Crash and Burn (Love You Like A Love Song #1)

by Michele Callahan

  She moaned and squirmed. Oh, yeah. She was still fucking hot for him. So damn hot.

  Reluctant, but resigned, he pulled free from her heat before turning her around. He lifted her into the cradle of his arms. Kissing her in earnest, he tugged on her lip and carried her up the stairs to the master bathroom’s oversized shower.

  When he had the water running, he took his time pulling the pins from her hair and removing her wig. He felt like he was the only member of a secret club, the only one she trusted enough to let him see this side of her, this vulnerable, sensual side.

  He had forty-eight hours of bliss. Two days until she’d be gone from his life forever.

  So tonight, he would make sure she could never forget his touch, his possession. From a thousand miles away, he wanted her to yearn for him, ache to feel his fingers on her skin and his cock filling her up.

  She helped him strip her naked and he shed his clothes until they stood staring at each other. He took his time looking her over as the bathroom clouded with steam from the shower.

  Every curve begged to be explored. And he wanted to take his sweet fucking time. He’d already come twice tonight, but looking at her softly rounded hips and tight waist made his entire body buzz. He still owed her a few orgasms. Time to pay up. After she squirmed and gasped and begged, he’d take her again.

  He let his gaze wander from her face to her lips, down her neck to her small, perfect breasts. Just below her left globe he saw a dark swirl of ink. The black calligraphy spelled out one short word over her heart.

  Truth.

  Lifting his gaze back to hers, he noticed her jaw had clenched, as if she were waiting for him to make a smart-ass comment about her ink.

  “Truth?” He placed his hands at her waist and pulled her closer, skin to skin.

  “It’s the only thing that really matters.”

  “What about love?”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight. “Nothing matters without truth. Not love or forgiveness. Nothing. The truth is what got me through rehab. Facing the truth about my parents was the only way I could forgive them. Truth is everything.”

  He lifted her in his arms and stepped into the shower. He planned to soap up every inch of her skin, then use his mouth on her until she couldn’t take any more. He wanted to know every sound she made, and every trigger that would send her over the edge.

  Before the night was over, he would make her tremble, and beg, and whisper his name until he was confident she could never forget. He never wanted her to forget. Hell, he never wanted to let her go.

  But he would, because he had to. Because she was a comet, and he was just the moon admiring her beauty as she streaked by him going a hundred thousand miles an hour to somewhere else, someplace better. He’d love her, then he’d set her free.

  And that was the truth.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A faint ringing noise penetrated the deep fog of sleep and Erin lifted one heavy eyelid.

  The soft sound of the rock ballad ringtone she used for her brother hummed at her from deep inside her bag, which lay on the floor next to her hastily discarded clothing in Chance’s bathroom.

  Chance’s arm wrapped around her waist. By the deep, even sound of his breathing, he was completely out of it. She held still and soaked up the sensation of the hard, masculine length pressed to her back. She felt completely sheltered, well-loved, and blissfully content not to move. Ever.

  Shit. She didn’t even want to get up and find out what her brother wanted. He was probably in jail, or stuck in the middle of nowhere, drunk, with no cab fare or ride home.

  She squinted at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 3:21 a.m. Why was her brother calling her in the middle of the night?

  The urge to ignore the call and stay in Chance’s arms was strong, but she knew if she didn’t drag her ass out of that bed, she’d wonder what her brother needed for the rest of the night and not get any sleep anyway.

  With a sigh, she slid out from Chance’s embrace and padded, naked, to the bathroom. She closed the door most of the way, but didn’t latch it, and flipped on the light, blinking in pain at the burst of brightness.

  Squinting, she dug through her bag and pulled out her phone. It had stopped ringing, but her voicemail icon was on, so she dialed in and listened.

  This call is for Ms. Erin Michaelson. You are listed in the emergency contacts of Alex James Michaelson’s cell phone. Please return my call as soon as possible and ask for Evelyn, I’m the intake coordinator at Saint Lawrence’s Hospital in Denver and we have your brother here. I need to speak to a family member as soon as possible.

