by Eden Summers
“What do you need it for?” Blake reclined into the corner of the sofa, outstretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles.
Mitch cleared his throat and continued to blink at the computer. “I just…thought I’d play around on the Internet.”
“By Googling Alana, you mean,” Mason added from the kitchen.
He didn’t reply. His friends knew him too well.
“Why don’t you call her?” Mason strode over and sat in front of him on the coffee table.
“I already have.”
“What?” Blake straightened. “When did you do that?”
“What did she say?” Mason asked.
He shrugged, brought up a Google Internet page and typed in Alana’s name. “I hung up.”
They laughed. Assholes.
“You’re a pussy.” Mason pushed from the table and walked back to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “A grumpy ass pussy.”
“I’m not fucking grumpy,” Mitch snapped.
“Umm, you remember the chick who wanted you to sign her tits and you told her to ‘get her skanky ass away from you’?” Blake raised his brows. “I think that constitutes grumpy.”
“And she had a great rack, too.” Mason added.
“So what? I don’t have time for that shit anymore.” He didn’t. Easy women were off his menu. For good. He wouldn’t slum it again, not after Allie.
The search brought up a page full of links containing the words Alana Shelton. He clicked on the top one – My Life in Focus, a photographic journey through my eyes. A pink screen loaded, the title of the blog standing out in bold script. He scrolled down and sucked in a breath at her image on the side bar. The photo was black and white, in a meadow or a playground. She smiled at the camera, her dimples showing, wisps of dark hair framing her beautiful eyes.
Why hadn’t his desire for her faded? He’d depended on it, had gone to sleep every night hoping to wake up anew. But, nope. The hard stone of regret which lodged in his chest the day he said goodbye had grown.
To the size of a fucking melon.
“Damn, she’s hot.”
Mitch pushed Blake away, ignoring the comment. He scrolled further, to the first post that read ‘Moving On’. There were no words, only images. One of Kate in a nightclub, dressed in a sparkly red dress with men on either side of her. Colored lights flashed in the background, people danced.
The next was of Alana, the same guys in the image. Her delicious curves were hugged by a tight pink camisole, her hand clutched a cocktail. He focused on her lips. Her beautiful, full, kissable lips, and tried to ignore the man beside her who had his arm around her waist, his mouth on her cheek.
“If you throw my laptop, I will hurt you.”
Shut it, Blake.
“Call her,” Mason sat back on the coffee table and chugged his beer. “Once we finish the promo tour, you’ll have a couple of weeks to catch up with her again.”
A couple of weeks. Mitch scoffed. Weeks would never be enough. He needed more. He needed forever. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an option on the table when his career had him flying around the globe.
He moved further down the page to an earlier post—Fractured, Not Broken. Underneath the heading was another photo of Alana. Her eyes glistened, a single tear streaked down her cheek as she focused to the side of the camera. The background blurred behind her and even with anguish distorting her features, she still took his breath away.
“Wow, kinda grips you by the balls, doesn’t it,” Blake murmured.
Mitch frowned and wriggled his nose, trying to dislodge the unwelcomed tingle. His sight blurred and he blinked to regain focus. The weight of regret increased, squashing his lungs. How would he get through this? He hadn’t even boarded the jet from Richmond before doubt started to gnaw at his insides. He hadn’t realized how much their time together had affected him. Well not until it was too late, anyway.
Before he chickened out, he clicked on the link to the last post and placed the curser in the comment section. I miss you, Allie. He typed his name with shaky hands then pressed submit, not allowing himself time to contemplate his actions.
“What are you doing?” Blake leaned closer, rubbing his shoulder. “Oh, no you didn’t.”
Mitch shot him a glare. “What? I wanted to send her a message to let her know I’m thinking about her.”
“Stalker.” Mason chuckled. “Hang up calls, tracking her down online… You sure you don’t have a pair of her panties hidden under your pillow?”
Mitch wished.
