Abandon

by Rachel Van Dyken

  I shook my head no. “Anyways, I’ll just borrow one of Trevor’s acoustics, and we can get started. What’s your name?”

  “Connor,” the kid said in a proud voice. He had shaggy brown hair, was wearing one of our band T-shirts, and had shoes with holes in them. I immediately wanted to buy him a brand-new set of kicks but figured that would be weird since he barely knew me and probably thought I was a serial killer now that I’d destroyed a guitar in front of him.

  “Cool name, bro.” I offered a wide smile. “Let’s head into the studio, yeah?”

  He shrugged.

  Ah, ten-year-olds.

  Was I ever that young?

  Memories slammed into me, recollections of playing at every single venue I could find just so I could escape my home life. Not that it was anything exciting. My aunt didn’t care until I started raking it in.

  I played my first coffee shop at this kid’s age and could have easily gotten kidnapped if someone would have given me a home-cooked meal. Yup. Would have walked right into that van and said, “thank you.”

  “Is your guitar gonna be okay?” Connor asked once I gave him a stool to sit on and grabbed a chair of my own.

  I smiled. “Yeah, man, like the guys said, we do that all the time to make sure that the durability of the wood will last through the entire tour.” Talking out of my assssssss.

  “Cool, should I do it, too?” He started lifting his guitar over his head.

  “No!” I put my hands out and pulled the instrument back down to his lap. “Let’s maybe just focus on some chords before you go full rock star. It’s kind of like going full hulk. Once you do it, it’s almost impossible to go back.”

  “Ohhhhhh.” He nodded his head. “Cool.”

  “I like you, kid, you get my Marvel references,” I teased.

  “Marvel is better than DC.”

  “Except for Wonder Woman,” I pointed out.

  He laughed. “She’s pretty.”

  “You blushing, bro?”

  “No.” He looked away. His cheeks were pink, and I couldn’t hold in my laugh as he kicked my chair.

  “All right, all right.” I smiled. “Let’s start with something simple. I always teach people With or Without You by U2 because it’s one of the easiest songs to play on the guitar. You like U2?”

  “Yeah!” He seemed excited.

  “Let’s do it.” I forced myself to forget about the fact that I’d just ruined one of my favorite guitars in a fit of rage, in front of a child no less. I forced myself to think about the music and nothing but.

  And, Abigail?

  Well, she could just burn in hell for all I cared.

  I was hurting.

  A part of me was at least able to acknowledge that, but the anger was back, and I was actually relieved that it was because it was a hell of a lot better than that hopelessness I felt last night when I realized that I’d pined for someone for over a decade—someone who never even gave me a second thought.

  The girl that got away.

  Actually did.

  Damn, that ached.

  Burned.

  Made it hard to breathe.

  Because I knew that a part of me had always held on to hope that things would work out. That the story would have this magical ending of our own making. That the universe would do me a solid because I’d turned my life around. But, no, the universe didn’t care about me. Who was I? Compared to everything else going on?

  Maybe God was too busy for me.

  “Like this?” Connor asked.

  “Yup, just like that.” I positioned his hands and showed him how to strum, giving him one of my pics.

  The time flew by.

  An hour later, I was helping him pack up and waiting for my next kid when Trevor walked in and announced that I’d had two cancelations because of summer colds.

  Which basically meant that I had zero distractions until dinnertime with the rest of the crew.

  Perfect.

  I wanted to rage again, but I had nothing to hit that didn’t cost six figures. Plus, I was half-owner in the record company, and I knew how much the equipment cost.

  Connor moved past both of us to the door and poked his head out. His face said it all, no words were needed. It freaking felt like Santa had passed him over for Christmas.

  “Everything okay, man?” I walked up to him and gave him a slight nudge with my body.

  “No. Yes. I mean, yeah.” His forced smile made my chest ache. Forget my shit, this kid was hurting. I leaned down and looked him in the eyes. They were either watering, and he was suffering from the same A/C effects as I was, or he was about ready to cry.

  “It’s okay to talk about things,” I said softly.

  I barely got that sentence out before he launched his body into mine and wrapped his arms around my waist, bursting into tears.

  Trevor looked ready to break off a part of his heart and hand it over when I gave him a slow shake of the head, letting him know I would take care of it.

  I hugged Connor back and waited for him to stop shaking, and then I asked the question I wished someone had asked me when I was young and hurting. Hell, I would have loved that question last night. “Bud, are you okay?”

  “No.” He sniffled and pulled back.

  “How can I help?” I went down on my haunches so he was standing above me. I wanted to give him more power, not less, and something about getting on someone’s level did that to a person—especially a small kid.

  “You can’t.” His shoulders crumpled forward. “My dad…today was his day. He didn’t come last time. And last month, he was with his new family,” he spat. “And he promised. We were supposed to go to the aquarium. I mean, I’ve been a million times, but it was”—his lower lip wobbled—“it was with him.”

  I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. “Well, I know I’m probably not as cool as your dad, but if it’s okay with your mom, I can take you.”

  His face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Really? But you’re famous! And you were testing guitars, remember?”