  The caller stated her telephone number twice, slowly, but Erin was shaking. She sank down to sit on the side of the bathtub, her mind racing.

  What happened to AJ? Car accident? Overdose? Was he dead? No, not dead. The woman hadn’t said dead. But would they even say that over the phone? Maybe he was in surgery? Or he’d been at a bar and run his mouth and some asshole had shot him?

  Her mind raced faster than she could keep track of all the possible horrors, until a knock sounded on the door.

  “Erin?”

  When she didn’t answer, Chance cracked the door open farther and peeked inside. One look at her face and he was next to her.

  “What is it? Are you all right?”

  She leaned into him and welcomed the heat of his arms as they wrapped around her. “The hospital just called. They admitted AJ.”

  “What happened? Is it serious?”

  “I don’t know. I have to call them back.”

  “Okay. Call them back. I’ve got you.” He lifted her into his lap and she cuddled into his arms with her head on his shoulder.

  “I need the number.” She put the phone on speaker and dialed her voicemail again. Chance held her as the message played. She hit the repeat key until she had the number down, then hung up and redialed the hospital.

  Evelyn answered on the second ring. “St. Lawrence. This is Evelyn.”

  “Hi. This is Erin Michaelson. You left me a message about my brother, Alex. Is he all right?”

  “Erin. Alex was hurt tonight. He was brought in about an hour ago, but I want you to know that he’s in very good hands.”

  “What’s wrong with him? What happened?”

  “I think you should just come in, Ms. Michaelson.”

  “Tell me what’s wrong with my brother.”

  “I’m here until seven. If you can’t get here by then, you can talk to Shirley. I’ll make sure she is up to speed.”

  “Fuck that. Tell me. What happened to AJ?”

  “He’s alive. He’s in surgery, right now. That’s all I can say over the phone. Please drive safely and I’ll see you when you get here.”

  Erin hung up and leaned into Chance, who wrapped his arms around her.

  “He’ll be okay, Erin. He’s a tough kid.”

  She shook her head. Her eyes ached, but there were no tears. “You should have seen his face this morning, when I told him I was quitting the band. This is my fault.”

  “No. I won’t let you play the guilt card here. That’s bullshit, Erin. AJ makes his own choices. You know that. That’s the truth.”

  “I know.” And she did, in her head. But her heart told her something else. “Will you take me to the hospital? I can take a taxi if you don’t want to drive me over there.”

  “Get dressed. I’ll drive. You’re not calling a fucking stranger.” His angry tone was oddly comforting.

  <><><>

  She hated hospitals almost as much as she loved whiskey. And right now, she really, really wanted to drown herself in a bottle of whiskey and drink herself into sweet oblivion.

  “I never should have given up drinking.”

  “It’ll be okay, Erin. I’m right here with you.” Chance squeezed her hand and led her down the hall as they followed Evelyn to the Intensive Care Unit. AJ had just come out of surgery and the doctor was waiting to talk to her.

  “Don�
�t leave me.” Erin held tight to his hand and her free hand wrapped around his forearm in a death grip. Just having him with her made her feel stronger.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Evelyn asked a nurse to buzz them through a set of electronically sealed doors and they followed her into a small waiting area that smelled like disinfectant and old coffee. An older gentleman stood waiting for them. He had on surgical green scrubs, booties over his feet, and a cap over his hair. He looked like he was about sixty, and his eyes were laser sharp but too serious.

  “This is Ms. Michaelson, Alex’s sister. Ms. Michaelson, this is Doctor Avery. He performed your brother’s surgery.” Evelyn made the introductions and Erin was glad that Chance held her left hand so she could shake the doctor’s hand with her right, because she couldn’t make herself let go of him. Not yet.

  Evelyn patted her on the shoulder. “When you’re ready, come downstairs. I’ve got more paperwork, and the police would like to talk to you.”

  “The police?”