“I just want to know if she’s all right.”
He needed to reach out. Maybe his conscience wouldn’t allow him to move on because their farewell had been hostile. He never wanted to hurt her. Her future happiness had always been the reason for the decisions he made. Ending things on bad terms had almost killed him. Nothing felt right anymore. With Alana his life was full.
Now…now nothing mattered.
He didn’t want to smile, he didn’t want to perform, he didn’t even have the motivation or desire to get drunk and screw around with groupies.
He was broken.
Lost.
And unlucky for him, he’d thrown away the only thing able to turn his life around.
* * *
Alana had done a great job occupying herself for the last ten days, yet every so often she needed to stop and breathe and think.
Those were the times when Mitchell invaded her thoughts and wouldn’t let go.
The day after his rejection had been the worst. She’d woken to the sound of Kate’s shrill voice echoing up the hall. Reckless Beat’s interview with the breakfast talk show blared on the television and apparently waking Alana required the call of a banshee.
She’d shuffled into the lounge room, her mind still half asleep as she listened to him announce to the world that she was a ‘distraction’. His words not only fractured the cracks in her heart, they smashed her wide open, exposing her heartbreak to anyone who cared to notice. She’d foolishly thought he’d been too scared to fall in love, or commitment might’ve been the issue. Now she knew better.
A distraction. Christ.
At least it turned her mood from weighty despair to energized fury. She wanted to remind him that she never asked for his help. He’d pushed to be her knight in shining armor, not the other way around. Only she didn’t have his phone number to give him a piece of her mind. He’d conveniently taken hers and not shared his in return.
“Are you still staring at his message?” Kate walked into Alana’s bedroom and peered down at her computer screen.
Alana sighed and read the line again. I miss you, Allie. “I can’t help it.” Anger had been her constant companion. Finding the comment only made things worse, ripping her to pieces all over again.
Talk about a damn distraction.
She started the blog the night he left Richmond. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, so she threw herself into work. A new blog, a new life, a new outlook. Only Mitchell ruined that too.
“Delete it.”
Alana nodded. She should, yet what she really wanted to do was re-wallpaper her room with those few simple words. “I’m going to remove it all. The whole blog. Every post.”
“What? No way! I’m not letting you do that.”
“No.” She inhaled deep, filling her lungs for strength. “I need to. I started the blog to get over him, and it worked for a while but now every time I check my email I wonder if he’s left another message. And every time I start another post I wonder if he’ll read it.” She turned to Kate and gave a sad smile. “I need to delete the whole damn thing.”
Kate winced. “That sucks!” She moved closer, and scooted her ass onto Alana’s desk, sitting down to face her. “Why don’t you do a post on why sex toys are greater than a man? Or a certain guy in particular. I can buy you the rabbit vibrator I promised you for your break-up gift, and you can review it. Tell the world how only the finest medical grade silicone is better than the famous Mitchell Da—”<
br />
The house phone rang, and Kate scooted off the table. “We’ll finish this in a sec.”
Alana sighed and stared back at the words. I miss you, Allie. Her heart clenched. She missed him too.
With a deep breath she clicked onto the control panel of her blog and went to the settings tab. Kate had been kind enough to stop playing Reckless Beat’s music and removed memorabilia from view. The least Alana could do was take away the distractions on her end. There were only a few posts anyway. Nothing she couldn’t replicate when her memories of Mitchell faded.
She moved the mouse curser, hovered it over the Delete Blog button and paused.
“Alana?”
She glanced over her shoulder at Kate who stood in the doorway. Her face was troubled with a frown, her skin pale.
“What is it?” Her mouth dried. She stood, her legs shaking as she stumbled forward and grasped the outstretched phone.
“It’s Patty from your mom’s retreat. There’s been an accident.”
