Sinners at the Altar

by Olivia Cunning

  Myrna grinned. Her plan to get them back together was already working.

  “You two should get your own room. We’re using every inch of ours.” Myrna poked the five-inch strap-on against the back of Brian’s leg to remind him which inches they’d been using most recently.

  Sed didn’t smile. If fact, he looked like he was about to burst into tears. Myrna didn’t know the man was capable of looking that miserable.

  Sed took a deep shuddering breath and blurted, “It’s Trey.”

  Myrna’s buoyant heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Brian sagged against her. She hadn’t expected Brian to need her to be his rock so soon, but she could be that for him. His rock.

  Chapter Nine

  The trip to the hospital was bad enough for Brian without him having to endure Jessica Chase’s presence in their taxi. Not only had the fight that put Trey in the hospital started because of her, the woman turned Sed into a complete asshole. Well, her leaving him had. And Brian was in no mood to be in the same country as her, much less the same vehicle. Perhaps he was focusing on his intense dislike for the woman—more precisely his hatred of the woman’s effect on his friend’s intellect—more than on Trey’s injuries because thinking about losing his best friend made him want to vomit. Or scream. Or cry. Or break something. Sitting calmly in the back seat of a cab wasn’t going so well for him.

  A cold sweat trickled down the center of his back, and every muscle in his body ached from the tension about to destroy him. If Myrna hadn’t been gripping his hand, he very likely would have lost his mind.

  When the cab stopped in front of the hospital entrance, Sed and Jessica hopped out immediately, but Myrna refused to budge.

  He looked at her in question, needing to hurry.

  “He’ll be all right,” Myrna said calmly, stroking the hair from his face. “I know this is tearing you up inside, but you can’t let Trey see you like this. He’s going to think the Grim Reaper is standing over his bed. You can fall apart later, I promise. But be strong for him now.”

  Brian didn’t know if he could effectively hide his turmoil, his anguish, his fucking helplessness, but Myrna was right. He had to pretend to be confident that Trey was going to pull through unscathed, because the alternative was too horrendous to bear. Even the thought was crippling.

  He nodded. “I’ll keep it together somehow.”

  “I’m here. You can lean on me, okay?”

  He nodded mutely. He wondered how she knew how much he needed to hear that.

  “I love you,” she said, not waiting for his answering sentiment before she climbed out of the cab.

  He’d really needed to hear that too.

  Trey was in high spirits when they finally entered his room ten or twelve centuries later. The time blocks had probably been minutes, but each had felt at least a hundred years long. Brian pretended that Trey’s head injury wasn’t serious—grand mal seizures weren’t all that bad, were they?—and joked around with him only because any other action would have reduced him to a blubbering idiot. Trey hooked two fingers into Brian’s front pocket and clung to it the entire visit, so Brian was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one faking calm and collectedness. Brian managed to keep up pretenses until the brain surgeon shooed them out of Trey’s room and Myrna wrapped her arms around him in the waiting room down the hall.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “N-no,” he said. “I said it would serve him right if it turned out to be something serious, and now…” He swallowed the sob trying to choke him.

  “You didn’t mean that, sweetheart. You know you didn’t.”

  He hadn’t, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d said it. And it had happened.

  It had happened.

  Oh God.

  Brian crushed Myrna against him and turned to face the wall so no one would see the tears swimming in his eyes. He tried to stop them from falling, but his effort was as effectual as trying to stop the sun from setting. He did manage not to weep, by sucking air through the paralyzing fear squeezing his throat like a vice.

  When the rest of Trey’s support team entered the waiting room, Brian pushed Myrna away and wiped his damnably leaky eyes on the hem of his T-shirt. Jessica entered with Sed, and Brian clung to the anger he felt toward the woman. Anger would keep the tears at bay. Compared to anguish, anger was an easy emotion for him to deal with.