  Ah, one hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars down the drain. How could I forget? “Right, well, I can guitar test another day. Today, we should chill or something. You like taffy?”

  He made a face. “Taffy’s for kids.”

  “Oh, right.” I held my laugh in. “We could go get a couple root beers, maybe check out some girls on the boardwalk.”

  He burst out laughing and then sobered. “I already have a girlfriend, I mean kinda.”

  “Lucky.” I used my best Napolean Dynamite voice and earned another laugh.

  “You know, I could probably help you get one,” he said, dead serious. Man had a point.

  “I’m just having some me-time for now, bro.”

  “That’s what guys who don’t have girlfriends say.”

  Was that pity on his face?

  The tables were suddenly turned. “Right, well, let’s text your mom and get her permission, then you can show me how to up my game. How’s that sound?”

  “Perfect!”

  We texted his mom, got the go-ahead along with a tearful thank you, and set out on our day of fun. Thankfully she worked at the local school and already knew Trevor really well so she wasn’t panicky over a stranger taking her son out, especially since Trevor vouched for me via text as well.

  I was suddenly grateful that my other students had colds because Connor not only had better game than I did, but he was also freaking hilarious.

  I told him I was going to be his new best friend.

  And he laughed in my face.

  Humbling, to say the least.

  A few hours into our excursion, I realized I probably needed to meet everyone for dinner within the next few minutes or I’d be late.

  “Well.” I checked my phone. “It looks like our day of fun is almost over.” I gave him a wink. “I have a dinner thing with the rest of the guys.”

  His face fell.

  Shit.

  “You could com
e if you want.” I threw it out there and made a mental note to text his mom and let her know he’d be late.

  “Really?” He perked up.

  “Absolutely. Hope you like French fries.” I gave him a shove, then led the way down to the Seaside Brewery. Not only did they have the best fish and chips, but their fries were enough to sell the kid for. I mean, not really, but…sort of.

  We showed up about five minutes late, which was fine since I was notoriously late to everything. Trevor waved me over. He had his kids with him, along with his new fiancée, Penelope. In fact, it seemed everyone had their families with them—kids, wives, the whole works. I sighed as old feelings hit me square in the chest. There had once been a time when that was all I wanted. All I cared about. All I looked forward to. It sucked when the only person you had left didn’t even call you on your birthday, and days later, asked for a new car. I shoved the feelings away and pasted a smile on my face as Trevor’s kids smiled up at me.

  “Ah, Lego killers, hello.” I waved at the twins and his beautiful little girl who always seemed to have something stuck in her hair regardless of how hard Trevor tried to keep it from happening. It was hilarious. I lived for his stories because it was him and not me but also because I legit liked it when people were good parents.

  It made it seem like maybe I’d taken one for the team during my childhood so that others could have love. You know?

  Drew was sitting across from Zane. Alec and Demetri were hovering over a basket of fries. And then there was Abs, seated on the far end. Since we’d already decided the universe didn’t care, it only made sense that the last two chairs left were right across from her.

  “Let’s go, man.” I ushered Connor by the guys, making introductions as we went and then helped him plop into a seat.

  I was about to open my mouth when he blushed and said, “Hey, there,” to Abs in a way I swear I would never be able to perfect or accomplish. The hell?

  “Bro.” I elbowed him. “You have a girlfriend. What’s all this talk about loving her forever because she gave you a Ding Dong?”

  Connor just shrugged. “People grow out of love, Ty.” Honest to God, his hand came down on my shoulder as if he were giving me the sex talk. “It’s okay.”

  I pressed my lips together to keep from bursting out laughing and gave him a very serious nod. “Got it.”

  “So.” Connor turned back to Abs, who looked ready to scoot her chair closer. Her face softened, and I forgot all about my anger because it wasn’t about me anymore or even her, it was about this sad kid whose dad was a dick and deserved to get shot. “I like your last album.”

  Abs’ smile was so bright, it hurt to look at her. She twisted the straw in her soda and leaned in. “Tell me more about how awesome I am.”

  “Girl, I could talk all day.” He winked.

  We now had the attention of everyone at the table.

  “He has more game than you.” This from Zane.

  I flipped him off behind Drew’s back and got another middle finger in return.

  “I like this one,” Abs declared. “I think we should give him backstage tickets for our concert this winter, all in favor?”

  “Objection!” Drew laughed. “He says he likes you, what about us?”

  “You aren’t pretty.” Yup, he said that in a deadpan voice that had the entire table rolling. Because let’s be honest, Drew was a lot of things, and pretty was at the very top of the list.

  He gaped. “Bro, I’m wounded!”

  “You’re fine.” Connor shrugged and then looked up at me. “Hey, since we’re best friends now, do you think I can get a Coke?”

  My throat got tight. “Yeah, man, order whatever you want, all right? And then I think we should take a picture with everyone and send it to your old man so he knows exactly the sort of awesomeness he’s missing out on.”

  Connor stood and threw his arms around me. “Thanks for being my friend today.”

  “Not just today, man.” I hugged him back. “Whenever you need me.”

  I locked eyes with Abs and didn’t miss the tear she wiped away from her cheek or the look of complete sadness that followed.