One week later
Mitch rubbed his eyelids, trying to massage away the tension. His life was hell. Not just a scorching inferno of uncomfortable existence, but a soul jarring, mood altering, fucked up actuality which made him want to crack open his ribcage with his own hands and scoop his own heart out with a spoon.
“We’re nearly home.” Blake spoke softly from his position next to Mitch on the jet’s leather sofa.
Home. He scoffed to himself. The thought of going to his empty Manhattan apartment gave him the chills. He didn’t know where home was anymore. Wasn’t it meant to be where his heart was? He’d unwittingly given it to Alana before he left Richmond...without getting the bastard back.
“I don’t want to go home.”
Blake didn’t say a word.
Mitch opened his eyes and glanced beside him, not surprised to see his friend staring back with an expression devoid of emotion.
“I’m going to go to Richmond with Mason.”
Blake nodded slowly. “Do you want company? I don’t have any plans for our down time.”
Mitch nudged his friend’s shoulder in the masculine, non-verbal way of showing thanks. “You think you can handle a few more days with me?”
Blake raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “I’ve already had my daily dose of revenge. I’ve been cleaning the hotel toilets with your toothbrush every night.”
A burst of laughter broke free and Mitch nudged him again, harder.
“So what’s the plan?”
He exhaled a slow breath. “I’m going to drive to Kate’s house and stay there until I get what I want.”
“Which is?”
“Alana.” He breathed her name and closed his eyes, letting the pussy-whipped sensation crash over him. “She’s all I want right now.”
“Well let’s go get her.”
Two hours later they pulled into Kate’s driveway. Mitch opened the passenger door and climbed out before the car stopped. Night had firmly set in, and the streets were quiet. Lights were on in the house but eleven o’clock was still pretty late to show up unannounced.
He pounced up the steps leading to the porch in one jump and knocked loud on the door. His heart hammered, thumping and pounding behind his rib cage. He couldn’t wait to see her, even if she greeted him with hostility. He would be patient. She deserved a thorough apology and if she didn’t accept his words, he would make sure he spent more time to convince her of his sincerity.
Footsteps echoed down the hall, and he glanced over his shoulder to where Blake sat in the car with his arm resting on the driver’s side window frame. “Someone’s coming.”
Blake gave a thumbs-up and turned up the music, his subtle way of telling Mitch he wouldn’t listen in on their conversation. Not that Mitch cared. He wouldn’t hide his feelings for Alana again.
The door locks clicked in release and the heavy wood creaked open. The bright light from the hallway pierced his eyes, and he blinked to focus on who stood in front of him.
“Mitch?”
“Hey, Kate.” He wiped his palms on his black jeans to remove the sweat. “How are you?” He held no interest in the answer. His chest grew tighter with every passing second.
“Fine,” she scrutinized him.
“Can I speak to Alana?” He glanced behind her, hoping to catch a glimpse of long brown hair and light green eyes.
“Umm…no sorry…you can’t.” Her hesitant words triggered an alarm which sent his nerves into a panic.
“I-Is she out on a date?” He was fucking stuttering. The thought of her alone with another man made him nauseous. “I can come back tomorrow… Or wait around.” Yeah, he could wait around for the inevitable kiss at the front door. That would be awesome.
“No. She’s not here at all.” His stomach roiled. “She went back home.” And there went his balls, nose-diving into the porch floor.
“Why? I thought she wanted to start a new life? I-I thought she was happy here?”
Kate raised her eyebrows and for the first time he noticed the disapproval in her expression.
“Maybe if you called her, she would’ve told you about it.”
He deserved that. “Is she coming back?”
Her frown deepened and she crossed her arms over her chest, ramping up her breasts even though he tried not to notice. “Not my place to tell, and even if it was, I wouldn’t go out of my way to make getting in contact with her easier for you. You. Have. Her. Number.” She punctuated every word with a tilt of her head.
“Gotcha. You despise me and don’t want to see me back with her.” He shook his head in defeat and turned toward the porch stairs.
