Key Change: A Slow Burn Rockstar Romance (Common Threads Book 3)

by Heidi Hutchinson

He finally met her eyes and his jaw pulsed as he ground his teeth together.

  “I didn’t know you lived here. I took a guess.”

  “That’s a pretty lucky guess,” she remarked warily.

  “Yeah, no. This is the fourth set of secure condos I’ve been to tonight. Pretty sure I’m on whatever amounts to the doorman watchlist of Chicago.”

  Her lips started to smile without her permission. The idea of grumpy Johnny going from doorman to doorman, trying to be granted access, was amusing.

  He noticed the half smile and flattened his lips. “Yeah, it was hilarious.”

  “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

  “Would you have told me?”

  He had a point.

  “And I tried to.” He sighed. “You wouldn’t answer your phone.”

  “It’s midnight,” she pointed out.

  He shrugged, like maybe she was right and he was being unreasonable.

  “Why are you here, Johnny?” she asked again.

  He tilted his head back and forth, cracking his neck. Then he leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees, and folded his hands together.

  She should have braced.

  His dark eyes, usually so guarded and suspicious, gentled. His expression relaxed and he took a deep breath.

  “I wanted to see if you were okay.”

  She slowly sat back in her chair, a strange feeling stealing through her body.

  “Of course I’m okay,” she said with a shrug. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  He swallowed and bit his bottom lip.

  “Because of today. Because I saw you.”

  I saw you.

  Never had such a small sentence had such a significant impact on her.

  She’d never been seen. And that was by design.

  Instead of playing it off, she made a choice. A significant one.

  “You weren’t wrong,” she admitted. “I remember…” She took a steadying breath. “All of it.”

  “All of it?”

  “Oh yeah.” She laced her fingers together in her lap and looked at her hands. “I remember you and me. I remember that whole week. I remember what I did.” She brought her eyes back to his and was startled to feel tears welling in her eyes. “I know it doesn’t make a difference now, but I am sorry. I hate myself too.”

  He didn’t reply. Just watched her in that gentle way. A way that somehow gave her comfort and also made her feel worse.

  She didn’t deserve comfort or understanding.

  And that’s when she realized she was much more comfortable with him hating her.

  That felt right.

  “I…” He sighed. “I don’t think I hate you.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  He nodded, like he agreed with her incredulity. “I thought I did. But now I just…I don’t think that’s it.”

  “What is it, then?” she asked, not wanting the answer. Somehow hate felt better. It was cold and easy and definitive. Anything else was uncharted territory.

  Guess we’re just gonna keep growing, huh?

  He sat back and scrubbed a hand over his face, fatigue deepening the lines around his eyes.

  And she remembered his youth. The bright, innocent hope he’d had when they’d met.

  And she’d sucked it out of him like a vampire bat with a songbird.

  She had seen his hope and had wanted it for her own.

  Hannah closed her eyes, trying to block out the hot shame that came with unfiltered truth.

  Her stomach rolled, and for a moment, she thought she might get sick.

  Quickly, she pressed her fingers against her eyelids and fiercely wiped at whatever tears may be present.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eye. She swallowed several times and took several deep breaths, trying to stop the overwhelming build of emotion.

  This was why she had wanted to be alone.

  The yoga had helped to focus her thoughts and calm her mind. She had planned on unpacking all of this alone.

  Alone.

  Alone.

  Alone.

  In that moment, she was exposed and cracked open. A piñata broken open with the well-placed strike of a memory. And the devastating realization that there wasn’t any candy inside. No heart, or soul, or humanity.

  Just more broken pieces.

  A piñata filled with piñata parts.

  “Hannah, Hannah, Hannah.”

  Somewhere, through the rush of blood in her ears, she heard her name being called. Soft and slow.

  The desire to run, to hide, to get away was growing. A pressing need that rose higher in her chest, making her heart race and her breath quicken.

  Oh shit.

  She was going to have an anxiety attack.

  No, she wasn’t going to, she was having one right now.

  Motherfucker.

  “I need to go,” she whispered, her voice sounding strained and rough in her ears.

  “Okay.” Johnny stood with her.

  She could just make out the elevator doors and she headed that direction, ignoring all the demands her unreasonable body was making.

  Alone.

  Alone.

  Alone.

  “What floor?”

  She licked her lips and focused on the keypad, pressing the correct ones. All she had to do was get back to her home.

  Anxiety was such a tricky bitch. One minute she had complete control of her faculties, and the next she was in a losing battle with intense emotion and waves of shame.

  Getting to a space where she could be alone and let it run its course had been the only lasting method.

  Brenda, her well-meaning therapist, had told her that having a compassionate relationship with her anxiety would be key to not having it take over and rule her life.

  Okay, Brenda.

  Hannah made it to the door of her condo, opened it, and took a deep breath of comfort.

  This was her space.

  Her home.

