Promise Me Forever (Top Shelf Romance)

by Kate Stewart

  And I missed every single one of them without an ounce of regret. But every so often, my eyes would wander into the crowd. My heart reminding me it was still on a loop.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Back to Black: Amy Winehouse

  In the leather seat of Nate’s Tahoe, I sat back, enjoying the silence, the break from the noise. I wanted nothing but a shower and my bed. Nate slowed to a stop in front of the sidewalk that led to my door. I turned my head his way and smiled. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you. You got me off the hook.”

  “That bad?”

  “She thought Buckcherry was a lip balm.”

  We shared a laugh as I gripped the door handle.

  “Well, in that case, I guess we’re even. See you at work.”

  “Yeah,” he said as he lingered, his eyes tracing my face, “’night.”

  “’Night.”

  Nate drove away. If I had just taken him up on one of his invitations, I wondered if things would have been different. If Reid would be just some guy I met in passing.

  I was halfway toward the door when I saw the cherry of a cigarette land at my feet. I turned to see Reid leaning against his truck, his jaw set, brows raised, eyes filled with accusation.

  He got in his truck and started it as I took a step toward him. Before I could even close the space, he squealed tires and drove away.

  I stared after him, my head pounding, my insides playing ping-pong.

  Ben opened the front door and looked toward Reid’s speeding truck.

  “What the hell? Was that Reid?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Thanks for the heads up, asshole,” I said, pushing past him to see Lexi sitting on the couch. Her greeting smile dimmed as she heard me address Ben. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing, Ben just decided to keep it from me that Reid was back in Austin and banging some blonde.”

  Lexi looked over at Ben, who shook his head. “He’s not back in Austin. He’s on his way home. He came for the festival. I didn’t think he’d show up here.”

  “Well, he did. Do you know who she was?”

  He shrugged. “No idea.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I scrubbed my face. “You should have told me.”

  “Why in the hell am I suddenly responsible for what he does? Or reporting his whereabouts?”

  Lexi stood. “Stella, lay off.”

  “No problem,” I said with bite directed at Ben. “You two lovebirds have a great fucking night.”

  “That’s not fair,” Lexi said as she followed me to my bedroom, where I grabbed some boy shorts and a T-shirt from a drawer. She leaned against the doorjamb. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing. He saw Nate drop me off and sped off. But seriously, he’s going to play jealous? I haven’t heard a word from him since he left, he shows up to Austin, and I bust him with some chick. And, Lexi, it was the craziest shit ever. I was in the middle of the crowd—thousands of people—and I just so happened to look up.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “One single step forward without looking up and I would have missed him.”

  “That’s insane.”

  “No, what’s insane is something inside told me to look up. I just felt him there. Felt him close.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lexi said quietly.

  I slammed my drawer and walked past her. “Like I’m the one who should have to explain myself.”

  “You shouldn’t. You don’t.”

  “Why did he come here?”

  “Because maybe he just needed to see you were okay,” she offered.

  “I’m not now,” I said, walking into our bathroom. I caught Lexi’s face in the mirror. “I’m sorry. God, Lexi, ever since you moved here, I’ve been a total mess.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said in a low voice. “I’m breaking every rule in my own book.”

  “I fucking hate this!” I said, turning on the shower. “I hate how much I want him to turn around, even knowing he had his hands all over someone else. I’m not that girl, Lexi. I’m not.”

  “You love him and it’s okay to be a little crazy because of it.”

  “Is it?” I asked hoarsely. “Why was he here?”

  “I don’t know. I wish I could tell you, Stella. Men are complete idiots.”

  “I heard that,” Ben barked from the couch.

  “Good,” she hollered back over her shoulder with a shrug. “Take your shower. Come get me if you want to talk.”

  Under the scalding water, I did my best to try to figure out where Reid’s head was and realized when it came to him, I may never get any answers.

  I cried until the water turned cold, and then I walked into the living room and sat next to Ben, who held Lexi’s head in his lap.

  I nudged him with my arm. “I’m sorry.”

  Ben wrapped an arm around my shoulder as Lexi smiled up at me.

  “I’m going to split his fucking lip the next time I see him, babe, I promise.”

  I swallowed the tears that threatened. “Make it hurt.”

  A few nights later, I was using insomnia to my advantage, typing out a new article for Speak. My phone vibrated next to me on my bed where I was propped with a pillow on my lap. I didn’t recognize the number. It lit up only once. I looked up the area code and saw it was a Nacogdoches number.

  I closed my laptop and dialed it back with my heart in my throat. He picked up on the first ring.

  “Hello?” I croaked with tears pooling in my eyes.

  Silence.

  “Reid?”

  More silence. “Reid.” It wasn’t a question, it was a demand. I needed to know he was just as ruined by our goodbye as I was. I needed to know the girl in front of him at that concert meant nothing.

  That he hadn’t forgotten me. Every beat of my heart was a please, please, please.

  “Stella,” his voice was heavy, slurred. He was drunk. A state I’d never seen him in.

  “I’m here. Are you okay?”

  “You won them, didn’t you?”