  So as he sat beside Myrna waiting for Trey to come out of surgery, he allowed himself to stew. Whenever he found his mind wandering to Trey and how much he would lose if that man was ripped from his life, Brian glared at Jessica sleeping peacefully against Sed’s shoulder and welcomed his aggravation at her reappearance in Sed’s life. For hours Brian focused on all the trouble the woman had caused—Sed’s grief and sleeplessness and his fucking callous disregard for Brian’s emotional entanglements with women. The fight at his bachelor party had started because of her. Everything bad thing that had happened to Brian in the past twenty-four hours—Hell, in the past two years—was Jessica’s fault. His argument with Myrna last night. Trey’s head injury. The black eyes Brian had sported on his fucking wedding day. Sed’s damaged throat. All of it—Jessica’s fucking fault.

  Brian clung to his hatred for the woman like a security blanket. His disgust was the only thing that kept him from curling into fetal position under his uncomfortable chair and sobbing.

  He had himself worked up into a fine fury toward the strawberry-blond bombshell by the time the doctor came into the waiting room to announce that Trey had made it through his surgery.

  When the doctor said, “Brain injuries are tricky,” Brian knew he wasn’t going to hold it together much longer. Either he was going to have to hit something or he was going to fall apart in front of his new wife, his band mates, one of his rock heroes—Trey’s older brother, Dare—and that fucking pain in the ass, Jessica Chase. He was in no shape to sit waiting for Trey’s anesthesia to wear off, and his brilliant wife—bless her—seemed to recognize that.

  “Brian and I will come back at eight a.m.,” she said, bossing around rock stars as only she could.

  Eight? Yes, that should give Brian enough time to get his head together, and maybe Trey would be ready for company by then.

  God, please, let him be ready for company by then.

  “Then Sed and I will come at noon,” Jessica said.

  As if Trey would want to see her at all. Brian glared at her. She didn’t belong here. He didn’t want her here. He knew Trey wouldn’t want her around either. But maybe Sed deserved her, because he was hanging on her every word like a lovesick tool.

  Myrna had a bit more tact. The traitor actually seemed to like Jessica. Brian’s need to lash out grew exponentially by the minute. He said his goodbyes quickly, but avoided Sed, lest he punch him in the face. He couldn’t very well punch Jessica. He grabbed Myrna by the elbow and hurried to the elevator, hoping to God that they could get the hell out of this oppressive fucking hospital before he was forced to confront Sed face to face. He wasn’t sure he could control his rage at this point.

  “Why are you so mad?” Myrna asked as he hammered on the down button at the bank of elevators.

  “I’m not.”

  “Bullshit, baby. You’re like a ticking time bomb.”

  He couldn’t deny it, so decided to vent. “Why did she have to come back now of all times?”

  “Who?”

  “Jessica.”

  “Do you have a problem with her?”

  “Yes, I have a problem with her. I hate her fucking guts.”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” he yelled and commenced to lean solidly on the down button.

  Myrna gathered him into her arms, and he stopped harassing the elevator.

  “You don’t hate her,” Myrna said.

  “I do.”

  “No, you hate that she turned one of your best friends into a pussy-whipped douche.”

  He almost chuckled. It came out more like an exasperated gasp.

>   Myrna squeezed him, and he relaxed slightly. He knew he’d gotten himself overly aggravated on purpose; it was a whole lot easier to focus on hating Jessica than on loving Trey. Brian would never play the guitar again if they lost that ornery little shit. No one would be able to replace Trey in Brian’s life or his career. No one.

  “Take a deep breath and let it go,” Myrna said. “You’re not going to change Sed’s mind about her. If they’re right for each other, you’re going to have get used to her and if they’re wrong for each other, they have to figure that out on their own.”

  “I know,” he said. “I just can’t deal with it on top of everything else.”

  “We’ll sort it out when Trey’s better.”

  He knew she was right. He needed to focus on the more important tragedy in his life. And when Myrna kissed him, he was sure he could let go of his disapproval of the romantic relationship between a rather large douche and the pussy that whipped him. At least he thought so until Sed stepped up beside him with the woman in question hiding behind his broad back.

