The lights in my dressing room are still on, so I steer her that way, passing a tense-looking Dean. I half-expect him to flatten me. Instead he lets me lead the way, falling in a couple steps behind like he’s got my back. I don’t have time to be surprised—I just hope the ex-Navy SEAL will be enough to keep the typhoon of reporters away after what just happened. I pull her inside and close the door behind us, pushing in the flimsy button lock for good measure. I pause for a second, staring at the door as I try to gather my thoughts so I won’t jump in with all the wrong instincts, like I usually do.
If she wants away from the music business, so be it. I’ll be with her every second I’m not on a stage, and I will make it work. Still, part of me wants to shout at her, because calling this her last show is just crazy. She was made for music, just like I was, and to give it up would be so damn wrong.
But Ava’s strong, God, and scary intelligent. I respect that sometimes what you need isn’t anything the people you love would want for you.
I turn and cup her still-wet cheeks in my palms, the sooty streaks of her mascara staining my skin. “I’m in love with you,” I whisper. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and I love you. Today and every day you’ve ever lived.”
She crashes into my arms with half a sob. “I love you. I should have said that instead of pushing you away and I’m so sorry. I don’t know how you’re even speaking to me after all the shit I pulled, and I want you to—”
I shake my head. “Shh. We don’t need to do that, okay? Not tonight.” I know the value of making amends, but I’ve also worked the program long enough I can tell a genuine apology before a word is ever spoken. Ava doesn’t need to say another syllable to me.
“No, we do. At my parent’s house, you trusted me, and I let you down.” She pulls back, her eyes darkly circled in the overhead lights. “When you told me you couldn’t save that girl, all I could think about was how I didn’t save Angie. It didn’t seem like something that should be forgiven.”
The breath in my lungs shudders, the feeling she’s describing creeping back into every corner of me and stealing my strength. I shove a hand into my pocket and grip my eight months of tattered sobriety chips. This is exactly why the twelve steps push even nihilistic junkies to embrace a higher power: some things are too big for any one person to give absolution.
“Earlier, when Jera knew about my baby, my biggest regret was suddenly out there for everyone to see. It was even worse than what happened with Angie.” She swallows. “I had that choice. Looking it right in the face all over again...” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I didn’t want to live, Jax.”
Pain jags through my chest. “Ava, listen to me.” I grab both her arms, but she shakes her head, her muscles still strong beneath my hands.
“But then I looked at your band. I like them, admire all of them so much, and before all this happened, we were starting to be friends.” She smiles, just a little. “Even Danny, I think. Tonight, they were so angry. Every one of us was miserable and it wasn’t because of what had happened—all that’s in the past. It has been the entire time we’ve known one another. No, we were miserable because I thought it was better somehow, nobler, not to let it go.” She clenches her fists at her sides. “What you did at my parent’s house was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. Confessing everything you were ashamed of and daring to believe in a future beyond that...I wanted that tonight, so much I didn’t dare believe you would give me the chance.”
“So, you confessed to five thousand people instead, because I was too scary?” I shake my head, a smile pulling at my mouth even though this is every kind of screwed up. “Ava, you should know by now I don’t have much of a house to throw stones from.”
“It’s not just that. I needed to make a clean slate for myself in public, too. Music has gotten all twisted up for me, because I felt like I had to succeed after all my family sacrificed for me.” She glances back toward the stage. “I can’t go back to the life I know, which is the only way I’m going to force myself to find out who I want to be now.”
I doubt there is anything that could wash the music out of her blood, but I don’t say a thing, because that’s her journey, not mine. And as much as I love her, only her shoes can walk that path.
“I understand.” I stroke my palms down the soft sleeves of her sweater. “I think I’m finally ready for my clean slate, too. Which is why I need you to know there is nothing I want more than to build a life with you, but there’s something I have to do first. And you’re not going to like it.”
