“So I’m supposed to just wait for you to decide? How long are you planning on keeping me on the hook?”
She sighs. “I don’t know, King. I’ve been up for over twenty-four hours, and I’m going through a hell of a caffeine crash right now. Can we just put a pin in this until I’ve had time to shower, sleep, and think?”
“Yeah,” I answer, my heart sinking down through the ground. If she had asked me, I wouldn’t need time to think about it. I wouldn’t hesitate. But I can’t force Piper to be with me. I could press her until she answers me, but I don’t think I’d get the answer I want if I did. I stop in front of her house, wishing she’d invite me in, just once, but that seems like an impossible fantasy at this point.
I’m not sure Piper’s ever going to let me in.
“Get some rest,” I say, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.
“Thanks. I’ll see you at rehearsal Friday?” she offers.
Two days. I can make it that long.
I hope.
“Sounds good.”
She gives an awkward wave as I pull away, and I hate that I didn’t try to kiss her. What if I never get another shot? I know Piper’s going to go with the logical, practical choice. She’s never going to take a leap and follow her heart.
Not as long as she thinks I’m going to destroy her, at least. She has a reason to doubt me; I have a reputation—and I earned that reputation—so how could she take me seriously when I promise things like monogamy?
Clearly, I haven’t done a good enough job of showing Piper how genuine my feelings for her are. I need her to understand. I need her to see how in love with her I am.
The words themselves don’t seem enough. I can’t slouch on this. When Piper gives her verdict, I’ll have one shot to appeal, and after that, the window is closed.
So I go home and do the only thing I know how: I write.
For two days, I barely come up for air. I hardly eat, I hardly sleep. I jump from the piano to the guitar, to the computer. I produce a whole backing track before deciding to throw it all away. I’ll strip it down to bare bones. Play acoustic. Really wear my heart on my sleeve.
And if she doesn’t get it after this? Then at least I know I’ve done everything I can.
I’m nervous to play it for her. I’ve never written a love song like this. I’ve written a lot of anti-love songs, a lot of songs about sex and meaningless flings, but never a true love ballad like this.
Only Piper could inspire this.
It might be my favorite song I’ve ever written.
When it’s time for rehearsal Friday, I’m a mess of panic. I’m constantly running my fingers through my hair, then I’m chewing my nails—a habit I gave up twenty years ago. One of the stagehands even notices that I’m off.
“You okay, boss? Never seen you look nervous before a show,” he says, frowning while he looks around. A rock star’s nervous breakdown is above his paygrade.
“More nervous for the rehearsal than the show,” I admit.
“Oh,” he says, more confused than before. “Okay, then.”
“Hey, could you do me a favor?”
He perks up like a golden retriever ready to go to the park. “Of course! What do you need?”
“After we run through the cues for Live Wave, bring out my acoustic guitar.”
The request does nothing to erase his confusion, but he’s still eager to help.
“Can do. Anything else?”
A miracle.
“That’ll do it,” I answer instead, trying a friendly smile to reassure him I’m not losing it. I think it works.
I’m pacing in the wings when Piper shows up.
“If you wear a path in the floor, I’m charging you,” she says, making me jump before I turn.
She scowls, looking at me too close. “Have you slept recently?”
“Have you?” I counter.
“Like a baby. Don’t dodge my question. You have circles under your eyes.”
“Make-up will take care of it. You ready to start?”
She raises a brow at me, but nods. She’s probably expecting me to be on my knees begging her for an answer already.
Not yet. I have to get through rehearsal first.
Once Piper’s headed off to the booth, I jump up and down a few times, shaking out my arms, trying to clear out some of the jitters.
“All right, King—showtime,” I tell myself, heading out on stage.
For most of the songs we just hit a few spots—sound check for levels, lighting cues, and then I might sing a few bars of a particularly loud or high part, just to make sure everything’s balanced well.
It’s very routine, and we have all the settings dialed in pretty well, but there’s always the chance that someone bumped something, or a bulb burned out, a mic’s gone bad—we have to check, but it’s not exactly riveting stuff. I can see Piper in the booth getting antsy. Is she that eager to tell me to get lost?
I’ve let the sound and lighting guys know that I want to try out a new song tonight, so they keep the mic hot after we’re done running through the last of the checks and cues. I glance over to the wings, and the stagehand is ready to run out with my guitar. I wave him out. I sit on the stool on stage, and I take a deep breath before looking up to the booth.
“Bear with me,” I say, echoing some of the words in my song. “I’m new to this.” It’s a message specifically for Piper, but I know better than to say anything about our relationship in this theater full of her employees. Everyone else can think I’m talking about the style of music. Piper knows I’m talking about love.
Or she will in a minute.
Strumming the first chord fills me with a rush of adrenaline, but then I let go. The performer side of me takes over, and I forget that anyone’s watching. I’m just playing and singing in my studio, still wondering if these are the lyrics that explain everything.
“I’ve got a new point of view. And, baby, it’s plain to see, that I love you…”
When I focus on the booth again, I don’t see Piper.
She left.
But no; she’s right in front of the stage, so close I can only see her from the nose up, her eyes wide and unblinking.
