The Beat Between Us: A Rock Star Redemption Romance (The Heartbeat Series Book 1)

by Ellie Meadows

  “It was a good night. Our best yet maybe.” Tanner was smiling; Laurie wrapped around his waist and snuggled into his side; she looked up at him adoringly. She didn’t try speaking very often; she was still so self-conscious of what her still-healing voice and psyche could achieve. She’d gone through a bout of throat cancer a while back. She’d met Tanner during her recovery.

  “Don’t let Sandy and Mack hear you say that,” I joked, standing up, my fingers wrapped around my now-closed guitar case.

  “It’ll be our little secret,” Tanner said, giving Laurie a squeeze. His own guitar in hand, the duo turned around and headed towards the front of the bar. I lagged behind, collecting a few other things to throw into my SUV—amplifiers, cords, microphone. I owned most of the gear the band used. Once, we’d left it in the bar between gigs and we’d come back to half the stuff gone.

  Once again, I found myself in that in-between place, where the shadows start to creep in and everything begins to feel fuzzy. The edge before the fall.

  Outside, I unlocked the back window, lifted it, and placed all the gear onto the worn, maroon carpeting inside. The night was cool, the first touches of fall in the air. Instead of driving straight home, I decided to walk. The bar was only a few blocks from the campus. Hands in my pockets, the only sound on the dark streets my boots hitting the sidewalk, I strolled and I thought about the girl again.

  Girl. Because that’s what she was.

  She couldn’t be a day past nineteen. Maybe even eighteen. I was too old for her, too jaded, yet from the moment I’d seen her a few hours ago I hadn’t felt quite so damn broken.

  Moonlight poured out over Main Street as I turned a corner, seeing one of the first large brick buildings of the college in the distance. I wondered what dorm she was in, wondered if she was feeling better.

  Wondered if I was acting like a fucking stalker.

  God. You’re an idiot. I turned around fast, almost hitting a couple walking hand-in-hand. They looked so in love, so damn in love, that it made my chest hurt.

  Anna.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Nat had her arm around me as we walked away from the bar. “I’m sorry I pressured you into coming. I guess I got a little carried away with the ‘hey I’ve finally got a slice of freedom’ bit.” She looked up as we walked, eyes on the relatively clear night sky. She didn’t seem to notice that I hadn’t said anything yet. “I mean, it’s nice though isn’t it? To be out here, no one to call when we get home safely. No one waiting up. No one to ‘tsk-tsk’ because we didn’t meet our curfews.”

  She kept rambling on and I kept walking, my eyes firmly on the sidewalk whilst my companion was all stars above. I wish I could be that way—slough off all the hurt and move forward into sunlight and moonlight, and the captivating shine of starlight. But I couldn’t. At least not yet.

  I had just broken free. I was only just free. And nothing felt real yet.

  “So, anyways,” Nat shook her head, “I should have just taken it easy. I mean, we’ve got our whole college existence ahead of us to get a little crazy here and there.”

  “And get your boy kisses.” I said jokingly, my voice a little thick with memories that I couldn’t tell her, or anyone else, about. I maybe that it was more ‘I wouldn’t’ tell anyone.

  I thought about it for a few moments, as we walked in evening air, breathing in the coolness, which filled me from toes to scalp. No. It was definitely ‘couldn’t’. I could not physically get my mouth to form the words. To say them clearly. Out loud. To leave them as exposed as I’d been as a child.

  My stepfather raped me.

  Over and over.

  Even when I cried.

  Even when I begged him to stop.

  And I never told my mother.

  I let it happen.

  “HAVE YOU DECIDED WHAT you’re going to major in?” I force the words out, trying to distract myself.

  “Oh, Lord no.” Nat laughed. “I mean, my dad’s pushing business, but he wants me to be happy. He’d like law too, but seriously. Me? A lawyer? Though,” she patted her hair playfully, “I’d rock this hair in a pin stripe. Mad high power look.”

