Not physical.
Could get beat to shit and I wouldn’t give a damn.
It was all the rest that was torture. Making me question my sanity. This thirst to destroy becoming more than I could bear.
I stripped down to my boxers, panting by the time I had. I planted my hands on the vanity and stared at myself through the glow of the mirror.
I lifted my chin, exposing the ink imprinted on my skin. A black hawk tried to take flight on my chest, its wings rising up to wrap my neck in a vain attempt to soar. A shackle bound one foot. Chained. Unable to fly. Held down by the ghosts writhing across my stomach.
Ghosts that would haunt me forever.
My eyes took in the words written in the mix of it.
Love is the heart’s greatest deceit.
It was instant, the way the room spun, the way hatred and turmoil and hurt squeezed my ribs to the point of shattering.
Suffocating.
In a blink, I was struck by the past.
Taken hostage to the pictures that invaded my mind.
I propped her on the bathroom counter. She giggled a sexy sound. “Royce. What do you think you’re doing?”
I nuzzled into her neck, her dark hair falling across my face. I inhaled. “Loving my wife. I missed the hell out of you.”
She tsked a coy sound. “How could you miss me when you were out chasing your dream?”
“Dreams don’t mean a whole lot if you aren’t there to share them with me.”
She giggled more. “Sweet talker.”
I was palming my hand across the huge swell of her belly. Joy rose, pressing full.
Was it even possible to feel like this?
Awe slammed me when I felt the little kick. “She’s moving.”
She pressed my hand closer to her stomach. “She hears you.”
“Think she knows how much I love her?”
My wife looked back at me with adoration. “How could she not?”
I fought the memories, hands fisting on the cold granite. My jaw clenched so tight it pierced my head with a stake of pain.
My eyes slowly opened until I was staring back at my reflection.
I had to remember.
I had to remember.
Couldn’t forget the goal.
My purpose.
So how, after everything, was the girl across the hall the only thing I wanted?
I guessed I really was a bastard.
Eleven
Emily
The stench of evil filled the room. Wickedness abounding.
Smothering.
Gagging.
Darkness consumed, a blind over my eyes. I yanked at the bindings on my wrists. Desperate.
A hand clamped down on my chin. “Shh, Emmy Love. Careful. You don’t want to go and hurt yourself.”
A whimper bled free. “Please, let me go. I’ll give you anything.”
Hot breath hit my ear. “Promise?”
I jerked up to sitting, panting, skin drenched in sweat. My eyes jumped everywhere all at once, searching for a demon hiding in my room. Shadows leapt across the walls and danced on the floor, the silhouette of the two pygmy palm trees in planters on my balcony swaying through the silver rays of moonlight that poured in through the sliding doors.
I gasped in relief.
It was just a dream.
Just a dream.
A nightmare that I couldn’t escape.
Hunting me down night after night.
Sleepless.
Exhaustion weighed down, but there was nothing I could do but slip from my bed, unwilling to lie in it for a second longer.
I couldn’t take it.
I stood in the middle of my room. Once again, completely alone. Heart pressing so full at my chest, the hurt so big in the middle of the night that I was sure it might implode. I shuffled back over to the nightstand, flipping open my journal and gripping the piece of paper that I’d found this morning before we left Mobile for the next show.
It was a beige parchment, torn at one side, the strong handwriting denting the paper and making it look as if the words had been stamped there.
Emblazoned.
Have you been looking for someone
To fill up what you’re missing?
Who is it who’s gonna stop you
From the circle that keeps going ’round?
In the dim light, I set it under the three lines I had written on the bus the first day Royce had climbed onto it. The day he’d invaded my space. I’d thought I’d been quick enough to flip the page closed. It wasn’t like it was earthshattering material, anyway.
But it was something.
And he’d remembered.
And—my nose curled in question—he’d written this. Written it and left it under my door.
Somehow, that made me feel like flyin’, too.
Comforted.
A feeling coming over me that maybe I wasn’t completely alone, after all.
Inhaling a deep breath, I padded around the bed and headed for the balcony doors. Sure I wasn’t going to get another wink tonight.
Quietly, I edged open the sliding door and stepped out.
The night was late, the drone of the city quieted as most had given themselves to sleep. Finding rest in the deepest hours.
Hugging my arms over my chest, I edged farther outside and tipped my attention above to the heavens.
A canopy of stars stretched overhead, muted and dulled by the city lights that glowed from all around, threatening to snuff them out. Humidity held fast, a blanket of heat on my bare arms and legs, my nightgown wispy and thin, though it didn’t do a whole lot to give relief from the heat.
Thing was, I’d always felt at home in this weather. Something about the weight of the mugginess made me feel grounded.
Familiar and right.
I trained my attention above, staring steadily into the endless sky.
Right into infinity. Deeper and deeper until a cascade of stars made themselves known.
That was the beauty of looking at the twilight.
It was always there.
Hidden but waiting to share its light.
