by Tania Joyce
She’d kissed him?
“No. No. It’s my fault.” He was an idiot for not thinking straight. He pressed his forehead to hers, and his heart raced. The sweet taste of her lingering on his lips tempted him to kiss her again. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried the want. “We’re hurting. I shouldn’t have done that.” He’d had too much to drink. He didn’t need further problems. “It won’t happen again. I promise. Just got caught in the moment.”
That was all it had been. A mad moment.
Kara straightened and wiped her eyes. “Better not write any more songs like that again then.”
“That I can’t promise.” Music was something he could never go without. “Just don’t sit next to me when I do.”
“Okay.”
Willing the blood rush to his head to settle, he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost two in the morning. “We better try and get some sleep.”
She sniffled, drew the throw blanket back onto her shoulders, and wrapped her arms around herself. “Can I ask a favor? You can say no. I’ll understand. I know it crosses all kinds of boundaries, but I don’t care about anything anymore.”
He rubbed her low on the back. “Ask away.”
“Can you come and hold me? Lie next to me until I fall asleep?”
His heart thudded with an erratic beat. This blurred the lines they’d set. Was sleeping next to her, as a friend, wise?
Probably not.
To hell with rules for now. She needed him, and he needed her. For comfort. For strength. For support.
For Ryan.
“I can do that.” He swept her up in his arms and carried her upstairs.
After brushing his teeth, changing, and drinking a ton of water to avoid a headache in the morning, he slid into bed next to her. Drawing the thick quilt over them, he spooned her from behind. Sharing a bed with someone . . . just holding . . . was something he hadn’t done in a long time. There were no expectations, other than friendship.
He curled his arm over her and she snuggled it against her breast. After a few uncertain breaths, he relaxed. With her back flush against his chest, her butt tucked against his groin, her legs stretched out by his, she aligned perfectly against him. Just right.
“Night,” she whispered.
He nuzzled into her hair and inhaled. The scent of her filled his head. So delicious, intoxicating. Her kiss was still imprinted on his mouth. “Night.”
The warmth from her body enveloped him, and no matter how hard he tried, Kara seeped further into his soul. It scared the hell out of him, because he was on a path he wanted to avoid and one that would only cause more hurt. The emptiness in his chest flared. Soon he’d have to find the strength to rebuild that protective wall around his heart, push Kara away. But today was not the day.
Chapter 21
Rain splattered the back deck, turning the faded gray wood to dull, damp brown. Droplets of water zigzagged in silver streaks down the window panes. Kara curled up on the sofa at the beach house and watched the downpour, her mind swarming with images from the night before. Hearing Hunter sing. Holding him close. Kissing him.
He hadn’t stopped her. Instead, he’d kissed her back. The feel of his lips against hers burned into her brain. The kiss had been so raw, so deep, so consuming. She hated herself for kissing him when they were both vulnerable and not in a sane mind. Hated that for the briefest of moments, when his lips were on hers, she hadn’t thought about Ryan.
She had to move on but didn’t want to complicate the situation by giving into her simmering feelings for Hunter. They were a brewing storm that needed to fizzle out. She needed his friendship and support, not added heartache. It was best to forget the kiss occurred. Act as if nothing had happened.
Hunter certainly was. He’d made her breakfast, got her cups of tea, helped her walk, fetched whatever she’d needed. While she lay on the sofa reveling in her grief, he never sat still. He worked on his laptop, played his guitar, watched TV. Maybe it was his way of dealing with loss?
Day two away from the city brought a reprieve in the weather. Before it rained again, and in desperate need of some fresh air, Kara opted to walk down to the beach with him. With her arm hooked around his, she shuffled along the sand.
Sunshine that held no warmth kissed her face. She closed her eyes and inhaled the salty, fresh air. Dead seaweed crunched underfoot, and the crashing waves filled her ears. The elements did their best to distract her, but the loss of Ryan was always at the forefront of her mind.
