shirt.

  Grinning, he palmed the back of my head, rubbing it gently. “Of course it makes sense. They took you in, became like family. But I cannot lie and tell you I’m happy with our circumstances; they are far from ideal.”

  I snorted. “You can freaking say that again. I do want Angel to know, and I swear I’m going to tell him. She asked me to wait, but it just feels wrong to me. I get this weird feeling like she’s still holding out hope that her son and I will eventually have the fairytale. Which is pretty much impossible at this point.”

  I pressed my hand to my stomach. His gaze followed the movement.

  “Do you regret this? With me?” he asked in a hushed whisper.

  I shrugged. “I’m scared. I’m barely twenty-three. This wasn’t in the cards for me, not for a long time, if ever. A part of me honestly wishes this hadn’t happened.”

  His lips twisted up, I grabbed his hand as he made to shift.

  “But,” I said, tapping his chest, “I don’t regret meeting you. I can’t regret our night together, and maybe God knew that I’d never quit hoping and trying with Angel unless I was forced to reassess myself.”

  I knew he didn’t like hearing that. And I wish I could tell him I loved him or something more relationship-defining. But it wasn’t true. Not yet, maybe someday.

  Hopefully.

  “Ah, Jamie.” He dropped his crossed leg and slouched a little on the cushion until his head rested against it. “It is not easy being forced to remind myself that you do not feel for me as I do for you.”

  “I’m here, Tor. Not there. I’m invested.”

  His smile was brief. “And that is a start, I suppose.”

  “What time is Angel’s appointment?”

  “I’m not sure.” I crossed my legs, rolling my ankles as my calves began to twinge a little bit. “I’ll have to ask her.”

  “Would you like a ride there?” he asked as he tugged at my pant legs, silently demanding I give him my feet.

  I was about to protest placing my feet in his lap—that is, until he began his massage. Moaning with both pain and pleasure as his thumbs stroked up my left calf. “Yes.” I nodded. “That would be nice.”

  I shivered when he rolled his magic fingers downward. “You’re going to make it so that I have no choice but to fall in love with you, aren’t you?” I teased him.

  The fire was back in his eyes. “That is the plan, Eskelde. That is the plan.”

  We didn’t do much the next week, just began to settle into a rhythm of sorts. Me catching up on my crapload of edits, and Tor working, coming to me at night, helping me to unpack one box a day.

  I’d even managed to hang up a few items. Some paintings, picture frames, two wall sconces. Keeping stuff packed up as I had, I’d forgotten how cool so much of what I owned was. Thanks to that gorgeous mural, the apartment was really beginning to feel like home.

  And Tor, oh man, he was fantastic. Cooking for me each night, showing me he had some mad culinary skill himself. Granted, he was making mostly salad.

  But he wasn’t just tossing tomatoes and cucumbers in there, he was grilling meat, sautéing vegetables, toasting almonds and walnuts, creating his own dressings.

  He’d made one the other day with fennel and dill that would have literally knocked my socks off if I’d been wearing any. Zoe laughed at me when I told her, saying socks couldn’t literally be knocked off, but what would she know anyway?

  In a word, I was feeling amazing. The apartment was looking cleaner every day, I was being fed like a queen, and the sexiest Viking in North America was speaking louder than any words how much he cared for me.

  I was a lucky girl.

  Which was why I was really dreading today. It was Friday, which was good. Tor would get this weekend off. But it was also noon, which was bad. Because I had to see Angel at physical therapy.

  I was hating myself for making the promise. Every night at nine sharp he’d call and every night I let it go to voice mail.

  I literally had no idea what to say to him, so I was ignoring him. When the world got too scary, I played ostrich. It’s what I did, and I did it well. I wasn’t saying it was good, only that I might be panicking just a little.

  Tor was driving my Jeep, glancing at me from the corner of his eye. “You okay?” he asked when we rolled to a stop at a red light.

  Grabbing my stomach, I cringed. “I think I might puke.”

  “Might just be morning sickness.”

  When the light turned green, I’m not gonna lie, for a split second I was really hoping for some major road traffic up ahead, anything to slow down this trip. We were less than five minutes from the clinic.

  “I’ve not been having morning sickness.” I frowned. “Do you think something might be wrong? Shouldn’t I be feeling horrible?”

  He laughed. “My mother said she had no symptoms with me. In fact, she went in for a cold and that’s when she was told she was four months pregnant. Do not worry so, the baby is fine.”

  Reaching over he palmed my still-flat belly. I covered his hand with mine and closed my eyes. In such a short amount of time this man was coming to mean so much to me.

  “Any more bleeding?”

  “No.” I pulled his hand up to my lips and gave his knuckle a kiss before resting my cheek on it.

  It probably wasn’t easy driving with just one free hand, but he didn’t complain as he turned into the parking lot. I saw the Romeros’ hunter-green minivan two rows over. Parking, Tor turned to me.

  “I can come in with you.”

  The offer was more than tempting. I shook my head. “I really should do this by myself. At some point I have to face this. Them.”

