When my phone chimed in my bag, I ignored it. Another chime sounded then another. With a soft sigh, I moved off the bed, sliding over Connor to retrieve my bag from beside the door.
My phone continued to ping. “What the hell?”
Over and over, my phone vibrated and dinged in my hand. My brow narrowed, I opened the notifications and stilled.
@ConnorClashOfficial tagged you in a post.
My mouth parted, dumbfounded, and I looked up at him with a glare. My voice was quiet but harsh. “What did you do?”
But Connor just put an arm under his head and smiled up at the ceiling.
My finger hovered over the notification. Finally, after getting enough courage, I clicked on it and before the image opened, I knew what it would be.
Oh, for the love of St. Peter.
Connor and I in bed together. More specifically, Connor and I in our underwear with my leg draped over his crotch. My sleepy face, swollen lips and to top it off, a hickey on my shoulder.
Lovely.
I opened my mouth and just as I went to hurl a tirade of abuse at him, I read his caption.
A note to all the young guns out there. Forget the groupies. Get you a wife.
#GotHer #TeenyThing #TheVioletDame
Within seconds, my heart was full to bursting.
Okay. I’ll admit it. It was nice to have Connor Clash claim me to the world. In fact, it was all I ever wanted.
And the Internet went berserk. Within minutes, tens of thousands of people had already liked the photo. And I sighed.
Whelp, it was too late to remove it now.
My guess was thousands of people had already taken screenshots and sent it to their friends.
Unfortunately, the Internet was forever.
Trudging back to him, I put my knee to the bed, straddled Connor and lifted my phone, taking a snap. If Connor was claiming me publicly, I was doing the same. The photo turned out great, even more so when I realized my thighs had made a surprise appearance and Connor rested his hands on them possessively. His sly smile would be the star of every girl’s wet dream tonight.
I typed quickly and muttered, “Well, now you’ve done it.”
His phone vibrated on the nightstand but he ignored it. And that small act… I loved him for it.
It showed where his values lied. With me, in the here and now.
Before I put my phone down, I looked at the photo one last time and read my caption.
Fight for the one you love.
#GotHim #ThisGuy #ConnorClash
Yeah. That would just about do it.
I turned my phone off and threw it onto the covers. Connor took his phone from the nightstand and did the same. As I lay beside him, he ran his fingertips up and down my back and said, “I know I’m in no position to ask things of you but,” His tone was guarded, and when I looked up at him, I found his warm eyes already on me. “If you wanted to start wearing your ring again—” His smile was small but optimistic. “—that would be pretty great.”
I threw the brakes on this speeding train lightning fast. “No.” His face fell but he nodded. I softened the blow by uttering, “Not yet.”
He nodded again, running his fingertips down my arm. “We’re not there yet.”
“We’re not there yet,” I confirmed. Surprisingly, it was me who added, “But we will be.”
Connor’s brows arched. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I breathed.
His face dipped and he caught my lips in a deep, bruising kiss that made me positively heady. When he pulled back, he played with a strand of my hair. “No rush, baby. Besides, for you?” The words were soft. He picked up my hand and brought it to his mouth, speaking against it. “I’d wait forever.”
It took me a moment to register what he said and when I did, I jumped him.
Connor’s laughter filled the room.
And for the first time in months, I was happy again.
Ecstatic, really.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Crazy Little Thing Called Love.
Emmy
Connor and I spent the next few weeks dating, and it was the best of all of my new experiences. He picked me up every second night and took me out. We did it all, went out to lunches and dinners, spent our nights at bars drinking awful warm beer and listening to live music. We did dessert nights and midnight car rides, and to Connor’s absolute joy, we even went to bingo. On the nights we didn’t see each other, we spent hours on the phone like a couple of teenagers until the early hours of the morning.
We were now at the point where leaving each other became harder and harder, and every time I said goodbye to him, the familiar ache I felt all those months ago returned to me. It didn’t help that we weren’t being intimate. In fact, the lack of sexual intimacy started to feel like a tight band choking the life out of me.
I wanted to close the gap but I didn’t know how.
Tonight, my hand felt small in his as he walked me to my door and when we got there, he smiled down at me, taking my face in his hands. My heart jolted then warmed when he brushed his lips against mine.
I didn’t want to be left alone. I wanted Connor with me, in my bed, in a place where I could show him just how much I loved him and needed him. “Don’t go.”
“I have to.” He pecked my lips lovingly over and over again, and it slayed me.
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“Come inside with me,” I all but begged.
His eyes narrowed playfully. “Baby, are you trying to seduce me?”
“Maybe.”
He settled his hand at my nape, massaging it, and I smiled into his mouth, running my tongue over the seam of his lips. He shuddered, moaning lightly and he pulled away then very obviously adjusting his erection. “Jesus. I hate this.”
My whine matched his. “I do too.” Taking a small step forward, I placed my hand in his, linking our fingers. “So, come inside.”
But he swallowed hard, shaking his head, his jaw tight. I was mildly shocked to see that his hands began to shake. He snapped his eyes shut and his breathing got heavy.
“Honey?” I was instantly concerned at the visible perspiration that appeared at his forehead and temples.