  I wasn’t sure if it was Connor or me.

  Maybe it was just everything.

  But it was the first time someone had declared me their best friend in a decade and meant it.

  I held it close.

  Because, sadly, as a rock star, sometimes moments like that were all you had. You had no choice but to collect them and hold them tight. Keep them forever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Abigail

  It had been the worst day of teaching I’d had since arriving in Seaside a few days ago. And I only had myself to blame and the fact that I’d hurt Ty without even realizing it.

  My mind was jolted.

  Stunned, actually.

  He had been about to propose.

  To me.

  He had planned to leave it all behind. For us.

  I couldn’t fathom it.

  Was afraid to even travel down that road because I knew it would be painful. Had I been that wrong about him? That wrong about us? I’d made so many stupid assumptions.

  And now I was sitting in the condo, wondering how the hell I was going to approach this, apologize, and discuss it all without bursting into tears.

  The hurt was equal.

  But I was the one who had started it, not Ty. No, he had wanted to finish it, start a new life.

  And seeing him with Connor yesterday had only solidified how incredible of a dad he would be.

  I could have had that.

  We could have had that.

  Regrets sucked. They made you replay every conversation, every choice, and then taunted you with the what-could-have-beens.

  I was sick of it.

  The shower turned off.

  I knew Ty would prance around with a towel wrapped around his waist. He’d probably go to the fridge and grab some juice, give me an I-hate-you look, then go back to his bedroom and slam the door.

  It had been that way since we got home last night from dinner. And today was no different.

  He was still mad.

  And he no longer had a kid to soften the blow.

  It was going to get ugly.

  Because neither of us knew how to control our tempers beyond just yelling and hoping that the other didn’t yell louder.

  The door to the bathroom opened, and Ty—as predicted—walked into the kitchen and poked his head into the fridge, pulled out a carton of orange juice, took a few swigs, then slammed the fridge shut and started making his way by me.

  He had the tiny towel on again.

  I wanted to burn that towel.

  Anger hit me fast and swiftly.

  We needed to talk, but all I felt was this pulsing awareness of him. That and the anger that he wouldn’t speak to me in private but was totally fine speaking to me in public.

  I wished he would stop pretending almost as much as I wished he would just yell at me again. Tell me how awful I was. At least then, it would be a reaction. Something.

  He was just passing me on the couch when I did it.

  I couldn’t explain why I thought it was a good idea, I just reacted, jumped to my feet and onto his back, wrapping my arms and legs around his slick torso.

  “What the ever-loving hell are you doing?” he roared, trying to shake me off.

  Be the koala, be the koala. “I’m intervening the only way I know how!” I shouted right back.

  “With what?” He spun around. “Scaring the shit out of me and choking me to death? Claws. Please. Damn it, Abs, your nails are sharp. I swear to all that’s holy, if you move your heel down, I will murder you and feel zero guilt!”

  I moved my heel down, hitting him in the dick just hard enough to notice that he was..er…hard.

  Really?

  Violence did it for him?

  I moved my heel again.

  He froze.

  I froze.

  His chest rose and
fell as he stood, me on his back, him staring at the wall.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  Again, I just went with it and very slowly crawled my way to his front. He let me. He allowed me to wrap myself around him and grab hold. He gripped my thighs almost painfully as he stared me down, his towel barely holding on. Then again, so was my sanity.

  His eyes had always been so blue, so easy to get lost in.

  “What could you possibly need that’s so important that you mauled me like a cheetah from the zoo?” he said in a hoarse voice. “Real adults just say ‘hey, what’s up?’ or maybe even, ‘I have a question,’” he said slowly. “And yet you pounced like I was the zebra and you were the lion. Which, let’s be honest, is kind of perfect, all things considered.”

  I put my hand over his mouth, still holding on with one hand while he held me elevated, pressed against every hot inch of him. How was he not affected? I had clothes on, and I was ready to rub against him until we both screamed in ecstasy.

  His eyebrows shot up as if to say, “Really? And now I’m not allowed to talk?”

  “I can’t do this, the silent treatment. I can’t,” I said in a hoarse voice. “Yes, I want to talk to you. Yes, we need to talk. But you can’t keep ignoring me if that’s going to happen.” I moved my hand.

  “Actually, I can.” He gritted his teeth. “I’m not ready.”

  And just like that, he moved his hands. I would have fallen on my ass had I not seen the look in his eyes and pulled my feet away from his hips.

  Suddenly enraged, I charged after him.

  He didn’t see me coming as I tackled him to the floor. “We are going to talk about this. Now!”

  “Are you serious right now?” He batted my hands away. I pulled his towel. He was naked, but I wasn’t giving it back. “Give me my towel back!”

  “It’s a washcloth!”

  “It’s a towel!”

  “It’s an inch long.”

  He made a face. “If it was an inch long, I’d look like I was hung like a horse. It’s at least twelve inches.”

  “The dishcloth or your dick?”

  “You would know!” he roared.

  I moved to smack him in the face. He grabbed my hands and shoved me away, flipping me onto my back and straddling me. I couldn’t help but look. He was so well made. I mean, really. All lean muscle and giant…I gulped. Parts.