  “I’ll be out here waiting for you when you finish then.”

  “You don’t have to.” I touched his wrist. “This might take a while. I can’t just go in there and blurt this out. I’ll probably wait until after he’s finished his therapy. So at least an hour. I know you had an appointment at the shop later.”

  “Jamie.” He frowned. “It’s okay.”

  “Tor, I know you don’t mind. But I can’t make you stop your life for me either.” I kissed his whiskered cheek, loving the smell of him. I flicked at the knot of his hair. The man was unbelievably sexy, wearing a dark blue t-shirt and jeans, and my heart always pitter-pattered when he came to my door.

  We hadn’t been sleeping in the same bed, and I really wasn’t liking that. The nights felt so long without him.

  “But you’ll need a ride back.”

  I tapped his shoulder. “I can get a ride from them, Viking. Don’t worry about me so much. I’m a big girl.”

  “I will worry about you—you’re my girl.” His thumb brushed at the delicate spot beneath my eye.

  My belly grew warm. I loved when he touched me like that, said those sorts of things to me.

  Dipping my head and fighting a blush, I was grabbing for the door handle when he said, “I’ll see you tonight.”

  Lips twitching, I planted a kiss on his cheek and was out the door laughing, feeling lighter than air. Life was good.


  Maybe not perfect.

  But right now it was pretty damn good.

  If only my feelings of euphoria could have lasted longer than the three minutes it took to get inside and see Angel sitting in his wheelchair staring out the window, looking at precisely the spot in the parking lot where I’d just come from. Where Tor was now headed back into incoming traffic.

  I sighed, wrapping my arms around myself.

  “Who was that?” he asked without preamble.

  Taking a seat next to him in the waiting area, I ignored his question. Marianna was sitting to the other side of him, and she gave me a short smile. She was plugged into her iPod and was tapping her sneakers on the linoleum tile.

  “Where’s Mama?” I asked, looking around at the mostly empty room. Knowing Ms. Romero would be here—she was always here.

  Life went on hold when her son needed her.

  “Bathroom.” His tone was brusque; he was still staring out the window, not looking at me.

  Pouting.

  “You know you didn’t need to come,” he growled, narrowing his eyes as he finally turned toward me.

  “Angel.” I pinched my brow, barely a minute here and already he was grouchy. “I’m here, okay?”

  “Why haven’t you picked up the phone when I’ve called? Why haven’t you called me back?” His tone got progressively louder.

  “Stop,” I hissed, glancing at the receptionist who was openly studying us.

  “Answer me then.” It was hard looking at him. He face wasn’t as swollen as it’d been the first day I’d seen him in ICU, but he now had the ugly, jaundiced looking bruising all over the left side of his face.

  “Because,” I sighed, shaking my head, “I don’t know what to say to you anymore, Angel. That’s why. Because I went to that club that night expecting you to show up—”

  He scoffed. “You asked me to that damn place, even though you know how much I hate it there.”

  “Zoe was supposed to be there; I’m not just gonna bail on my friends. That’s not what a friend does.”

  “Yeah, well, she bailed on you.” He snorted.

  “Alex got a flat fucking tire—that’s totally different than picking up some hooker so I can go snort coke and get wasted.” I glowered at him, all the pent-up anger and frustration seeped out of me.

  His jaw jutted out.

  “What? Nothing to say now?”

  Rolling his eyes, he tapped his fingers on his armrest.

  “Typical. This is just so typical of you. Angel, I’m happy you’re better. Believe me, I really am, but we’re completely fractured.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” He swiveled toward me.

  Jeez, was he really that clueless? Did he really not see it?

  “I love you.” He blurted it angrily.

  I laughed. “No, you don’t. You love me being here, me doing stuff for you. That’s what you love. You don’t love me. Because the second I’d think you were trying with me, you’d backslide and there I was, left to pick up the pieces again.”

  His nose curled. “You have no fucking idea the demons that live inside of me. Sometimes they get dark, real dark. That’s why I take that shit away from you. Why I go and pick up some dime bag ho, because I don’t want you to see me that way.”

  Same shit he’d said the other night on the phone. And maybe I was jaded now, but I wasn’t buying this anymore.

  His hand shook as he stuck the tip of his finger in his mouth, staring at a blank spot on the wall.

  We were so toxic, this thing was poison—I mean, I’d known that for years. But it was impressing itself upon me in a way it hadn’t before. Because always tempered behind the pain and the hurt was the hope. But being with Tor for these past few days, seeing what a healthy relationship looked like, staying around Angel was just getting to be too much to bear.

  I shook my head. “How many times have I broken up with you?” I asked softly.

  His lashes fluttered. “Too many. But always we come back together.” He turned to me, big brown eyes earnest and pleading. “I want to fix myself, Jamie. I really do. I want to get right. I do love you, I swear by everything that’s holy, I just don’t know how to fix me. This.”

  My future clicked into place. Those words of his would have had me wrapping my arms around him, would have given me just enough strength to take him back.