  “If I killed a man, I’d one hundred percent hire you to get me off.” I laughed too, but it was hollow, because I realized saying it that there was one man in the world I might be able to kill. I could bring myself to violence against him. I was too weak before. Powerless. I’m becoming different now, though.

  We were nearly to our dorm. Other students were walking, talking, sprawled out on the grass staring upwards with that faraway happy look that Nat had worn whilst look at the sky.

  “Well, what about you?” Nat said, letting go of me and sliding her student ID to unlock the dorm door.

  “Huh?” I asked absentmindedly, our conversation from only seconds before forgotten.

  “Your major,” she grabbed my hand and pulled me forward. Which was good, since I was still a bit wobbly. Too weak before. God, I’m too weak now. “Have you decided on a major?”

  “Oh.” I bit my bottom lip. It wasn’t something I’d really thought about. My whole focus had been to get good grades and a scholarship. I was fairly good at everything, not a prodigy at anything. “I’m interested in social work maybe.” The idea came naturally, like maybe I’d been thinking about it in my subconscious for a long time, and only now had it come into my conscious mind. “I was thinking I’d double? Sociology and there’s this poverty and human capabilities study. I like the sound of that I guess.”

  “Really? Wow. Now, that’s a profession even my dad couldn’t fuss over. I mean, it doesn’t pay crap—and trust me when I say he’d point that out—but it’s not like he can give me too hard a time for wanting to do something good like that.” She paused on a step, making sure I was doing okay. I was definitely lagging behind, my breath coming a little fast. “Still though, I sort of like stuff.” She started walking up the stairs again. “Don’t judge me, but I’d like to have a fairly stocked closet and sushi every day of the week if I want.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have things,” I said, gasping a little as a pain in my side made me bend slightly forward.

  “You should have taken those guys up on going to the hospital,” Nat reprimanded, walking back down to stand right beside me. “I mean, I’m going to catch your ass if you fall, but I’d rather not have to.”

  “I don’t like hospitals,” I said quickly. It’s the truth, but there’s still a falsehood in my voice. I’d had stomach cramps after that first time. Bad ones. It’s the one and only time mom took me to the emergency room after she’d re-married. They’d asked a lot of questions. Things that made mom angry. I’d been sent home with aspirin. Mom had never taken me to the doctor again, no matter how sick I was. Any time she’d thought about doing so, voiced it out loud, my stepfather had fought her on it.

  “Fine. But I’ve got a feeling there’s going to be a day where you can’t avoid going to one. You know, death bed shit.” She wrapped her arm around my waist, for the second time tonight, and gave me a firm side hug. Her grip made me focus on the way my stomach was feeling now. The pain was gone. It hadn’t been like the cramping I’d had so long ago. Just a twinge. A reminder.

  I did have to take care of myself, because it wasn’t just about me anymore. It was about little bean too. And if only Nat knew how right she was about me not being able to avoid a hospital. Not just nine months from now, but soon, I was going to need to find a way to make sure I was healthy, and... he or she was healthy.

  Nat walked me to my room, waiting for me to open the door and set down my small denim blue purse. “Hey, I’m really sorry for ruining your night. Freedom’s not much good when you’ve got someone weighing you down.” I tried to smile, to make it sound a little less harsh. Though, I was only being self-deprecating.

  “What did I say?” She cocked her head, returning my smile—but hers looking more genuine. She just had that sort of wide-open, guileless face that radiated sincerity. �
�We’ve got our whole college careers, our whole lives,” she lifted her hands and separated them wide and dramatically in arcs through the air, “for freedom and bars and,” she winked, “boys. This was one night. And going out on our first day here? Well, maybe that was jumping the gun a wee bit.”

