Free and Bound (A Club Volare New Orleans Novel)

by Chloe Cox

  She’d met up with them to show Declan how far she’d come, maybe to show him that she was ok, like he was her sponsor or something, which he guessed he sort of was. And she’d found him like this.

  Brian and Gage looked worried, too.

  “Dude, do you think we can do the tour like this?” Brian finally asked.

  The elephant in the fucking room.

  Losing Soren was one thing. Losing Soren and Declan was something else. Nobody was under any illusions—Soren and Declan were the heart of Savage Heart. Soren was gone and Declan wasn’t himself anymore.

  Declan rubbed his hand across his head and tried to locate the giant hole in his heart. He couldn’t lie. “I don’t know, Brian.”

  So Bethany had taken him to the back, her face full of a kind of confidence he couldn’t remember seeing there before, and demanded to know what had happened.

  He told her.

  It was easier than not telling her.

  He’d dumped the love of his life because he couldn’t bear to fail her when she most needed him and then watch the consequences.

  And Bethany looked him right in the eye and said, “That is some grade-A bullshit, Declan.”

  “Christ,” he laughed tonelessly. “That’s exactly what she said.”

  “Sounds smart. You were never a coward, Declan, so man up.”

  “Hey,” he said, sitting up. “You think this is easy for me? This has fucking destroyed me. I’m doing it for her.”

  “Which is the part I don’t buy,” Bethany said, crossing her legs and arms at once. “You know, I talked about you in group therapy. And they made me see something. You feeling guilty about me or Soren…or anyone else,” she added carefully, “is bull, because it means you think you could have done something. Like it was all under your control, like the decision wasn’t fully mine. It was my decision, Declan; I took those pills for my own reasons that had nothing to do with you. You can’t make decisions about what’s best for this girl, either.”

  Declan froze. He stared at her.

  Thought.

  Then he got up, walked to the front of the bus, and said, “Stop the bus.”

  “It’s the middle of nowhere,” the driver said.

  “Stop the fucking bus.”

  The doors swooshed open and Declan burst out into the cool night air, never happier to see absolutely nothing in the distance, and he started walking down the side of the road, into darkness.

  Away from the noise.

  He’d made the same damn mistake again. He couldn’t argue with Bethany because she was right. It would have been like arguing about the color red. His brain knew she was right, that he was an idiot, that his idiocy was almost insulting, but his heart?

  Why the fuck was he afraid?

  He wasn’t a coward. He’d never been a damn coward, and he wasn’t going to try it on for size now.

  He’d been blaming himself, all this time. All these years. Carried it with him so long he’d forgotten it was a burden, and hugged it to himself like a fucking treasure. Like it meant something. Like it was a part of him.

  But she was a part of him. Molly.

  “Declan?” It was Brian. Following him in the dark. Another true friend. “You ok, Declan?”

  Declan smiled, relieved just to know.

  “I can’t live without her, Brian. I mean, look at me. Isn’t that crazy? I’ve known her how long?”

  Brian shrugged. Smiled. “I’ve heard crazier things.”

  “I can’t fucking live without her now. Maybe I needed to try to find out for sure, I don’t know. You think I’ve fucked up beyond all repair this time? I don’t know if I even deserve another shot to get it right,” he said.

  “Man, I’m still trying to figure out how to sleep with a woman more than one night in a row. Beyond that women confuse me. I am not the man to ask.”

  Declan studied the sky. Letting go of the guilt that kept him from Molly meant letting go of everything, because it was everything. And Molly wasn’t the only one he’d screwed up with.

  “You think the band has a shot?” he asked.

  “I fucking hope so,” Brian said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Call Soren, man.”

  “I have,” Declan said. Brian looked surprised. “And I will again. I just need him to pick up. In the meantime, Bri, I’m sorry, but we have to cancel the tour. I’ll take the hit. There’s something I gotta do back in California.”

