Pause (ROCK HARD Book 2)

by Kat Mizera

  “I know, right? It’s a hassle. Tell me about the new car?”

  Obviously, we couldn’t really talk with everyone around her, so she’d changed the subject and that was okay for now. I’d texted her a picture of the car I’d picked up two days ago, a shiny red SUV with all the bells and whistles. I gave her the details and we chatted about the last couple of shows, the brief I was writing, and how I was going to see Zaan in a couple of days during a preseason game the Sidewinders were playing against L.A.

  “I’ll try to call you tonight from the hotel,” Lexi told me. “And congrats on the car—it looks amazing.”

  “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. Talk later.”

  We disconnected and I sighed.

  She thought Stu had every right to be mad even though she didn’t think I’d done anything wrong. What kind of crazy mixed message was that? Well, if I got off my high horse and thought about it on the most basic level, Stu was upset because I’d done exactly what he’d asked me not to do. He’d asked me more than once, telling me it hurt him every time it came up. So I’d essentially purposely and knowingly hurt him.

  Ugh.

  I closed my eyes and tried to breathe.

  I loved him. I would never ever hurt him on purpose.

  Except I had.

  And now I had no way of fixing it.

  He hadn’t reached out at all, which meant it was truly over between us, and I didn’t even know how to process that information.

  That night, after Lexi and I had a conversation where she told me exactly what I’d already thought, I stared at the phone long after we hung up. Finally, I opened the texting program and crafted a note to Stu. I’d been thinking about it for a few days, but didn’t think he’d answer if I called. It probably wouldn’t do any good, but I had to try, because with each passing day, I missed him more and more.

  Hey, babe. I know you’re mad at me and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt or betray you, but every time the accident comes up, you get so tense and the pain in your eyes burns into me. I can’t imagine what you went through, from the accident to prison to the aftermath, but I feel your pain and everything inside of me just wants to help soothe it. I’m sorry if the way I went about it hurt you, because that was never my intention.

  I’d like to talk to you, but I understand if you need space. When I spoke to Gavin, he didn’t seem interested in setting the record straight, and I left it alone after that. I won’t pursue it any further now, either. I’m truly sorry, Stu. I love you more than anything, and while those might not be the words you want to hear right now, know that anything I did came from my heart.

  Always, Lindsay

  He didn’t respond, and I hadn’t expected him to, but it still hurt. I was busy enough not to dwell on it, but late at night I ached for him. Ironically, working in a high-powered law firm like this one, I had a lot of attention from men. One of the junior partners at the firm stopped by my office multiple times a day just to “check in,” and there was an accountant in a firm on the ground floor who somehow managed to be at the coffee kiosk every morning when I got in.

  I had no interest in other men, of course. Even if Stu never spoke to me again, it would take time for me to get over him, if I ever did. There would never be another Stu Killorn in my life. Not just because he was a rock star, but the man beneath the façade was special. I missed him a lot and was dreading when the band came to L.A. to play. I had to go, and I wanted to go, but seeing him would undoubtedly rip open any and all emotional wounds.

  Tonight, however, I was going to see Zaan. The Sidewinders were in town and Madeline and I were going to the game. I’d go back to the locker room or family lounge afterward, say hello, and hopefully get a hug. He and I were close, like a brother I’d never had. As my best friend’s husband, we’d forged our own relationship with private jokes and ribbing that was fun. Lexi tended to roll her eyes at us when we talked hockey since I loved it and she only paid attention to the Sidewinders. I liked the whole sport, though, so we could talk for hours while she pretended to be annoyed about it.

  “Never been one for hockey,” Madeline told me as we waited outside the locker room for the guys to come out. They were talking to the press now and we’d been told to wait. There were quite a few guests waiting with us, including a movie star named Rachel Kennedy, who was married to one of the Sidewinders. She was on an extremely popular television show that recorded in L.A. and supposedly she went back and forth from here to Vegas.