It had been one week since he died. Her heart and soul were as crushed as they had been on that first day. How would she ever get past this?
After lunch, she sat out in the glass-enclosed patio overlooking the beach with a woolen blanket tucked around her. Staring at the book she was reading, she couldn’t get lost in the latest action–suspense romance. The tension and turmoil on the pages only added to her already high blood pressure. Normally, she could sit for hours reading, or with her sketchpad and pencils in hand, drawing, designing, and dreaming up new creations. But since Ryan had gone, so had her inspiration.
She snapped the book shut and tossed it aside. Wrapping her arms around herself, she glanced across at Hunter who sat on the lounge chair beside her, playing his guitar. His fingers slipped and slid effortlessly over the strings, plucking and strumming low notes and chords. A constant low hum rumbled in his throat. Every now and then, he’d shoot forward and write in the journal that lay on the end of the seat.
“What are you writing?” she asked, straightening her scarf.
“Lyrics, notes, ideas, thoughts . . . feelings.” His eyes mirrored the stormy, dark gray color of the unsettled ocean.
She dipped her head, wondering if there was anything in his notes about her. Would that book of his give her insight into what made the man before her tick? Other than Ryan, what occupied his mind? What were his dreams, and what held him back? What worried him, and what made him happy?
“Anything you want to share?” she asked.
He propped his guitar into position and played Ryan’s song. Slower than the first time. Lower. He pinched his brows together. “I can’t get this out of my head. I’m stuck. There’s this voice telling me to pick myself up and move forward, but I can’t. I feel sick to the stomach . . . with guilt.”
“Why guilt?”
Putting his guitar down, he turned to face her and rested his elbows on his knees. “Kar, when I found out you were pregnant, all I did was pray for it to go away. I wanted no part in having a child. I’m not a religious man, but I keep wondering if my prayers were answered. Did someone take Ryan away from us because of me?”
Her gut twisted, remembering how much they’d fought over Ryan at the beginning. How much he’d wanted her to terminate. Well . . . his wish had been granted. Hadn’t it? “You never wanted him in the first place.”
He lowered his chin, his hair curtaining his face. “I know. But I changed. I wanted him so bad.”
“You must be so relieved.” Her tone was pure poison. “You’re free. You can go back to your life, your tour, your girls, as if nothing happened. We never happened.”
His head shot up. The pain in his eyes snipped like scissors through her heart, but all her anger and hurt spilled out like a stream of toxic acid she couldn’t control. “You can forget me. Ryan. Everything.”
“Kar. Don’t say that.”
Burning tears spilled down her cheeks. Her heart cried. “He was my baby. MINE.”
Rage flared in his eyes. “I lost him, too. He was my baby, too. Don’t you dare say he wasn’t. This affects me as much as it does you.”
“How could it? It’s my fault we lost him. It was my body that failed.”
He lunged forward and sat beside her outstretched legs. He grabbed her hands, cupping them between his. “I don’t believe that for a second. You did everything right.”
His words did nothing to ease the torment in her heart. Was there something more that she should have done? More docto
r visits? More rest? Less work? “It wasn’t enough. I’m the guilty one. Not you. What did I do wrong?”
He drew her into his arms, and she shuddered. She clenched at handfuls of his jacket and cried.
“Nothing.” He rubbed her back. His warmth seeped through to her flesh, but it offered no reprieve. “This will get easier. I promise.”
“How?” Her eyes watered, stinging in the chilly air. “Because every time I look at you, I see him. I see Ryan.”
He squeezed her tight. “I see him in you too. We just need more time.”
She pressed her cheek against Hunter’s shoulder, her tears soaking into his clothes. He tortured himself over Ryan’s death like she did, blamed himself like she did, wondered if he’d done something wrong like she did. For some crazy reason, knowing he suffered and felt the same way gave her hope. She wasn’t alone, and they needed each other’s strength to move on. She’d been blinded by her loss, too self-absorbed. He’d been there for her; now she needed to do the same for him.
