by Katie Ashley
His wailing brought Brayden from his roost while Rhys staggered out of the bedroom. Both of them stared at Jake in disbelief like he was some alien life form. I don’t know if it was the crying or the fact he was wrapped in my arms. When I glanced up at AJ, his expression was shell-shocked, but there was also pain in his eyes. After all, he’d grown up with Jake and knew his mom very well.
I gave AJ an empathetic look. “Not Susan,” he said softly. He pinched his eyes shut, and I knew he was fighting not to start crying himself. “Motherfucker,” he muttered under his breath.
The next thing I knew I tumbled backward when Jake sank onto his knees on the floor of the bus. Pulling on my hips, he jerked me down beside him, wrapping me in a bear hug. “Shh, it’s going to be okay,” I crooned into his ear.
He shook his head wildly back and forth. “No, it’s not. If it hadn’t been as bad as it was, Aunt Sally would never have called.” My body shook so hard with his sobs that my teeth clattered together. “Oh God, I can’t bear this, Angel. I’ll die without her.”
Although I’d grown up watching my parents handle emotional parishioners on a daily basis, I felt completely and totally helpless when it came to comforting Jake. I tried to draw on the right words to say to comfort him as I rubbed wide circles across his back.
“Listen, I’ll call my parents and tell them to put her on their prayer list. I mean, they don’t call my dad’s church the God-dome for nothing! And maybe there’s another doctor she can see. You know, get a second opinion or something.” My mind spun with thoughts as I tried to think of something to do or say to comfort Jake since he continued to sob uncontrollably. As soon as I thought of another one, I blurted, “Hey, one of our church’s deacons is on the board of a cancer treatment center. We can get your mom an appointment there.”
Jake’s sobs started to wane, but he kept his arms firmly around me. His voice, hoarse from his crying, came muffled against my chest. “I appreciate it, Angel. But Aunt Sally made it abundantly clear. The cancer’s been back, and there’s not a fucking thing I can do but watch her die.”
Running my fingers through his hair, I leaned over to whisper in his ear. “I’m so, so sorry. I’d give anything if I could take away your pain.”
“Thank you,” he murmured. He pulled back to stare up at me. Tears glistened in his blue eyes while his expression still contorted in misery. “You really mean all that, don’t you?” When I creased my brows in confusion, he replied, “The wanting to take my pain away and what you would do for my mom.”
“Of course I do.”
He continued to stare at me with an incredulous look as if he thought at any moment I might disappear—like I was just some illusion. His trembling hand came to rest against my cheek. “You really are an angel, aren’t you?”
I smiled. “No, I’m just someone who cares about you and your mom.”
“But don’t you see. I’ve never met a girl who really cared about me and not because I’m Jake Slater from Runaway Train.”
“Then that’s sad because in spite of some of your faults, you really are worth knowing and caring about.”
Jake blinked a few times at my words as he ran his thumb across my cheek bone. He leaned up, and just when I sucked in a breath because I thought he was going to kiss me, he planted a tender kiss on my cheek. “Thank you, Abby. Maybe my mom was right when she claimed fate brought us together.”
My eyes widened at his statement. “Maybe so,” I murmured.
After standing there staring at each other for a few moments, I patted Jake’s shoulder. “Are you feeling better now?”
He shrugged. “As good as I can be, I guess.”
“Need some water or milk before you go back to sleep?”
The corners of his lips tugged up. “Are you going to offer to read me a bedtime story next?”
I laughed. “No, I was just trying to take care of you.”
“You were mothering me,” he murmured as sadness washed over his face.
“Well, if you don’t need anything else, I guess I’ll go back to bed.” When I started to my roost, Jake grabbed my arm, pulling me against him. “Sleep with me,” he whispered in my ear.
I jerked away, ready to launch into a tirade for him playing on my emotions to put the moves on me when the tormented expression on his face stopped me cold.
He stared pleadingly into my eyes. “I’m still so fucking scared, Angel. I need someone just to hold tonight so I won’t be alone.”