  “Hey, Linz!” Zaan came out a few minutes later and wrapped me in a big hug, holding me tighter than I’d been expecting. “Lexi told me you might need some extra love tonight,” he whispered.

  I hugged him back, surprised to feel tears sting my eyelids. “Yeah, it’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

  “It’ll be okay.” He pulled away and looked down at me.

  “What am I, chopped liver?” Madeline said, smacking his arm. They obviously knew each other through Lexi and he laughed, reaching out to hug her, which was ridiculous since he was over six feet and she was barely five feet tall.

  “Sorry, giving a little love to our brokenhearted friend here.”

  Madeline frowned for a moment but quickly replaced it with a nod. “Of course, of course.”

  Crap.

  I hadn’t told her about Stu and me breaking up. It felt personal, and it was really hard to talk about how I’d been the one to screw up, so I’d kept it to myself, and Zaan had just outed me.

  “How’s life in L.A.?” he was asking me.

  “It’s awesome,” I said. And I meant it too. Aside from my broken heart, I was having a blast. I loved my job, my new car, living in Beverly Hills, and exploring everything Los Angeles had to offer on my rare days off. I even had money now, something I’d never had as an adult. It changed my outlook on life in ways I hadn’t expected, but it felt good to be mostly self-sufficient.

  We talked for another few minutes and then Zaan had to go. “We play L.A. again in November,” he told me. “So I’ll see you then. I’m flying out to see Lexi over Thanksgiving but maybe we’ll see you at Christmas?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted, “but we’ll definitely talk about it.”

  “All right, I’m out.” He hugged both Madeline and me, and then he was gone.

  “You and I need to have a chat,” Madeline said as we headed toward the exit.

  Crap.

  28

  Stu

  Lindsay’s text had caught me by surprise, and though I was still upset with her, her words had touched me.

  I love you more than anything, and while those might not be the words you want to hear right now, know that anything I did came from my heart.

  She loved me. I’d known on some level but hadn’t been ready or willing to accept it. I was still so freakin’ irritated by what she’d done, it was hard to remember all the things I loved about her. Because I did love her. I could say whatever I wanted out loud, but in my heart of hearts, I knew the truth. There was nothing to be done about it, though, because how could I be with someone I couldn’t trust? I’d been betrayed by almost everyone, one way or another, and what Lindsay had done cut deep. Not because she’d done anything malicious, but because I’d asked her—no, I’d practically begged her—not to dig into things that ultimately brought back the past.

  I still occasionally had nightmares about prison. I paid Kate a fortune to keep news and social media stories about the accident buried. The band respected my boundaries, but Lindsay hadn’t, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. Ultimately, I’d had to let her go because she would never stop asking questions and I was never going to fully answer them.

  I was firm in my resolve that I’d done the right thing in letting her go, but while it worked in theory, putting it into practice was something else. So far, we’d been apart almost a month, broken up for three weeks, and I was still jerking off twice a day because there was no groupie, fan, or friend of the band th
at turned me on enough to have sex with them. My dick practically shriveled up into my balls every time a groupie came on to me. There’d been a lass in Birmingham, someone I’d been with more than once in my Waking Wonder days, and she was as wild and kinky as anyone I’d ever known. I’d known she would be backstage—I’d put her name on the list—but the minute she’d tried to kiss me, my body had rejected her advances even before my brain got on board.

  I’d actually had to tell her I had a UTI and couldn’t get it up, words that had never come out of my mouth before. She’d been dubious but respectful, and eventually wandered off with Bash and Ford. And I’d let her go with no regrets because the idea of having sex with anyone but Lindsay turned me off in a big way. Not only was I not getting laid, I’d also started smoking again. It was bad for me, but I couldn’t get blitzed out of my mind drinking every night, and I’d vowed never to touch drugs again after the night of the accident. Freddie and I had been drinking and snorting cocaine, which added to that feeling of being invincible, so I’d gone back to cigarettes.

