And I hated that on the day I found out about my aunt’s death, the one thing that kept circulating in my mind was whether it could work. Could Abs feel the way about me that I felt about her?
Could she be mine?
I picked up one of Trevor’s acoustic guitars and started strumming from my spot on the stool. The sound booth wasn’t recording, I was just strumming, and then a few words came out.
They sounded funny, probably because lyrics were supposed to float in the air right along the waves of the music—and these felt too heavy to stay there long. They seemed like the sort of words that soared and then crashed to the ground, only to repeat the process.
Darkness built inside me as I strummed harder and harder. “You were never mine to begin with, my heart was never yours to break. It was my first stumble, our first mistake, lying to ourselves that you were mine to take.”
The light in the booth turned green. I glanced up, still strumming, to see Trevor walk in on the other side of the glass. His hands moved to the soundboard, and then the door opened. Demetri, Zane, Alec, and Drew all walked in. One grabbed drumsticks, the other snagged the bass, still another the electric, and finally, Zane sat at the piano.
They all looked at me with expectant faces because we were one and the same, weren’t we? Musicians felt too much. And when we did, we had to use music to communicate because simple words never matched superior emotions, did they? Like puzzle pieces that didn’t fit. Our emotions needed something bigger, something more complex in order to straighten themselves out, to find their place.
I strummed my guitar and nodded at Trevor.
And just like that, we were recording my pain.
I finally felt a little bit of the ache in my chest ease.
Hours later, it was close to midnight, and I left that studio feeling better than when I’d walked in.
I stopped outside and looked up. It was a clear night, the first one we’d had in Seaside since I arrived.
Of course it would be today.
“Hey.” Drew jogged up to me. “We need to talk.”
Dread crept over me. “Does it need to be now?”
“Yes.” His eyes flashed. “Right now.”
“Fine.” I kicked at the dirt and started walking. He fell into step beside me as we made our way down the boardwalk and onto the sand. I kicked off my sandals and let the cold sand seep through my toes as the sound of the crashing waves filled the air.
Drew did the same thing.
Several bonfires were scattered around the beach, and laughter fought with the sound of the tumultuous waves.
I stopped a few hundred feet before the wet sand and sat down, pulling my knees to my chest. “So, what’s up?”
“How are you doing? I mean, really?” Drew’s voice was quiet, like a whisper.
“What would you do?” I turned to look at him.
Drew looked confused. “If someone I loved died?”
“No. If the person you loved most in the world walked out of your life then came stomping back in like a bull in a china shop, all angry and beautiful. What would you do?”
“She did.” Drew cursed under his breath. “Only she didn’t want me. She wanted someone else.”
“Was it your fault?”
Drew was quiet and then said, “Yeah, all of it was my fault—her hurt, my hurt, Will’s hurt. If you have to point fingers, and I really wish you wouldn’t because you know I haven’t dealt with this shit yet, they would all point at me.”
“I loved her.”
Drew put his arm around me in a bro hug. “No, you love her.”
“I love her,” I admitted as the waves drowned out the sound of my voice. “I just don’t know how to love her anymore, how to be an us anymore. Every time I think I can, it feels like something happens.”
“My opinion?”
“Get drunk off my ass and spiral?” I offered.
He burst out laughing. “Yeah, no. That’s a horrible idea, especially if you want to get her back. Though nobody would blame you. I just don’t want you going to that place again, it’s not a very fun one…”
“No.” I shuddered.
“Go home, talk to her, hash it out. And if after all that yelling and kissing, you still feel like you’d rather fight with her than walk away for good, you have your answer.”
I tilted my head. “That’s…not a typical Drew response.”
“I’m sober, so…” He shrugged.
I laughed again. “Right.”
“Those tracks were good…you write well from your pain.” Drew stood and offered me his hand. “But I have a question. That deep, dark place you were writing from, it’s where your relationship with Abigail exists. I know you cared for your aunt, I know she was all you had, but I also know that if you guys try to make this work and Abigail walks away forever—I just…I don’t know if you can survive that hit. You’re a strong man, Ty, but speaking from personal experience, from hating life every single day because you see yourself with someone who doesn’t want to be with you, who can’t be with you? I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even my worst enemy.”
“Ouch.” I hung my head, noting the sadness in his eyes, recognizing the anger that lurked beneath that very intense look.
I wore that same expression every day.
“Yeah, well.” Drew slapped me on the back. “The truth hurts.”
“At least we can feel it now that we aren’t high,” I pointed out.
He burst out laughing. “Yeah, give me pain any day. It means I’m alive and not some washed-up rock star shooting up.”
“Amen,” I grumbled as we walked back toward the lights of the boardwalk and past the bonfires and laughing people who I knew were probably taking pics of us.
We were used to it.
And for the first time in a very long while, my attention wasn’t focused on my fans. It was focused on the girl waiting for me, the one that got away, the woman I still loved and had never been able to let go.
Chapter Seventeen
Abigail
I made a feast.