  Evelyn nodded. “The detective wanted me to give him a call when you arrived. I’ll go do that. Come downstairs whenever you’re ready. No rush.” She left them alone with the doctor, who pulled his cap from his head and tossed it in a nearby trash container to reveal steel-gray hair thinning into high widow peaks. His eyes were sharp, but lined with fatigue and the expression in them made Erin tighten her grip on Chance, but she couldn’t stand to wait another second. Somebody was going to tell her something. Now.

  “Is he okay? No one will tell me anything.”

  “Your brother was shot three times at close range. I don’t know any details. You’ll have to talk to the police about that.”

  “Shot?” Erin felt her legs wobble, but she closed her eyes for a few seconds and held it together as the surgeon continued listing AJ’s injuries like he was a news anchor giving a nightly report about the weather, not talking about her brother’s life.

  “He took a bullet to the left shoulder, buttock and chest, but the last one lodged in a rib and didn’t get to his heart. Luckily, it was a small caliber pistol, or things could have been much worse.”

  Erin couldn’t take it, she had to sit down. Frantic to find a chair before she collapsed, she twisted her head left and right, looking for one, but nothing registered. “I have to sit down.”

  She really mumbled the words to herself, but Chance led her to a hard plastic chair along the wall and she sank onto it, shaking.

  The doctor followed, his eyes a tad warmer, not as hard.

  “Try to remain calm. Your brother is in critical condition, and we’ll have to monitor him closely for the next twenty-four hours, but he’s stable and the surgery went well. I’m optimistic that he’ll pull through without complications. He should be fine. He seems like a tough kid.”

  “He is.” They both were, because they’d had to learn early. But AJ had never recovered from losing their mom. Not completely. He’d numbed his pain with drugs, booze and sex, but never faced it.

  Erin had processed their mother’s death, accepted that her mother was weak, selfish and wounded. Erin had done her best to move on, to make something of herself. But this? This felt like losing her mom all over again. This ripped every wound raw, reopened old scars, opened up a very deep well of agony and guilt that would put her down faster than a gunshot to the head.

  And she couldn’t go back to that dark place. She wouldn’t survive there. It would kill her.

  The band was gone. Her brother was shot and she was losing Chance in less than forty-eight hours.

  Chance’s hand rubbed up and down her back in an offer of comfort, but his touch hurt, seared her like a branding iron.

  Too much pain. Too much. She stood and stepped away from Chance’s warmth. She couldn’t lean on him. Not anymore. He was going to be out of her life in a matter of hours. She had to be strong enough to stand on her own.

  The surgeon cleared his throat. “He’s in recovery right now, but they’ll wheel him upstairs in a couple of hours. I’ll make sure the nurses let you know right away. In the meantime, there’s nothing you can do but wait.”

  “And talk to the cops.”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t help you with that. But we’ll take good care of your brother.” The doctor nodded to her and Chance and disappeared behind another set of swinging double doors.

  Erin watched the doors close and felt a bizarre sense of déjà vu. This was exactly how it happened with her mom. The doctor disappeared behind a set of double doors, in a hard, sterile hallway. That day, it had been twelve-year-old AJ sitting next to her, AJ holding her hand. AJ, with his big, sad blue eyes and dimples asking her what it all meant. Asking her where their dad was, and when they could go home.

  The social worker had come for them two hours later. They’d never gone home again.

  “Oh, my God. I can’t leave him. I can’t.” Erin raised her hands to cover her face and held back her tears by sheer force of will and years of practice. “I can’t go to L.A.”

  Chance’s arms came around her and she stood stiffly in his embrace, but didn’t push him away. Her heart cracked in her chest, splintered into a hundred shards along old fault lines, and she realized that she’d never really been whole, not since she was fourteen. No, for even longer than that.

  AJ was the only one who had ever really loved her. Her brother was all she had, was all she’d ever had. She shook her head and leaned her forehead against Chance’s chest. “I can’t leave him.”

  Chance rubbed her back and tried to pull her in closer, but she resisted and he stopped. “You have to go, Erin. It’s just for a couple days.”