  But Brian was smiling, and Declan, Declan felt lighter than he had in months, all the way back to the bus. Right up until Bethany told him his phone had rung and she’d seen the name and picked it up.

  “I just wanted to tell her, you know, that you were being an idiot, that you were messed up over it,” Bethany said, wringing her hands. “I didn’t think she’d hang up. I was just trying to help.”

  Declan sighed. It wasn’t like he could really get any further into the doghouse than he already was.

  He had to do something big to fix all the shit he’d broken in the past six months. And he thought he knew what that should be.

  Thirty-Two

  For the next five days, Declan called every day, multiple times per day. Molly ignored him.

  Molly was pissed.

  Molly was not in the mood to be fair, or even rational. Not when the memory of Robbie replacing her with another woman, marching her around for everyone to see, kept running through her mind. Not when she knew, just knew, that it had been Bethany who answered the phone.

  Well, she didn’t know, technically. She felt it. But would it be better or worse if it were just some random girl? Did it freaking matter? Was she just that replaceable?

  The longer the phone calls went on and the longer Molly spent packing up everything she still cared about in that trailer, the more she realized that it wouldn’t be enough if he just said he was sorry. No. She would need to know why he had done everything he’d done in the past few days. She’d need to know that it wouldn’t happen again.

  Then she’d remember that he wasn’t trying to get her back. If he were trying to get her back, he’d do more than call. He’d be there.

  And then she’d have to fight off more tears, and that would make her angry all over again.

  There were a few bright spots. One, being royally pissed off made cleaning a whole lot easier. The place would be freaking spotless for the people who moved in. Two, she had seen Robbie when driving back with a fresh batch of cleaning supplies, and the weasel had two fresh black eyes and giant bandage on his nose and had actually ducked when he saw her.

  She didn’t know what that was about, exactly, but it was very satisfying to see.

  And three?

  When her father showed up, self-righteous and hateful and red in the face, just to announce that he was disowning Lydia, too, and that he blamed Molly for turning her sister in a disgraceful, ungrateful, disgusting excuse for a woman, Molly had simply said, “You’re no longer my father.”

  And then she’d slammed the door in his face.

  She’d stood there, her back flat against the door, her heart pounding in her chest, not quite able to believe she’d just done that. Molly listened to him sputter and shout outside, hurl insults at that closed door, and she felt strong, and capable, and invincible all over again.

  And that got her thinking about Declan.

  Again.

  The worst part was knowing that she had him to thank for her broken heart, and yet still she worried about him. That was the worst, most humiliating feeling. That knowing he was messed up enough to do this, that he hurt that bad—hurt her, too.

  Asshole.

  And when she was done crying—that time—she started thinking about how she still had a book to write. Because Declan had been right—he might have set Lydia up financially, but Molly had to be everything else. And that meant Molly had to keep going. She had to keep her commitments.

  Which now meant writing a book about heartbreak.

  So she wrote. She stopped thin
king about what it should be, and only wrote what was. What she knew of it. And around day three, she started to see how much she didn’t know. What big, giant holes there were in her knowledge of what had happened to Declan, and what had happened to the band, and, even, in the way that those unknowns had impacted Declan’s life, what had happened to her.

  Molly needed Soren. She’d almost called Jim so many times, sure that he knew where Soren was—hell, Molly was pretty sure she had figured it out herself. And talking to Soren might help her understand so many things.

  So why was she afraid?

  In the end, she got to stay chicken. Jim called her.

  “Do you know what I had to go through to get this number?” he demanded. “Like a game of telephone with you people. You couldn’t call to cancel our fishing trip?”

  Molly was stunned silent.

  “I’m kidding,” Jim said dryly. “C’mon, laugh a little. Humor me.”

  Molly did laugh. Well, more of a laugh-cry. “It’s been a rough couple of weeks, Jim.”

