by Lisa Suzanne
“Destiny,” he echoes then nods. “If I text it, meet me there. Same goes for you.”
“I want to end it with him.”
He closes his eyes briefly as he digests my words. “I know. But you can’t. Not now. Let’s get through these next few days. They’re gonna be hard enough as it is, and just because you end it with him doesn’t mean we can flaunt whatever this is.” He motions between the two of us.
“But what about you?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Of course I’m going to worry about you.”
He nods as if he knew it all along. “I’ll be okay. I’ve got the light at the end of the tunnel. I know where your heart is.”
“I love you.” I blurt out the words, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He told me he was in love with me at his Vegas penthouse. I told him I was in love with him, too. But being in love and saying I love you are two different things, and my heart races at the weight of my words.
We’ve avoided the word, skirted the issue. There’s so much going on around us, so much heavy weight between us that we’ve avoided the word. But right now, he needs to know. He needs to understand the intensity of my feelings for him, and I don’t even need him to say it back.
And that’s how I know that he’s my choice. I knew it from the very moment I ran into him after Brian left for Germany, but knowing I love him and I’m willing to risk everything else for him without needing to hear the confirmation that he feels the same—that’s what love means to me.
He leans over and rests his head on my chest again. My heart beats erratically against his ear.
“I love you, too,” he whispers. “I’ve loved you since the second you stepped into the dressing room at Mandalay. I think I’ve loved you my whole life, I just hadn’t met you.”
My heart soars at his words, but the stark reality of what’s about to happen sets in. I have to put aside my love for him to be by his brother’s side. Heat presses behind my eyes, and before I know what’s happening, I feel the burn of a tear as it tracks down my cheek. Mark looks tenderly up at me and swipes away my tear.
My tear. He’s comforting me when he’s the one facing a family emergency.
“Promise me you’ll wait for me,” I say with a shaky voice. “Promise me you won’t run away from me the second Brian’s here.”
“I promise,” he says softly. “You’re it for me. I don’t need anyone else. Only ever you.”
A sense of relief filters through my blood despite everything we’re about to face. I brace myself for impact and pray that love will be enough to overcome the shit storm about to unleash its worst on us.
seventeen
When the plane touches down, I’m jostled awake. My neck is stiff and my shoulder is killing me, but Mark sleeps soundly with his head still on my chest. I roll my neck, but it does little to ease the pain.
The pilot’s voice comes on the speaker. “Welcome to Chicago.”
Mark draws in a deep breath then sits up. He yawns as he stretches his arms over his head, and then he lifts the window shade and squints as the sun hits him square in the eyes. He drops the shade then leans over to press a kiss to my lips.
“Welcome to Chicago,” he says. He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Fuck,” he mutters.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s not even six in the morning.”
I chuckle. “Not a morning person?”
He shakes his head. “Are you?”
I shrug. “I have to be during the school year, but I have a pretty strong preference for sleeping in.”
He sends a text and Vinny walks past the curtain and into our section of the plane. “Where to, boss?” he asks.
“My place for a shower and clean clothes. Tell Vick to clear my schedule and get in touch with Penny.”
Vinny nods once then disappears back through the curtain. A few minutes later, he reappears to usher us to—surprise, surprise—a black Yukon. A man stands beside the back door waiting for us to get in. “Hi, Todd,” Mark says, and his Chicago driver nods at him.
“Welcome back, Mr. Ashton,” he says.
We get into the back of the car and Vinny and Todd get in front, and then we’re battling our way through Chicago traffic toward yet another one of Mark’s homes. Mark is busy tapping away on his phone for the majority of our ride, so I stare out the window at a city I’ve never visited before. It’s early, and we’re stuck in the morning rush of employees trying to get to work, though Mark mutters a few times about how this goddamn traffic is always like this.
The car comes to a stop in the covered entrance of a tall skyscraper. Someone opens our back door. “Welcome home, Mr. Ashton.”
