Dark On Me (Borrowed Faith Book 2)

by Ruby Rowe

  “Are you saying we still have a chance?”

  “Yes… Please come back for me.”

  Leaning my head against hers, I try to stop the damn tears from flooding my eyes. I try, but they betray me and drip onto our clutched hands.

  “You smell like alcohol,” she whispers before she cries again. Fuck.

  “Baby, I had to get through my gig, but I promise I haven’t done anything else since you left. I’m going to get my life together.”

  Lifting her chin, I move in cautiously to kiss her. She lets me, and I taste her salty tears as she inches her body down in bed, allowing me to cover it with mine.

  I groan from how right it feels to have all her curves beneath me. Once our tongues meet, her mouth is as electric as I remember, igniting the fire I’ve been trying to keep at bay. Snaking my hand along her waist, I slip it under her thin shirt. She stiffens her body before her weeping commences.

  “I can’t. I want to, but I can’t when you taste like–like you. A bottle of Macallan.”

  “Baby, please don’t cry. I’m going to do better.” I pepper her face with kisses, but she only stiffens further, squeezing her eyes shut and holding her breath as if she’s praying away the monster who’s touching her.

  Climbing off the bed, I grip the back of my neck and turn away from her.

  “I’m so sorry, Liv. I can’t say it enough. I had no idea our time together hurt you this much.”

  “How could you know? You weren’t present for most of it.”

  Swallowing the little pride I had left, I walk out of her condo and also her life. It doesn’t matter if I get clean and make this right. I love her too much to risk hurting her again. It’s not forgiveness I need; it’s punishment.

  Olivia

  “Olivia, you look absolutely dreadful,” my mother says as she examines me in her living room. “Your hair and skin… Have you even drank a glass of water since you took off with that band?” She hugs me, and I roll my eyes before glancing at Landon.

  We’re having our first family dinner since I returned three days ago, and I’m grateful to have my brother here for support. He’s disappointed in me after hearing what I did with Zain, but unlike my parents, he won’t beat me when I’m down. “The Lord answered my prayers,” Mom continues, “and thank goodness he did before it was too late.”

  “I’m fine. Really.” Good thing I’m off my crutches and only limping. I don’t think she could handle much more. Taking hold of my hands, she steps back to have a better look at me.

  “I see you finally lost those extra pounds, but behaving like a groupie was not the way to do it.”

  “And I see you haven’t changed a bit.” I pull away from her to face my father who hasn’t spoken since I arrived. “Daddy.”

  “I’m glad to have you home, but it’s not without repercussion.”

  “I’m sorry about the paparazzi hounding you. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

  “Don’t. I’m having Forrest make a statement on our family’s behalf.”

  “No. This is my mess, and I’m going to handle it. I may be back home, but I’m not the same person I was when I left.”

  “You’re no longer with the rock star, dear, so you need my many pennies. I’d tread lightly if I were you.” His lips turn up to display his smugness. Gray hair has woven into his blond, adding to his refined appearance, but he doesn’t intimidate me the way he used to.

  Hearing the doorbell ring, I ask, “Who’s that?”

  “Someone you need to talk to,” my dad says as he stands from his chair. I catch sight of the painting hanging behind him to the right. It’s of The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci. When I was a little girl, I’d sit on my father’s lap, and he’d talk about the painting and tell me Bible stories. I can’t recall the last time I hung on my dad’s every word, thinking they were the gospel.

  Multiple footsteps grow louder on the slick hardwood floors. I turn around at the same time Ken and his parents enter the room.

  “What are they doing here?” I ask rudely.

  “Olivia,” Mom scolds.

  “Ken and I are finished, and that’s not changing just because I returned to Danville.” I look at Landon. “Want to grab dinner elsewhere?”

  “Yep.”

  “Neither of you are going anywhere,” Dad quips.

  “Olivia, can we at least talk?” Ken asks.

