by RB Hilliard
After locking up the house, I made my way upstairs. As I reached my bedroom, I noticed Nash’s door was open, and thought, screw it. We needed to talk. It might as well be now. Down the hall I marched with my head held high and my heart on my sleeve. The moment of reckoning was finally here. I rounded the corner of Nash’s bedroom and screeched to a halt. There he stood in the middle of his room with nothing but a yellow and green striped towel wrapped loosely around his waist. He didn’t see me, but I sure as hell saw him. As he moved across the room to his dresser, droplets of water dripped from his hair onto his shoulders. They trickled down his chest and back, only to be absorbed by the towel. As if sensing me standing there, he turned. His eyes flared with surprise. Please don’t ask me to leave, I thought. We stood there staring at each other for the longest time, as if daring the other to make the first move. His lips turned up into a sexy smile, and I thought about what I’d promised myself. Here it was, right in front of my face. My opening. Inhaling deeply, I stepped over the threshold. As I closed the door behind me, his expression morphed from humor to lust. His eyes licked up and down my body, and I felt raw, exposed…desired. Without warning, Nash dropped his towel. It landed on the floor with a thunk, but I paid it no mind. I only had eyes for him. His face. His body…just him.
Nash Bostwick, the man whom I’d inadvertently lost my heart to, took a step in my direction. Then another. My pulse rocketed. My blood sang. My body buzzed with pent up desire. His arm shot out as he reached me. His hand wrapped around my neck, and he yanked me forward. As our bodies collided, his lips crashed down onto mine, and my gasp of surprise was stifled by the minty taste of his tongue as it swept inside.
“Shoes…off,” he muttered against my mouth. Without hesitation, I toed off my shoes. He reached for my scrub pants as I pulled off my t-shirt, and I was left standing there in my bra and panties. He paused long enough to get an eyeful, before reeling me back in. With our lips, tongues, and hands, we kissed, tasted, and touched. Finally, needing more, Nash stripped off my panties as I unclasped my bra. Before I was once again trapped in his web, I took him in hand. He was so hard, so perfect, and I couldn’t help but revel in the fact that it was me who’d made him this way. Rowan Burns, the nothing girl from nowhere.
“Fuck, don’t stop,” Nash hissed. A moan rushed from my lips when I felt his hand between my legs. His fingers dipped inside, and the moan became a gasp. Up and down I stroked as he slid his fingers in and out of me. “You are perfect,” he whispered in my ear. How my heart ached for this man. Instead of words, I rewarded him with a deep kiss and a hard tug. His appreciative groan was a turn on, an incentive to get lost in the moment. It had been so long since I’d allowed myself the freedom to feel. Drunk on emotions and high on sensations, I gave him every last piece of me. For a brief moment in time, I was indestructible…unstoppable. Stroke for stroke, we worked each other into a sexual frenzy. Right as I was about to break apart, he pulled back. “Not yet,” he said. Face to face, body to body, we stared into each other’s eyes, feeling but not saying. Hand in hand, he led me over to the bed, where we fell into a tangle of arms and legs, tongues and teeth, growls and sighs. When we were once again panting for it, he rolled on a condom and slid inside. It was everything and more. Absolute perfection. As he took my body, I gave him my heart. Our thrusts were in sync, our movements choreographed to perfection. It felt as if we’d done this a thousand times before. When I finally broke apart, he was right there to catch me, just as I was for him. Breathing heavily, we lay captured in each other’s stare, our eyes saying what our lips would not. Moments passed, before Nash pulled out. Before escaping to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, he kissed my forehead, followed by my nose, and last my lips. Then he whispered, “Perfect.” If I was perfect, then there were no words to describe him.
While he was busy in the bathroom, I threw on his t-shirt and padded down to the kitchen to grab two bottles of water. While downstairs, I looked in on Maeve. Once I was satisfied that she was still sleeping soundly, I returned to Nash, who was back in bed and propped against the pillows, staring at the door with a smile on his face.