“Greg,” Mark says, nodding at the man and then getting out of the car. He holds his hand out for me and helps me out next. Vinny follows us to the elevator and hands Mark a key then heads back out to the Yukon. Mark inserts the key to call the elevator and once we’re on, he inserts the key again then presses a button marked PH.
“Penthouse?” I ask.
“Naturally,” he says with a wry smile.
The elevator doors open to a small hallway with one door, and Mark inserts another key into the door.
Apparently Mark’s Chicago home is the entire top floor of some skyscraper right by the lake. I’m in awe, but then I remember why we’re here.
Just because he’s a rich and famous rock star doesn’t mean he’s immune to the realities of life.
He opens the door and we enter somewhere in the middle of his place. Windows surround us, offering nearly a three hundred sixty degree view of the city if you count the bedrooms. His floorplan is open with the kitchen and eating area flowing into the family room. Echoes of his modern style bleed into this home just like his others. Everything is black, white, and gray, and I even recognize some of the same furniture from his place in Vegas.
He tosses his keys on the kitchen counter. I wait for him to come over to me, to take me in his arms and give me a kiss. He doesn’t.
“You’ll be in one of the guest rooms with my brother,” he says shortly. “I’ll show you.”
I follow him quietly down a hallway, unsure of what to say—which feels strange considering what we’ve shared with each other over the past couple of days.
He opens a door to a room that looks a lot like the one Brian has been occupying in Vegas. A duffel bag sits on the bed.
“Your stuff should be in there.”
I walk over and open the bag, and sure enough, there’s clothes in my size, my favorite Dove deodorant, a toothbrush, and all the other things I’d written on my list.
“Thank you,” I say softly.
“Don’t mention it. There’s a bathroom through there if you need a shower.” He lowers his voice. “You probably smell like me after yesterday.”
I expect him to follow that up with a wicked grin, some indication of all the sex we had yesterday, but he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes flick away from me and out the window at the view of Lake Michigan.
I walk over to him and cup his cheek with my palm. He closes his eyes for a second, then he leans away from me.
“Don’t.” His voice is firm and it tears my heart to shreds. I get why he needs to do this, but Brian’s not here now. We don’t have to start this charade just yet. “I’d like to get to the hospital as soon as we can. I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
He walks out the door, and I miss my chance to stop him, to tell him I’ll be here in any way I can be.
*
On the way to the hospital, Mark preps me. He sits across from me rather than beside me, and I’m wearing brand new clothes someone else bought for me.
The distance he’s placing between us is physical now, and my heart aches because of it.
“I texted Brian and told him I got your number from Becker,” Mark says. “That’s not a lie. I told him I’d get you to Chicago. My mom is protective of Brian and me, especially Brian because he’s the baby.
It’s her dad we’re visiting, so she’ll be crazier than normal.”
I nod, digesting everything he’s telling me, and the feeling that I don’t belong here gnaws at me. This is for family, and I’m playing a game with these brothers. “I shouldn’t be here,” I say.
“Stop it.”
“I shouldn’t be meeting your family like this, not when you’re going through this, not as Brian’s girlfriend. It’s all wrong.” Tears prick behind my eyes, but it’s not my right to cry here.
Mark closes his eyes and rubs at the bridge of his nose with his fingertips—those same fingers I studied just a few hours ago on the plane.
“He needs you,” he says. Then, in a lower voice, he adds, “I need you.”
“But you won’t have me.”
He shakes his head. “Just knowing you’re here is enough, Reese. That’s all I need.”
We pull up to a private side entrance of the hospital, and Vinny gets out to escort us. I realize for the first time that I know nothing about Vinny, but I trust him. I like him. He’s always there for Mark, and I’m sure he’s paid handsomely for it, but he takes care of the man who pushes everyone else away.
We ride an elevator a few floors and wind through some hallways before we end up in a waiting room.