  But I had a baby on the way, a little being I was coming to feel was real and would someday depend on me for guidance, for answers. What would my child think if he or she saw Mama walking back into a destructive relationship over and over? What would their life be like if they ever got to the point that those actions became commonplace to them? I would die if I ever see my child stuck in a relationship like this, and that more than anything gave me the courage I’d lacked around Angel.

  Grabbing his hand, I threaded my fingers through his. “I have to go.”

  “What?” He shook his head. “No, baby, please.”

  Ms. Romero came out of the bathroom just then wearing a smile on her face. This was all wrong. So wrong.

  “I swear, this time I’m going to fight for us,” he pleaded. “For me. I’m sick and tired of this. This whole week—you not answering, me alone—I’ve had time to think. Jamie, I don’t want to die. And I don’t want to be stuck here. I will go to therapy this time. I’m going to do everything.” He squeezed my hand.

  I was relieved for him, but also for myself. Because I was no longer conflicted about what I should do. “I wish you every happiness in the world, Angel.” And I really did mean it. “But I can’t do this anymore.”

  His mother came to stand beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. I knew she’d heard. She was staring at me with wide-eyed horror, silently begging me to say nothing of the pregnancy.

  I rubbed my belly. Her eyes zoomed into the action and I could have sworn I’d seen a vein jump in the side of her neck.

  Angel was here to get better; I’d let him get better. I didn’t need to tell him about Tor or the baby. It didn’t matter anyway, because I was done.

  Really, truly done.

  Leaning over, I kissed his cheek. “Get better, Angel.”

  “Jamie, please,” he whispered, voice cracking.

  I almost cried from the instant wave of relief I felt. How could I not have realized what a cancer Angel had become to my life? Standing, I smiled softly at Ms. Romero. I loved her and I did hope that someday she might forgive me.

  Grabbing her, I gave her a tight hug, whispering in her ear that I had told him nothing.

  Sniffling, she nodded, and I knew she did not want me to do this. But Tor was right: my life wasn’t my own anymore. I needed to get better—healthy for my child. Part of that included letting go of a burden I’d carried for far too long.

  Marianna stood, whipping the buds out of her ears.

  “Hey,” I said, smiling, “anytime you need me for anything, anything at all, let me know.”

  I doubted she’d ever call me again, but I wanted them to know that even though I had no choice but to cut Angel out, the same did not apply to them.

  Almost as if she’d expected this day might come, Marianna nodded. She didn’t cry like we’d done in the bathroom the other day. Just gave me a sad, soft smile.

  A nurse came out and called Angel’s name.

  He wouldn’t even look at me. Grabbing his chair, Ms. Romero shook her head at me one final time before rolling her son back to therapy.

  I wish so many things could have been different for us, that this hadn’t been the way things ended. But life was rarely easy, or perfect. Only in fairytales would they have understood and promised we’d all be friends no matter what.

  In reality, I’d caused Angel a lot of grief. I’d dashed Ms. Romero’s hopes and Marianna’s dream of becoming my sister in truth someday.

 
Feeling a hard lump work its way up my throat, I swallowed hard. Zoe wasn’t at work right now. I could call Tor, but he’d already done so much.

  Zo answered immediately and promised to pick me up in twenty minutes. She was there in ten.

  Life was going to be okay.

  Eventually.

  Chapter Twelve

  First Trimester (Month 1 and 1/2)

  Jamie

  “Okay then,” Dr. Laura Gold said, giving me a winning smile as she cheerfully rolled her chair toward where I was lying on the examination table.

  This room felt much less sterile than the ER had been. I’d been instantly put at ease by giant pictures clearly drawn by the hands of children hanging all over her walls. There were pink and white carnations in a vase on the desk and the doctor herself was dressed in a colorful smock decorated with images of Betty Boop. I’d felt my blood pressure lessen by several degrees when I’d stepped through.

  This time I’d also remembered to wear socks. Tor stood by my side, holding my hand. Today was the day we found out just how bad my fibroids were. I’d come in last week for the biopsy, which hadn’t been done by Gold but by an attendant.

  Waiting an entire week to get the results back was almost worse than the spotting, just the unknown of what could be going on with me. My mind had taken me down some dark places these past few nights.

  Tor gave my hand a brief squeeze as the doctor turned the lights off.

  “So let’s see what’s going on here,” she said, returning to my side and inserting that invasive white wand back inside of me.

  Once again the room filled with the whooshing sound that both soothed and terrified me.

  The monitor lit up with strange flashes of red and blue and black and white. Different than what the ER doctor had done.

  I frowned. “What are the colors?”

  “Oh, that.” She smiled. “Just showing me the path of the blood, just trying to see how comfy the little bean’s home is.”

  Little bean. My heart flipped. This time I had no problem making out my little bean. Already three times bigger than the tiny pod it’d been in the ER, it was floating and resembled a sort of sea monkey with nubs for feets and hands and an enormously bulbous head with alien eyes.