  “Hey,” Sed said.

  “Hey,” Brian answered, and it would have stopped at that if Sed hadn’t been dumb enough to talk about what was bothering Brian.

  Brian’s heated and loud argument with Sed escalated quickly. The idiot couldn’t see what a blight Jessica was on everyone’s life, not just his own. When the elevator finally arrived, Myrna shoved him inside with Sed and said, “We’ll meet you at the bottom. You two have a little talk. Or slug it out. Whatever.”

  Oh, they were going to have it out. Minimal talking, maximum slugging.

  “How could you take her back?” Brian yelled at Sed. “Do you realize how much shit you put me through while you were trying to get over her?”

  “Is it my fault your chicks like to fuck me better than they do you?”

  Perhaps he should have been grateful that Sed knew how to push his buttons. He’d needed to explode, and Sed had just pulled his trigger. Brian punched Sed in the jaw, his knuckles protesting the force of the blow. Sed hit the back of the elevator car and then launched himself at Brian just as the elevator doors slid shut. Sed popped him a good one in the mouth, and Brian let loose all the fury that had been building inside him since his honeymoon had been so unceremoniously interrupted by the jackass and his trophy stripper. Brian was completely winded by the time he realized how one-sided the fight had become. Sed was far larger and a much more experienced brawler than he was, so why was he landing two or three punches for every one of Sed’s? His anger spent, Brian took a step back and glared up at Sed, breathing hard and clenching his fists.

  “Feel better?” Sed asked before he tongued at the blood on his split lip.

  “I won’t feel better until you dump that fucking bitch.”

  Sed wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re going to live a miserable life then, my friend.”

  If Sed kept Jessica around, that would make two of them. Or rather as soon as she up and left him again, Sed would back to his miserable ways. She’d dumped him once over money—did he really think the money-grubbing bitch had changed so much in two years? Brian closed his eyes and let out an exasperated huff.

  “If you need to punch me some more, you better get on with it,” Sed said. “We’re almost to the lobby.”

  Brian laughed and scrub the tension out of his forehead with his palms. “Fuck, Sed. You’re an idiot around that woman. Don’t you recognize that?”

  “Yeah. But does it change how I feel about her?” He shook his head. “Not one bit.”

  Maybe seeing her in a different light would change his mind. “If it wasn’t for her, Trey wouldn’t have been injured. He could have died. He could still die.”

  Sed lowered his gaze and shook his head. “If you’re going to blame someone for what happened to Trey, blame me. She didn’t ask me to grab her off that stage.” He chuckled and rubbed his jaw. “In fact, she was pretty pissed off about it.”

  “So pissed off she landed on her back with you between her legs?”

  Sed scowled. “I know you’re upset, but watch your fucking mouth. I won’t let you talk about her that way.”

  The elevator dinged as they reached the ground floor. Brian stumbled as a pair of hands reached into the car, grabbed him by the shirt, and slammed him face down on the hard tile floor.

  “Whoa,” Sed said. “Easy with the guy’s junk. He has a new wife to bone tonight.”

  Brian doubted he’d be doing very little boning for the rest of the night, but he did appreciate Sed’s concern for the well-being of his junk. He wouldn’t mind equal concern for his chest and face.

  “Hospital security. We saw the pair of you fighting in the elevator,” a voice said from somewhere above where Brian lay sprawled with a sharp knee in the center of his back.

  “We’re friends,” Sed assured the guard. Somehow he’d avoided getting forced to the ground. Maybe the pair of guards didn’t think they could take him on. “Just needed to work out a bit of tension between us. We’re good now. Right, Brian?”

  “Peachy,” Brian said with a grunt of pain.

  “Haven’t you ever needed to knock some sense into a friend?” Sed asked the guard.

  “Not in a hospital elevator,” the guard said. But he removed his weight from Brian’s back.

