My gut clenched. “Peaches.”
“Don’t feel sorry for me. Remember what I told you. Don’t ever mistake broken for weak.”
I swallowed past the lump that suddenly grew prominent in my throat, overcome by the fact this private girl was allowing me in a little deeper. A little further.
“What do you say you tell me about it?”
“That would be an awful long story to tell on such a late night.”
My brow rose. “If you didn’t already assume that about me, I’m kind of a night owl. All ears, darlin’. All ears.”
That smile widened just a bit before it fell flat, and she inclined her head to the street we passed. “Okay then…my mama. She lives down that street.”
Guess when she’d said she’d lost her mother, I’d assumed she was gone.
At a loss, I peered over at her.
“She lives in this cute historic house that’s all done up in antiques and relics. She would absolutely love it if only her mind and body were there to enjoy it. It’s a long-term care facility that’s dressed up as a quaint home.” Her smile was faint as she explained. “As if the surroundings might conceal the fact she won’t ever get out of bed again.”
Sympathy gripped me, my voice tight. “What happened to her?”
“She has M.S.” She shook her head. “I never imagined it could consume her the way it has. Sometimes I feel guilty the hardest part for me is watching her slowly lose her memory. Seeing her confused and agitated.”
No doubt, this girl was confiding things in me I was certain she rarely confided in anyone.
I should stop her. Knew I should. But I just sat there like the goddamned bastard I was, silently asking her to share more of herself.
Her voice drifted in sadness. “It kills me to go there because she seems to be stuck in the past most of the time…in her dreams. Dreams she had for me and my sister that never came to pass. Most of her dreams were simple. Just like mine.”
I reached across the console and squeezed her hand. “I’m really sorry.”
She smiled over at me. “Me, too.”
“And your sister?”
I was pushing it. But I couldn’t stop myself. Couldn’t stop this exchange or this feeling she was giving me. Like maybe just by being there I was offering her some kind of comfort.
Instantly, I regretted the question.
Because Willow physically flinched.
A full-body blow.
Like I’d struck her in the face.
Her voice was rough and forced. “She died a long time ago, and that’s something that’s really hard for me to talk about. To anyone.”
Fuck.
I roughed a hand through my hair.
“That’s horrible, Willow. I’m so fucking sorry.” I glanced at her, wondering why I couldn’t just shut the fuck up. Why this girl compelled me to splay myself open wide. “It’s hard for me to talk about my sister, too,” I admitted.
She frowned. “Edie?”
I knew what she was thinking. Edie looked just fine. Happier than could be. Which I got the inclination she really was, and that made me so goddamned happy, too.
But still…
Both my shoulders lifted with the confession. “I was responsible for some bad shit in her life. Shit I wish I could take away. Go back in time and stop. Change. But I can’t and that kills me.”
Willow’s attention got lost out the windshield, in the spray of dingy lights that spread out in front of us, the intangible guiding the way. Her voice was subdued. “I wish I could go back and change so much. I’ve made so many mistakes.”
My smile was somber. “I’ve made a few myself.”
A million.
Too many to count.
Mistakes I’d spend the rest of my life paying for.
Gut told me Willow felt the exact same way.
I pulled up at the curb in front of her house, the heavy rumble of the engine the backdrop behind the silence that descended, darkness encroaching from all sides.
That strange connection simmered in it.
Comfort and peace.
After a few seconds, she shyly peeked over at me. “Do…do you want to come in?”
Shit.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I wanted to bang my head on the steering wheel. Maybe dunk myself in a bottomless vat of ice cubes and water. What I really wanted was just to give.
“I think that’d be a bad idea.”
Who would have thought it’d be me dishing out that kind of wisdom?
But if there was ever a high road to take, this was it.
Hurt sliced through her delicate features. Like I’d just deepened the cuts she already suffered. Like she was fumbling, wanting to heal them, willing to hurt herself all over again in the process.
“Okay,” she whispered before she cracked open her door with the intention to escape all that was left unsaid.
Without thinking through all the ramifications, I reached out, hand greedy as I weaved it into her hair, deep enough so I could palm the back of her neck.
I forced her to look at me.
Fuck. She was gorgeous, all wild eyes and sharp breaths and broken spirit.
“I want to,” I amended with the truth, edging farther into her space.
Nose to nose.
Breath to breath.
“God, I want to.”
My tone hardened with the raging need the girl had constricting every cell in my body.
“If it’s what you really wanted, Peaches? If it’s what you really wanted, I’d follow you right into your house. I’d toss your hot little body over my shoulder, carry you upstairs, strip you down, and lay you out. I’d spend the entire night making you beg and scream my name.”
The words dropped even lower, grating from my throat, filling up the cab like arrows of delirious torture. Striking one after the other. “I’d make you come. Again and again.”
Her breaths were short, needy rasps that I inhaled, every part of me wanting to suck her in as I had my way.