There for anyone ready to witness its beauty. Wish upon it. Cast up their beliefs and ambitions and dreams, and hope like crazy that someone or something might actually be listening.
There were few things in this world that made you feel so small as looking upon the vastness of the heavens.
It didn’t matter if you were rich or poor. Famous or inconspicuous. Royalty or pauper. Somewhere in between.
Everyone felt insignificant when gazing upon the infinite.
A strain of a guitar broke into my senses, and I craned my ear, drawn toward the subdued melody. Barefoot, I shuffled over to the edge of my balcony, feeling like a creeper, but unable to resist my curiosity.
Plucks of guitar strings climbed into the air.
It sounded of imprisoned passion.
Bottled suffering.
My senses were hit with the dampened scent of cigarettes.
Cedar and sex.
Chest heaving with awareness, I pressed my back to the wall that butted up against the next room, and I peeked through the wispy, dancing shadows that crawled through the vacant night.
I tried to muffle the gasp that raked up my throat when I finally made out the lone figure sitting at the far side of the balcony attached to mine. He had his face upturned to the sky, as if he’d been drawn to the vastness as well, although his eyes were pinched closed, his expression marred in a grief and despair so profound I felt it like a punch to my gut.
He was shirtless, all of that ambiguous ink exposed though hidden, the man with his hand wrapped around the neck of the guitar that rested on his lap. The fingertips of his right hand slowly plucked at the strings as he moved through the progression, the pawns tattooed on his fingers moving on the frets.
My heart shivered, and I was sure it was gonna leap right out of my chest.
The lyrics I’d found under my door spun through my mind.
He played.
Suddenly, it didn’t seem like that much of a surprise.
Like it perfectly fit.
His melody shifted, the strains mournful, a rapturous cry I could feel winding around my body.
Morbidly alluring.
I felt fettered to it, my spirit in chains, and I carefully climbed onto the metal chair set up at the pony wall and started to crawl up so I could get to the other side.
Foolish and careless.
Reckless.
He’d kept turning me away, and somehow, I kept crawling right back.
I was halfway over when the chord fumbled and the guitar clanked. I jerked my attention up in time to catch the flash of inky eyes.
“Emily. What do you think you’re doing? You shouldn’t be out here.”
Based on the greed that flashed and pulsed? The energy that licked like the kiss of a hot breeze?
I knew he was right.
But for the first time in my life, I didn’t care.
I wanted to wade into his black waters.
I wanted to slip under.
Get swallowed whole.
Let him invade.
I was tired of playing it safe.
Look what that had gotten me.
Twelve
Royce
I stared at where she froze halfway over the short wall that separated our balconies. Girl wearing a flimsy white nightgown that was just this side of see-through, thin straps on her delicate shoulders, fabric the barest caress over her tits, long legs a milky glow under the moon.
What the hell was she doing?
Every time I tried to push her away, she managed to get closer.
“You shouldn’t be out here,” I repeated over the landslide of jagged rocks scraping my throat. Nothing but a lie considering the only thing I wanted was for her to stay.
“Why is that?” she asked in that drawl, and fuck me, I couldn’t come up with a good reason.
All except for the ones where I was about five seconds from going to her. Five seconds from throwing her over my shoulder. Taking her inside and laying her on my bed and giving into this thing going on between us that was becoming impossible to resist.
“It seems we’re both havin’ trouble sleeping, and I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of being alone.”
She slipped the rest of the way over, hitting my balcony floor on her bare feet.
She pushed up to standing. Those waves of blonde were bound up in a messy knot on top of her head, and her face was clear, barren of makeup, just like last night. Somehow, that made her all the more appealing.
I went to set my guitar aside.
She lifted a hand. “Please . . . don’t stop. I didn’t know that you play. That was . . . beautiful. And sad.”
Compassion filling her voice, she watched me through the hazy shadows. Looking for the truth.
Things she wasn’t supposed to see.
Girl had the power to dig them out, anyway.
Reaching over to the small table beside me, I picked up the cigarette that was slowly burning in the ashtray. I flicked the ash and took a deep, long drag. I held it in, staring at her from across the space before I exhaled toward the sky, watching the smoke twirl and coil and climb, disappearing into the nothingness.
I leveled her with my gaze. “I wouldn’t be a very good judge of talent if I didn’t play, would I?”
I picked across my guitar, the sound of it lulling us into a peace that neither of us should feel.
Common ground.
But that’s what music did—it reminded us that we weren’t so different, after all.
Shrugging, she took a timid step forward. “Sometimes all it takes is listening from your heart to see where true talent grows.”
A snort huffed through my nose. “That’s appreciation, Precious, not knowledge.”
She cocked her pretty head, fiddling with the hem of her nightgown, tugging it up to expose the top of her thighs. My mind was instantly back to when I’d had her propped on that table back in Savannah.
Knots of lust fisted my stomach.
My mind going haywire.
Shorting out.
How the fuck had this girl gained the power to ruin me like this?