  The safest home she had ever lived. Piper was sleeping down that hall, her bed was just next door to that. The living room she had decorated herself with colors that made her think happy thoughts.

  “What can I do?” Johnny asked.

  Vaguely, Hannah knew Johnny shouldn’t be there. He should go. This wasn’t meant for anyone to see. But her speech was limited to only one word and she refused to utter it out loud.

  Alone.

  Alone.

  Alone.

  She took a breath and patted his shoulder. Hoping he could read from that that it was fine if he left.

  She kicked off her shoes and dug her toes into the thick carpet, feeling the sensation against her skin.

  Gently she sank to the floor and stretched out on her back.

  The soft light from above the sink filtered into the living space. She closed her eyes and felt more tears flee the sides of her eyes and run down her temples to her hair spread out under her.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered to no one. “I wish… I wish I were different. I wish I wasn’t this way. I wish I was a good person.”

  She rolled onto her side and her body shook with sobs. The echoes of past choices colliding with present accountability. Tremors of distaste and self-loathing.

  She wanted to be a good person.

  But that wasn’t for her.

  She knew it, but she couldn’t stop wishing it.

  It was the same secret wish every year on her birthday, every shooting star, every eyelash.

  Wishes were as close as she’d ever get.

  A hesitant hand landed on her shoulder and warmth seeped through her cardigan to her skin.

  Johnny ran his hand up and down her arm. He adjusted his body to cradle hers from behind but was careful to only touch her with his hand.

  On instinct, Hannah rolled back the way she’d come and faced his body. She buried her head against his chest and the warmth she found there.

  All of this was wrong.

  But the par
t of her that sensed the wrongness wasn’t in control at the moment.

  Right now, the anxiety was having its moment and she just needed to let it have its day.

  Pushing it off only lasted for so long.

  He could have left at any time. He could leave right then and she would be fine with it.

  This wasn’t his responsibility.

  Every single part of what was happening landed squarely on her shoulders.

  He wrapped his arm around her and held her close.

  And Hannah Lee cried until she fell asleep, touching something good.

  Chapter Ten

  Man on the Moon

  JOHNNY

  “Is this early call time going to be the usual or is it just for this week?” Nikki yawned and tapped her pen on the desk in the lounge.

  “I think it’s just for this week,” he said with a tired smile.

  “You look like hell, by the way,” she decided to point out.

  He already knew that.

  He hadn’t slept.

  Not even a little.

  Hannah had cried until she’d fallen asleep. And then it just felt weird for him to stay. What if Piper had woken up and found them together on the floor? How would that have looked?

  So he’d left her there, covering her body with a blanket he’d found along the back of the sofa. And then he’d hightailed it out of there.

  By the time he’d made it home it was three in the morning and he was too wound up to sleep.

  He still wasn’t sure why he’d sought her out last night.

  What he’d told her was true, he’d wanted to check on her.

  But what he didn’t know was why he even cared. He’d spent fifteen years not caring how she was.

  At around four he decided to go to the gym. Then he came back and showered. It was while he was picking up coffee for everyone that he realized he still didn’t care if Ashton James was okay.

  But it wasn’t Ashton James who had fallen asleep in his arms last night.

  That had been Hannah Lee.

  And he barely knew her.

  He handed a coffee to Nikki.

  “A double dose kind of day,” she remarked.

  His eyes flicked to the cup already on her desk.

  “She’s here already?” he asked, glancing toward the hallway.

  “About an hour now.” Nikki yawned again. “She texted me at six and bribed me with breakfast to let her in.”

  Johnny let that information take a seat next to the spot he had been keeping his confusion and headed to the studio.

  She was at the piano in the live room.

  Her dark hair was styled in loose waves and hung down her back all the way to her waist. That’s all he could see of her, but he could smell her flowery shampoo and it reminded him of last night. She’d buried her face so deep against his chest, and in turn, he had spent a good deal of time inhaling her scent.

  Light came in from the windows up high and settled on her like a halo.

  Dammit.

  This was only the beginning of day three and he was already letting her get away with too much of his time. And it wasn’t even her fault. His mind sought her out whenever he let it relax.

  Even going so far as to seek her out in the physical sense last night.

  He was lucky the doorman hadn’t called the cops. He hadn’t realized until he’d gotten home that he’d gone out without his identification.

  She was playing the piano, her voice ringing loud and bright against the unfinished walls. It was a song he didn’t recognize. But the soulful sound hit him in the gut and shook his good sense.

  Previously, it had hurt that she hadn’t remembered him, them, or any of it.

  Now?

  He wasn’t sure how to feel.

  But he knew he didn’t feel better.

  She must’ve heard or sensed him come in because she looked over her shoulder.

  The smile on her face was immediate and he had to look away or risk smiling back.

  “Coffee?” he asked, heading for the stairs that led up to the control room.

  He was not going to tell her how long he’d been standing there listening. It was best to act like he’d just arrived.

