eyond Desire Collection

by JS Scott, M Malone, Marie Hall, et al

  He nods and pulls over in front of the closed wooden gate, letting the truck idle.

  “Thank you so much. I owe you one,” I say as I climb out.

  He shakes his head, subdued. All traces of the easygoing guy I’d spent the day with are gone. “No, you don’t. I’m just happy you’re home safe. Have a good night, Lucy.”

  “You too.”

  He nods and pulls out onto the empty highway, doing a U-turn to head back into town.

  I watch him go, still puzzled as to what happened. Had his one-night stand walls finally slid into place? Sadness washes over me. He’s the first person, besides Jax, that I’d truly felt comfortable with in a very long time. Maybe I can still convince him we can be good friends.

  When his red truck finally disappears into the distance, I open the unlocked gate and slip inside. From the front of the house, there’s a peek of the ocean, and I just stand there for a few moments, staring out into the vast greatness of the churning water and wishing Seth had stayed. I know he had to go back to work, but I don’t want to be alone tonight.

  A shiver creeps up on me and out of the blue I get the feeling I’m not alone. I freeze and glance around. Then panic takes over and I start to shake.

  Right there on my front step is Cadan.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lucy

  Cadan’s leaning against the lamppost, clearly waiting for me to notice him.

  No! Dammit.

  I steel myself. “I thought you left. Don’t you have a show to put on?” My words come out clipped, full of anger.

  He studies me, his sandy hair blowing in the breeze, and he looks so fucking perfect, like one of those metrosexual fashion models. Then he steps off the stoop and moves toward me.

  I take a step back.

  “Whoa,” he says softly. “Don’t run. Not now.”

  My hands ball into fists. “I’m not running. I’m just trying to stay away from you.”

  Hurt crosses over his face as he frowns at me. “Luce. Don’t do this. Babe, we need to talk.”

  “We don’t.” I pull the house keys out of my pocket and make a move to slip past him, but he cuts me off, blocking my way.

  “You can’t keep shutting me out.”

  Rage bursts forward in my chest, and before I can stop myself, I throw my hands out, knocking him backward. “I can do whatever the hell I want to. You forfeited the right to have any say in how I behave the day you stole Dad’s song!”

  He stumbles back, almost losing his balance, but recovers easily enough. His eyes widen with sudden understanding. “Is that what all this is about? The song?”

  I let out a frustrated growl. “You self-centered bastard. You know what that song means to me, and you sold it to the record company without even asking me. You recorded it. It’s on the fucking radio now. It was mine. And you took it.” Tears spring to my eyes, but for once it’s because I’m so incredibly angry. Not heartbroken.

  His mouth drops open. Then he closes it. I can tell he’s working to come up with something to appease me, but it’s not going to work.

  “Go back to whatever hotel you’re calling home these days, Cadan. I don’t want you here.” This time I manage to push past him. I almost have the door open when his arms snake around me from behind. I still and it takes all my effort to not jam my elbow into his stomach. “Step back.”

  “Lucy,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m so sorry, baby. I only took that song to the label because it’s so good. I wanted you to sing it on the track, but then I messed up and you left. I own that. I know this is my fault. Let me make it up to you.”

  The words sound just like every other apology he’s ever given me. I can’t believe I’ve fallen for his bullshit a hundred times before. Not this time. He’s gone too far. “You took the song because the label was pressuring you for new material, and you didn’t have any of your own. How else do you explain your name on the credits?” I twist out of his arms, glaring at him.

  He holds his hands up in surrender. “They just assumed. I never said it was written by me.”

  “Everything is always someone else’s fault,” I yell at the top of my lungs. “I’m not going to forgive you for this. Not now. Not ever. Leave, Cadan. I don’t want you here.”

  He actually takes a step back, shocked at my outburst. I’m not a yeller. I also don’t make a lot of waves, which may be part of the reason we’ve reached this point. Standing up for myself hasn’t exactly been my strong point.