“Wait.” Her command lacked conviction and he contemplated not turning back at all. “I don’t hate you.”
He swiveled on his toes and gave a sorry smile. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“Well, you did. Bad. And that shit isn’t fixed with a flash of your famous smile or by leaving a four-word blog comment.”
He winced. His regret had doubled every day that Alana hadn’t replied to his stupid message.
“What you need is some kneepads to grovel and expensive jewelry. Very expensive, Mitchell Davies.”
He chuckled and bowed his head in acceptance. “Duly noted... So does that mean you’ll give me her address?”
“Not on your life.”
* * *
Alana lay on her bed, staring at the flaking white paint on her ceiling. Exhaustion consumed her bones, every muscle ached, and her heart beat with a lazy melancholy. A knock at the door yanked her from the self pity, and she swiped a rough hand over the stray tear gliding down her cheek.
“Hi, Mom.”
Her mother gave a sad smile and strolled into the room. “Everything packed?”
Alana nodded. “Most of it, anyway.”
She hadn’t planned to come home. Her emotions were still raw from betrayal. Yet, as soon as she received the phone call saying her mom was in hospital, she rushed to catch the next flight back to Colorado. “How’s the arm?”
Her mom lifted the wrist covered in plaster and shrugged with a wince. “Not as sore as my chest.”
She had a broken ulna and three fractured ribs. All from falling backward while climbing out of the tractor. Alana had been skeptic about the accident at first. For over a week her mom had refused to talk to her about the information the Bowens had shared. She would neither confirm nor deny that her father had paid for the property they currently lived on, or that he’d sent money every fortnight until Alana turned eighteen.
She wouldn’t discuss the relationship she’d once had with Chris Bowen and refused to acknowledge his existence. Well, she refused until she had no choice but to answer from the restriction of her hospital bed.
“I guess karma is finally coming to claim vengeance.” Her mom gave a derisive chuckle and sat down on the end of the bed.
Sympathy overwhelmed her. Her mother’s emotional scars had always been visible to anyone who knew her well enough. Why hadn’t
Alana noticed how deep they ran? “No.” Alana spoke softly. “I don’t think that’s the case at all.”
Over the last few days they’d shared a million tears, discussed a lifetime worth of memories, and came out on the other side somewhat stronger. Her mother needed help and promised to go to counseling. The step in the right direction didn’t make up for a childhood full of lies, but it was a start.
“I can’t talk you into staying?”
“I’m sorry.” Alana shook her head. This wasn’t her home anymore. She couldn’t even look back on her past without a stab of deceit firing through her soul. She understood the reasons why her mother tried to change history, it would just take time and space to forgive. “I want to get to know the Bowens and maybe meet my father properly.”
Her mother pulled back in shock, then schooled her expression and stared down at the carpeted floor. She released a pained breath, glanced up, opened her mouth, and then focused on the carpet again.
The silence thickened and Alana gave her mom the time she needed to reply.
“I...” Her mother swallowed hard. “I know you don’t understand my fears and that you have your own life to lead. I’m just scared for you. I can’t sleep when you’re not here. I can’t think. I’m worried you’ll repeat my mistakes. I’m petrified some man will hurt my baby.”
Alana scooted forward on the bed and grabbed her mom’s undamaged hand, squeezing tight. “I know you’re scared. You’re my mom, you’re meant to worry about me. But I’m not a child. I need to build my own life and make my own future.”
Her mother glanced up with glassy eyes.
“I want to fall in love and get married and have babies. I’d love to work in a city and have my own studio. There are so many things I want, and I’ve been cut short on the opportunity to get them.”
Alana followed the trail of tears falling down her mom’s cheeks as she nodded. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I will be. I’m scared too, and I’ve already been heartbroken by a man, believe it or not.” She shrugged. “Feeling heartbroken is better than feeling nothing at all.”
Her mother’s posture straightened and she frowned. “The musician broke your heart?”