“But you know that’s not close to being what you really want, Willow. Not close to being what you deserve, because I’m not close to being that guy. In the end, only thing I’d do is end up hurting you. So, right now I’m gonna pretend like I don’t want to fuck you so bad I can hardly see, so I can do exactly like I promised and walk you to your door and leave you there.”
Awareness sparked between us like a short-circuited plug.
A frenzied energy that zapped and popped against our tingling skin.
It threatened to take us places she couldn’t go.
Threatened to make me feel things I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt.
Things I couldn’t.
Not like this.
Not this way.
Needing to break the spell the girl had me under, I cleared my throat, drew my hand away, and killed the engine. I let myself out, rounded the front of the SUV, and helped her down.
We said nothing while I led her to her door, both locked in our own struggle for control. When she stopped, key in hand, I dipped down and pressed my lips to her forehead, breathed in the sweet and the innocent that only reinforced my resolve. “You deserve better than what I have to give.”
She fisted a single hand in my shirt until I reluctantly pulled away.
Then I left her there like I promised, fighting the itchy, angsty feeling burning up my blood. It took about all I had not to turn around and go running for her when I heard her door creak open and then closed behind her.
Warily, I peered back over my shoulder. A light flicked on in an upstairs window and her shadow danced behind the drape.
I stood there staring at it. A tremor shivered down my spine. Spindly tendrils stretched out and sank their teeth into my skin.
Because right then?
Gut told me this girl might shine too bright.
And I was worried both of us were going to get burned.
fourteen
Willow
“So, I hav
e good news and I have bad news. Which do you want first?”
I wavered in his doorway with my heart in my throat, not sure where we’d stand this morning, but sure at the very least it would be awkward.
Apparently not.
He stood there, all smiles and smirks and that sexiness, all but guaranteeing that whatever his “bad news” was couldn’t be bad at all. Easy warmth pulsed from him in waves. Just as bright as the sun that climbed the sky, striking him in rays of shimmery light.
He stretched his arms out to the sides, and I swore the intricate web of tattoos was singing all his songs. Songs I felt almost desperate to know the words to. Those colors tugged and pulled against the hulking muscle, his shirt so tight, just as tight as his jeans and every inch of his toned body.
I shouldn’t stare.
But that had become an impossible feat, especially after the way he’d twisted me inside out last night.
He made me want to experience things I was sure I’d never experienced before. It was unnerving.
Last night, I’d barely slept. I’d tossed and turned in the vacancy of my bed, like a fool longing for the salacious, scandalous promises he’d murmured to me like threats. Part of me had wanted to shut him up and shut him down, while a rebellious voice hidden inside had piped up, whispering, you know you’d really like to know what that’s like.
The scariest part was I’d been so close to begging him to make good on all those warnings. I just wanted to feel something good and have the guts to step out and take it.
Nervously, I scraped my teeth over my bottom lip and forced a smile that didn’t feel so wrong. “Don’t you know the answer to that is the bad news comes first? You always, always give the bad news first.”
He stepped back with a smile, didn’t hesitate to take my hand in his. As if it’d belonged there all along. “I really guess I shouldn’t have asked then, because I’m pretty sure the good news comes first in this case.”
It was all easy tease.
“Now, don’t go and get yourself too worried, because it’s honestly not that big of a deal. All just part of my life, darlin’. And since you’ve been hanging out with me, that makes you a part of it, too.”
Curiosity peeked out from deep inside me as a shot of unease rustled. “Okay,” I drew out as I allowed him to lead me into the depths of his stunning house.
He hauled me all the way down the expansive hall that cut down the middle of the bottom floor and dipped us through the swinging doors and into the kitchen and great room, which was as big as my entire house. The kitchen was black stainless steel and white marble countertops. The cabinets and wood accents were carved to keep the country flare.
A perfect contrast of old and new.
He spun in the middle of the kitchen and walked backward as he spoke, clearly wanting me to follow. “So, like I said, we have some good news and some bad news. The good news is I totally gave the paps something real to talk about. They’re all abuzz this morning with a bunch of pictures that were snagged of Sunder on stage. We laid to rest all the bullshit speculation that Sunder is going split or that they were gonna have to replace me.”
“That’s good,” I said, nodding emphatically, still wringing my hands as I waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Yeah. It is.” He hesitated, pulling in a deep breath that widened his chest before he began to speak. “See, thing is, they just love to twist things to fit their own agendas. Slant the stories whatever direction is going to win them the most hits. Create the most buzz. Lies have followed us around pretty much since the second Sunder made it big. And I’m not gonna stand here and pretend like I haven’t been part of some shady shit in my life, because I’m pretty damned sure you’re well aware. But let’s just say sometimes those stories get contorted.”
I could feel the bewildered frown pulling all over my brow. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying, they saw the two of us together last night, and apparently that seemed way more intriguing than the actual show.” He roughed a hand through that mess of hair. “Hell, it’s always that way. Things are far more interesting off stage than on.”
“Okay.” I was still waiting, still wringing my hands.