  “Yeah, I heard,” Jim said. “Sorry my nephew is an idiot. I promise he’s not all dumb, he just gets up his own ass sometimes. That’s kind of why I’m calling—where are you?”

  “I’m home,” she said, confused.

  “Jesus, breakups make everybody stupid. Where is home? Gimme an address.”

  “Why?”

  There was a silence.

  “I’m betting you know why.”

  The next day Soren Andersson showed up at her door.

  “So,” Soren said, taking his sunglasses off. The sun reflecting off of his pale blond hair was blinding. Molly almost didn’t believe that he was real. “You going to ask me in?”

  “Um, yes,” Molly said. Every single wheel in her head had tried to turn at once and had apparently jammed. She stepped back. “Come in.”

  Soren walked into her trailer like he was surveying his territory. The only other person Molly had seen who moved like that was Declan. She had no idea how these two men had ever occupied the same place at the same time without the universe imploding.

  Soren looked over the shining, spotless house, then turned that naked gaze on Molly. His eyes went up and down. Up and down.

  Her instinct was to cover up, even though she was fully clothed.

  “You’ve been crying,” Soren said. It wasn’t a question.

  “That’s none of your business,” she said.

  “Yes it is.”

  Infuriating. Completely, totally infuriating. Especially because he was right. And more than that, Molly needed him, and he knew it. She needed to know exactly what had happened between him, Bethany, and Declan six months ago. She needed to know for the book, but more than that, she needed to know for her own sanity.

  Molly watched helplessly as Soren moved farther in, taking in the couch, the recliner. He picked the old recliner, what had been her father’s chair way back when, and sprawled across it like a king.

  “You go around asking questions about my life,” Soren said, watching her. “You got involved with my brother. You’re my business.”

  “Your brother?” she said.

  “That’s what he is.”

  “Then why haven’t you spoken in six months?”

  Soren ignored her. He looked for the lever on the side and put the chair back a bit, smiling as he did so.

  “Comfy,” he said.

  Molly caught an impulse to stamp her foot, like a child trying to command attention. Soren had that effect. Instead, she crossed her arms and said, “Why are you here? If you’re not going to answer my questions, if you’re not going to help me, why are you here?”

  He looked directly at her. Ice blue eyes. She was locked in place.

  “I’m here because Declan deserves to be happy,” he said. “So you need to give him another shot.”

  Molly stared at him. And then, damn it, the tears came back. Now she really did stamp her foot, cursing, willing her eyes to stay dry. Declan had turned the waterworks on and then thrown away the wrench and now she was just doomed to embarrass herself in every possible situation. She lost every last bit of patience she had left.

  “He doesn’t want another shot!” she shouted. “He hasn’t asked for one. He does. Not. Want. Me.”

  “Trust me,” Soren said calmly. “He does.”

  “I called him,” Molly said. “I called him, after the way he left me, and a woman answered.”

  “Bethany,” he nodded.

  “I knew it was fucking Bethany,” Molly said. It still pissed her off.

  “You don’t think a woman should go visit the man who saved her life after she gets out of the hospital?” Soren asked. “Don’t be like that. Don’t be unreasonable.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are?”

  “Soren Andersson,” he smiled. “And you know better than that, Molly Ward. You know Declan better than that. You know he’s the kind of guy who would carry a woman who’d taken every damn pill she could find all the way to the emergency room, and then pay for her fucking expensive six-month treatment program at a private psychiatric hospital, all without ever wanting, or getting, anything from her in return, besides knowing that she was better off for it.”

  Molly felt all of her anger deflate in one sorry breath and walked over to the couch to sit down and cry. That anger had been holding her up. Now all she had left was the loss.

  “I’m a moron,” she said, crying quietly. “I am a total moron.”

  “Who isn’t?” Soren shrugged.

  “Is Declan ok?” she asked, looking up. “Have you talked to him? Are you guys friends again?”

  Soren leaned forward suddenly, urgently, showing himself for the first time with a shocking intensity. Molly was transfixed.