He breathed through the beginning of a possible panic attack and looked up at me with misery in his eyes. “I—” His first attempt to speak was cut off. Clearing his throat, he steadied his breathing and said, “I’m petrified.” The moment he said it, he shut his eyes and dug his free palm into his eye socket.
“Of what?” I asked quietly, gently rubbing his hip. The frown I wore was one of pure confusion.
He gritted his teeth and groaned softly. My hand fell from him as he took a step back, away from me, then held the top of his head like he might have been losing his mind. His stare was intense and he looked at me a short while before lowering his hands. When he did, he spoke whisper-soft, “Of fucking this up.”
Petrified.
It resonated with me in such a strong way that I took the three steps toward him and wrapped my arms around his middle, pressing kisses to the center of his chest. My throat began to thicken when I felt his body tremble and shake, and when he returned the embrace and held me tighter than he ever had, I felt more of my hesitance dwindle. Even more so when he breathed out, “I can’t lose you. Not again. Not ever.”
We held onto each other in complete silence after that, exchanging love and kisses and looks of cautious tenderness, and when the light above the doorway lit up and the door opened, Connor muttered, “Uh oh. Busted.”
Cherry threw open the door, wearing a bathrobe and slippers, and she blinked at us, unimpressed. “What hour do you call this?”
“Hi, Mom,” I mumbled, trying not to laugh.
Connor sniggered and Cherry’s expression turned lethal. She glared at me. “Inside. Now.” I exchanged an amused look with Connor before walking past her and listening to Connor be, we
ll, Connor.
“You can’t keep us apart, Mrs. Cherry. Emily and I are in love and one day I’m gonna marry her, and we’re gonna run away from this shithole town.” From inside the hall, Connor heard me laughing and tried to keep a straight face but failed. He stared at Cherry a moment. “I love your daughter. And she will be mine.” He walked backward, away from the door. “Oh, yes. She will be mine.”
“I love you too,” I called out from behind Cherry.
Connor grinned hard. “Love you more.” Then he got into his car and drove away.
Cherry shut the door, switching off the outside lights, and followed me into the kitchen. When my amused smile landed on her, she fought a grin. “You two are fucking ridiculous.”
Oh, I knew it. Believe me, I did.
It surprised me when her expression softened and she uttered, “It’s nice.”
I watched her closely. “Don’t tell me you’re coming around.” From the very beginning, Cherry hadn’t ever pretended to like Connor. I wondered what might’ve changed her mind about him.
She avoided my gaze and followed up with mere jerk of her shoulders. “He loves you.” Finally, she looked at me, her gaze heartfelt. “And you’re happy again.”
I was.
I really was.
She had no idea what her words did to me. They were as comforting as a cool rain on a summer’s day. I didn’t realize until that moment how much Cherry’s opinion meant to me.
So, of course, I ruined the moment. “When are you going to bite the bullet and let Hell take you out?”
At that, Cherry clicked her tongue, spun around, and stalked back to her room. When the door slammed shut, I jolted then let out a careful, “Goodnight.”
As I stood in the kitchen, I grabbed my purse, thought about Connor and bit my lip.
Love-dazed, I walked to my room with a huge grin on face.
I couldn’t wait to see my husband again.
The venue was packed to the rafters and the moment I spotted the guys, I walked over, grinning. “Hey!” We exchanged hugs and I looked around the crowded club. “Can you believe this?” I was so proud of The Vixens. This was a big deal for any band, let alone a female rock band. They had done it.
They were headlining.
It was an amazing feat and one I believed they wholeheartedly deserved.
Noah peered at the empty stage, smiling. “I can totally believe it. They’re killing it.”
Hell stood with his arms folded across his chest, nodding lightly. “It was just a matter of time. Besides—” He smirked, “—my baby can fucking wail on her guitar.” He made a pleased sound in his throat. “So damn hot.”
My smirk was barely there. I think someone needed to inform Hell that he and Cherry weren’t an item. I will admit though, it was sweet to see him so affected by her.
Lee nudged my arm before leaning in and asking, “How’s Beth?”
My brows arched. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“I don’t think so.” He took in a deep breath before releasing it slowly. “I’m pretty sure I fucked up there.” He frowned to himself. “I just don’t know how.”
Poor Lee. He looked utterly depressed.
My face turned solemn. “Do yourself a favor and talk to her.”
His lips thinned. “Yeah. We’ll see.”
I looked around before asking, “When’s Connor getting here?”
“He’s not,” uttered Hell.
Everything slowed around me. “I spoke to him this afternoon. He said he was coming.”
Lee nodded slowly. “I know but I spoke to him just an hour ago. He doesn’t feel well.”
My heart stuttered before bolting into a full race. I pulled out my cell and frantically dialed, placing the phone to my ear. I thought about the short conversation we had this afternoon and my anxiousness turned to full-blown panic.
No answer.
“Noah,” I stated urgently, “can you try calling him please?”
At the desperation in my tone, Noah frowned. “Sure.”
Hell stepped closer. “What’s going on?”
I put my hand up and watched Noah make the call. When he shook his head, my stomach bottomed out.