  “I was scared, like a good scared, when I came here. I still find it unbelievable that I met you on day one. It’s almost—”

  She interrupted me. “Too good to be true? Yeah, I feel a bit the same way.” She rushed forward and gave me a big hug, her tall frame making my face smoosh nearly into her boobs. “Whoops, sorry about that.” She chortled. “You know one thing I’m really hoping to avoid here? Jokes about tall black girls playing basketball. I am about as far away from the NWBA as a girl can get. Night.” She twirled around and headed out the door. “Try to get some sleep. And if you need me, I’m right down the hall. Okay?”

  I nodded, starting to close the door. “Okay. Sleep tight.”

  Natalie groaned. “Eighteen years. Eighteen years of ‘sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite’, and I get it my first night at college. Figures.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled out, giving her an ‘oops’ face.

  She laughed and headed towards her room. I kept my door cracked and made sure she got in okay. Because that’s what friends did, right? They made sure you were okay. They walked you home from a bar and gave up their night of fun, because you felt sick.

  Friendship. Something I’d craved for a long time. Not just the random ‘hellos’ of a high school hallway, but someone to see me, talk to me, want to know me. To care about me.

  College was already better than I could have ever dreamed. Even though so much was still uncertain.

  Kicking off my flats, I crawled into the bed, pulling the cheap sheets and comforter up around me, up to my chin, the way I used to when I was very little. I liked the weight of the extra blanket across the end of the bed, making my feet warm and toasty.

  As I drifted off, I felt the slightest fluttering in my stomach.

  I was so tired, I wasn’t sure whether I imagined it or not.

  Silas.

  Generally, I didn’t work on Sundays. And, also generally, they were my hardest day. Idle minds and all that. The gym was my saving grace most days, but I’d had the bad sense to join a place that wasn’t open on Sundays. I should have gone with one of the big chains. There were two of them not far from my house, but I’d been convinced by Tanner to support the mom-and-pop downtown.

  Even after Nashville, hitting it big, falling in love, losing that love, I was still a small town boy and a sucker for back yard sheds and pocket cash fixing busted radios.

  My alarm went off again; it’d gone off four times already, but I kept hitting snooze. My phone chimed after the bedside clock’s rings. I thought at first that it was my backup alarm I set for work, but I’d already dismissed that.

  It’s a text. And I could quickly guess who it was coming from. Mom.

  M: Sunday Church always does a body good. How’s my boy?

  I don’t respond immediately, which means she texts again, nearly immediately.

  M: You’re not sleeping still are you? Just like when you were a teenager. Every weekend until Lord knows when.

  I’m awake.

  M: Good! Did you make it church today? Remember our pastor contacted our sister church down there. The congregation would love to have you and your lovely voice.

  Stop it, Mom.

  M: But honestly, John—um, I mean Silas of course. You need church. You need the love and support.

  I moved here so people wouldn’t know me. You’ve made sure everyone in that ‘sister church’ knows who I am, where I come from. I’m not that person anymore.

  M: The church is only forty-five minutes away, Silas. Surely someone’s recognized you in town by now.

  No. Mom. No one’s recognized me. Nearly two years. And no one’s recognized me. And that’s how I want it to stay.

  M: I’m still proud of you. So is your father. You shouldn’t be ashamed of the dark spots in your past. That’s why God’s there after all.

  I don’t want God. I don’t send the message. I look at it. I consider it. And then I delete it.

  Mom. I loved Asher. He died. You remember that, right? I nearly killed myself OD’ing more than once. Send. I waited a while. I knew she wouldn’t respond. She wouldn’t know what to say. Me having loved another man, for however brief and furious a time, wasn’t something she either forgot or could forgive. So she buried that truth and ignored me when I mentioned it.

  I’m finally okay with things, Mom. Okay? Can you just give it a rest for once?

  M: Sure, honey. Sure. Just wish you’d let yourself really move on. Find a nice girl. Give me grandbabies.

  If it wasn’t church. If it wasn’t dropping my persona and owning up to my past (except for the loving a man part). It was ‘find a nice girl and make me a grandmother’.

  Enough, Mom. I’m going out.

  M: Good. That’s better than lying around in bed feeling sorry for yourself. Which is what I expect you’re doing.