I jump down off the stage, more nervous to be standing in front of her than I was to sing that song for everyone here.
“What’d you think?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Did you… Was that… For me?” she asks, bewildered.
“I think I’m better with words when I can edit and rehearse them a million times. I needed you to understand before you throw this away.”
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head while laughing. “You were that sure I was going to end things?”
“You weren’t?” It is surprising.
“I wasn’t,” she confirms. “I have brainstormed a few possible ways to break the news to Jack, so—”
I kiss her. Damn being in public. Damn being in front of her employees. I need to kiss her. I need to know this is real. She kisses me back, wrapping her arms around my neck to keep me in place.
“I really liked your song,” she says, breathless, eyes glassy with lust. I catch the suggestion in her voice, and my body instantly responds, balls tightening, heart beating faster.
“Yeah? How much?”
She runs her fingers down the front of my chest, biting her lip. “So much.”
“Well, in that case, why don’t we—”
My phone interrupts me. This time of day with rehearsals, I have a very limited number of people who can get through my Do Not Disturb. And they all know better unless it’s important.
“Ace?” Piper asks, seeing his name on the caller ID.
“Hey, man, what’s—” He cuts me off before I can finish.
“What?” Piper asks, worried. Probably because I just felt all the color leave my face.
“How bad?” I ask, but it feels like someone else is saying it. Someone far away.
“King?” Piper prods.
/> “I’m on my way.”
She doesn’t ask again while I put my phone away, but her expression does the asking for her.
“Asher was in an accident… It sounds bad.”
She gasps, covering her mouth. “Oh God… You’re going to the hospital?”
I’m already walking out, which seems answer enough to me.
“I’m coming with you,” she says. I don’t have the wherewithal to deny her. Not with one of my best friends—one of my brothers, really—in the hospital fighting for his life.
I can’t think about the worst-case scenario, and when Piper reaches for my hand, it takes some of the worry away.
With her by my side, I feel a little stronger. Better able to face this disaster head-on.
I don’t know what I’d do without her.
Chapter 16
King
Traffic has never bothered me more than it does while I’m racing to the hospital. I see Piper tensing a couple of times, but she doesn’t say anything.
Neither of us do.
As long as we don’t talk about it, there’s still a chance it’s not real.
Every sign for the hospital makes my stomach twist tighter; it’s harder to breathe the closer we get. My heart’s hammering to a beat I can’t keep up with, then I see the building itself, and my heart stops.
Piper puts her hand on my arm and squeezes.
“You should go in first,” she says. “We shouldn’t walk in at the same time.”
I don’t have the energy to argue with her. I’m not even sure I should. This isn’t the time to tell everyone about us. The focus needs to be on Asher.
Jack’s the first one I spot in the emergency department waiting room. He rushes over to me and gives me a quick, tight hug.
“How is he?”
“In surgery. Everyone else is in the waiting area upstairs. I came to be your guide dog.”
“How bad is it?”
He shakes his head, and my whole body goes cold.
“We don’t know yet,” he says. “They took him in for suspected internal bleeding—”
“Shit,” I hiss under my breath.
“Piper?” Jack says as the doors open behind us.
“Hi,” she says, a little breathless. “I came as fast as I could.”
Jack’s brow furrows. “Did Ellie call you?”
“She was at my rehearsal when Ace called me,” I jump in. At least that’s the truth, and not incriminating.
“Well, come on,” he says, sounding unconvinced.
Piper gives me a look of near panic, but I don’t care. If Jack is suspicious, so be it. There are more important things right now.
Jack leads us into the waiting room outside of the surgery department, and Piper immediately gravitates toward Ellie and Lake.
Lake.
Holy shit, how did I forget about Asher’s wife? She looks like she hasn’t stopped crying since the accident. Her eyes are red and watery, her face blotchy and streaked with tears. There’s a pile of wadded up tissues next to her, and she’s steadily blotting her eyes and wiping her nose.
They just got married, just got back from their honeymoon.
He has to be okay. There’s no other option.
“Doc came out while you were gone,” Ace says. “His spleen ruptured, and that’s what was causing the bleeding. So they’re going to take it out and fix up his leg while they’re in there.”
“His leg?” I ask.
“Fractured in a few places,” Jack says, tense. We’re all tense.
“Folded like an accordion,” Ace adds. We both glare at him. Then my eyes drift over to Piper and the girls.
“I can’t fucking imagine what she’s going through,” Jack says. There’s a surprising amount of pain in his voice, and I realize he’s looking at Ellie, imagining being in Lake’s shoes with his partner’s life in jeopardy.
I watch Piper put her arm around Lake’s shoulders, giving her fresh tissue before sweeping her mountain into one of the small wastebaskets.
“Me either,” I say, but I’m not thinking about being in Lake’s shoes. I’m thinking about Piper being in that position, broken, so helpless and hopeless without me to hold her.
My throat’s suddenly tight, and I have to look away.
“I’m going to get some air,” I announce.
“I’ll come with you,” Ace says. “Wouldn’t want you to get lost.”
“I think I can find my own way— Whatever,” I give up. Jack is already drifting over to Ellie, wrapping his arms around her from behind, holding her close.