Chapter 25: Sparks Before the Sun
I pay the taxi driver, over-tipping the shit out of him because what do I care? Where I’m going, money’s not going to be able to buy me any of the things I need. Ava unfolds from the cab behind me, her leather-and-laces catsuit drawing the eyes of the few people on the street at this hour.
“Look, you dropped me off,” I say, more sharply than I intended. My skin is itchy with the knowledge of what I’m about to do, and I can’t give myself a second to think about it, or I’m going to bail. “Now you either need to get a cab back or call Dean. I do not want you hanging out alone on a New York sidewalk this late at night when you’re already the biggest news story in the country.”
She rolls her eyes, nodding to the building behind me. “It’s a police station, Jax. I think I’ll be safe enough. And I don’t care what you say, I’m waiting until you get out.”
“Ave, that’s not exactly going to happen tonight.” My voice almost cracks, and I have to look away, my heartbeat thundering beneath my tear-stained shirt. Fuck, it might not even be this year, and I really don’t want her here right now.
“Let me at least call my lawyers,” she begs again.
I shove back the lump in my throat and draw a crooked smile onto my face for her. “How about your boxing coach? I think his advice might do me a lot more good for navigating all the group showers in my future.”
She doesn’t even pretend to laugh. Instead, her fingers grip my biceps with all their wiry strength. It hurts, and I don’t ever want it to stop. She tips her head forward until our temples rest together, her cheek brushing mine. “I’m going to be here,” she whispers. “Wherever they take you, however long it takes, I’m going to be right there for you when you get out.”
I wrap an arm around her back and hug her into me for a single second. Any longer and I’ll crack.
My shirt is wet against my skin, three different girls’ tears soaked into the fabric, and how messed up is it that this is the shirt that’ll be waiting in a bag for me when I get out? What’s going to happen to all of them while I’m gone?
I give Ava a hangdog look as I start to back away. “Naked pictures, too?”
“Jax.” Her voice is like a punch I don’t know how to duck.
My smile wobbles and she dashes forward, smacking straight into my chest as she squeezes me tight and I cling to her back, hoping to shit nobody’s watching because I’m dry-mouthed goddamn terrified and I don’t want to leave her. I want to flag down a cab like a little bitch and flee back to a hotel room mounded with flowers and fresh sheets and locking doors. I want to see my friends one more time, be with them when they get the test results they’re all in the hospital waiting for. I want to punch Danny in the shoulder and play Mario Kart with Jera and kick Jacob’s ass on bench press and listen to Kate butcher every chord on my guitar. I want Ava to hook a finger into my belt and drag me back to bed.
“I’m so fucking scared,” she whispers against my neck. “What if you go to jail and something happens to you in there? What if—”
I press my lips desperately to her temple, trying to brand the taste of her into my skin before I step back and brush my knuckles down her cheek. “I love you,” I whisper. “Now get the hell out of here.”
I turn around before I can change my mind, and I walk up the steps of the New York City Police Department to give my confession.
THE TILE IS CRACKED, a skim of grit floating over its
surface and making a scraping sound beneath the slick sole of my shoe. I scrub my damp palms over my jeans and swallow down the wet bit of saliva that keeps rising up my throat. There’s no trash can in sight and I can’t throw up here. I try to pick up my feet a little higher so they won’t drag on the dirty tile but I’m too off-balance. My body is a loose sack of disbelief and uncertainty and wobbly bones.
The doors loom ahead: rectangles of smudged glass with official letters arcing across them, letting in the dingy gray light that’s too ugly to be dawn yet, but too luminous to be night.
I push through them and stop for a second, trying to catch my balance. This is real now. This is my future.
I don’t quite believe it.
A cry of joy breaks through the chilly morning air and heels clatter against concrete as Ava dashes up the steps. She hits my chest and knocks the air out of me, squeezing me tight. I blink. Her hair has lost its band and it’s a giant mess of curls tickling my chin. I close my eyes and breathe her in.