He watched me with those potent eyes. “This is just the everyday for me, Willow. Something I pretty much have to deal with every time I step out of the privacy of my house. But I didn’t know how you were gonna react.”
He glanced to the floor before he looked back at me. “Think you might have had me a little distracted last night to consider it.”
He said it like it wasn’t taboo or a subject we needed to avoid.
“What did they say?”
Grabbing my hand, he tugged me forward. “Take a look for yourself.”
He turned me toward his laptop that was open on the island.
My heart rate spiked and stuttered. I couldn’t discern if it was because of nerves at what I’d find or because I’d entered Ash’s space.
Because I’d begun to orbit his atmosphere.
That big body moved up close behind me. His breath breezed through the loose strands of my hair and brushed my neck, and he set both his hands on my shoulders, as if he were bracing me. At the ready to support me in whatever I might see.
A shiver rolled before a shock of air jolted from my lungs as my eyes focused on the screen.
The tab was open to a celebrity site. One that kept voracious fans and insatiable gossips apprised of the dirty deeds of their favorite superstars.
There were two pictures of the band on stage. But that didn’t seem to be where the focus was directed.
No.
It was aimed at the grainy image filling most of the page. The picture was dark and shadowy, but unmistakable.
It was an enlarged picture of Ash and me, on the dancefloor, and clearly snagged by someone in the crowd nearby.
We were chest to chest.
His hands were on my hips and his face was buried in my hair.
I didn’t know whether to be horrified or to shift on my unsteady feet when I looked at the erotic vision presented for all to see. I was certain I’d never once worn that kind of expression before as I was wearing in this picture.
It was as if I’d been lifted to some kind of rapture I’d never felt.
To a place where I was free and alive.
Sexy.
Wanted.
My mouth went dry, and with a shaky hand, I reached out and scrolled down. There was another below it that had captured everyone when we’d filed from the bar. Fuzzy halos of light streamed down through the haze, illuminating the group in a yellowy glow, Sunder looking so big and bad and beautiful in a wealth of power and dark mystery in the deep night.
But it was the last that had been zoomed and cropped that hitched my breath.
Ash squeezed my shoulders, a gentle reminder that he was there.
This picture was blurrier than the rest, and I thought maybe it should seem so much less interesting.
Dull and boring.
Because it was so simple. The act mundane.
Ash and I were holding hands as we strolled down the cobblestone walk.
In the moment, it’d felt innocent. Natural.
Seeing it now…
My head was tipped back as I drank in the endless expanse of stars, and I remembered I’d closed my eyes to imprint that perfect moment in my brain. So I’d forever remember the way I’d felt standing there at his side.
And Ash…Ash Evans was gazing over at me.
Emotion twisted through me like a tornado.
Men didn’t look at me that way.
Bates surely never had.
This had to have been captured by chance. Interpreted wrong.
It wasn’t real.
The scariest part of all was I realized right then I wanted it to be.
My attention traveled to the headline.
Has the ultimate bad boy been tamed?
Sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll.
Ash Evan
s, of Sunder fame, is no stranger to any of them, so it was no surprise when the notorious rocker recently found himself in more hot water when he was assaulted in the early hours of August 23rd near his vacation home in Savannah, Georgia. The altercation occurred outside Contemporary Comfort, an antique store in the Historic District. The owner discovered him badly beaten and alerted the authorities.
Rumors the bass player had met his demise were shredded when he joined Sunder for an acoustic set last night at a local bar in downtown Savannah.
It’s no secret the bad boy has had more than his fair share of women. He recently told Wise, “I love women and women love me. I make no apologies. Simple as that.”
Although what’s always remained most apparent is how he loves to leave them.
But we’d be hard-pressed to find him looking as cozy as he did after last night’s show with none other than Willow Langston. Yes, the owner of Contemporary Comfort.
Is this a classic case of obligation, or has the unapologetic bachelor finally met his match?
Sorry ladies, only time will tell.
Silence hovered around us as he let me catch up to what the article implied.
“Are you mad?” He released the mumble of words against the crown of my head.
“How could I be mad at you over this? We were just dancing. Celebrating that you were able to get back on a stage.”
That’s all it was.
Right?
But my tremoring heart thought maybe it recognized the difference.
The breath he released was almost pained, and he pressed his fingers deeper into my shoulders. Massaging. Coaxing. Demanding. As if he wanted to dispute the statement I had made.
“Willow,” he uttered my name carefully. “Know you’re private, darlin’, and I know I promised this was no big deal, but like you pointed out before, just because something might not bother me doesn’t mean it won’t bother you.”
God, he had such a conflicting, confusing heart.
So indulgent and nonchalant.
So thoughtful and kind.
“It’s just…” I struggled to make sense of my own confusion. “Someday…I want what those pictures are suggesting. For someone to really look at me that way. Your friends…the way they love each other…the way they talk about their families. Their kids.” My words dropped to a yearning whisper. “To me, there’s nothing in this world more beautiful than that.”
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