I had to fight to catch my breath. How was it possible that the broken, vulnerable guy in front of me and the cocky, self-absorbed Jake who infuriated me were one in the same?
“No funny business?”
He shook his head. “I swear.”
I drew my bottom lip between my teeth as I weighed my options. After his emotional breakdown, I couldn’t imagine being cruel by leaving him all alone. I tried to think about how I would feel if it were my mom. “Okay, I will. If it’ll make you feel better.”
Leaning forward, he gave my cheek a tender kiss. “Thank you, Angel.”
My heartbeat accelerated so fast that I swept my hand over my shirt to make sure it wasn’t going to explode right out of my chest. What was happening to me? One minute I was comforting Jake and then next I was having all these inappropriate feelings about him running through me. Finally, I said, “You’re welcome.”
Rhys stepped forward. “Take the bed tonight, man.”
“No, it’s your night.”
With a shrug, Rhys replied, “Least I can do and all.” His gaze flickered over to mine. “Besides, it’ll be more comfortable for Abby.”
“I appreciate it, but I don’t want pity. Okay?” Jake replied.
Although it was kindness, not pity, that Rhys was offering, he bobbed his head. “Whatever. It’s yours if you want it. Just remember that.”
“Thanks, man.”
Rocking back and forth on his feet, Rhys finally stepped forward. He tentatively put an arm around Jake. “I’m sorry, man. I really am.”
Jake patted Rhys’s back. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
When Rhys pulled away, Brayden took his place. Jake clung to him, and I could tell he was fighting not to lose his emotions again. “We’re here for you, brother. We’ll see you through this to the end—to hell and back. Got it?” Brayden said.
“Yeah, I know.”
Taking Jake by the shoulders, Brayden looked at Jake almost like a father would a son. “Anything you need, you got it. Tour cancelations or pushing back the album, it’s done, okay? No questions asked and no shit taken from the label.”
“I can’t let you guys down,” Jake protested.
“There are other things in the world besides records and concert tickets. Whatever time you need to be with your mom, you have my blessing.” He gazed around Rhys and AJ before adding, “And if either one of these fuckers has one thing to say about it, I’ll knock his block off.”
Rhys held up his hand. “Hey, you guys are my brothers. We’re the four musketeers—‘All for one and one for all bullshit’. I’m unified in whatever decisions the brotherhood makes, and I’ll go toe to toe with the suits if they wanna give us grief. I mean, I did drop out of law school, remember? I can find a loophole in the contract like that.” He snapped his fingers for effect.
Tears sparkled in Jake’s eyes. “Thanks guys.”
I noticed that AJ had been conspicuously quiet. Finally, he hopped down from his roost. He and Jake stood staring at each other for a few seconds before they fell into each other’s arms. “Dude, I don’t know what the fuck to say. My heart is shattered—for Susan and for you,” AJ lamented, his voice muffled against Jake’s chest.
“It’s okay, man. You don’t have to say anything,” Jake replied.
“But I want to. I want to say and do all the right things because you’ve been my best fucking friend since we were eleven years old.”
Tears flowed freely down my cheeks at the sight of all the love between the guys. I swept them away with the
back of my hands. Jake finally pulled away from AJ and gave a rueful smile. “Okay, enough with the crying—we’re acting like a bunch of pussies. I don’t know who took our balls, but enough with the bullshit emotions.”
At my sharp intake of breath and what I guess was my horrified expression, Jake started laughing. It wasn’t long before all the guys joined in with him. Crossing my arms over my chest, I huffed, “Well, I’m so glad I could amuse you guys!”
AJ winked at me. “We needed that, Angel.”
“Whatever,” I replied.
“Okay, shows over. Go back to bed guys,” Brayden instructed.
Rhys yawned and bobbed his head. “Night, guys. Night, Abby,” he said before turning back to the bedroom.
“Night,” I called after him.
Brayden and AJ made their goodnights and then went back to their bunks, leaving me and Jake completely alone.
As I eyed the crumpled sheets of his roost, I asked, “So how do you want to do this?”