“Oh my God, you’re here. You’re really here,” she says.
I set her back from me. “Have you really been sitting outside a damn police station for seven hours?” She bites her lip. “Shit, Ave, I told you they were going to book me! What were you going to do when I didn’t come out again? Get a shopping cart and some newspapers and claim a bench?”
“Well, I was starting to think about ordering some bagels.”
I snort. “Seriously? I thought I was going to be sold into prison slavery to a dude with fists the size of my head, and you were going to order a fucking bagel?”
“Dean has some old military buddies in the police department,” she admits half-guiltily. “When the word came down that they weren’t going to pursue charges, I probably heard out here before you did in there.” She squeezes my forearm, her grip bringing my skin back to life. “Mostly, I was just scared to death you weren’t going to sign the paperwork.” She drops her voice. “Did they have any trouble with the ah, details?”
I shake my head, scoffing as I scrub my hand back through my hair. I need a shower, but I can’t quite grasp that I’m going to get to do it behind a closed, locked door and a clean curtain. Without fifteen other dudes I may or may not be able to take in a fair fight. “I told the cops I was the one who wiped the crime scene, but I guess they didn’t even run forensics at the time. There was a junkie and a syringe, and nobody gave a damn past that. Even with my confession, they still don’t.”
I drop down on the steps, not caring about whatever sticky thing catches the fabric of my jeans when I shift my weight. Raz loaded the syringe and gave her permission, so they say it’s not manslaughter. At most, it’d be assisted suicide. It doesn’t seem right, though. I know if it were Ava’s sister, if her team of lawyers were behind this same situation, I’d be shrugging into my recycled orange jumpsuit right now.
“How do you feel?” Ava murmurs, perching on the stairs next to me. She tucks her hair behind her ear as she ducks her head to see my expression.
“Not great.” I swallow back the saliva that keeps wanting to come back up. “The night Raz died, we talked about how no one cared about her. That’s why we made the pact. And she was right. No one ever claimed her body. She was filed and cremated as J dot Doe.” I lock my hands behind my neck, propping my elbows on my knees as my body throbs with fatigue. “I’ve hurt for her every day since then, and she never knew,” I whisper.
Ava reaches out, her touch a small, warm spot on my aching back muscles.
“Everything got better for me, and it could have done the same for her.” I scowl at the wide concrete steps in front of us. “Makes me want to go out and shake every junkie in the world. They’re all chasing these tiny little...sparks of feeling good for a second, when they could have the whole sun. They have no idea what kind of life they can have.”
I turn and look at Ava, the concern in her dark eyes. The circles beneath because she waited out here all night for me. A girl like her never would have wasted two seconds on the guy I was when I met Raz. It’s been hell’s own gauntlet getting from that moment to this one, but it was every kind of worth it.
“So tell them,” Ava says softly. “You’re famous. If you want to inspire people to get through recovery, you can.”
I snort. “Not that famous.”
“Actually...” She tilts her head, a smile starting to light her eyes. “Turns out people are hungrier for the truth than we gave them credit for. Pro-life and pro-choice are battling it out all over again, but fans are popping up everywhere to show their support for my confession. Overnight, all my old albums are making up number one through eleven on iTunes, knocked out of number four by guess who?” She knocks my shoulder with hers, grinning. “Plus, your other two albums are number twelve and fourteen.”
Holy shit. I try to cover my disbelief with a mock scowl. “What jerk took number thirteen from our clean sweep?”
“Wiz Khalifa.”
I snort. “Figures.”
“Better than Miley Cyrus,” a male voice says. “That’d just be humiliating.”
My chin jerks up and Danny’s right fucking there, hanging out at the bottom of the police station steps with his hands in his pockets. I shoot to my feet. “Dude, what are you doing here?” I glance between him and Ava. “Uh, does anybody need medical attention?”