“Honestly, Royce, do you believe in Carolina George? Or are we just another job? Do you really think we have what it takes to be somethin’ great?”
She took a step toward me, watching me like she trusted me. Respected me. Like something had changed in the span of days.
I’d be a fool to deny it.
Could feel the shift happen along the way.
That connection growing.
Gaining in speed.
Pushing to my feet, I propped my guitar against the small table.
“You are great.” It was gravel on my tongue. “That’s knowledge. Truth. The question is, what are you going to do with it?”
Funny how I just kept pushing her and pushing her in a direction that hadn’t been my original purpose. Not that I hadn’t wanted her to succeed.
Flourish.
But seeing this girl fly had started to feel like a necessity.
She released a small, incredulous sound. “That seems to be the question, doesn’t it?” Her face pinched, and her voice quieted. “I’m tryin’ to hold it all together, you know?”
Honesty poured from her, and my heart kicked an extra beat.
The air surrounding us was dense and deep.
Small, disbelieving laughter filtered out of her mouth, and she turned her attention up to the blackened sky, like she was trying to see what was written in the stars.
“A year ago? It all made sense. Playing. Living this crazy life. We were gonna get a big deal, and we’d finally be a big deal. Play at big stadiums. Get invited to all the award shows. Be somethin’. The guys would be living their dream. Money and fame and power.”
She said it like she’d decided it was dangerous.
She wouldn’t be wrong.
“I would be livin’ mine, though my dreams looked a bit different. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not about to scoff at the money. I want it as much as them. But Richard and Rhys? I think they’d be content to be on the road for our entire lives. But I wanted more, Royce. I wanted it all. I was gonna get married and have a family, and they’d be there at my side, and I’d be writing music, singing it and playing it because I’m not sure I really know how to fully exist without that being a part of me. It’s just natural.”
She blinked my way.
Pleading.
Like maybe she thought I was the only one who would get this part of her.
“It’s natural because it’s what you were born to do. You are a star, Emily. And fame doesn’t have a fucking thing to do with that.”
A sad smile twitched at one corner of her lush mouth, and her head angled farther. “But it only takes one mistake to ruin everything, doesn’t it? One misfortune, and everything starts fallin’ apart? Piece by piece. Brick by brick. I’m not sure I have what it takes to climb out of the rubble.”
Rage fisted my hands. “And what started that? Let’s go back and fix it.”
“If only it were that easy.” Quiet horror weaved through the lines in her expression, grief and shame, like she was a prisoner forced to watch all those misfortunes play out time and again. I wanted to erase them.
Wipe the terror from her face and scrape the guilt from her soul.
“I . . .” Her words faltered.
I took a step closer.
A tremor rocked the ground.
Attraction and greed.
Her lips parted under the force of it before a frown took its place. “I just . . . I want you to know I would do anything for the boys. For the band. I love them, and I want the best for everyone, and I want you to know that I’m trying to get over this hurdle so I can be what they need me to be.”
“What about what’s best for you?”
“What’s best for the band is what’s best for me. They’re my family.
I believe in what we’re doing, and I don’t want to lose sight of that. And now you’re here.” Her voice trembled. “I know we didn’t meet under the best circumstances, but I want you to know that I am tryin’. I don’t want you to think that I’m being difficult for the hell of it. Bratty and petulant and arrogant. You’ve been nothing but fair, and I know the offer is fair. More than fair.”
Fair.
What bullshit.
Like she was the one who owed me an apology?
“You have a right to be skeptical. People get deceived all the time.”
A half smile quirked at her mouth, worry threaded with all her glowing, outright hope. “Like that first night?”
There she went . . . offering an olive branch. A bridge for us to cross to meet in the middle. Giving me the opportunity to explain myself.
Emitting forgiveness like it was a sweet fragrance.
I couldn’t remain standing still for a second longer.
Tension swelled.
Rising between us.
I moved that way, stalking slow, my bare feet on the hard ground. I came right up to where she stood, my shadow covering her whole.
Like there was any chance of me standing anywhere else.
She rasped a shocked, needy breath, and her hands flew up to steady herself on my bare chest.
Fire flashed.
Fuck.
That was a mistake.
But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything but dip down lower to ensure she was listening.
“I would never take advantage of you. Never.”
The words were rough.
Scourges of a promise.
I prayed they were the truth. That I could fucking pull this off without hurting her more.
But looking down at her? I knew that I already was. That my thirst for vengeance was crushing sound reason.
I shouldn’t be doing this.
Wanting her in a way that I didn’t deserve.
Feasting on pure, innocent beauty.
Still, I was stuck, unable to move away from the face that stared up at me, her scent invading my mind and my senses.
Her short fingernails scraped my flesh.
They moved over the ink imprinted on my chest, tracing over the hawk wings that fluttered in sync with the ragged rhythm of my breaths, right over the raging thunder that battered at my ribs to the words inscribed there.
Catch Me When I Fall Page 12