“Can I spoon you?”
My eyebrows shot up. “Can you what?”
The shadow of a smile fluttered on Jake’s lips. “You really don’t know what that is, do you?”
An embarrassed flush filled my cheeks as I ducked my head. “No,” I murmured.
Jake’s finger came under my chin and tipped my head up to look at him. “It’s okay. I’ll show you.” On his knees, he edged across the bunk to where he was pressed up against the wall. Then he turned on his side to where he was facing me. He then motioned me with his hand. I sighed. It was now or never time. I eased down beside him.
“Now lie on your side,” he instructed.
I quickly flipped over to where I wasn’t facing him. My breath hitched when I felt him snuggle up behind me. His arm snaked around my waist to drape across my hip. He then nestled his chin into my neck. His breath was warm against my skin as he asked, “Is this okay?”
I tried to still my rapid breathing. The truth was it felt so good being this close to him. Although it was just to comfort him, it felt dangerous and illicit sharing a bed with Jake.
“Abby, is this okay?”
Jake rarely used my real name, so I knew he was really worried. I reached down to grab his hand in mine. I squeezed it tight before I glanced back at him over my shoulder. “It’s fine.”
The genuine smile he gave me caused my heart to flutter. “Thank you. I’ll never forget this.” In a lower voice, he murmured, “I’ll never forget you.”
I closed my eyes and willed myself to go to sleep. With the heat of Jake’s body against mine and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest against my back, it wasn’t long before I was lulled into a deep, contented sleep.
***
Delicious warmth wriggled against me and cut through the levels of my subconscious. I didn’t try to fight waking up from this exquisite dream. After all, I’d gone to bed alone, hadn’t I? But when my hips automatically bucked my morning wood into the curvy backside pressed up against me, it felt so very real. Without opening my eyes, my hand slid up the dream girl’s ribcage to cup her breast. The tiny whimper that escaped her might as well have been a bloodcurdling scream because that’s when I realized the girl was so not part of my dream, but worst of all, I was molesting Abby.
I jerked my hand away like I had been scalded. Thankfully, she slept like the dead, and my horndog assault hadn’t woken her up. Gently, I climbed over her body and escaped the roost. Glancing back, I gazed down at her sleeping form. A tug pulled at my heart. I’d never had a girl comfort me before—well, at least not since I’d hit it big. Girls just wanted a piece of the fame or to be able to say they’d screwed me. With our crazy schedule, it was too much of a hassle to have a girlfriend. At least that’s what I told myself.
Pushing the long strands of blonde hair out of her face, I rubbed Abby’s cheek tenderly, but she still didn’t stir. Instead, she made those cute little snores that would have mortified her if she had been awake. She truly was an angel right out of Heaven to care enough to dry my tears and comfort me, not to mention sleeping with me when she knew she shouldn’t.
Fuck. Why did she have to be so beautiful? It would be so much easier if she was some average or even butt-ugly girl. No, my savior—my angel—had to be any man’s fantasy. With a frustrated grunt, I escaped into the bathroom. Even though I was tempted, I would not stoop to jerking off this morning. It wasn’t entirely that I had all this integrity—hell, I’d let a waitress blow me the night before in a diner storeroom. It was more about the fact that I knew to get off I’d have to fantasize about Abby.
So instead, I took a cold shower and watched my wood shrivel under the stream. Just as I was about to turn the water off, a riff hit me like a train barreling through my mind. It took me so off guard that I had to lean against the stall for support. Pinching my eyes shut, I hummed aloud what was filling my mind.
Hustling out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist before leaving the bathroom. Normally, I would have gone stark naked to the bedroom for my clothes, but I didn’t dare want to run into Abby like that. Once I was dressed, I grabbed my guitar, a notepad, some sheet music, and a pencil and headed to the kitchen. After flipping on the coffee maker, I flopped down at the table.
After scribbling down the riff I’d heard, I worked on the melody. Once it was done, I started hammering out lyrics to go along with it. All of the emotions I’d been experiencing converged on this moment. I only paused in my furious scribbling when my hand cramped from the excessive writing.