As I neared the bed, he held up his hand. “Don’t you dare get into this bed with that shirt on,” he warned.
“Or what?” I challenged. In the blink of an eye he was up off the bed and standing in front of me. As he pulled the shirt from my body, I giggled like a goof. He silenced my laughter with his lips, and I dropped the water bottles onto the floor as he tackled me onto the bed.
The second time around, Nash took his time. I’m pretty sure he touched and licked every inch of my body. By the time we were done loving each other, the sun was peeking through the blinds. Nash fell asleep first, while I stared at his wall with a huge smile on my face. I’d never felt anything like what I felt for Nash Bostwick. He was every fantasy come true and then some. Whatever came of this night, I knew that my heart would never be the same.
The sound of snoring woke me from a deep sleep. It was a small snore, but loud enough to bring me to full consciousness. As I lay there wrapped in Nash’s arms listening to him whistle through his nose, I tried to make heads or tails of my feelings. Last night was hands down the best night of my life. I couldn’t help but wonder if Nash felt the same. Before I allowed the doubts to creep in, I decided it was time to get up and get moving. Maeve should be up by now and in need of her morning dose of pain medication. By the time I’d extracted myself from Nash’s arms and made it back to my room, the clock read a quarter to noon. I was instantly worried. Maeve never slept past ten. The house was suddenly way too quiet. She should have bellowed up the stairs well before now. As I threw on the first clothes I could find, panic began to take root. Something was wrong. I could feel it in my bones.
As fast as my feet could carry me, I flew past Nash’s bedroom and down the stairs. Everything was just how I’d left it when I went to bed last night. Where was Maeve? There was only one reason why she wasn’t up and banging around downstairs and it was unconscionable…unfathomable…absolutely unacceptable.
“Please no. Please no.” I chanted as I pushed open her bedroom door. My hands flew to my mouth when I saw her lying in her bed. She looked asleep, but I knew better. “Please no,” I whispered as I stepped up beside her and pressed my fingers to the side of her neck. Not only was there no pulse, but her body felt cool to the touch. A sob escaped, followed by another, and pretty soon I was out and out weeping. How had I not seen this coming? How? “No. Oh, God, please no. I’m so, so, so sorry,” I chanted through my tears.
“Ro?” Nash asked from the doorway. I jerked my head up in surprise. His eyes froze on mine, before dropping to his mother. He looked back at me with pleading eyes, and my heart broke all over again.
“She’s gone,” I whispered through my tears.
Chapter Thirteen
Unfixable
Nash
I didn’t fully grasp what I was witnessing until Rowan lifted her pain-filled eyes to mine. My chest seized, and I fought to catch my breath. I didn’t want to see what was right in front of my face, but it was as if my eyes had a mind of their own, and I couldn’t help but look. There she was, my beautiful mother, so still, so lifeless, so…gone. I wanted to look away, but my eyes wouldn’t let me. I wanted to run, but my feet wouldn’t move. A part of me expected her to rise up and cackle with glee that she’d fooled us. Never, in my whole life, had I wanted to be fooled as much as I did at this moment. Rowan let out another sob, but I was numb to her pain because I was too busy drowning in mine. We were supposed to have more time together. There was more to say, so much more to do.
“Nash,” Rowan rasped. I held up my hand to stop her. Whatever she had to say wasn’t going to fix this. Nothing could fix this, because this was unfixable. “Nash, please,” Rowan begged, and suddenly I was angry. No, I was furious. We were supposed to have more time. I took a step back from the bed, followed by another. Rowan said my name again, but I was too far gone.