But when night fell, the darkness fogged her thoughts. The emptiness in her grew heavier.
Another storm hit the coastline. The shingled roof drummed with a steady beat as the rain pounded against it. Her nerves jumped every time the lights flickered as if the power would go out. The whole house shuddered with each angry gust of wind, Kara thought they’d be blown away.
The fragrant smell of their Thai chicken dinner filled the small living room. As they watched a movie, Kara lay stretched out on the sofa, her head propped on a cushion that rested on Hunter’s lap. His fingers combed through her hair. His touch, so soft and gentle, made it hard for her to keep her eyes open. Each stroke against her scalp eased her troubled mind. Thoughts of Ryan were not so painful. Thoughts of Hunter were not a pandemonium. But she kept the laces around her heart tied in a tight double knot. She wouldn’t fall into a false sense of security, because she knew this time with him was temporary.
At the end of the movie she trudged upstairs and crawled into bed. Tugging the pillow underneath her head, she could make out the sound of Hunter playing his guitar over the noise of the storm. The mournful tune sawed at her heart. She brushed her hand over the side of the mattress where he lay on the first night, missing the warmth of his body. Without question, he’d comforted her. And he’d done the same again last night when she crept into his room and curled in beside him, not wanting to be alone.
The red numbers on the old digital clock blazed 11:37 p.m. when she heard Hunter come up stairs. Her pulse quickened when he shuffled into her room and crawled in beside her. He didn’t say a word—only sniffled softly. He pressed his cheek against her shoulder and wetness dampened her shirt. Her heart plummeted knowing he was crying. When it came to coping with the death of their son, they were both going to have good days and bad. This one had been a mix. She drew his arm across her chest, squeezed it tight, and let her own teardrops soak into the sheets.
Her connection with Hunter could never be broken. But it would fade in time—and time was ticking. While she had three months off work for medical and bereavement leave, Hunter hadn’t said anything about his plans. Was he going back on tour?
The next morning was quiet, she sat on the sofa reading while Hunter slept the hours away. It wasn’t until lunchtime when she heard him talking on the phone upstairs but couldn’t make out what he was saying. After twenty minutes, his loud footsteps clambered down the staircase. She looked up when he headed straight into the kitchen, but he didn’t make coffee. Didn’t grab the JD. Didn’t grab food. Instead he just leaned against the counter and stared out the window.
“Hunt? Who was on the phone? Is everything okay?” She threw her book down. She’d been staring at the same page for the last five minutes.
He came over and sat on the rickety coffee table in front of her. “That was Kyle and Gem. We need to make a decision about tour.” He wiped the corners of his mouth. “I don’t know what to do. On the one hand, I want to get back onstage. But on the other, I don’t think I can get up there and act as if nothing has happened. I’m not sure I’m ready.”
Kara wriggled her slipper-covered toes, twisting and tensing them against the fluffy wool lining. She didn’t want to go back to the city either. She wasn’t ready to deal with all the pity, and sorrowful looks on everyone’s faces. Staying hidden sounded ideal.
“When do they need to know by?”
“Sophie and Olsen want to know within the next two days so they can make the cancelations if needed.”
“What do Gem and Kyle want to do?”
“They’ve left the decision up to me.” He cupped his hands and blew a breath into his palms. He jiggled his leg and the coffee table protested with creaks.
“Hunt, you live for touring.” She reached out and placed her hand on his bouncing knee to still it. “You shine onstage. It’s who you are.”
“But I can’t leave you after everything that’s happened. I . . . need to make sure you’re okay.”
“We knew this day would come. I’ll go and stay with my parents until I’m healed. It’s only for a few more weeks. Then . . . I’ll see how I am. I know I have leave, but rather than sitting around feeling sorry for myself, I might go back to work early. I’m not looking forward to working with Conrad’s mood swings, but it will be better than being at home alone.”