  “Lucy,” he says softly. “Listen. I know you’re upset. I get it. I didn’t before, but I hear you loud and clear. Let me make it up to you.”

  I let out a huff of frustration. “You can’t. Just go,” I say, calmer now. “Please. I need this time to myself.”

  Cadan’s eyes narrow. “To yourself? Really? Is that why you left with that guy last night? And why you didn’t come home? I know you weren’t with Jax.”

  He can’t know for sure, but I was gone for hours while Jax was still at the bar, drunk as hell. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “What happened?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  The expression on his face morphs from mild curiosity to outrage. “You slept with him? That’s it, isn’t it? You fucked this guy. What the hell is this? Your twisted way of getting back at me?”

  I stare at him, dumbfounded. Has he lost his mind? I left him three months ago. And he’d cheated on me. Was he so self-absorbed that he thought I’d be sitting around pining for him? “You’ve got to be kidding me. Jesus, Cadan. When are you going to realize I don’t belong to you?”

  “You’re my soul mate,” he says through clenched teeth.

  “You’re a dick. Leave or I’ll call the cops.” I won’t. At least I don’t think I will. A police scandal is the last thing either of us needs.

  “I know you better than that,” he says, his voice calmer. “Let’s go inside so you can warm up. You’re freezing.”

  I’m so mad I haven’t even noticed the cold seeping through my clothes. The wind is picking up and I can hear the crash of the waves on the rocks intensifying. A storm is coming, and I feel as if it’s brewing from deep inside me.

  Cadan holds out his hand for the house key. I stare at it, knowing no matter what I do, he’s not going to leave until he gets what he wants. Only I’m not exactly sure what it is he wants from me. For me to return to the band? To write him more songs? To be the soul mate I’m supposed to be? I can’t do any of those things and remain myself. If I give in, I’ll be lost, living in a world that caters to him and what he wants.

  “Lucy?”

  I raise my gaze to his worried one. I can’t stand the hidden manipulation I see there. As if in a trance, I raise my hand and drop the house key into his.

  He smiles and then turns to unlock the door.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say.

  Turning, he raises an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”

  I nod toward the garbage bins. “I need to roll those out before the rain starts.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you inside.” He disappears into my house as the first drops of rain fall on my head.

  “Asshole,” I say and spin on my heel. I bypass the garbage cans and his Mercedes rental and head straight for the highway. If he’s staying, I’m going. I don’t care if I have to walk the entire ten miles to town. Anything is better than enduring what’s waiting for me inside.

  Once I’m outside the gate, I break into a jog, careful to keep to the shoulder. It won’t take long for Cadan to start to wonder where I am. And considering he has access to a car and I don’t, the likelihood that he’ll find me is high. If I can make it to the small convenience store a mile down the road, I might have a chance. Bessie, the store owner, was a good friend of my dad’s. She’ll let me hang out in the back if necessary.

  The rain starts coming down at a steady rate, and it doesn’t take long for my clothes to get soaked through. I’m cold, angry, and pissed that I’d let Cadan get to me. The frustratio
n only makes me run faster. And to add insult to injury, as I round a corner, a line of cars shoots past, spraying a wall of water at me.

  My only salvation is that none of them was Cadan. Or if one was, the rain is so heavy he didn’t notice me.

  My teeth are chattering by the time I get to Bessie’s, but instead of walking in, I bang on the door and poke my head in. “Bessie?”

  “In the back,” she calls.

  “Do you have a towel?” I don’t want to track in the mud clinging to my tennis shoes or drip a river of water on her hardwood floors. “I ran here and I’m soaked.”

  “What? Are you nuts?” She stalks out of the back room, her hands on her hips. “You could’ve been killed out there.”

  I grimace, knowing she’s right. “I have an unexpected visitor. And unfortunately he won’t leave, so I had to.”

  She tucks her gray curls behind one ear and smoothes her red apron over her round belly. “That good-for-nothing two-timer is here?”

  She knows my life well. I nod. “And my car died. It was either be stuck in the house with him or come here. Is this okay?”