  “I don’t want to be with you.” I turn to my father. “And I don’t need your money. I’m making a career for myself, where I’m earning a living on my own, and once Zain’s gotten help, I know he’ll come back for me. He will.”

  Turning on my heels, I march to Ken and his parents.

  “Connie and Forrest, I’m sorry, but Ken and I aren’t getting back together.” Shooting my ex a look, I say, “You know the truth, so stop this already. Please.”

  I storm out, shaking the entire way.

  “Sis, wait up,” Landon says on the front steps of my parents’ home.

  “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. You can stay here if you want.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  Stopping at my car, I turn to face my brother. My lips quiver as I fight back my tears.

  “Everything I’m doing to better my life is hard and hurts. If I’m going to lose anyone else, I want it over with today.”

  “I’m not the enemy here. You’re always going to have this family member on your side.”

  “Yesterday, when I told you what happened while I was gone, I saw the disappointment on your face. If you plan to lecture me, please don’t come.”

  Opening the door, Landon steps back for me to get inside.

  “We’re in this together like we’ve always been, so stop babbling your crap and let’s go. I need to figure out how to fund my last years of college. I don’t want our parents’ help any longer, either.”

  Apple

  “There he is,” I murmur once I spot Zain walking toward Tripp and me. We’re seated in a courtyard during visiting hours at the rehab facility.

  “Hi,” he says as we stand to greet him. “It’s cool to see familiar faces.” Once he and Tripp share their bro hug, I wrap my arms around Z tightly. The feel of him warms my core, stirring up the feels. I promised Tripp I wouldn’t cry, dang it.

  “I’ve missed you.”

  “Same, Peaches.”

  After the three of us sit, Zain lights a cigarette.

  “They let you keep a lighter in your room?”

  He smiles. “Damn, I’m not in here for arson, but no, they gave it to me before I came out. Thank God, I can at least smoke in this joint.”

  “I thought you only did that occasionally,” I reply.

  “That was before I couldn’t do other things. Chillax, Fruitcake.”

  “I’m sorry.” I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “Baby steps.”

  “Yeah, I guess; although, I wouldn’t call detox a fucking baby step. It sucked enormous, hairy donkey balls.”

  I laugh. It’s nice to hear Zain be his funny self.

  “I’m glad you got through it,” Tripp replies.

  “Now, I’m learning what a piece of shit I’ve been.”

  “You’re nothing of the kind,” I retort before giving his hand another squeeze.

  “I think all of you felt differently three weeks ago.” Tightening his jaw, he taps his foot. “Enough about me. What’s going on in your world? Have you two been sampling wedding cakes and sniffing flowers?”

  I blush. “Mom and I are handling most of the wedding plans, along with a few of my friends. Oh, speaking of friends, um, Olivia said to tell you hi. We’ve been talking a lot.”

  Looking away, he takes a long drag off his cigarette.

  “That’s good.”

  “She said she misses you, but since you told me not to invite her, I didn’t mention that we were coming.”

  Push him.

  I tug on my ear after Nathan speaks to me.

  Push.

  “I
’m sure she’d love it if you called her. She said you haven’t.”

  Z returns a glowering gaze. “It’s only been three weeks, Apple. Not much has changed other than I’m not currently shitfaced. Until I believe I can walk out that door without going straight for some blow, I’m not talking to her.”

  “I’m sorry. I was only trying to help.”

  “I know, but she said she needed space, so I’m giving it to her.”

  “Are you working on any new music?” Tripp asks, surely trying to change the subject.

  “I’ve fooled around some on the acoustic I brought, but I’ve been sick a lot from detox, and this place keeps me pretty busy with classes and therapy. If you ask me, I’m paying for employee student loans and a bunch of BS. You know, you two act like I should be cured already. Sorry, but I haven’t graduated to camp counselor yet.” He takes another puff off his cig.

  “We’re not rushing you, man,” Tripp says.