At first, after Ryan died, all she’d wanted to do was be alone; now, the thought terrified her. She had to start from scratch. Find new goals, new dreams, and find herself. But she didn’t have the strength yet. Staying in this protected bubble, locked away from the world, with Hunter, was what she needed.
“Why stay at Conrad’s if you’re unhappy?” he asked.
“My job is all I’ve got.”
“No, it’s not. You can do anything you want.” He lowered his gaze and took her hand in his. With gentle strokes, he circled his thumb over the back of her wrist. The tiny tingles she got from his touch returned and interrupted her concentration.
She tugged her hand free from his and placed it on her lap. “I don’t know what I want anymore, Hunt.” She wanted to be with him, but not with him. “I need to find my feet again. Maybe it’s time for us to take small steps forward.” Heaviness weighed down her bones. Their time together was coming to an end. “Go back on tour. Doing what you love might help you move on.”
“Kar, I don’t think I can. Don’t go to your parents. Stay with me? Come on tour with me?” A desperate pleading darkened his eyes.
“What?” She jerked her head back so fast, dizziness swirled through her brain.
“I’ll hire a doctor, a nurse, whatever you need.”
“Don’t be silly.” Her heartbeat quickened. Was he serious? “I have doctor appointments and checkups already scheduled.”
“I mean it.” He shuffled forward on the table. “I’ll have someone at your beck and call. We only have six cities in South America to visit. There’s not a lot of travel. Come with me so I won’t worry about you sitting at home alone and depressed.”
Her chest seized. “I. Lost. Our. Son.” Her volume soared. “I’m entitled to be depressed.”
“You are. So am I. And I’m allowed to be concerned about you.” He clenched his hands. “We can’t stay locked away here forever. I thought being around each other might make it easier to face each day.”
“How so? I’m not your girlfriend. Sex is not an option. So why do you want me on tour with you?”
“Do you think I give a shit about sex right now?” Hurt rippled through his eyes and made her feel small as an ant. “Why do you think that is all I ever want?”
Kara cocked her head. “Isn’t it?”
“No. I want you to come with me because if I have to step out in public”—he flicked his hand toward the door—“and pretend life is great for all the fans, the media, and the bullshit that goes on, I want to be able to go back to my hotel room at night and be me. Be with someone who understands the crap I’m going through when I fall into a heap.”
“You have Kyle and Gemma for that.”
“And they’re your friends too.” He sighed, slouching his shoulders as if he was defeated. “It was only an idea. Stay with your folks if you want. I thought you coming might be good for both of us. Help us ease back into life.”
“Tour is not my life. What would I do all day? Sit around in the hotel while you’re at soundchecks, doing promo, and performing each night? Is that it? How would that be helping me?” Her tone was too sharp for her liking.
“You’d get the rest you needed. You could hang out with us, read, draw, sketch, design, go to a day spa—I don’t know.” The concern in his eyes caused her heart to crack. “Knowing you’re there where I can see how you’re doing every day would make me feel better. So I’m not worrying about you.”
“You worry about me?”
“All the time.” His voice softened. “You’re my friend. I care.”
The knot between her shoulder blades slackened. “And you can just click your fingers and make all this happen.”
“Yeah. I can make shit happen.” A smile played at the corner of his mouth.
But even though she was warming to the idea, one thing worried her more than anything: his expectations beyond these four walls. “And what about the sleeping arrangements?”
He lowered his gaze and rubbed his hand down his thigh. “I’ll get Bec to book you your own room . . . or you can stay with me . . . I mean, us. Kyle, Gem, and I often share rooms, or suites. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
“Hunt, we can’t keep sleeping together.” Her heart could not handle that. “What we’ve been doing here has been wonderful. It’s what we’ve both needed. But anything more could lead us down a path we don’t want.”
He paused. His eyes drilled into hers, dark and intense. Her heart hammered in her chest. Unable to draw breath, her skin tingled. Did he feel that? Their connection? Was there something real between them?