Abandon

by Rachel Van Dyken

  His.

  I would die before I admitted that to him.

  It was hard enough admitting it to myself.

  We rode the elevator in silence as water dripped off his brown hair onto the floor. When the door dinged, he remained silent as he brought my stuff down a hall with hardwood floors and bright blue paint, then stopped at the end.

  He ran the keycard and kicked the door open. I was immediately hit with the smell of the ocean as a breeze picked up through the lavish condo.

  It was beautiful, with bright blues, whites, and wood accents that made the furnished place look modern and welcoming. The kitchen had white granite countertops, a full gas range, and a dishwasher that I knew Zane would sell his soul before using because you know…he couldn’t fix it.

  It almost made me laugh, thinking about Zane.

  But Zane wouldn’t fix this. He couldn’t.

  “I’ll take the guest room. You take the master.” Ty stomped by me. I grabbed his arm to pull him back, but he just shoved away and kept walking. “Remember, no words. You can’t argue, you can’t yell. Just get your shit and try not to snore too loud.”

  I let out a grunt and rolled my eyes.

  “Heard that.” He paused at the door. “And you snore like a friggin’ train unless you wear those white things on your nose, whatever the hell they’re called. Remember, I know you.”

  His confession hung between us.

  I wanted to say, “not anymore.”

  I wanted to argue and tell him that I was different.

  But the really sad part was that he was right. I was exactly the same girl that had walked away. The same scared woman who had ignored the sound of her heart breaking and made the final cut.

  Because sometimes you did what you had to do to keep it from hurting worse. And I knew that loving Ty Cuban would end up destroying me.

  I’d promised myself a long time ago that I would never let a man do that.

  No matter how much of my heart he owned.

  No matter how many parts of his I held.

  Chapter Six

  Ty

  I could hear her breathing.

  I didn’t think about that. I was too focused on the words, too fixated on the anger that I kept firmly in place so I didn’t do something stupid like confess everything to her. Or apologize and crawl on my hands and knees in her general direction like a total ass before I burst into tears.

  Okay, so I wouldn’t cry.

  I wouldn’t admit that the one time I did wasn’t at my parents’ funeral—I was too young. No, it was when Abs had walked out of my life and never came back.

  Love had a way of being both the best thing that could ever happen to you and the worst thing you could feel. Because once you experienced the rightness of it, you knew exactly what you were missing when it was gone.

  And there was nothing in this world that could fill that gaping hole in your soul the way love did.

  Call it the science of breakups.

  Nothing worked.

  Not drugs.

  Not alcohol.

  Not music.

  Not space.

  Not even time. Because the memories were always there, and it was incredible how easy it was for your brain to conjure up smells, tastes, and feelings.

  And since both Abigail’s and my career had erupted at the same time? Everything related to music was also tethered to her.

  I put a pillow over my head and yelled into it.

  She was desperate. But I felt like a weak piece of shit for letting her stay with me. I hated those guys: the ones that just wanted one morsel of the girl that got away and were willing to do anything, even exchange their dicks, for a pussy. Just so they could have one last look, taste, fill, call it whatever you wanted. I hated those guys.

  They sucked.

  The last thing I needed was to become that guy. Because I knew if she hurt me again, I would literally have nothing left.

  And it was a terrifying thought, to say the least.

  I put the pillow back behind my head and turned to my side, touching the wall with my fingertips like the biggest loser on the planet. I wondered how many inches separated the space between us. If I pressed my ear to the wall, would I hear her crying because of the storm? Or was she just dreaming about stabbing me in my sleep?

  It was a toss-up. I mean, it always had been with us.

  The thunder cracked again, scaring the shit out of me as I jumped out of bed and shut the guest bedroom window.

  This was ridiculous.

  At least I wouldn’t have to see her at the music camp since Drew had gone to bat for me. I was headed to Trevor’s studio to help with his music students. He was so thankful that he could have more time with the kids and his new fiancée that I actually felt relief that I was finally helping and not making a mess of things.

  It hadn’t always been that way.

  You knew there was something terrifyingly wrong when Drew, the f-up of the group, told you to put your big boy pants on.

  Thunder cracked again.

  Yeah, I was getting zero sleep tonight.

  I grabbed my guitar on my way out to the living room, then snatched up one of my sharp number-two pencils from my satchel, along with my old, ratty, blue music notebook and sat on the couch. The front cover of the journal was almost completely torn off and had stickers from places I’d visited covering it. No matter how many times I tried to buy a new one, I still kept this one and just stapled more pages into it. Maybe it was stupid, but it was a comfort to me.

  The room was dark.

  Silent.

  Just the way I liked it.

  I loved the power behind the drums, but there was something so intimate about playing the acoustic—just me, my Gibson Les Paul, and my voice.

  I strummed a few chords, switched to G, and kept strumming as my mind decided to torture me by way of memories.

  So many damn memories.

  “You go first.” Abs laughed. “Come on, pleeeeease?”

  I pointed a drumstick at her. “I can’t believe I agreed to do this.”