“Guys.” Lee looked between Noah and me. “What’s happening here?”
I peered up at him. “Connor told me that he’d gotten some bad news this morning. And his brother is…” I felt the blood drain out of my face.
“Fuck,” said Noah, wide-eyed. “He’s out of town.”
“Yeah.” I nodded as he began to understand the gravity of what I was so worried about. “We just left a recovering addict unsupervised on a bad day.” Without another word, I started to move. “I have to go.”
My feet carried me as fast as they could in six-inch heels and once outside, I sent a cowardly message to The Vixens.
Me: I need to go.
Me: I’m so sorry.
Hailing a cab, I jumped in and gave him my home address. He stopped in front of my house and I asked him to wait a moment. Once I’d retrieved what I needed to, I silently thanked God that Ricky had the good sense to leave me with all his spares. I gave the driver Connor’s address and we were off.
Part way there, my phone pinged.
Cherry: Dude! WTF? What’s wrong??
Then,
Cherry: Noah just told us. Go.
Beth: It’s cool, honey. Don’t worry about us!
Ettie: We’ll be fine. Let us know what’s happening.
Pearl: Goddammit. Sometimes I really hate Connor. But I love you. Call us x
The cab approached the first gate and I hit the button on the black remote. It opened, and then we were in the exclusive suburb Connor called home. A short while later, I pulled out the little white remote and the second the cab pulled into Connor’s driveway, I pressed it. When the big, black gates opened, my heart began to beat erratically.
My mind was going a mile a minute thinking of all the possibilities. And none of them were good.
I tried calling again as the cab crept up the long drive.
It went to voicemail.
Suddenly, my chest ached and it was hard to breathe.
All but throwing the cash at the poor cabbie, I rushed out and toward the front door. Shaking hands struggled with the key until finally I managed to get it into the lock and turn it. I pushed the heavy door open and peered into the darkness.
I took three steps inside and heard him. “Take another step and I’ll break your fucking arm.”
The hall was suddenly illuminated and Connor blinked at me before lowering the baseball bat and hurrying out, “Emmy, what the fuck?” His entire body slumped and then he was mad. “Are you crazy? I almost hit you!” His brow lowered and he asked a hoarse, “What are you doing here?” Then, “How did you get in?”
My hands shook and I let out a shaky breath, moving closer to him. Without stopping, I swallowed hard and framed his face with my hands, looking into his eyes. He looked tired and confused. His eyes were hooded. And I inwardly freaked.
Connor let me look at him and when my phone rang, I answered quickly. “Hey.”
It was Noah. “Are you there? Is he okay?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
“Check his pupils. Are they small?”
I did. “No.”
Realization crossed Connor’s face and he pushed my hands off of him. “Baby, are you…?” He looked wounded. “Are you checking if I’m high?”
I looked him dead in the eye. “Are you?”
He blinked a long moment, before uttering an outraged, “No!”
Licking my lips, I spoke into the phone. “Noah, I’ll call you back.” I didn’t wait for a response before I hung up.
We didn’t speak for a while. Connor broached the silence, averting his eyes. “Did Ricky send you?”
“No.” It was still hard to breathe. “You weren’t there tonight. Said you got bad new
s this morning,” I said in way of explanation.
His face was solemn and his tone was emotionless. “I had a panic attack that led to a migraine. You woke me.”
Okay. That explained his heavy lids.
I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly but got no relief.
Connor jerked his chin at me. “Come on. Let’s talk.” He walked through the hall and into the kitchen, rubbing at the back of his neck. I took a seat at a stool, watching as he pulled out a container. “Take a load off. Have some cake.” He put a slice onto a plate with a fork then uttered, “Made it myself.”
It was then I saw that Connor was definitely not high and my organs began to work again. “You made this?” I looked down at the carrot cake, not quite able to picture Connor in the kitchen waiting for the oven to ding.
Connor began to nod, his expression still grim. “Yeah,” he spoke quietly. “It’s a therapy thing.”
Oh. Of course.
But I didn’t feel much like eating.
The silence that surrounded us was suffocating.
“What happened today?” I asked quietly. “The bad news?”
He looked hesitant. I didn’t like that. And when he scratched at his temple, his jaw tightened. “I spoke to the record company about getting Virgin Tears removed from my backlist.” The laugh he let out was completely humorless. “But it’s one of their biggest sellers and no matter how much I begged, no matter what I bargained, I don’t have a legal leg to stand on. As long as Left Turn are with them, they pretty much own our songs.” His look of shame was a punch to my gut. “Sorry, baby.”
“Oh,” was all I could say because I had no idea it was something he was even thinking about.
And when Connor spoke again, my heart broke. “So, you just think every time I have a bad day, I’m gonna shoot up, fuck you and everyone else I care about?” He sounded deceptively calm but I knew he was hurt.
The thing was, I’d had a scare myself and rather than placate him, I shrugged and said, “Past behavior is usually the predictor of future behavior.”
He blinked at me a moment. “You know what?” His eyes narrowed as he snatched back the plate on the counter. “No cake for you!”
Clash Page 31