  The anger melts from her face and she holds out a hand. “You know you’re always welcome. Come on in the back and dry off.”

  I leave a soggy trail behind me as I follow her.

  She pulls out a chair at what appears to be a break table and waves for me to sit. Then she bustles to a supply closet to grab a towel. “Is Jax coming for you?”

  I shake my head. “I haven’t called her yet.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled for some girl time. If not, you’ll stay here.”

  Bessie’s offer is sweet. But with her daughter and son-in-law and their four kids, her house is already bursting at the gills. I need to find somewhere else to go.

  With a tap of my finger, I call Jax. The phone rings once before it goes to voice mail. Damn. She declined my call. Her voice comes on the line, requesting I leave a message. “Jax. I’m stranded and desperately need a ride. Call me.”

  I end the call and try again, just in case. Two rings this time and then it goes to voice mail again. I frown at the phone, frustrated. Is she that mad at me? Seth’s at work; I can’t bother him again. Mike is there too. Shoot.

  “Bessie,” I call and head for the front of the store, but just as I slip through the door, the bell rings, indicating a customer.

  “Excuse me,” says an all-too-familiar voice.

  I duck back into the storage room, my heart pounding practically out of my chest. Cadan is already looking for me.

  “How can I help you?” I hear Bessie say.

  “I’m looking for someone. You might know her, she lives down the way. Lucy Moore?”

  “I know Lucy,” she says. “Haven’t seen her today though. On a day like this, I’d expect her to be tucked up in her house.”

  “Yeah.” Cadan sounds confused. “She should.” There’s a pregnant pause. Then he says, “Well, if you see her, please let her know I’m worried.”

  Bessie doesn’t say anything. A moment later, the bell chimes on the door again.

  “Need a ride somewhere?” a voice says from behind me.

  “Holy hell,” I say, clutching my chest. “Holt, you scared me.”

  He smiles. “Gran said to take you to town.” Holt can’t be a day over seventeen. He’s tall and lanky with recently straightened teeth.

  “You’re all grown up,” I say.

  “Getting there.” He jerks his head toward the back door. “Come on. I’ve got to meet my girl. I’ll drop you on the way.”

  “Thanks.” I smile up at him and then rush into the store to thank Bessie.

  “You can’t keep running forever,” she says.

  I bite my lip. “He’s not taking no for an answer.”

  “That’s tough. But you’ll need to find a way to make him understand sooner or later.”

  “I wish I knew how.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Seth

  I’m pissed at myself. As soon as I’d found out Lucy lives south on 1, my entire mood had shifted. It’s always rough passing by 128, the highway we’d been on the night of the accident. I should have told Lucy. Instead, I’d abandoned the pleasant flirtation we’d had going and turned into a moody dick. So much for that possible date later.

  The clock ticks loudly in the silent shop. Mike’s in the back grabbing more supplies for his station, and Tish is sitting at the desk, staring at me. It’s uncomfortable to say the least. It’s my own damn fault, though. Never mess around with anyone you work with, even if you were both so drunk you barely remember what happened. I have the feeling she remembers a lot more than I do. It was just once, months ago, but she still hasn’t let it go.

  “What time was my appointment supposed to be here?” I ask.

  “Twenty minutes ago.” She smacks her gum and pops a bubble.

  “Okay.” I turn to my sketchbook, meaning to finish a drawing of a phoenix I’d started a few days ago, but I can’t concentrate. All I see is Lucy’s face. My fingers twitch to sketch her. Charcoal. I rummage around in my drawer and come up empty. “Shit,” I mumble and stand up abruptly. “Tish?”

  “What?” She gives me a hostile look that I patently ignore.

  “Text me if my appointment shows up. I need to run home for a moment.”

  “Whatever.” Grabbing a magazine, she spins in her stool to face the entrance.

  The rain is coming down in sheets now and it seems crazy to go out in the weather just to get my charcoal pencils, but there’s a driving force inside me. That creative fire that comes so rarely these days. I have to draw. And I can’t wait.