  I didn’t answer as he exhaled his cigarette. It sounded like there was a party going on in the distance.

  “Of fucking course you did,” he said with a sarcastic chuckle, his voice full of bitterness. “You just can’t stop trying to save me, can you, Grenade?”

  “Why did you leave?”

  “Why?” Another exhale. Another tension-filled silence. And when he spoke, his voice was ice. “Because I didn’t have any goddamn right to be there. I had no right to ask who that motherfucker was. Not the first time I saw him drop you off and not the last. You were never mine.”

  Kneeling on my bed, I clutched my phone tightly. Please. Please. Please.

  “I was yours, Reid. I still am. It’s not what you think with him.”

  More silence. I heard a woman laughing hysterically in the distance.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The phone went silent in my hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Into the Black: Chromatics

  “Stella.” It was a plea from Lexi. “Stella, please get up.”

  I pressed my face into my pillow and pulled the covers over my head.

  “Get up, damn it!” she snapped as she opened my blinds.

  “Don’t, Lexi, please just leave me alone. Okay? I don’t need a throw-me-in-the-shower-clothed intervention. I’m sick.”

  “You’re not sick! And you missed a week of classes. Your parents are calling, and I can’t keep lying to everyone!”

  “Tell them I’m sick,” I said through clenched teeth.

  “You’re going to lose your job. Both of them,” she said, pacing next to my bed. It dipped and I looked over to see Ben staring down at me. There was nothing close to the light humor I typically saw in his eyes.

  He gripped my hand and stayed silent while Lexi ranted.

  “Stella, get out of bed! You’re done doing this. He’s not worth it.”

  My eyes pleaded with Ben’s to tell her he was. Th
at he was worth every tear, every second of the ache. I just needed someone to believe me. Ben broke our gaze first.

  Lexi ranted, using her fingers to point out everything I was throwing away, and when she got to her first thumb, I silenced her. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” she said, staring down at me and tilting her head to judge my lie.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said, sitting up and squinting at the invasion of the sun. “I’m up.”

  Ben stood with a sigh and looked over to Lexi. “Give me a minute.”

  She looked between us and walked out of the room. I didn’t waste a second.

  “His dad?”

  “He’s fine,” Ben said, prepared for the questions I’d never asked but had been on the tip of my tongue since Reid left.

  “Reid?”

  “He’s making it,” he said in a low tone. “He’d be pissed if he saw you like this.”

  “Is he with . . . someone?” I braced myself, ready for anything.

  “I don’t know, babe, but you’re done wrecking yourself. Do you hear me? You’ve got to let him go, Stella. You have to.”

  “I know,” I said, rubbing my shoulders, my lips trembling. “I will. I am.”

  “You’re not,” Ben said with a bite. “He’s been in this hell for a long time. You have to let him figure his shit out. And this isn’t good. Whatever this is I feel coming off you, it’s not okay.”

  I was still reaching for Reid at night, even months later. I could still feel his arms wrapped around me, his steady pulse thump against my back. It wasn’t anything like I felt with Dylan. It ran deep, so much deeper, like a truth that flowed through my veins and circulated to remind me I belonged with him. Some part of me still clung to hope that he’d come back after he’d left, and his phone call had jerked that hope away from me.

  My hands were still in the air, grasping for what was already gone.

  It felt cruel. I’d been robbed.

  “It’s over, right?”

  Maybe I just needed to hear the words. Even if it was from someone else.

  Ben pulled me to my feet. “Let him go.”

  When they left for Ben’s practice, I spent the night in bed getting carried away in our shitty fairytale with the unorthodox ending, one last time. He’d run away with the wicked stepmother and bag of magic, while I was still scrubbing the floors.

  “Stella,” Nate called from his desk. I looked up to see him peering at me over his laptop. I was at Herb’s desk. He was off on Thursday afternoons for White Knights book club. I learned from the source that the club’s purpose was gathering books for needy libraries and classrooms. Herb was a good guy. He had a wife and two German Shepherds. He was also in desperate need of a new hair growth product that worked according to his browser history and was planning on taking a vacation to Nova Scotia for a canoe trip with some old college buddies. This information was in an open email at his desk. I wasn’t exactly snooping.

  “Stella,” Nate’s voice was as distracted as mine.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s after midnight, go home.”

  “I’m almost done,” I called as I typed out the last four lines of notes I’d scribbled down at school. I had to admit, even though my schedule was taxing with work, school, and trying to get to shows, I thrived because of it. I was never late to class, always early to work, and it left little time for me to think about anything else. Well, there were moments in the shower and long walks during my commute, but I spent those with the volume turned up so loud, the songs were impossible to ignore. My playlists were crafted to uplift and empower. Not a single note to remind me of where I’d been. And if I wasn’t so sure I’d gone there, I might have been better able to stick Reid in the oops box. And despite my new anger at the lovesick fool I’d been and the bitter heart that lingered, I knew that would never happen.

  Nate’s office light switched off, and I typed furiously as my window closed. I was on my fourth weekday at Speak. And I had to admit, I loved every minute of it. It was one thing to write articles at home, a totally different atmosphere working in the building surrounded by other writers. I always started early afternoon, and I loved the bustle of the office. I’d made nice with a good amount of the staff, including JJ.