“Fuck!�
� I shouted as I reared back and slammed my fist into the wall. Pain resonated from my fingers up my arm, and I welcomed it. Rowan jumped, and let out another sob, but I didn’t care. I was too deep in my fucked up headspace to care. I turned to grab the first thing I could find, a metal tray that held our keys. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!” I shouted, and chucked it across the foyer. Keys shot in all directions as the tray careened into my mother’s favorite lamp. It fell with a crash onto the tile floor, and splintered into pieces. As I stared at those broken pieces, it hit me. My mother, the woman who had single handedly raised me, was gone. Never again would I see her smile. Never again would I hear the sound of her laughter. Never would I feel the warmth of her touch, or see the love in her eyes. There was no coming back from this, because this was the end. The realization of this literally dropped me to my knees. “Fuuuuuuuuuck,” I wailed. The pain was too much. There was nowhere to put it, no one to blame for it. It was like a flame burning me from the inside out. I was suffocating, drowning, dying. Only, I wasn’t dying. I just wished I was. Suddenly, Rowan was on the floor beside me, pulling me into her arms, calling me away from the darkness, attempting to piece me back together…my sweet, beautiful Rowan. Didn’t she realize? There was no putting me back together. I was irreparably broken. I was unfixable.
We stayed on the floor like that until I could no longer feel my legs. Until time lost all meaning, and meaning all sense. Slowly, reality began to seep back in, and with it, the realization that I’d just come completely unhinged.
“I’m sorry,” I rasped through my burning throat.
Rowan pulled back and glared at me as I wiped my eyes across the sleeve of my shirt. “Never apologize for how you feel,” she scolded.
I stared at my mother’s open doorway. I had no idea what to do. What came next?
As if reading my thoughts, Rowan said, “When you’re ready, I need to call the coroner’s office. They will send someone out to formally declare Maeve’s death. They will then transport her body to the funeral home, and we will proceed from there. I think that you should call Grant.” I stared at the pieces of the shattered lamp, and contemplated her words. Then I pushed myself from the floor and started up the stairs. “Nash?” Rowan called out.
“Call the coroner,” I told her. Once I reached my bedroom, I snagged my phone from my bed and dialed Grant’s number. The moment I heard his voice, I lost it. I managed to tell him that she was gone, but that’s all I could get out.
“Awww, shit! Just…shit!” I could tell from his lack of vocabulary as well as his tone that he was trying to keep it together for me. Grant loved my mother, and she him. After a long pause, he said, “I’m on my way, okay? You just hold on. I’m going to hang up and call Mal. She’ll help you and Rowan until I get there. I’m so sorry. I love you, man. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”
After I hung up with Grant, I sat on my bed staring at my walls. My thoughts were all over the place. Mom must have sensed that this was coming. Otherwise, why insist that we clean her shit out yesterday instead of waiting until the end of the tour? Was she in more pain than she let us believe? If so, then why didn’t she say something? I thought back to last night, and physically cringed. While my mother was dying, I was nailing her caregiver. God, I was such a fucking dick. Yep, that’s me, useless to the bitter end. The doorbell rang, but I was too busy wallowing in misery to acknowledge it.
“Nash, the coroner is here!” Rowan called out a few minutes later. I didn’t want to deal with him, this…my mother, but I knew that I would never forgive myself if I didn’t. So I manned up and went downstairs to say my final goodbyes to the best woman I’d ever known.
* * *
Two days later…
“Maeve would have loved this,” Mallory whispered.
“Are you kidding? She’s up there laughing at us freezing our nads off out here.” As accurate as Grant’s teeth chattering response may have been, it hurt to hear. Then again, at the moment everything hurt.
Grant made good on his promise. Not only did he show up, but he brought the entire gang, minus Chaz, along with him. Mallory drove up as the coroner was taking Mom’s body away. After hugs, which were accompanied by more tears, she helped us put Mom’s plan into action. Or should I say she helped Rowan, while I just sat there like a numb bystander.