  I nod in agreement. “We understand it’s going to take time, but you do look so much healthier.” Spotting something moving, I veer my eyes to the right of him about the time a butterfly lands on the table.

  “Hey, look. That’s a monarch. I thought they didn’t show up here until October. Zain, that has to be a sign.”

  Giving it only a glance, he stands and shoves his chair in.

  “Look, I’m clean … doing everything asked of me, but it’s too damn early to promise anyone shit. I have to get back inside.”

  “Z, wait. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks for coming to see me.” He turns and walks away.

  “Nathan talked to you, didn’t he?” Tripp asks as we watch Z toss his cigarette into a designated container by the door.

  “How did you know?”

  “Your cute ear thing.” He kisses the lobe, leaving my arms covered in goosebumps.

  “He told me to push Zain, but it was too soon.”

  “That’s my brother for ya.”

  “Nathan talking to us is huge. It confirms that Olivia’s the one. She’s Zain’s person, and I refuse to give up on them.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  THREE WEEKS LATER

  Zain

  “I was supposed to be discharged over two weeks ago. I’m not staying any longer,” I say to Barry, the older male therapist assigned to me at rehab.

  “Then share more, particularly in group.”

  “You know I’m not talking about deep shit during group therapy. We’ve been over this ever since I was admitted to this boring facility. It’ll leak to the press, and I’m not taking anyone I’m close to down with me.”

  “So, does this deep shit involve someone we haven’t discussed yet?”

  “Nice try.”

  Leaning forward, he entwines his hands. From his biceps bulging against his polo shirt, he reminds me a lot of Nash, who I fucking miss, except Barry is much older. Mid-fifties I believe.

  His hair is white for his age, or is it only looking whiter and brighter from how it’s reflecting off that ridiculous tan of his? He’s a body-builder and claims he went through rehab for steroid abuse, which led him to a career in helping others.

  “We’ve discussed your father’s philandering ways, your mother’s emotional absence over the years and the bus accident you witnessed as a child that scarred you more than you had allowed yourself to believe. You were making progress, but you stopped opening up a couple of weeks ago. Why?”

  Shrugging, I tap my foot on the carpet. “I don’t like how opening up makes me feel. I think I’d rather sit through church.”

  “If you don’t learn why you’re always trying to escape your life, it’ll be easier to fall back into those destructive patterns. You may do it without thought, whereas if you acknowledge the reasons and figure out why they’ve held merit all these years, you can take back their power.”

  “I thought the first step to recovery was admitting I’m powerless over my addiction.” I smirk.

  “The way you deflect lost its humor after week one.”

  “Then Faith Cottrell would totally get under your skin. She’s the queen bee at deflecting and projecting. I should’ve requested a female therapist. My charm works so much better on the ladies. I would’ve been out of here at three weeks tops.”

  “Why didn’t you want a female therapist?”

  I glance away. “Not relevant.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Look, I’ll share another damn secret with you if it gets me the hell out of here without having to tell that bastard Wainscott that I signed myself out. I didn’t want a female therapist because I thought I may have to share shit that I wouldn’t feel comfortable telling a woman.”

  “Why would it be hard telling a female?”

  “My secret is humiliating.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “No, but apparently, I don’t call the shots in this place as much as I thought I would.”

  “True. Your celebrity status doesn’t matter here.”

  “Plenty of the staff have made that clear.” I glare at him.

  “Zain, what shit do you still need to get off your chest?” He leans back in his chair and waits to hear more about my dirty laundry. With my ankle resting on my other knee, I mess with the bottom of my jeans.

  “There are many instances from my childhood that resurface from time to time. I’ve told you about some of them. I saw things kids shouldn’t see from my dad, his bandmates and the crew, along with people they met on the road. Eventually, I did those things myself. It took away the shame and weirdness of having seen them happen.”

  “Do you mind sharing an example?”