Started with chocolate chip cookies, moved right on to a homemade chocolate cake, and then wondered if everything was too dark and chocolatey, so I looked on Pinterest for a few other fun recipe ideas. I totally messed them up and settled for Rice Krispie treats.
My nemesis.
How can you only eat just one?
I made two batches just in case and then sat and waited. It had been hours since he left. At least I knew he was safe. I just wasn’t sure what version of Ty I would get when he came back to the condo, and I had to be up early for the camp in the morning.
I was just nodding off when I heard the door open. I shot to my feet, the blanket pooling by my toes as I waited for Ty to make his way in.
I expected him to be sad, maybe drunk, prayed he wouldn’t be high and that this hadn’t pushed him over the edge like it so easily could. If anything, he looked calm. Relaxed. Why was I the one that was a wreck?
“Smells good.” He let out a little grunt then moaned when he saw the Rice Krispie treats. The insane man picked the entire pan up and joined me on the couch.
I frowned. “You realize that you’re supposed to cut it into pieces?”
“The way I see it”—he started very carefully pulling the sticky substance from the pan—“is it’s one giant square. Technically, this is one Rice Krispie treat. Why would I cut it up?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I can’t argue with that logic.”
“Thank God there’s food,” he said between bites and then turned to me, mouth full. “Sorry, want some?”
I almost hit the pan out of his hands. See? This is why we never worked, he hit on my every last nerve! I had been worried sick about him, and now he was just sitting on the couch eating dessert like it wasn’t a big deal.
He was mid-chew when it happened. When the spark ignited in my soul. “I was worried!”
I didn’t whisper it. I shouted it.
I needed to
learn control or anger management. I just couldn’t find any other way to communicate with him.
“I know.” He swallowed and put the pan down.
“I texted everyone. I had no idea where you were, if you were okay. If you were…you know.” I felt the hot tears threaten to escape. “I—”
He cupped my cheek. “I know you were worried. I just needed some space. I needed to think, and I tend to not think when I’m with you. I just say whatever’s on my mind…”
“Same,” I huffed. “I don’t mean to, it’s like I can’t control it.”
“We’ve always been that way, why would now be any different?” His hand dropped.
“We’re older for one thing,” I pointed out. “And I should do better to control the rage I feel.”
“It’s not rage, it’s fear,” he said quietly. “And I know exactly what that feels like. I face it every day, this anger that I want to keep wrapped up around me so that every time you say something or do something, it hits the shield instead of my still-broken heart.”
I sucked in a sharp breath. “Ty—”
“No, let me say this. I need to say it, and then you need to go to bed.”
“Don’t be bossy,” I muttered.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a sexy smile. “A tiger can’t just change its spots.”
I rolled my eyes. “Stripes.”
“Are you correcting me?”
“Yes.”
“Just can’t help herself…” he said, more to himself than me, and then looked my way. “Today was a mistake.”
Not what I’d expected him to say.
My world stopped while I stared at him, waiting for him to say, “just kidding,” or explain.
A few heartbeats later, he grabbed my hands and brought them to his mouth. “We have no business hooking up if that’s all it’s going to be, Abs. Because I’ll always want more, and I don’t know if you’re capable of giving it to me or if you just aren’t willing. Either way, I’m not a summer fling, and neither are you. You’re better than that. So, unless we get this shit figured out between us, we can’t…”
I felt myself deflate. He wanted more. We both did. I just didn’t know how to go about it.
“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “So, we abandon the physical and just focus on…friendship?” I almost winced at the hungry look on his face.
He quickly recovered and stood. “Yup, friendship. My favorite thing in the world…being best friends with a girl whose boobs I used to trace with my tongue. Good times.”
I threw a pillow at his chest and stood. “You’re right, you know?”
“What’s that?” He cupped his ear. “Did you just say I was right?”
“I can see the headlines now. Ty Cuban found dead from suffocation.” I held the pillow high.
He ripped it out of my hands. “And below that, it would say…and haunts Von Abigail forever.”
I leaned up and kissed him on his cheek. “Joke’s on you…he already does.”
He reached out and grabbed my hips, holding me close to him. I could feel the burn of his fingertips.
We were kindling waiting to be lit.
A match that refused to be blown out.
We were fireworks and chaos all mixed into one.
He swallowed, his eyes lingering on my mouth before he slowly stepped away. “You should go to bed.”
“Only if you sleep, too.”
“Afraid I’m going to leave again?”
“Yes,” I said honestly. “I am.”
His face fell. “I’m sad, not suicidal.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know that, Ty. So, please just…communicate better so I don’t bake you a seven-tier cake next time, all right?”
His smile was wide. “Does this cake have extra frosting?”
“Be serious!”
“I am!” he roared. “I like frosting! Can it be blue?”
“Oh God, this is what I have to look forward to for the rest of the summer, isn’t it?”
He picked me up off my feet and twirled me around then sat me down and pointed me toward my room. Then he slapped my ass and chuckled. “Buckle up, Abs, you know I like wild rides.”
