The first time we’d had sex, I’d asked if he would rip me in two.
He’d actually looked it up because my concern was warranted. The guy was perfect. Why did I always make things worse?
He pinned my wrists to the floor and moved over me. His dark, wet hair fell over his forehead. “This isn’t how we solve this.”
“No,” I whispered. “It isn’t.”
His eyes fell to my mouth, and before I thought about it, I leaned up with every ounce of strength I had and kissed him.
I was more than shocked when he kissed me back, when his mouth moved so hungrily across my lips that I finally understood the meaning of being devoured during a kiss.
His mouth opened as if he were trying to decide if he wanted to scream, bite me, or just keep kissing. My hands moved to his shoulders and wrapped around his neck as I pulled him down hard against me, sliding my body against his. I could feel the dampness of the towel against the skin on my thighs, and my jean shorts hiked up as he ran his hands up my ass.
Our teeth clacked together as he angled his head and then reached for my shirt to pull it off.
This was happening.
But I had no idea what it was.
I was in Ty Cuban’s arms.
I was angry.
He was furious.
It was our moment.
One I couldn’t turn away from because this moment had been ten years in the making. And as rough and aggressive as it was, as angry as it felt, it was us.
He rolled his hips against me and then moved his mouth down my neck, biting below my ear before whispering, “I still hate you.”
My laugh came out loud, my voice gritty. “Ditto.”
His lips met mine again. His tongue tasted like orange juice. I’d never been so thirsty in my entire life as I tried to kiss him harder, ignoring the sting of tears as my heart hammered against my chest as if to remind me that I was his, I’d always only ever been his.
“Yes,” I said against his mouth when my bra went flying. “Please,” I begged when his hands pulled my shorts all the way down.
He slapped my bare ass. “Can’t complain about no underwear.” It was a mumble against my mouth, but it felt like he was already inside me. He was barely touching me, but his hands were massive. Every inch of my skin screamed out for him, for more attention as I felt his length pulse against my thigh. That was for me. Me.
He hesitated.
I didn’t want him to.
I knew this wouldn’t fix what was broken.
But I was done thinking.
Done arguing.
He pulled away. Our eyes searched each other, maybe for permission for this ceasefire or whatever it was. The silence was filled with deep breaths, apologies, words that neither of us wanted to say. I ran my hands through his thick hair, and he let out a curse.
Still looking at me, his eyes wide open.
Both of our eyes open.
He pressed into me.
I sucked in a sharp breath at the initial feel of him, and my thighs shook as I tried to relax. And then he pulled back. “What do you want, crazy girl?”
With tears in my eyes, I whispered, “Us.”
He pushed all the way in and murmured against my mouth, “Good answer.”
“I’m not crazy.” I bit his bottom lip, earning a dark chuckle.
“Yeah, okay.” His movements were slow, purposeful. I couldn’t hold back the sounds coming from my mouth, the words that basically praised him for being a sex god. At least I didn’t tell him that we should build a shrine.
That would be weird.
Everything about Ty was long, fluid, his movements wave-like, nothing rushed. Every moment was stretched out until I thought I might die if he didn’t move faster, harder. I gripped his biceps, earning another deep kiss as he panted against my neck
“More,” I encouraged. “Please, Ty, I need more of you.”
“Literally impossible,” he breathed as he gripped my ass and drove into me harder, just the way I needed him to. I sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of him being so deep, us so connected. I never wanted to let the moment go. I wished we could stay on that floor forever.
“This”—he pinched my ass and then cupped it with his hand, moving his fingers lower between my thighs, driving me insane—“is”—I thought he was going to say “mine.” Instead, he cursed like he couldn’t say the words, was afraid of what they meant.
A knock sounded on the door at about the exact moment I felt my body find its release. He growled against my mouth, his kiss painful as he followed. The knock got louder.
He was still inside me, both of us panting, when the familiar voice came. “Seriously, Ty, open the hell up.”
It was Drew.
Ty quickly jumped to his feet. “One minute.”
Panicked, I looked around for my clothes then dove on the other side of the couch when Ty strutted past me in his sweatpants and opened the door a crack. “’Sup?”
I rolled my eyes. He could at least try to sound normal.
Drew didn’t even blink or tease or do anything.
It was complete silence followed by a, “I’m sorry, man, it was an accident. There was nothing they could do. She didn’t make it.”
What?
I pulled my shirt on over my head, grabbed my shorts, and then made my way toward the door.
Drew did a double-take while Ty slowly slid down the door and onto the floor, his head in his hands.
My heart cracked. “What’s going on?”
“His aunt got in a crash. She didn’t make it. I’ve been calling, but his phone’s on silent I think, and…” Tears pricked my eyes. “I know they weren’t close, but she was the only family he had…”
He didn’t say “left,” but we both knew it.
Drew looked ready to call someone, ready to rally the guys.
But that’s not what Ty needed.
No, the only thing Ty had ever needed was to feel like he hadn’t been abandoned by everyone he loved.