  “Shut up. Yes, you can. This is what lovers do!” She sang the last part. It was one of our songs. I would kill her later. She shimmied out of her swimsuit top. Just kidding, I would maul her later and apologize for the loss of oxygen after I was done tasting.

  I tossed my drumsticks onto the grass, looked over my shoulder, and then shoved down my boxer shorts and slowly looked over the cliff. “Shit, that’s high.”

  “C’mon, all the kids are doing it, Ty!” She slapped me on the back, making me stumble toward the rocky side.

  It was maybe fifteen feet high, but it was dark outside, which made it creepier. We were somewhere in Costa Rica, had no security with us, and would probably die. Hey, at least we’d be together! We’d lost security a few miles back because we needed time. Things had gotten really crazy with our band and with her new album, and I couldn’t stand being in the tour bus one more hour.

  This was Abs’ bright idea. I would have been happy going for a walk.

  She was the risk-taker. I was the one who looked like I took risks but preferred a whiskey neat by the fireplace. She was always ready to go running naked down the streets with paint on her face.

  “Ready?” She was naked. So bare. Fresh ink visible down her neck. I loved the tat. I’d helped her draw it. She had done a few stars and then had them hanging from this tree as it went down her right arm. Gorgeous. So beautiful. Just like her.

  “No, I’m really not.” I laughed. “Why are we doing this again?”

  “To prove our love?”

  “Oh, so if I don’t die, then it’s true?”

  “Exactly!” She beamed. “I knew you weren’t stupid.”

  “Bite me.” I flipped her off and then reached for her hand. “Do we count to three?”

  “Aww, does the great, sexy Ty Cuban need to do a countdown to find his dick?”

  “Cool. So, I’m probably drowning you when we get down there.”
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  “If we make it.”

  I cursed. “Not helping, Abs.”

  “You go first.” She nudged.

  And because I was a man and needed to prove myself, I hiked up my skirt, okay not really but mentally at least, and stared down at the water. Even at night, it looked blue by the caves. “Promise you’ll follow?”

  “Always,” she whispered. “I’ll always follow you.”

  I jumped.

  I’d thought it would scare me. Instead, a strong hit of adrenaline surged through my limbs as I flew through the air and slammed into the warm water. My first thought was: okay, I have to do that again and make sure I do a backflip or something equally sick that we can post to social media.

  “Watch me fly!” she yelled and then jumped off, all open grins and arms spread wide. She landed a few feet from me and swam over, water cascading over her naked body. “My landing was better.”

  “Meh. My splash was bigger. Call it even?”

  “Never!” She splashed at me playfully.

  I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her against me. “My dick’s bigger than yours. There, I win.”

  “I have boobs.” She grabbed my hands. I needed no encouragement to cup them, squeeze them with my palms, massage. Damn, I was going to drown, wasn’t I? But what a great way to go.

  I groaned. “You win, I surrender. Can we have sex now?”

  “Aw, what a gentleman. You asked this time!” she teased, pulling away.

  I jerked her back against me. I was already straining for her, pulsing with a need that I couldn’t explain, and only she could satisfy. I whispered against her ear, “I love you. Even though you make me want to do this…” I shoved her down.

  When she came up, she spat water in my face.

  So I shoved her down again.

  This went on for at least twenty minutes before we heard shouting and saw flashlight beams. We quickly swam back to the bottom of the cliff where the beach met the rocks and hid.

  I’d never been colder in my life.

  We held hands on that rocky beach until the flashlights were gone, and then we walked naked, hand-in-hand, to the car.

  And laughed the entire way back to the tour bus.

  “I just want to lay with you,” I sang in a deep voice. “I just want to lay with you and hear your voice. Don’t disappoint me by being a dream again. Just let me believe again…” My heart hammered in my chest as I felt eyes on me and slowly turned.

  Abs was in nothing but a long, old band T-shirt—my T-shirt. I hated her in that moment. Hated that she would do this to me. That she would keep something that was mine, ours. Something shared.

  “Who’s the girl?” She walked toward me, all long legs with ink on her left thigh and a few tattoos on the top of her foot.

  “I’m not sure I know her anymore,” I confessed sadly as my eyes flickered to her breasts and away. Old habits. “Does it even matter?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re talking,” I reminded her with a scowl.

  She sat down across from me and propped her legs up on the coffee table. Her toenails were purple, and she had a little tiger tattoo on her big toe. “About that. It’s past midnight. You said no talking, which I assumed meant until a new day. And, weird, when midnight happens, a new day begins. Crazy, I know…” She made a motion with her hands in the air. “Boom. Science.”

  “Boom.” I flipped her off. “Leave me alone, I’m not in the mood.”

  “You never write at night.” It almost sounded like a question. It felt a hell of a lot like prying. Easy conversation. It felt a hell of a lot like digging.

  “Really?” I set down my guitar. “Do you really want to do this?”

  “You’ll probably lose your security deposit,” she said in a challenging tone that set my body on fire. Damn it, I loved fighting with her almost as much as I loved her.

  Had loved.

  Past tense.

  Get it through your thick skin, heart…past freaking tense.