  “No. You don’t understand. I can’t leave him.”

  “Erin, look at me.”

  Reluctant, but determined to be strong, she lowered her hands from her face and lifted her gaze to meet his.

  “AJ loves you. He wouldn’t want you to give up your future. Not because of this.”

  “Wes will understand.” She shook her head, knew it for a lie, but so did Chance, and he kept talking.

  “No. He won’t. This is why he has his rules about addicts and alcoholics.”

  “No.” Chance was right, but her rage at AJ needed an outlet, and Chance was so close. So open to it. The anger and worry boiled up inside her and she clenched her teeth to keep it from boiling over onto him. She felt the emotions rolling through her chest, threatening to explode out of her in epic explosion of bitchiness.

  “You have to go, do the show. You’ll be back on Monday. There’s nothing you can do for him from here. Nothing but sit in a hospital chair and worry.”

  “He needs me.”

  Chance’s hands closed around her shoulders and he held her tightly. “No. He doesn’t. He needs to dry out and get his shit together. He’s a mess, Erin. And there’s nothing you can do for him. He has to make the decision. He was to come clean on his own. No one can do it for him.”

  “I can help him.”

  Chance leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. “No, babe. You can’t. No one can help him. He has to want to help himself.”

  Chance escorted her to Evelyn’s office, but she made a quick detour to the bathroom and called Todd and Ricky. AJ would want his friends here.

  She allowed Chance to lead her to Evelyn’s office, then tried to ignore him as he sat silent while she talked to the police officer who arrived to ask her about AJ’s life.

  Erin was shocked to realize she didn’t know much about her brother. The longer the detective talked, the worse it got. Drug deals. Gambling. Booze and parties and stolen cars.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I barely see my brother unless we’re rehearsing or playing a gig.” And that was probably her fault, too. When was the last time she’ d made an effort to talk to him? To find out what was going on in his life? Months. It had been months.

  “Thank you for your time, Ms. Michaelson. If you think of anything else, or find anything that may lead us to the men who shot your broth
er, give me a call.” The detective handed her a business card with his cell phone number and her brother’s case number written on it in black pen.

  “Okay. I will.” She slid the card into her phone case, right next to Wesley Shipton’s card, and stared at the two edges where they rested side-by-side. Two cards. Two different worlds. And now she had to choose. Because Chance was right. If she didn’t make that performance in two days, Shipton Records would move on. There were a thousand girls like her sitting in their bedrooms right now with a guitar on their laps, singing and writing music.

  “Erin? You want to go back upstairs and check on AJ? He’s probably still in recovery.” Chance looked exhausted, but gorgeous. He’d thrown on jeans and an athletic shirt that hugged every muscle and curve his chest and shoulders. Such wide shoulders. It would be so easy to need him, to rely on his strength.

  Yeah, for two days, bitch. Then he’s gone. The voice came from her deepest self, the heart and soul of her. The part of her that she relied on to be strong. That was the voice that got her through rehab and kept her off the bottle. That was the voice that strutted onstage as Eva James, full of confidence and swagger. And that full-on bitch of an inner voice was right. She couldn’t lean on Chance, he was temporary. He had a life and a career. He’d get married to some uptight secretary who wore pearls to work, have two-point-five perfect children that went to private school and host steak and lobster dinner parties.

  That wasn’t her world. That could never be her life. She had to let Chance go and deal with this herself. She had to cut it clean, for both of them.

  “No. I don’t want to go up there yet.” They were alone in a small room set aside for just this sort of thing. A desk, a couple chairs, the token landscape photograph on the wall, and complete privacy for police interrogations, for telling children that their mother was dead, and taking them away from their deadbeat father.

  She guessed it was as good a place as any for ending things with a boyfriend, too. Because Chance was right about one thing. She had to go to L.A. She had to do that show. AJ was going to need months to recover, nursing care, physical therapy, doctor’s visits, medication. And the hospital bill… God, she didn’t even want to think about that.