The only thing Ty needed was acceptance, love, a family—something stable.
I gave Drew a knowing look. “I’m here. I have this.”
His nostrils flared. I could tell he wanted to say something or maybe argue, so I reached out and touched Drew’s shoulder, while Ty sat motionless in the doorway.
“Okay.” Drew sighed. “Call me?”
“Yeah.” I watched him walk away and then joined Ty on the floor.
He didn’t look at me.
Sadness poured out of me as I slowly crawled across the small space between us, then cupped his face with my hands. “It’s going to be okay.”
“I have no one.”
My heart dropped to my stomach, then the final few pieces that still hadn’t broken after our relationship shattered.
They were his, all those pieces. No matter how many times I tried to keep them safe, they had always been his.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and whispered against his skin, “You have me. You will always have me. No matter what.”
He squeezed me tight.
And I prayed that I was right. That everything really would be okay.
Chapter Fourteen
Ty
Somehow, my legs carried me into the bedroom. Either that or Abigail had been lifting weights as if preparing for this very moment where she’d have to carry my pathetic body somewhere safe.
The bed didn’t feel like my own. I didn’t know why that was what I chose to fixate on, but the sheets smelled like her.
I lay on my stomach, or maybe she just shoved me face-down. Either way, I was tempted to put the pillow over my head and ask her to leave.
That was, until she started rubbing my back in slow circles.
Funny how something so simple could be a trigger for me. I mean, a back rub? But it was the only thing I remembered from my mom.
The fact that she used to rub my back when I was sleeping. I was too young to remember a lot of things, but I remembered that. Wh
en I went to go live with my aunt, I remembered asking her for circles.
She’d thought I meant actual circles and drew me a circle then left the room.
I didn’t know what it meant to have circles on your back, so I’d started crying and pointing to my back as best as I could, asking for circles on my back.
She’d taken me to the doctor and told him that my parents’ deaths were making me crazy.
She’d never once asked me to explain, and when I tried to, she left the room like she couldn’t be bothered, as if my existence irritated her.
I’d never forget the look the doctor gave me. His ruddy face paled, and for the first time since my parents’ deaths, someone pulled me into their lap, held me close, and rubbed my back.
He’d told me to be strong.
He’d told me I was a big boy.
He rubbed my back.
I squeezed my eyes shut as a tear slipped. I hated this feeling of weakness, this sense of abandonment. Because even though there was no love lost with my aunt, she was still the only family I had left.
She was still the person who’d helped raise me as best she could. She’d never wanted kids, everything was about her career, so it was either me or her high-paying job.
And she’d begrudgingly chosen me because she loved her sister.
I think the worst part was that they looked alike. I remembered being so deliriously sick with a fever that I thought my mom had come back as an angel.
It was my aunt.
It was the first time I’d seen her cry. When I reached for her and said, “Mama.”
Abigail’s hand moved over my skin, and then she lay down next to me, making me the small spoon as she held me.
I didn’t realize I was crying so hard until the pillow felt wet.
I hated crying.
I’d never in my adult life cried in front of another person—especially one who could use that weakness against me.
Bad timing, universe.
Bad freaking timing.
Give me something I’d wanted for ten damn years and then take away the one thing I’d always needed as penance.
Family.
I grunted out a curse and flipped onto my back, nearly colliding with Abigail as I crossed my arms and stared up at the boring, white ceiling. Dead. She was dead. There would be funeral arrangements, things I needed to take care of, pay for, not to mention the press release.
The media was going to be all over it, weren’t they?
I wasn’t in the right state of mind to talk to them—to talk to anyone.
My grief quickly morphed into horror as the last few months of my life came crashing down around me.
The Grammys, the music camp, Abigail, and my aunt.
I’d always known that choices decided your journey and you couldn’t blame anyone but yourself. But in this instance, I just felt trapped by the consequences of my choices, hers, and the universe’s very real anger at me.
“I know you guys weren’t close,” Abigail said in a raspy voice. “But I also know that it didn’t matter. She was still your family…”
“Yeah.” I found my voice. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I know.” She put her hand on my chest and sat up, her eyes locking with mine. “Maybe you should take a few days, grieve…”
“Take a few days,” I repeated. “Grieve.” I snorted out a laugh and shot to my feet. “You know what the worst part about all of this is?”
Her eyes widened at my sudden movement as she crawled across the bed and stood in front of me. “What?”
“You,” I sneered. “You’re the worst part. Because I look at you and I remember what it feels like to really hurt, to really lose. Shit, you were my family, Abs, and I lost you. You walked away from me. A person doesn’t just get over that. The only family I had left is dead, and all I keep thinking about is the fact that it hurt worse seeing you walk away.”
Abigail’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so—”
“Don’t.” I held up my hand. “Don’t say you’re sorry. I don’t want to hear it, not right now…” I felt the sadness then, creeping up my throat, clawing at my skin, begging to be set free. I wanted to blame her, when I knew it took two. When I knew we’d both messed up. “My aunt’s dead.”
Her face fell. “I know, Ty.”