  Ford also smoked, though he wasn’t as open about it as I was right now, so we’d been sneaking off together whenever we had a chance. Tonight we were standing outside the backstage area, where the semis with our equipment parked, along with the tour buses, and we’d just lit up when Kingston Knight came out. A cigarette dangled from his lips and he had a bottle of Glenmorangie scotch in his hand. He took a long pull from the bottle, swallowed, and then held it out.

  “Drink?”

  “Not a scotch drinker,” Ford said, shaking his head. “I’m a bourbon guy.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I’m Scottish,” I replied, chuckling. “What kind of Scot would I be if I didn’t drink the nectar of my people?” I took the bottle and drank deeply.

  “It’s been the day from hell,” Kingston muttered. “I don’t know how the fuck I’m going to get on stage in twenty minutes.”

  “You okay?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Paternity suit going on. She swears it’s mine but won’t do a test until after the baby comes, which is four months away, and she wants money now. I know for a fact we didn’t have a condom malfunction because I’m anal as fuck about it. If I don’t give her money, she’ll go to the press, and even though I don’t care about bad press in general, being a deadbeat dad isn’t the rep I want even though I’m ninety percent sure it’s not mine.”

  “I’m familiar with the concept of looking like a douche to the press,” I said, taking a pull from my cigarette.

  “I’m going back inside,” Ford said.

  “If anyone’s looking for me,” Kingston called after him, “tell them I’m having a quick smoke and I’ll be right back.”

  Ford nodded and went inside.

  “I have a great crisis management publicist,” I told Kingston. “If you want her number, she’s excellent. Kate Martensson.”

  “I’ve heard of her.” Kingston nodded. “Send me the info, okay? I might need her. I mean, I get not wanting to do a test that has a slight risk to the baby during pregnancy, but how can she expect me to pay for the pregnancy when the chance it’s mine is so low?”

  “Are you sure it’s that low?” I countered. “Accidents happen and you can’t always tell. Would you see a small tear?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t know. Fuck. This is why I usually only do anal, but so many women don’t like it, and if they’re not prepped, you hurt them, so I went back to regular.” He lit another cigarette. “Man, these fucking things are going to kill me.”

  “I quit,” I admitted. “Haven’t smoked in almost four years. Went through a breakup and now I’m smoking again because drinking and drugs are too dangerous for a guy on probation.”

  He nodded. “You gotta do what you gotta do to survive.” He paused. “She special?”

  “Yeah. She was.”

  “She dump you?”

  “Nah. We had a fight and I did the deed but now I’m wondering if I made a mistake.” Somehow, it was easier to talk to a virtual stranger about Lindsay than to any of my friends. “I miss her, but now I don’t trust her, and that’s hard to reconcile.”

  “I guess it depends on what you don’t trust her about. I think cheating is a hard no for me, but other stuff… Like, let’s say she took some money out of your account… Did she need it for something important or just because she’s a thief? Know what I mean? The why makes a difference. If she took a hundred bucks out of your wallet to pay a bill because she was too embarrassed to admit how broke she is, that’s a communication breakdown. If she took it to buy makeup and shoes, then it’s dishonest and you have to think hard about who she is.”

  Lindsay wasn’t a thief, but I understood his point. The why did matter and since I was still pissed, this wasn’t the time to think about it.

  “You need to be on stage,” I told him, prying the bottle of Glenmorangie from his hands. “So I’ll keep an eye on this while you go play.”

  Kingston chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Right. Try not to finish it before I’m done.”

  “Got it.”

  He clapped me on the shoulder and then jogged inside, leaving me alone with scotch, a cigarette, and some really heavy thoughts.

  After Onyx Knight finished their show, we all headed back to the hotel and congregated in the bar. This was a nicer place, a Hilton, and most of the patrons were middle-aged businessmen in suits. They didn’t seem happy to see us, but the bartender was stoked, and as we started ordering shots, the bar began filling up. Fans had tracked us to the hotel and had filled the bar, women swarming around us and someone turning up the music.