  Looking at the ceiling, I open my mouth and notice how fucking dry it is. It reminds me of a hangover, which makes me think of drinking. I guarantee this story would be so much easier to tell if I was drunk. Anyway…

  “Uh, so, I lost count of the times I stumbled upon my dad, or one of his bandmates, getting blow jobs from women they didn’t know. You’d think I would’ve gotten used to it, but it never got less awkward.

  “One time, I decided to turn the tables. I was sixteen and at one of Fully Wired’s parties my dad was hosting. There were all these women there, so I seduced the youngest one I could find, an eighteen-year-old. I was finally not looking like a boy, so she was down for whatever once she found out I was Leon Richie’s son.

  “I purposely took her to my dad’s bedroom and left the door cracked. I figured one of the band members, preferably Leon, would walk in since they often used the room to do drugs. I was right. Dad busted us while she was giving me head, but instead of him freaking out about it, he acted proud. He laughed and shut the door to give me privacy.”

  Tightening my fists on my lap, I look out the window.

  “You seem angry about it.”

  “Just once, I needed him to act like a fucking parent. I wanted him to hate having that image stuck in his head the way I’d always hated the ones stuck in mine. I wanted him to make us stop, but as usual, he didn’t give a shit about what I was doing.”

  “I figured you would have loved all the freedom, chicks, drugs and alcohol.”

  “I did, most of the time, but something happened to tarnish those luxuries before I was even old enough to try them.”

  “What was that?”

  I twist the bottom of my jeans around my sweaty fingers, pulling the material taut.

  “I was barely thirteen when it happened. I had been in my bunk, playing my Game Boy Advance during a Fully Wired gig. I heard Dad, his bandmates and some women load the bus after the show. On the nights I heard giggling, I always knew it was best to stay in my bunk.

  “He didn’t mind bringing groupies on board. The more the merrier was his motto. Now, Borrowed Faith … we’re not like that. We try to keep strangers off the bus as much as possible since it’s pretty much our only private place.

  “Anyway, I heard Leon’s deep, loud voice as he freaked out about something. I set my game aside to listen. T
he sounds of snickering surrounded my bunk next before Dad jerked the curtain back.

  “As he grinned at me, I saw his glazed-over eyes from the alcohol he’d been drinking all damn day. A couple of his bandmates and a young chick were standing next to him. The girl looked mortified as she stared at me.

  “My dad said, ‘Son, it’s your lucky night. This young one slipped through the cracks. Turns out, she’s seventeen, which is jailbait for me. I think you’re finally old enough for some late-night company.’

  “He held his hand out for her to join me in my bunk. Reluctantly, she got inside, forcing me to scoot over. Shutting the curtain, he and his bandmates laughed all the way back to the front of the bus, but he made sure to shout, ‘You’re welcome’ on the way.”

  “How old were you again?”

  “Thirteen.”

  “Damn.”

  “No kidding. My pecker was about as big as an overused No. 2 pencil. I had no time to prepare myself. I’d kissed some girls on the road, but that was it and not with someone that much older.

  “I don’t think the chick wanted to touch me, but she did it, likely to please the great legend waiting up front. I was lying there, frozen like a fucking pussy, waiting to feel hers. She lifted her skirt, lowered my athletic shorts and mounted me before I could even process what was happening.

  “Thank fuck I was at least hard. I mean, having a hot seventeen-year-old girl ride you is every straight boy’s fantasy, so my body reacted appropriately, but for some reason, I hated it mentally. I was caught off guard and not in control. I didn’t tell her not to do it, but I didn’t say yes please, either.”

  Standing, I clutch the back of my hair and pace. “Fuck, I love my dad, but there’s a part of me that hates him and his bandmates for that night. All of them but Dexter. He was different. More parental. For some reason, he wasn’t on the bus, or he would’ve stopped them. I know it.

  “My dad’s not that person anymore. Meaning, I don’t believe the sober him would do something like that to say … my younger brother, but Leon wasn’t sober yet, and I never knew what to expect from him, especially when he was blitzed out of his mind.