  “No, he is not fucking ok,” he said. “He’s a wreck. And no, we are not talking.”

  “So Jim tells you about him.”

  “Jim tells me about him. And you.”

  “You were staying there. When we came to visit.”

  “I went for a drive. Thought I’d be a fourth wheel.”

  Molly scooted forward on the old couch. “Can you fix this, Soren? Can you fix this thing between you? Because the thing is, and I don’t…I don’t know what’s wrong with me, or what’s wrong with him, but I know he’s hurting, too. And I don’t know if he can hurt both ways at once. I think he needs something.”

  Soren blinked. “Are you seriously asking me to be there for Declan after he’s broken your heart? Because you’re worried about him?”

  “Yes,” Molly said miserably. “I mean, I go back and forth between that and wanting to kick his ass, but yes. Is that so much weirder than you showing up to help get his girlfriend back after he’s kicked you out of his life?”

  “You love him,” Soren said.

  Molly just looked at the floor. “So?”

  “Jesus, you’re both idiots. Don’t get me wrong, Declan is the idiot in chief on this one, but you are definitely pulling your weight. You should have told him you loved him.”

  “I told you,” Molly said, pointing at herself with both thumbs. “Moron.”

  Soren laughed. “Aren’t you angry?”

  “Yes.”

  “So what is it going to take to get you two idiots back together?”

  Molly rubbed her eyes and took a good look at the reclusive rock star sitting in her dad’s old recliner, playing matchmaker between her and the man she loved. Right. This was happening.

  “I don’t know,” she said truthfully. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Why he did this. So I don’t see a way out of it.”

  “You know he blames himself for his mother’s death, don’t you?” Soren asked. “You have any idea what that does to someone?”

  “Of course I don’t,” Molly whispered. “It’s unimaginable.”

  “He was responsible for her his whole life. And then she died. She chose to die rather than be his mother. And he found her. You don’t have to be a shrink to figure what tha
t would do to a little kid. And then,” Soren said, running both hands through his white blond hair, “there’s what I did.”

  This was it. The question. Softly, she said, “What happened, Soren?”

  For the first time since he’d shown up at her house like some previously undiscovered force of nature, Soren looked shaken. Human. Vulnerable.

  “I can’t fucking believe I’m telling you this,” he said. “Fucking Declan gets me to do the stupidest things, even when he’s not here. The short answer is: I left Bethany to kill herself. I fucked her for a few months, I was an asshole the whole time, and when I found out she was popping pills…”

  He trailed off, then looked directly at Molly. “Look, everyone has their hang-ups, that’s mine. I don’t deal with that shit. At all. And she lied about it. So I dumped her. And when she told me she was going to kill herself if I left, I told her to fucking do it, because that was some manipulative bullshit right there. And then I left.”

  “That kind of does sound like manipulative bullshit,” Molly said quietly.

  “Yeah, but then she did it,” he said. “Look, bottom line? I fucked a girl I knew to be emotionally unstable, was a dick to her the way I am to every woman I screw, and then left her when she made a threat to harm herself. And Declan found her. Knowing what you know about Declan, do you think he should forgive me?”

  “Yes,” Molly said. She meant it.

  Soren wasn’t prepared for that. He sat back and looked at her. Just looked.

  After a while, he said, “Listen, if he forgave me, it would mean he’d have to forgive himself, too. He saw himself in what I did, which is fucked up, but which is also totally understandable, and makes my behavior…just a whole new level of wrong. I might not deserve forgiveness, but Declan does, because he never did anything wrong. He doesn’t deserve to feel the way he does, and never has. He’s not trying to hurt you or pull some commitment-phobe stupidity or anything else. He’s trying to protect you from himself, because he loves you so damn much. And because when he loves people, he thinks it means something terrible is going to happen to them.”

  Molly let the tears run down her cheeks freely, not even caring anymore. She felt like she was listening to a death sentence.