“Oh, Mark!” A middle-aged woman wearing white pants and a silk amber-colored blouse flies into Mark’s arms. She’s dressed far nicer than me, the girl who showed up in jeans and a t-shirt to meet my boyfriend’s family…without my boyfriend.
“Hi, Ma,” he says, hugging her tightly. “How’s he doing?”
She pulls back and shakes her head a little, and her dark bob swings lightly. “Not good.” Her blue eyes fill with tears, and then she smacks him lightly on the arm. “I haven’t seen you since Christmas.”
He rubs at the spot where she hit him like it hurt. “I’m here now.”
“Your brother is on his way. Is this the girl?” she asks, looking at me.
“Hi,” I say, waving as I give her a timid smile. “I’m Reese.”
“Hi,” she says. She doesn’t come over to give me a hug or shake my hand, and I stand awkwardly.
“Mom, be nice,” Mark says, nudging her a little.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fox,” I say, stepping toward her with a friendly smile and an extended arm. She finally takes my hand to shake it. Hers are ice cold, as is her demeanor toward me.
“Call her Diane,” Mark says to me. He turns to his mom, and I feel awkward. I can’t just call her Diane because he told me to. I need her to tell me that. “What’s the latest?”
“After the initial attack, he went into cardiac arrest and his heart couldn’t pump oxygen. If he has another heart attack, the doctors don’t think he’ll survive it.” She’s clinical as she speaks—not warm and motherly, not a daughter worried about her father, but factual.
Mark turns his gaze to the window. “Is Lizzie here?”
“She’s in with Pops now.”
“When’s Brian getting here?” Mark asks.
Diane glances at her watch. “Not until eleven. He should be in the air now.” She turns her gaze to me, and her blue eyes scrutinize me. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”
I don’t respond, and luckily I don’t have to. A man who looks like a combination of Mark and Brian in twenty or thirty years steps through a hallway and spots Mark.
“There he is,” he says, walking over and pulling his son into a hug. He lowers his voice, but I’m close enough to hear. “Your mother told me it’s been over eight months. Don’t do that to me again.”
Mark laughs, a bright spot in a dark room. “Reese, this is my dad, Paul.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, and—unlike his wife—Paul gives me a hug.
“You’re the one dating Brian?”
I nod but don’t say anything else because I don’t know what to say. I’m dating Brian…yes. But I’m in love with Mark.
“Glad to have you here.” He smiles at me with sparkling green eyes that match Brian’s and Mark’s. “I’m sure Brian will be glad, too.”
Diane narrows her eyes at me then turns her gaze to Mark. “Weren’t you in LA when I called?”
He nods.
“Brian said his girlfriend lives in Vegas.”
My heart stops beating. Fuck. We’re already caught and Brian isn’t even here yet.
“She does. I knew Brian would want her here. It wasn’t a big deal to fly to Vegas to pick her up.”
Diane raises a scary eyebrow.
“Can we go see Pops?” Mark asks.
We follow her to her father’s room. When we walk in, I spot Lizzie right away. An attractive man sits beside her.
There’s an older woman sitting by the window who I assume is Diane’s mother, and his grandfather is awake in the bed. The older woman springs up from the chair and grabs Mark in her arms. “So good to see you, Marky.”
Marky. My heart melts.
“You too, Gram.”
Lizzie hugs him next. “I feel like I just saw you, Beavis.”
“You did.” He throws a playful elbow in her direction then shakes hands with the man next to her. “Dave,” he says in greeting with a nod of his head.
It’s bizarre seeing Mark interact with these people—his family, the people who’ve known him longest out of anyone else in the world. He’s just a normal man here in this scenario, albeit a tatted sexy beast of a man with abs carved from stone, a magical mouth, and a dick he knows how to use. To these people, he’s Mark the grandson, Mark the son, Mark the brother, Mark the future brother-in-law. He isn’t Mark the singer, Mark the guitarist, Mark the rock star.