  “I was just thinking I needed more coffee.” She left the piano and followed him up the stairs.

  When she reached the control room, she tossed her empty coffee cup in the nearby garbage can.

  And then she approached him.

  He braced.

  “I, um…” She cleared her throat and slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “I’m not sure how much you saw last night.”

  He met her gaze and recognized the red tint to her cheeks as embarrassment.

  She swallowed and closed her eyes. “Sometimes when the anxiety shows up, I have to just let it happen.”

  “Is that what it was? An anxiety attack?”

  “Not as tough as I used to be.” She tried to laugh it off.

  “Is it…” He wasn’t sure how to ask the next question. Or if he even had a right to ask anything. “Does that happen a lot?”

  A wariness entered her eyes. “Not often. I keep it managed pretty well. But sometimes, like yesterday, something can feel too big. And it overwhelms me for a minute.” She blew air out and rolled her eyes at herself. “Sorry you had to see that. I know I’ve been saying that word a lot. It’s starting to lose its meaning,” she muttered. “But I am sorry. I’m sorry for a whole helluva lot.”

  He nodded, knowing it was true. Feeling the sincerity in her response but not knowing how he was supposed to react.

  His confusion compounded.

  “As scary as it was to feel all that last night, I feel better today.”

  He scanned her face and noticed she didn’t look like how he felt. She didn’t look like she’d missed any sleep at all. If anything, she looked the most refreshed she had all week. No dark circles, a healthy glow to her skin.

  “A good cry does that, though.” She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back into a full body stretch. “Anyway, I came in early because I wanted to work out something on the piano. And I also thought”—she scrunched up her nose as she watched his reaction—“I should probably listen to Shawn’s demo.”

  “Why?” Johnny didn’t try to hide his bewilderment.

  She shrugged. “Maybe I just need a way to make it up to you. If you’d rather I stayed out of it, I will.” She took a breath and he saw her brace herself. “I can’t make things right. I know that. But I need to do something to prove to myself that I can make better choices now.”

  “And what would that entail?” he asked cautiously.

  “I don’t know. I thought I’d start by fulfilling a young troubadour’s request.”

  He started to smile despite himself and cleared his throat instead. “Knock yourself out.”

  “Johnny—”

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw her reach for him and then withdraw.

  He turned to face her.

  “I lied.” The troubled look was back on her face.

  “Lied about what?” he asked slowly.

  “I lied to Terrence about you. That’s why you got fired. I’d turned my phone off so he couldn’t find me. And I blamed it on you.” She fidgeted with her fingers and powered through her confession. “I needed to get rid of you anyway, and I took the opportunity to do it then.”

  Wow. That hurt. Maybe it shouldn’t have, but it did. Had to get rid of him? As if he were some kind of hanger-on?

  Nope.

  No.

  She didn’t get to see it hurt him now.

  He swallowed away the bitter taste in his mouth.

  Obviously, she’d lied about him. That wasn’t the issue. But he didn’t realize until that moment what the issue really was for him.

  It was the lies she’d told when they were alone.

  Those were the ones that killed in the aftermath.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I figured.”

  Her brow f
urrowed with his response. She sucked in a breath and nodded once. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he repeated, and turned away.

  If she was suddenly looking to be friends, that wasn’t going to happen.

  He sat down at the board and started switching things on to get warmed up.

  “All I can do is all I can do,” she muttered behind him.

  He knew it wasn’t meant for him to hear. She’d said it a couple of times to herself that week. But this was the first time it gave him pause.

  HANNAH

  Of course, there would be more.

  It hadn’t even occurred to Hannah that Johnny wasn’t only upset about being fired. That was just a tangible focal point. Something he could point at and say, “There. That sucked.”

  But she was just now recognizing that she couldn’t begin to know how he felt about any of it. She was only guessing.

  Leaving the control room, she headed to the upstairs lounge that was normally empty.

  Yahtzee.

  She sat down at the work desk and pulled out her phone. Never had she needed to call her therapist between appointments. She’d been proud of herself for that fact.

  Logically she knew that was a stupid reason to feel pride. Brenda was a doctor and her business was to help people. Hannah wouldn’t be “bothering” by calling during business hours to ask business-related questions.

  But it still felt weird to think of her emotional baggage as someone else’s business.

  She left a message and then made sure her ringer and vibration were on so she didn’t miss the callback.

  When she went back to the control room, she entered quietly, not wanting to disturb Johnny any more than she already had.

  Life was a difficult motherfucker.

  She wanted too many things. She wanted to be better and to do better and choose better, but she also wanted to be comfortable and at peace. Those things hardly ever coexisted.

  Sometimes she would remember something she had said or done in the past and it didn’t match what she would do now. It felt like someone else’s memories.

  Except she remembered being her.

  She wasn’t new, she was the same.

  Just…different.

  “Here’s Shawn’s demo,” Johnny said, flicking a thumb drive her direction.

  She caught it with both hands. “Thanks.”