“She’s never coming back, just like my parents.” My voice shook as I glared at her. “Just like you.”
I didn’t give her a chance to argue, I just left the room and grabbed my keys.
“Ty, wait!” She chased after me.
“I need air.” I didn’t look back, just hopped into my rental and drove off toward the direction of the boardwalk—toward the studio.
Chapter Fifteen
Abigail
I wanted to chase after him, but I wasn’t sure if it would help or hinder what he was going through. I felt like the worst sort of person. I honestly didn’t even want to look in the mirror. My chest hurt for him, my body was sore from him—just like my heart.
I quickly opened my group text and asked for help.
Me: Hey, guys, Ty just took off, he’s really struggling. Not sure if Drew told everyone, but his aunt was killed in a car accident. I tried to help. He was upset and drove off.
Drew: Thought you had it handled.
Me: This isn’t the time, Drew, or I will murder you.
Zane: She knows Krav Maga, just saying…and Seaside is small. We’ll find him. Let’s just hope it’s not in a drug and alcohol-induced stupor.
Drew: Shit.
Will: I’ll make some calls about the funeral arrangements and make sure everything is taken care of, all right?
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Me: Thanks.
Trevor: I told him to write some sad songs, maybe he’s at the studio?
Alec: I’ll meet you there.
Demetri: Already on my way.
Lincoln: Hey, guys, just catching up. Jaymeson and I are together and just read all the texts. We’ll let his publicity team know they need to prepare a statement. Hey, Will, send us one of his recent shots at the Grammys.
Will: Already sent over.
As I read the texts, all I kept thinking was that Ty was one hundred percent wrong.
His family wasn’t dead.
It was right the hell here.
In this text conversation.
With these guys.
They would bleed for him, die for him, do whatever it took to make sure he was okay.
I swiped my palm across my wet cheek.
Me: I don’t know what he would do without you guys, thank you. I’m going to try to make myself useful around here…
Zane: Food. Lots and lots of food.
Drew: There’s a reason people bring food after a funeral. If you’re eating, you’re not thinking about your heart breaking.
Me: What if you’re the reason his heart is breaking? What if he’s projecting all of the past present and future feelings on you? Pretty sure a casserole doesn’t work…
Alec: It would for me.
Demetri: That’s because Nat can’t cook.
Alec: I’ll go ahead and let her know to cancel that pumpkin bread order.
Demetri: HOW DARE YOU? WE MADE A PACT! I meant COOKING, not baking, you dumbass…oh, and remind her extra chocolate chips.
Zane: How do I get in on this bread business?
Demetri: You have to be her favorite so…never.
Zane: I’m everyone’s favorite.
Trevor: lolololol Oh, sorry, I meant to say that in my head.
Me: Guys? Hello?
Drew: I was hesitant to even respond because it looks like you were making him feel just fine when I stopped by to deliver the bad news…
Zane: Tell us everything.
Will: What did you do?
Trevor: Son of a bitch, Abigail, tell me it’s not true.
Will: We need to do damage control.
Alec: This is bad.
Demetri: You couldn’t
just NOT touch him? I know he has a nice body, but.
Zane: It’s nice I guess…but I mean, if you’re comparing…
Me: You guys aren’t helping my anxiety levels, and before you start pointing your fingers, remember, it takes two.
Alec: Unless you’re Demetri and lazy as hell.
Demetri: No complaints last night.
Drew: Look, all I’m saying is it looked like you guys had just been naked, his pants were barely on, your shirt looked inside out, your lipstick was smudged, and your hair had seen better days…
Guilt slammed into me.
Me: We had sex.
Will: WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?
Drew: She wasn’t. Obviously.
Trevor: He can’t go through that again, we can’t…our band won’t survive…
Tears stung my eyes.
Me: Please, just for once, listen. We were on the same page and…I want to try with him. I miss him. I know he misses me. He just…he’s having a hard time forgiving right now, and we were just getting ready to talk things out when the doorbell rang.
Trevor: Found him. He’s at the studio.
Demetri: Yeah…he looks…
Alec: Shit.
Me: Guys? GUYS! Is he okay? What’s wrong? Is he safe?
Drew: Just got here, I’ll text you later, Abs. He’s…safe.
What the hell did that even mean? He was safe, but he was high out of his mind? He was safe but bleeding? He was safe but he’d gotten wasted in the last fifteen minutes?
Panic hit me so hard I had no choice but to do exactly what the guys had suggested.
I baked.
Chapter Sixteen
Ty
The studio was dark, lessons were done for the day, obviously, and the sun was going down. I was alone.
Just me, the guitar, a soundboard, and several instruments that I knew how to play but refused to even touch.
She was dead.
The woman who’d raised me as best she could.
I pulled out my phone. I had a dozen texts and several missed calls from Abigail, but I couldn’t bring myself to call or text back.
I couldn’t sit in that bedroom with her, seeing the look on her face, wondering if she was comforting me because it was convenient, she felt sorry for me, or because she still loved me.
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