Now my throat’s tight and my eyes are burning with tears. Piper looks up at me, and I can’t meet her gaze. I practically sprint out of the room, not waiting to see if Ace is behind me or not.
We’re on the third floor of this particular building of the hospital, and there’s a small balcony with a potted palm tree and barely enough room for two people standing side by side. Probably a relic from the days when people could step out to smoke. These days, the entire hospital campus is a non-smoking zone.
I take a deep breath of the hot, dry air, trying to force the tightness out of my chest.
“Crazy shit, huh?” Ace says, leaning against the railing, facing the setting sun. The sky is already turning all kinds of colors, the few wispy clouds glowing neon. In the back of my mind, I know it’s beautiful, but there’s nothing inside me. Just emptiness.
“Yeah… Always figured if one of us was going to get in an accident it’d be me or you,” I say with a stunted laugh. “Asher’s the good one of us. The responsible one. It shouldn’t be him.”
“It shouldn’t be anyone,” Ace says. “But that’s life, isn’t it? It could be any of us, any time. That’s why we have to live it.”
I grunt and lean forward on the railing with him. It could so easily be me in there on the table. I don’t want to put Piper through what Lake is dealing with right now. She doesn’t deserve that, and loving me is only going to cause her pain, even if I don’t fuck up.
“Oh hey, the helicopter is coming in,” Ace points out, gesturing to the helipad on the roof of the emergency department. “At least our boy’s doing better than that guy, right?” he says, trying to add some levity.
I’m captivated by watching the helicopter come closer, growing bigger and bigger against the backdrop of that stunning sunset. For a moment, the storm inside me is quiet, transfixed.
Then the helicopter lands, and the receiving crew rushes in as the transporters pour out. There’s a stretcher and—
“A lot better,” Ace mutters solemnly as a black bag is transferred to the stretcher. No one’s rushing around anymore.
The emptiness is back, more oppressive than before. This was a mistake.
I head back inside, down to the waiting room. Jack and Ellie are sitting together snuggling, Piper is holding Lake’s hand while Lake rests her head on Piper’s shoulder, maybe drifting off out of pure exhaustion?
Piper’s uncharacteristically fidgety, but I can tell she’s trying to stay still enough to not disturb Lake. I want to go sit next to her, to comfort her, but there’s no way. Not with Jack here.
Ace taps the back of my arm, holding up a deck of cards when I turn around. “Gotta pass the time somehow, right?”
I’m not in the mood to play games, but he’s right. I do have to pass the time somehow, and any distraction from the torture of being this close to Piper without being able to acknowledge her would be nice.
“Let’s go over to that far corner so the shuffling doesn’t bother them,” I suggest.
An hour goes by, and we hear nothing. Ace and I go get coffees for everyone; I know Piper prefers cappuccino, so I get that for her, and a variety of other options from the vending machine for everyone else to choose from. She doesn’t say anything, but there’s a tiny smile, just for a second.
I’ll take it. Right now, smiling at all is hard.
By the second hour, Piper’s started biting her nails, ruining her manicure. She
keeps fussing with her hair and looking nervously at Jack. She’s folding under the pressure, and I’m helpless to stop her.
Four hours in, we’re all getting tired and cranky. Every attempt at conversation is met with a snippy response or sarcasm. We’re all so worried for Asher, and there’s no good way to express our anger that this is happening to him.
“I think the cafeteria is closing soon,” I announce. “Why don’t I go get everyone some dinner?”
“That’s a good idea,” Jack says. “I’ll come with you. To help carry things.”
“Sure. Let’s go—”
“Wait, don’t you want to know what people want?” Piper asks.
“Good point,” Jack says. “Why don’t you get everyone’s order and come with us?”
Her eyes widen. “Me?”
“I’m sure another pair of hands won’t hurt,” Jack says with a shrug.
Piper glances at me, then back at her brother, sensing the same trap that I do. Nothing we can do about it, though.
Things are tense on the way to the cafeteria. We have to walk down a number of long hallways and take a slow, rickety elevator.
“So you were at rehearsal when Ace called?” Jack asks, nonchalant. He’s trying to seem aloof, but it’s a weird non sequitur, so it already feels like an interrogation.
“Yeah, I guess tonight’s show was cancelled?” I ask, looking over to Piper. She nods to confirm.
“I already released a statement apologizing to the fans and instructed the ticket booth to push for exchanged rather than refunds. You may have to extend your stay to accommodate them, though,” she adds, a hint of warmth in her voice.
“I think I’d be all right with that,” I answer, flirtier than I should be while we’re sharing an elevator with her brother.
“Did you come here together?” Jack asks.
“No,” Piper answers too quickly, guilt in her face. “I took a cab.”
A cab? Why is she the worst liar in the world?
“What’s wrong with your car?” Jack asks.
“Nothing,” she says, defensive. “I just thought the taxi would be faster since I could grab one instantly at the door versus driving through your giant maze of a parking garage. Why are there so many turns to get out of that thing?” She still sounds defensive, but with some of her Piper fire behind her words, Jack seems to be buying it.
King (Vegas Kings Book 2) Page 12