I eased my guitar onto my lap and started playing the music I’d written. I erased and changed a few chords before beginning again. Closing my eyes, I focused on the lyrics in my mind as I played.
At the sound of someone behind me, my eyelids popped open.
“Morning,” Abby murmured softly.
I glanced back at her and smiled. “Morning. Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but it’s fine.”
“Sorry. The muse decided I didn’t need any more sleep,” I lied. I knew I would freak her out if I told her the truth. Jerking my head over my shoulder, I replied, “There’s some coffee if you want some. Of course, you probably need OJ instead.” I winked at her. “Don’t want you passing out on me again.”
Pink tinged her cheeks at my attentiveness. “Thanks. But I’m good for now.”
I nodded. “We’ll probably stop for some breakfast in an hour or so.”
“Okay.” She motioned towards the notepad with scribbled lyrics and chords. “How’s it coming?”
I grimaced. “Good, but it’s never going to work.”
“Why not?” she asked as she eased into the bench seat across from me.
“The label wants very specific stuff from us, and this,” I waved the notepad at her, “isn’t it.”
Drawing her knees up to her chest, she rested her chin on the tops of her legs. “You won’t know until you approach them.”
“Trust me, it’s not happening.”
She cocked her brows at me “Oh, come on Mr. Glass Half Empty. What’s it about?”
With hesitating, I replied, “My mother dying.”
Her face fell. “Oh Jake, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“I know. And thanks.” When I started to rip out the lyrics from the pad, she reached over and grabbed my hand.
“No, don’t.”
I clenched my jaw with determination. “It won’t work, Angel. I have to sing about love, relationships, and sex. You know, bullshit like that. A song about my fucking heart being ripped to shreds because my mother is dying isn’t going to make an album, least of all a single.”
“What about Eric Clapton’s Tears in Heaven.”
I gave her a withering look. “That’s Clapton. He could tell any label to screw themselves if they didn’t like his songs.”
“Fine. Give me a minute here.” She drummed her fingers on the table for a few seconds. “Okay what about Alter Bridge’s In Loving Memory?”
My brows rose in surp
rise. “You actually listen to Alter Bridge?”
She rolled her eyes. “Contrary to what you think I haven’t been in a hole my entire life or jamming to the Jonas Brothers.”
I couldn’t fight my lips from momentarily turning upwards. “Yeah, well, Alter Bridge’s management isn’t necessarily marketing them the same way ours is.”
“You’re honestly going to sit there and give up so easily on something you obviously feel very passionately about?” She shifted her legs to where her elbows leaned forward on the table. “That doesn’t sound like the kick-ass and take-names Jake Slater I know.”
I scowled at her for a minute before blowing out a frustrated breath. “Okay Miss Fix-It, how do I make it work?”
Tilting her head, she chewed on her bottom lip, lost in thought. “What if you were to choose something symbolic to represent your mother’s…” I knew she couldn’t bring herself to vocalize the words.
“You can be a big girl and say it. Her death.” Abby started to open her mouth, but I silenced her with my hand. “Yeah, you’re sorry. I know. Now continue on about the symbol shit.”
“Like back in the day during the 60’s, people sang songs with symbols in them because of the FCC codes. You know, like the Byrd’s Mr. Tambourine Man was talking about a drug dealer, and I’m sure you know about Puff the Magic Dragon.”
I shot her an exasperated look. “And you just naturally expect me to know about the songs with the drug references?”
She grinned. “I didn’t mean any offense.”
I laughed. “I’ll have you know that I haven’t done drugs since high school, Angel.”
“That’s good to know.”
I made a circular motion beside my temple. “It messes with my creative side, so I like to just say no.”
“Hmm, what about the alcohol?” she challenged.
Damn, she had me there. I couldn’t help the sheepish expression from filling my face. “Yeah, well, we all have our vices I guess.” I then motioned to the notepad. “Okay, you think I should write about my mom’s death with symbols—make the emotions sound like something besides death.”
“Right.”