  “I’m loaded. I think I can handle a few broken dishes. You’re a horrible shot, though. Do you really want the china to suffer your inability to throw like a dude?”

  “All I have to do is hit one tiny, little”—she pointed her foot at my dick—“thing.”

  “Don’t insult us both by lying about the biggest thing you’ve ever had in your mouth. It’s not cute. It’s just sad.” I knew it was a low blow and that I’d basically demeaned her, but I couldn’t handle it, not now. Not in the dark, and especially not during a thunderstorm.

  Really, not now. Not ever.

  I shot to my feet and walked past her. She reached out and grabbed my wrist. I stood there, the pain of her touch so severe, I had a hard time catching my breath. And she was barely touching me.

  I wasn’t ready for this battle.

  For this war.

  “I’m sorry,” she choked out.

  “Wow,” I cackled. “How much did that cost you? Your soul? Oh, wait…” I jerked away from her.

  “Scared,” she whispered. “I got scared.”

  “Shit, Abs.” I hung my head. “I can’t just make the thunder go away. But even I’m not heartless enough to tell you ‘tough shit.’” Unfortunately.

  “I know.”

  It was too close to the memories.

  Too close to home.

  And yet, I couldn’t be the asshole ex-boyfriend who just left her there. So I walked into my bedroom, grabbed a pillow and blanket, and then charged back out into the living room. I threw everything on the floor with all the aggression of a man who hated and hurt with the same intensity that he loved.

  “T-thank you,” she murmured.

  “I want a ninety-minute massage for what I’m putting my body through tonight, got me? And from an actual spa. Not a little coupon you give me and sign and then never follow through on.” I turned to look at her.

  With a stunned expression, she nodded her head slowly. “As much as it pains me to admit this—”

  “Don’t,” I interrupted, horrified at how fast my body heated up in all the wrong places. How could you hate someone so much but still want them the way I did?

  It wasn’t fair.

  Life. Wasn’t. Fair.

  “We’re adults. It’s been ten years. I can handle myself.” She rolled her eyes. “As long as you don’t suffocate me with that pillow there…”

  “Lovely daydream,” I said in a sing-song voice as I jumped to my feet and stomped like an angry teen into the master bedroom. I hurled my body onto the left side of the bed and closed my eyes.

  I felt the bed dip.

  Heard the sound of her legs sliding along the sheets.

  Tortured myself with the sighs that followed.

  And only realized right before my eyes were heavy with sleep that we’d both just gone into default mode.

  Me on the left, her on the right.

  Me on top because I got hot, her under the sheets because she got cold.

  The only thing missing were the two hearts straining toward each other.

  Instead, we were two people falling asleep with broken pieces scattered around us, still searching for a way to be whole again.

  Chapter Seven

  Abigail

  It had been years since I’d slept that well. And as luck would have it, the thunder just had to happen the night I lay in his bed.

  Just like that night so many years ago.

  When everything had changed.

  The thunder had been so loud, the lightning like a bad omen as it slashed across the sky in warning. It had been my alert from the universe.

  I turned to Ty. He was still sleeping. His hair poked up all over the place, his skin tan against the cool, white sheets. He looked so peaceful lying there, as if he didn’t have a care in the world. When all I felt was the oppressive weight of what it felt like to share a bed with him.

  “What?” He didn’t open his eyes. “What could you possibly need this early in the morning with the monst
ers gone?”

  I rolled my eyes, grabbed my pillow, and slammed it over his head. What could I say? He brought out the worst in me and was ruining the peace and quiet when all I wanted was to offer a ceasefire so that we could prevent murder that summer.

  The pillow hit him square in the face. His eyes flashed open and then narrowed as he grabbed his own pillow and slammed it onto my body. I tried getting away, but he’d always been faster, stronger. He grabbed me by the hips and slammed me back against the mattress then straddled me, pillow held high. “It’s only six a.m., and I was going to sleep in. Now, I wake up to you not only plotting my murder but also hitting me with a pillow? You really want to start this?”

  I gulped. He was naked from the waist up. Glorious muscles flexed within reach of my fingertips. I didn’t mean to reach out and touch his abs or to trace my finger down his chest, running along the guitar tattoo I’d helped design when we were on tour together the last time.

  When everything ended.

  “You didn’t cover it,” I whispered, my hand still pressed against his skin.

  Slowly, he lowered the pillow, his face hard. “This feels like a distraction.”

  “Sorry.” I started jerking my hand away when he snatched it in his and squeezed.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  It was too much.

  Touching him was worse than having him because it reminded me of what I was missing without him ever giving me a taste of it.

  Our issues had never been our attraction to each other.

  Or even the fighting.

  It had been deeper than that. And yet, lying there with Ty on top of me, with him clutching my hand so tightly it almost hurt, I couldn’t find any solid reason for why I’d walked away.

  And that was the problem. He was good at making me forget.

  Just like he was good at justifying things that were big issues.

  He was all smooth words, perfect voice, playful, and protective. He was everything you wanted in a man. The only issue was that every single breathing female knew it.