His confession in the back of the Yukon the night we met flashes through my mind. He overdosed, and his family doesn’t know. He could’ve died. He was lying helpless in a hospital bed while someone else saved his life.
I look at the people gathered around this room for his grandfather.
Each of them would’ve been there for him. Of that I’m certain.
But he brushed it off when he told me, made it seem like it was no big deal, like it was a minor lapse in judgement instead of the life-altering event it was. He confessed his darkest secret to me, a secret the people in this room with me don’t even know, so maybe they don’t know him better than anyone in the world. They know his history, his past before he moved out on his own and formed a successful band, but it’s possible I know him better now.
That thought blows my mind.
“This is Brian’s girlfriend, Reese,” Mark says in a blanket statement to the room as he sweeps an arm over to gesture to me. He walks to his grandfather’s bedside and takes his hand. He starts talking to him softly, but then his grandma is hugging me, and I miss their conversation.
“I’m Helen, but you can just call me Gram like all the kids do. Brian is a lucky boy to have you,” his grandma says to me.
“I’m so sorry for what you’re going through. I wish we were meeting under different circumstances.”
“Oh, me too, dear. Thank you for saying that, and thank you for being here for Brian. He’s very close with his grandpa.”
“I’m sure it’s difficult on everyone.”
She nods and squeezes my hand. Lizzie gives me a hug next. “Good to see you again. You and Brian talk any more about coming to the wedding?”
I shake my head. I’d forgotten about that in the drama of finding out Brian and Mark are brothers. I don’t see myself attending the wedding, not as Brian’s date anyway.
“Well I’d love for you to be there.” She shakes her head toward Dave. “That’s the guy I’m marrying.”
We chat for a while, and then I make my way over to Mark.
“Reese, this is Pops.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, doing my best to ignore the IV needling his skin and the wires attached to various places on him. I give him the warmest smile I can muster.
He smiles weakly. “Mark is a changed man since he met you.” His voice is barely above
a whisper, as if it’s an effort to get out the words.
“Oh, I’m…uh…actually—” I’m about to correct him, to tell him I’m not with Mark, that I’m with Brian, but then Mark elbows me and I shut my mouth.
A minute later, a doctor comes in. Everyone except Gram clears the room while the doctor examines Mark’s grandfather, and the rest of us head out to the waiting room.
“Anybody hungry?” Paul asks.
“We haven’t eaten since last night,” Mark says. He glances over at me and seems to realize his faux pas as his eyes widen. My skin prickles with the awareness that all eyes are on me. “Well, I assume you ate last night. You haven’t eaten since I picked you up.”
“I haven’t eaten,” I say.
“Mark, you can’t just go down to the cafeteria,” his mom says.
“Is there a gift shop around?” he asks her.
“By the lobby,” Diane says. “What do you need?”
“A ball cap.”
“I’ll get it. It’ll make me feel like I’m doing something for someone.”
I can’t help the little pang in my heart for her. She’s helpless as her father lies in a hospital bed, but she’s the mom here—she’s supposed to be the strong one for her family.
He slings his arm around her. “Thanks, Mom.”
She leaves, and I feel a bit of relief when she goes. I feel like I’m under scrutiny with her. Everyone else seems so much nicer than her. She’s only gone a few minutes when she returns with a bag. Mark peeks inside.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he whines.
“Language,” Diane says sharply, and I hold back a giggle at a thirty-something-year-old rock star getting scolded by his mother.
He pulls out the black hat with the White Sox logo. “I can’t wear this shit, Mother.”
She smirks at him. “Should’ve brought your own hat, then.”
He looks at me and rolls his eyes as he breaks in the bill of the cap. “She raised Brian a Sox fan. Dad raised me a Cubs fan.”
“I cheer for the Diamondbacks,” I say with a shrug.
“Are they even a real team?” he says at the same time as his mom.
He pulls the cap on begrudgingly. “I’m wearing it long enough to walk my own ass down to the gift shop to buy my own hat. You could’ve gotten Bears at least.”