  By the time I get to my truck, I’m drenched. The windshield wipers work overtime as I creep through the city streets, but I move forward with single-minded determination. My house is close, but the storm makes the visibility almost zero. No wonder my appointment hadn’t shown up. I’m so focused that by the time I get home, I don’t even notice I’m flying up the stairs until I reach the sunroom door.

  Then I freeze. Water drips down the side of my face and splatters on the hardwood floor. I don’t come up here anymore. I’d forced myself to enter twice. Neither time had ended well.

  My pencils are on the other side of the door. That driving force is getting stronger. I don’t think I can turn around now even if I want to. I grab the handle and twist, waiting for the panic to set in. It always does.

  But this time, with the sheets of rain obscuring the view and my mind on the charcoal, it doesn’t come. Not even when I walk to the center of the room and eye the oil paintings lined up against the wall.

  They’re all there. The last dozen or so E and I worked on. Flashbacks of her standing in this room, a paintbrush in her hands, her long blond hair piled into a loose knot on her head as she laughs at her own jokes, filter through my mind. That joy I’d always felt with her around slams into me. I let the emotion fill me up, reveling in the long-forgotten state of being. This used to be my life, so full of hope and wonder. Now the room is dank and dusty, holding everything I loved about her locked away.

  All too soon, the soul-crushing ache I’d lived with the last eighteen months takes over, knowing the person who made me whole was gone. Those long days of creating together, bringing something meaningful to not only ourselves but the world around us, had vanished that awful night.

  Why?

  The question haunts me now just as it had then. There is no answer. There’s only silence.

  I blink, and the visions of her are wiped away, leaving me in the dark room as the wind blows, rattling the glass. Why am I here?

  The charcoal. Lucy. It should feel wrong to be in this space while my mind is on another lover, but it doesn’t. Instead, the urge to sketch grows. If only those portraits weren’t staring at me. The ones still waiting for a few minor finishes. The ones they’d never get now.

  I move mechanically to a shelf full of supplies and pull out a drape. I should have covered them long ago, if for not
hing else other than to preserve the art against the sun. Once I have the drape in place, the memories of E dim, and Lucy’s image fills my mind again.

  The image of her standing on the stage, feet shoulder-width apart as she sings seductively into the mic, fights with the one of her eyeing me shyly in the truck when she thinks I’m not paying attention.

  My easel lies abandoned on the floor, knocked over in a drunken rage the last time I’d ventured up here. Now I bend and pick it up, positioning it in the corner so all I have to look at while working is the rain splattering on the glass. I rip a handful of damaged sheets off the sketchpad, wadding them up as I go. Once I have a fresh, unmarred surface, my hand closes around the charcoal and I begin to sketch.

  The world fades away, and all I hear is the splatter of raindrops mixed with the faint sound of the pencil against the paper. It’s soothing as my creative self takes over, seeing only Lucy and the angles of her body, the striking intelligence shining through those eyes and the hidden vulnerability. It’s that above everything else that draws me to her. The sheen of strength masking all the emotions underneath.

  Time ticks away as I fill half a dozen sheets with various poses, all ones my mind has been locking away for just this moment, I realize. She’s become my muse, the one I can’t walk away from. What’s happening to me right now isn’t the same as what E and I had. Together, we’d brought magic to a piece; it came alive under our ministrations, revealing something to the subject. No, this is revealing what’s inside me through a subject. In a way, it’s almost more personal. It’s raw and though it’s her image, it’s all about what’s going on inside me.

  A dam breaks, and my walls come crashing down. I’m all in, adding stroke after stroke, shading and erasing, pouring myself into this piece in a way I can’t with my tattoos. It’s freeing and also terrifying because I don’t know if I can go back.

  But for now, I just draw.

  ***

  Hours later, with over a dozen sketches hung around the room, my hand begins to cramp. I know if I don’t stop, I won’t be able to work tomorrow, so even though I’d rather stay up all night in the sunroom, I put my charcoals away and step back.