  “Almost done,” I said, hitting spell check. I ran through the errors as Nate sat next to me, scanning my words at lightning speed.

  “You’re getting into a rhythm,” he said. “And that’s not such a good thing.”

  I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean it’s always facts and progress. It’s like you’re writing a report.”

  I blew out a breath. “Suggestions?”

  Nate chuckled. “Yeah, go home.”

  “I’ll just do the same thing at home,” I said as I saved the document and sent it to my email.

  Nate leaned in, and his cologne lingered in the air between us. “You aren’t differentiating this from anything else you’ve written. You’re just rewording and it’s the same line of questioning.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?” I said, kicking back in my seat to put some space between us. “These are standard questions for a feature.”

  “Great,” he said, standing and stretching next to me.

  “Nate,” I said, drawing out his name. He towered over me in his suit, his pants wrinkled from a day behind his desk. His hair had that just fucked look, his deep blue eyes weary. “Tell me.”

  He shoved his hands in his slack pockets and pushed out his elbows with a shrug. “Set yourself apart, Stella. It’s not like you’re nuisance paparazzi. These bands want the exposure. So be the bloodthirsty reporter. They’ll tell you anything you want to know with little manipulation. Use it to your advantage. Make me want to get off my couch and spend the money for a cover charge.”

  I opened the article again and scanned through it, deflating. I wasn’t asking the questions I wanted to, not really. I was playing it safe. “You’re right. This is shit.”

  “That’s a little dramatic,” he said, eyeing the screen before he looked over to me. “We just need that right side of your brain to kick in once in a while.”

  “Can I make a suggestion of my own?”

  “Shoot,” he said, staring at the four by four of Herb’s German Shepherds.

  “Exactly. We need pictures.”

  He was already shaking his head. I knew his concern was the budget. It was always the budget.

  “I’ll take them,” I said. “You don’t have to hire a photographer. Look—” I pointed to the screen. “This guy, Eli, the front man, he was beautiful. A close up of him on the mic might not get the guys to the show, but I can guarantee any girl eighteen to twenty-five would skip on down to that show with their lunch money to see him sing, even if glam punk isn’t their thing.”

  “Which would be relevant if the majority of our readers weren’t male.”

  “So, let’s get the girls reading. Because where the girls go, the guys follow.”

  “You want to use my paper to get Eli laid?”

  “Sure. Why not? And while we’re at it, Speak becomes the stalking source.”

  “Sex sells.”

  “Sex sells.”

  We shared a grin.

  His eyes were violet under the yellow lights of the newsroom. It was nearly impossible not to stare at him. “I could get permission to set up a few stands on campus. I noticed we don’t have any yet.”

  “I’m working on it,” he said as he bit his lip in thought.

  I kept rambling while a tidal wave of ideas swept over me. “I could talk to a couple of club owners, get a schedule for ladies night with no cover, feature the bands and the clubs that want to get on the map—”

  Nate walked away while I was mid-sentence, unlocked his office, and came out seconds later with one of the few cameras he kept there. “It’s worth a shot. Know how to use one of these?”

  It was a Nikon with all the bells and whistles. “Sure.”

  “Liar,” he said wi
th his signature wink. “You break, you buy.”

  “This is going to work,” I said as I grabbed my backpack and tucked the camera inside.

  “What are you going to do about the ugly front man?” Nate asked.

  I felt the residual tug and tamped it down. “It’s not always the front man.”

  He shut off the main light in the office, leaving us in pitch dark.

  We walked toward the moonlit lobby as he set the alarm.

  “Nate?”

  “Yeah?” he said, punching in the security code, his back to me.

  “Nothing.”

  He walked us out of the front door and locked it up with me on his heels.

  “’Night.”

  “No ride tonight?”

  I shrugged. “Roomie is working.”

  “Come on. I’ll take you home.”

  “I’m good,” I said.

  “Not with the camera in your backpack you aren’t,” he scorned as he walked us toward the parking lot.

  “To hell with me, right? As long as the camera’s safe.” He unlocked the passenger door and then nailed me to it with his stare alone. “What do you want to hear, Stella?”

  “Huh?” I asked as he closed the space between us, swallowing hard while he hovered. He searched my eyes under the streetlight and then bent his head. “Stella.”

  “Uh huh?” He smelled amazing, and I couldn’t stop myself from breathing him in. I was tempted to grip his broad shoulders and pull him closer. It would be so easy to touch him, an attempt at a little reprieve from the ache. Bury the handle so I could never find the shovel again. But I’d bounced from one man to the next and got eaten by curious flames. And everything inside me told me that Nate’s blue fire would stir up those ashes and mold them into something unrecognizable.

  “You’ve got to step back so I can open the door.”

  “Okay.”

  I took a step back. He hesitated and then opened it for me.

  He was quiet as he took the streets toward my apartment. I watched him bite his lips, his shoulders rigid, and his eyes straight ahead. There was a reason I rebuked every attempt he made at something more between us.