  I wanted to throw my phone against the bedroom wall, but I controlled myself. She was wrong on so many levels, about so many things, but some damn times, she was spot-the-hell on and that drove me absolutely nuts.

  Give Dad my love.

  M: Love you too, Son. I just want you to be happy.

  I didn’t write back.

  But I was going out, and not just because my mom had basically called me out on moping around. Though, that was a large part of it. Flipping the covers back, I swung my legs off the bed, and let my feet rest against the cool hardwoods.

  Of course, the first problem was that I had no freaking idea where to go. I’d been to every square inch of the town. Well, I mean, except like the water works or places I needed some sort of government work pass for. I didn’t have the keys to the city here. I didn’t want them. People knew of me, some people even made a regular habit of waving at me and being friendly.

  I think that was mostly because I might be one of the guys that saved their necks if they had a heart attack or took a fall off a ladder.

  Aside from Tanner and our bandmates—who I knew, were friendly with, but hadn’t taken the time to truly get to know—and Laurie, I kept mostly to myself. Maybe that was counterproductive. Every sobriety group I’d been to stressed the importance of the human connection, to keep you grounded when things started spiraling down.

  I could hike. I liked hiking. There were great trails not too far out of town.

  But I’d get part way through one of the routes and I’d start thinking about everything, and then I’d lose the forest for the trees, and then I’d start having trouble breathing. The vastness of the woods, and the nothingness of being alone, sometimes did that to me. I was okay when Tanner went with me.

  I’d just go downtown. I’d hit the café, grab an Americano and wander around. Or maybe I’d sit and people watch.

  Whatever, just to get out of the fucking house.

  I almost didn’t shower... until I sniffed and caught the distinct after-odor of bar and beer. When I was finished in the bathroom, I wasn’t sure if the douche-scented man wash was any better than yesterday’s clinging smells.

  I lived close enough to downtown to walk if I wanted, but then I had to pass neighbor houses, face smiles I sort-of recognized from distance waves, possibly converse with someone and have them go from nearly-stranger to nearly-acquainted.

  So I grabbed my keys and wallet and I jumped into my vehicle to drive the relatively-short distance to Bernie’s Beans—owned by its namesake, a too-tall, too-wide Islander with brows like thick, black caterpillars and hair long enough to braid down his back. I’d tried to get him to come up stage a time or two; he had a great, thick vibrato that sort of bounced from the ceilings in a resonant way. Not classically perfect, by any sense of the word, but captivating regardless. He’d refused. He liked to keep behind the coffee counter, making lattes
and spouting limericks to his patrons.

  I parked, getting a spot mere feet from the café entrance. When I pushed the through the door, a little beep sounded in the back where Bernie likely was, sorting stock since there were no customers in the store at the moment.

  Not a moment after the beep, Bernie strolled into view, a white apron covering his giant checkered shirt and tan slacks. “Silas, haven’t seen you in weeks. Thought maybe you’d jilted me for one of those fancy Tarbucks stores.” It was a running gag Bernie had—calling the popular chain ‘Tar’bucks. Everyone had heard it a dozen or so times, yet everyone still laughed. Because he owned the place. And if you weren’t nice to the people making your food and beverages, well, who knew what you’d get in your coffee instead of white chocolate sauce.

  “Busy.” I replied absentmindedly, half-turning towards the large display window and watching a man in a long trench coat walk by slowly, talking on his cell via blue-tooth and motioning erratically with his hands.

  “That’s what you always say when you disappear for a while.” Bernie smiles, making my normal drink without me actually ordering.

  “Creature of habit I guess,” I shrug, taking the proffered coffee from over the counter. “How you been?”

  Bernie nods slowly, hands on his thick hips. “Good. Been good. Finally asked Jolie out on a date. She turned me down.”

  “So ask again.” I sipped the coffee; it was dark, strong like I liked it, with just a hint of caramel flavoring.

  “She was pretty brutal,” Bernie chuckled out.