During Meltdown’s last tour, Mom and Rowan turned our backyard pool area into an oasis. They put down pavers, planted flowers, and even started a vegetable garden. Mom told Rowan that she wanted her ashes to be scattered in the yard, and a sitting area with a bench made to commemorate her life. I thought it was a silly idea, until today. Today it wasn’t silly. It was beautiful, and way too damn heartbreakingly final. I could feel Rowan’s eyes on me, but all I could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other and not falling flat on my face. Rowan needed me and I was failing her. I wanted her near, but not too close. I was angry. Not at Rowan, per se, but at the entire situation. The fact that Rowan and I were upstairs going at it like rabbits while Mom was downstairs dying had seriously fucked with my head. I had yet to find a way through it. I still wanted Rowan. I just had to get rid of the guilt before I let myself have her.
“The bench is beautiful, Nash,” Grant’s mother, Melba, said. She and Grant’s dad, Erwin, had flown in from their house in the Bahamas late last night. My eyes shifted to Rowan. The depth of her pain felt like a living, breathing thing. Before it swallowed me whole, I quickly looked away.
Grant picked up his guitar, and I braced for what was about to come. “You ready?” he asked.
Grant approached me yesterday about playing Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground at the ceremony. It was my mother’s favorite song. He wasn’t sure he could make it all the way through without breaking down, and wondered if I would have a problem with Evan singing it. I didn’t care who sang it as long as it wasn’t me.
Evan nodded, and Grant began playing. Willie’s version was legend, but I had to admit that Evan Walker was a damn close second. My mother would have loved it. She would have also loved Evan. I was sorry they’d never had the chance to meet.
Once the song was over, we filed into the house for warmth and food. Grant’s housekeeper Ava, Mallory, and her best friend CiCilia had spent most of the day yesterday preparing food, while Grant and the guys watched football. Rowan helped me finalized things with my lawyer and the crematorium. At least, she helped as much as I would let her, which really wasn’t that much.
Before Grant took everyone back to his place, Blane insisted that we decide on whether or not we were going to finish out the tour. That’s all he’d talked about since he’d arrived, and I was getting sick and damn tired of it. Hell, I was sick and damn tired of him. All eyes moved to me. I didn’t know what to say.
“Just say the word and it’s over,” Grant told me.
“Either way, there’s a lot of money riding on this,” Blane pushed.
“Don’t push,” Mallory scolded. I shot her a grateful look. The girl was a pit bull. The more I was around her, the more I liked her.
“What would your mother want?” Evan asked.
“Maeve would kick his ass if she knew he was even thinking about walking away,” Grant said.
In the end, it was Rowan that decided it for me. I was afraid that if I stayed, I would ruin everything. That’s not what I wanted. I had to get my head on straight. In order to do that, I needed time. I glanced over at the object of my thoughts, and my heart sank. She was staring at the floor as if she already knew what I was going to say.
“Let’s do it,” I said, and everyone rushed me at once. After hugs from the women and back slaps from the men, everyone said their goodbyes. As I shut the door behind them, I stared up at Rowan’s closed door.
Now came the hard part.
Chapter Fourteen
Gone
Rowan
Nash had made his decision. He was going back on tour. I can’t say I was surprised by this, especially after how he’d been acting over the past fe
w days. No, I wasn’t surprised at all. Nash was a runner. Well, so was I, and it was time for me to go.
“You didn’t say goodbye to everyone.”
I stared at the doorway, where he was standing, and shrugged. He stepped inside the room, and I felt trapped. Trapped in his stare. Trapped by my need for him. Trapped.
“It’s only two weeks, Ro.”
He acted as if it was no big deal, as if he hadn’t spent the past two days avoiding me, neglecting me…blaming me. Well, he needed to take a number, because I blamed me. I should have known that Maeve was worse off than she’d led me to believe. She was a trickster at heart and I was her number one fool. God, how I miss her. Nash stepped closer.
I narrowed my eyes at him, and said, “Don’t worry. I’ll be gone when you get back.”
“Don’t.” His quiet response sounded like a plea. I waited for him to explain, but all he said was, “Stay.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”