  Before I knew it, I was wasted, drinking and dancing with random women, my bandmates, and the guys from Onyx Knight. This was the first time they’d invited us to party with them, and though Lexi bailed around one in the morning, everyone else stayed. Tyler and Ariel were making out on the makeshift dance floor and Kingston had two women on his lap, alternately kissing each of them and letting them kiss each other too.

  Ford and Bash were up to their usual shenanigans, double-teaming a busty brunette, and more and more fans had crowded into the small hotel bar. Security had been called to keep out anyone else who didn’t have a room key, but the party was still raging at two o’clock when the bartender announced last call.

  I should have called it a night a long time ago, but hanging out with musicians like this, surrounded by adoring fans, reminded me of a simpler time, when music had been the only thing that mattered. I was having the kind of fun I hadn’t had since before the accident, and while I was cognizant enough of my surroundings to stay away from the drugs I saw being passed around, it felt good to let loose. I was a rock star, after all, and going straight to bed every night had gotten old. Even when going to bed meant getting Lindsay naked.

  My cock stiffened the minute I remembered what it was like to be inside of her, and I had to close my eyes to push away those memories.

  Something brushed against my groin and my eyes popped open. I made eye contact with a gorgeous blonde, who was making her intentions very clear.

  “Hi, Stu.” Her blue eyes glittered with desire and she ran her hand over my erection. “Looking for some company tonight?”

  “Er…” I froze, my heart hammering in my chest as I tried to find some sort of attraction, something that would make me want to fuck her. But there was nothing. Not the slightest glimmer of interest. My cock actually started to wilt and suddenly her touch made me sick.

  “Stu?” I must have made a sound because she was looking at me funny.

  “I’m sorry, lass,” I said after a minute, giving her a lopsided smile. “Not tonight. I’ve had a bit to drink and already hooked up earlier. Thanks, though.” I turned and headed for the front doors that led outside, already pulling out my pack of cigarettes. I slid one between my lips and dug the lighter out of my other pocket, flicking the switch the second I was outside. I lit the cigarette and stared up at the sky.

>   Much as I hated to admit it, I was a fucking mess. I was simultaneously furious with and in love with the same woman, unable to have sex with anyone else, and second-guessing myself on all my life choices. Some were a given—like the things I’d done the night of the accident—but others fell into a much grayer area that my alcohol-addled brain couldn’t deal with. It was abundantly clear that I wasn’t going to be forgetting Lindsay as easily as I’d hoped and now—a strange sound made me turn and I looked around.

  This time the sound was more of a muffled cry for help and I went in that direction, dropping my cigarette and grinding it into the cement before continuing. I rounded the corner and the scene in front of me brought me out of my drunken stupor. A young woman was bent over the hood of a car, a man behind her trying to lift her short skirt as she wiggled and tried to get away. He had one hand over her mouth, but it kept moving as she did, which was how she’d managed to get my attention.

  “Hey!” I moved in that direction without hesitation. “Get off her.”

  “Mind your own business,” the guy snarled. I’d seen him in the bar earlier, trying to get lucky with anyone who’d let him, but almost everyone had been far more interested in hanging out with the bands.

  “Do you need help, miss?” I persisted, continuing toward them.

  The guy pressed his hand tighter over her mouth but she was making wild sounds of protest, flailing to get away.

  “Let her go,” I said as I reached them.

  “Why don’t you mind your own fucking business?” The guy whirled and took a swing at me. It clipped the edge of my jaw, but I was far more worried about the young woman on the car, so I gave him a shove.

  “Go get help!” I yelled to the young woman.

  She straightened her skirt and ran back toward the front entrance.

  “You fucking kidding me right now?” The guy pulled a switchblade from his pocket, waving it in my direction. “She wanted me, you fucking prick. She was into it rough.”

  “Then why did she call for help?” I countered, dancing out of the way of the blade.