  “Sorry about that. We could do a repeat in the parking lot if Brian’s game,” Sed said.

  “No thanks,” Brian said. “I’m good.”

  Someone helped Brian to his feet, and Sed wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Brian wasn’t sure if the bro-hug was for show—so that the security guards would believe they were friends—or because he needed someone to lean on, but Brian didn’t mind. In fact, Sed’s arm around him gave him a sense of strength and well-being. Sed had that kind of effect on people. He just had horrible taste in women.

  As much as Brian liked hearing the guards reminisce about ass-whuppin’s they’d delivered and received at the hands of friends, he was awfully glad to see his beautiful new wife step off the elevator a few minutes later. He didn’t even care that Jessica was with her. Soon he and Myrna would be alone together in their hotel room and Brian could pretend he was okay about Trey, without everyone watching.

  Chapter Ten

  Back in the hotel room, Myrna circled the suite to turn off all the lights except the lamp next to the bed. Brian sat on the edge of the mattress and fiddled with the alarm clock.

  “We have to be up in two hours,” he said, his voice hollow with exhaustion. “Sorry our wedding night didn’t go so well.”

  She sat beside him on the bed and took the alarm clock out of his hand to set it on the nightstand.

  “Me too,” she said. “But we can take an extended honeymoon in a few months. Once the tour is over. And Trey is better.”

  He lifted his head, allowing her to see his dark eyes strained with fatigue. The bruises around them weren’t helping him look any more alert.

  “I could try to make love you to you if you want,” he said.

  “We don’t need to have sex again,” she said and almost laughed when his shoulders sagged with relief. The poor guy was used to having to satisfy her insatiable sexual appetite for him. “I’ve had plenty of sex today, but I do need to make love to you.”

  She scooted off the bed and settled on the floor at his feet. She untied one of his boots and pulled it free, tossing it aside before massaging his instep through his soft, white cotton sock. He murmured a sound of pleasure in the back of his throat. She repeated her attention on his other foot and then urged him to lie back on the bed with his legs dangling over the edge so she could unfasten his jeans. He lifted his hips and she tugged them off. Staring up at her wearily, he held his arms open to her.

  “Come here, wife. I need to hold you, remind myself that you’re really mine, and think about all that’s good in my life when everything else has gone to shit.”

  She blinked back tears, her heart panging with empathy. She k
new he loved Trey—not in the way she’d been fixating on for most of the day, but as a friend, a colleague, and someone he could always depend on.

  “I was going to massage your back,” she said. “Help you relax.”

  “I’ll feel most relaxed with your head right here.”

  He patted the center of his chest, and she couldn’t deny that she very much wanted to rest her head over his heart. He tugged his shirt off, and she shed most of her clothes. She left her panties in place, hoping to remind her eager pussy that she didn’t have to fuck Brian to show him how much she loved him.

  They snuggled together beneath the covers, her head on his chest and his heartbeat thudding steadily against her ear.

  “I’m sorry I behaved like a regular asshole at the hospital,” he said, his voice rumbling through his chest. He covered his eyes with one hand and sighed.

  “That was behaving like a regular asshole? What are you like when you behave like a huge asshole?”

  He chuckled halfheartedly. “You don’t want to witness that.”

  She stroked his belly absently, willing her mind to calm down so she could get some sleep.

  “What am I going to do if he doesn’t recover?” Brian whispered.

  “I told you not to let yourself think like that.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “He’ll be fine. He’s Trey-motherfucking-Mills. A little head injury won’t keep him down for long.”

  Brian traced lines over the bare skin of her hip. “Maybe once he’s better we can invite him back into our bed. It would be okay when it’s not our wedding night, right?”

  Myrna bit her lip. As sexually fulfilling as her threesome with Brian and Trey had been, it had been more of a mind-fuck than she’d anticipated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said after a long moment.

  “Why not? I thought you enjoyed it.”

  “I did,” she admitted.

  “Well, I enjoyed it. He enjoyed it. What’s the problem?”