My cheeks heated like fire the entire way to my room, and when I shut my door, I nearly combusted.
Living with him would be fine, totally fine. Not jumping him…even easier. I’d lasted ten years, what were a few more weeks? Months? Being his friend again, establishing trust, hmm…
Nothing. I would be fine.
Totally. Fine.
Chapter Eighteen
Ty
Captain’s log. Summer guitar lessons, week six. I can barely walk into the room without seriously injuring my dick. It feels like years. My body wants what it wants, and it wants Abigail—painfully.
She touched me today—by accident. Then again, it wasn’t like I was making it easy on her. I was too hard for that. Ha, see what I did there? Our friendship was growing. It was all sunshine and ponies, blah, blah, blah—I almost died from that touch.
Her fingers were cold. You’d think my dick would be like…”Nope, not happening, warm those bad boys up and then we can talk.” Instead, it was so desperate for attention that I could have sworn I felt my entire being flinch toward her in an effort to draw more attention to the zipper of my jeans.
I clenched my teeth.
She apologized and asked if I wanted syrup.
Like that was helpful.
Images of syrup filling my hands, spilling over her breasts like a waterfall into my mouth filled my mind so hard and fast that I stared at her for a solid two minutes before she asked if I’d had a stroke.
Yeah, she’d said stroke.
I just groaned and nearly jumped off the balcony to put myself out of my misery.
We still fought.
But it was more over the remote control and who got the last taco on Taco Tuesday. We’d fallen into a routine that I never wanted to walk away from, even if I did have to see her tampons scattered around the bathroom.
And, yeah, I may have pissed her off a few times, like a dozen, and earned the bed full of feminine products I got. But I just told her she was hormonal.
The next day, I could have sworn Satan took hold of her body as she launched herself over me just to grab the Hershey bar out of my hands.
I had legit scratches.
She never apologized.
I had to get friggin’ Band-Aids.
Six weeks seemed like a long time…and that was because it was. Especially when you loved someone. When you truly wanted to be a part of them in every way, and when you were the one that’d said you needed space.
Part of the reason was because I needed time to focus on my aunt’s funeral and everything that meant. Thankfully, the guys were all there when I needed them and helped me, down to flying out with me over a forty-eight-hour period for the service.
Abs even came.
The private jet was not big enough for the two of us. Within ten minutes of taking off, we were fighting again, this time over a cookie. Drew announced that if we didn’t have sex, he was going to have a nervous breakdown from all the sexual tension.
He wasn’t wrong.
And every other guy had a girl to go home to.
Except Drew.
Whoops.
And now? Now, I was on week six with Connor, thankful that I had one of my favorite students to take my mind off Abigail.
He was my last lesson of the day.
He walked in with a sullen expression on his face and then pulled out his chair and plopped into it.
“Something wrong?” I picked up my guitar.
“No.” He kicked my chair.
Yeah, right. “You sure? Oh shit, man, you going through puberty?”
He scowled, making me burst into laughter.
After a few more minutes of him looking grumpier than I felt, which was a hell of a lot of grumpiness in one room, I put my guitar down. “Look, I’d like to think we’re friends, right? Tell m
e what it is, and maybe I can help you. Is it your mom?”
“No.”
“Is it me?”
“No.”
“Duh, because I’m awesome. So, what is it?”
“It’s Caroline.”
“The song?”
“The girl!” He threw up his arms. “I like her, okay? She’s doing the summer camp, and my mom couldn’t afford to let me do every day, just a few days a week since I’m taking guitar lessons from Trevor. And there’s this kid, Jonas.”
“The plot thickens.” I grinned. “Go on.”
“So, Jonas is super popular, but he’s a total jerk, and he brought her candy when I wasn’t there, and now people are saying she likes Jonas more.”
“I don’t like Jonas.”
“Jonas sucks,” he agreed.
“Does Jonas even have game?”
“His parents own a taffy store.”
“Well, sh—I mean, crap.”
“You can say shit. Mom says that when she sees spiders.”
“Her and me both,” I joked and then sobered. “All right, I say we come up with a grand gesture for Caroline.”
“What’s that?” Connor’s interest looked piqued.
“Dude! It’s what every awesome movie has! I mean, think Aquaman. He got the trident and became king, and what did he get out of it?”
“Umm, a kingdom?”
“A GIRL!” I all but shouted. “And not just any girl, a princess.”
Connor’s face lit up. “Yeah, I guess he did!”
“Grand gesture.”
“Except, I’m not Aquaman.”
“No, bro, you’re better because you’re a musician. Trust me on this. A good voice, good talent, trumps all those muscles any day.” Sadly, not true, but meh…we’d work on the scrawny body later. Kid had time, after all.
He licked his lips and then slowly nodded. “Okay, so I have to do something cool.”
“Something beyond cool,” I agreed and then grinned. “It’s open mic night tonight.”
“So?”
“So, it’s open mic night,” I repeated. “And I have a fool-proof plan. You just make sure Caroline is there and that the little crapface Jonas sees you win her over.”
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