“We’re fine. He was keeping me company.” She pushes to standing, giving me a rueful smile. “And some tips on how to get Jera and Kate to speak to me again.”
“But shouldn’t you still be at the hospital?” Suddenly it makes sense and my stomach turns over with a queasy flip. “Kate couldn’t strong arm the lab out of early results, could she?” How are we all just going to sit around and wait even longer, not knowing?
“Nah,” Danny says, scratching his ear. “Got an ultrasound and the results right then.”
My heart pounds once, twice, in the void of my ears. When he doesn’t go on, I ask the second most important question. “Where’s Kate?”
“Sleeping. You know how she is. She can hold it together for months at a time through anything, but as soon as the tour’s over, crowd goes home? She crashes.”
I come down the rest of the steps, scavenging pigeons skittering out of our way as Ava sticks close to my side. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” If he’s not saying anything, it’s bad. Where the hell is Jera?
Danny’s nose twitches. “We gonna talk about my balls in front of your girl?”
“What, are you embarrassed?” She tilts her head. “It’s because they’re tiny, isn’t it? I knew there was a reason you needed all those sequins on your Speedo.”
The corner of his mouth twitches upward and I love her so damned much for making a joke when neither he or I could manage one.
“Yeah, I have cancer.” Danny shrugs. “Well, technically an ‘uncategorized tumor’ right now. Still waiting on some blood work, but it doesn’t really change anything. It’s big enough it needs to come out, like yesterday, but with a little radiation, that’ll be the end of it. In the morning, Kate will work out the surgery and recovery schedule with our remaining tour dates. They’re going to take the whole testicle.”
My vision tunnels like crazy, his words bouncing around in my head one by one until I can’t catch hold of any of them. “So...you’re going to go through with it? The surgery?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “Fuck yeah. The lump in my right—it was just an inflamed vein. Or a cyst, maybe? I forget what they said, but I’ve got a chance, man.” His voice goes a little hoarse and he turns his head away to cough.
I grab his arm and pull him in, pounding his back with my fist, his ribs solid and real and holy shit, he’s going to live. They can remove the testicle with the tumor, and still leave him one healthy one. Still leave him his sex life and his future. I can’t stop grinning when I step back. “Fuck it, if Def Leppard can have a one-armed drummer, we can have a one-nutted bassist, no problem.”
He gives me a half-smile. “W
ith balls this big, man, you really only need one.”
I cough out a laugh, turning in a circle as I shove a hand through my hair, trying to take it all in. We’re free. My confession is signed, sealed and delivered. Jera’s going to have the baby she’s always wanted, and Danny’s going to live. Ava can walk onto a stage with no costume and no wig, and her fans will crawl over the top of each other and re-buy albums they all already own just for a chance to see who she truly is.
Ava stands back, her smile only growing as she watches me try to process. “So, you want to go back to the hotel?” she ventures. “I bet they have bagels.”
I turn in another circle, fighting the urge to shout and throw my fist in the air like a crazy person. But then my eye falls on the bright glow starting to creep up between the buildings across the street.
“Can we stay?” I ask. “Just for a minute? I want to see the sun.”
Danny clears his throat. “You know, I’ve got a little extra time. I might stick around.”
I have to duck my head because it’s just too much to look him in the eye right now, and I don’t want to start bawling like a little kid. When I turn to check with Ava, she’s beaming at me, the dawn glow kissing her skin. Her eyes don’t miss a thing, but they’re so soft I don’t mind.
“I waited all night for it,” she says. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Right. Cool.” I lead the way, claiming a spot at the center of the bench, my best friend on one side of me, the woman I love on the other. And I take my first easy breath.
THE END
Dear Reader
Hello! Thanks so much for reading this book and this whole crazy series. I know it’s had some tough moments, and I appreciate you sticking with me and trusting me to tell the story that was true for my band.
Insatiable (Sex, Love, and Rock & Roll Book 3) Page 27
