“Hello?” I snap my fingers.
A shadow of a smile appears and he points to the bathroom. “There’s only one toilet in the house. Liam has been locked in ours for the past hour.”
I scrunch my nose. “Nice.”
His eyes look anywhere but at mine and he nods his head. “Pretty much. Sorry about…you know, scaring you.”
I huff and look down at my bare feet. “You did well fending me off, you’ve got quick reflexes. What gave me away?”
Lark’s midnight blue eyes finally locate my own and I’m rewarded with his elusive smile. “Your battle cry kind of gave you away.”
“Oh.” My face falls. “Yeah, I guess if I’m going to attack someone, I probably shouldn’t let them know I’m coming, huh?”
“FBI one-oh-one, Rowan.” He winks.
“Right.” I clear my throat. His wink is doing all sorts of funny things to my insides. “I’ll let you get back to it.”
“Uh, yeah.” He moves closer to the door. “Night, Rowan.”
“Night, Lark.”
I don’t feel right watching him walk into the bathroom, so I casually stroll back to my bedroom and throw myself on the bed, covering my body with the blanket. I take a deep breath and watch as the shadows of the trees outside move in creepy harmony. I’m never going to be able to sleep.
I listen for the sink in the bathroom, across from my room, to turn off and wait for the door to open. Lightly, Lark steps across the floor, only to stop in front of my door. “Sleep well.” I hear him say.
When I don’t say anything, he must assume I’m asleep and retreats back to the house. But just as he exits the hallway and enters into the stairwell, I can’t stop myself from calling out his name. “Lark.”
“Yeah?” He pops his head in my room and his un-styled hair falls in his eyes.
“Do you—umm,” I say. God, what am I doing? “Do you think you could—maybe—sit here with me?” I poke my head out of the covers to see his response. Instead of irritation, he smiles a smile that I’ve only ever seen once and nods.
“Sure.” He leans against the far wall and slides down, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
“What are you doing?” I ask, softly laughing. “Don’t sit down there.” I point to the reading chair in the corner of the room. “Sit. And here,” I grunt, pulling the top blanket off my bed and handing it to him. “Take this. Please.”
His eyes soften. “Don’t give me your blanket. It’s cold. I’ll be fine.”
I shake my head. “Lark, you have no shirt on. Plus, I run hot.”
That smirk materializes again. “I can go put a shirt on.”
“No!” I say far too quickly and mentally slap myself. Oh. My. God. “No, just take the damn blanket and shut up so I can go to sleep.”
“Good night, Rowan,” he offers, his face now covered in darkness.
Turning away, I tug the covers over my head and fall asleep easily knowing Lark’s only a few feet away.
Five comes around way too early for my liking. I jerk the charging cord out of my phone and shove it under my pillow, hoping to quiet the alarm. I can’t force myself to open my eyes long enough to turn it off, so burying it in fluff will have to do.
“Rowan,” Liam says in his chipper accent but I ignore him, burrowing farther into my bed. “Rowan,” he says more unsympathetically now.
“Go away, Liam.”
He laughs and something heavy falls on my backside.
“Get up. You have rehearsal in a hour and you still have to eat breakfast.”
I grumble into my pillow and then lift my head, finding my gym bag sitting on my ass. “You know? I really appreciate you guys being so sweet, but my bed is much more appetizing than the bacon you have sizzling downstairs. Mmmmm, bacon. My stomach growls. Hungry Rowan turns into a grumpy ass when she doesn’t get food. My stomach has made up my mind. “Ugh, fine. Give me a few minutes.”
“’Atta girl,” he praises, walking away. And if it’s possible, his footsteps even sound cheery.
When I’m alone, my eyes immediately shift to the cream colored reading chair. The imprint from Lark is still fresh and I wonder when he left last night.
Did he stay up and watch over me or did he get so tired and eventually fall asleep?
“Rowan!” Liam shouts from downstairs.
I roll my eyes and reluctantly get out of bed. I make an attempt to stomp extra loud on the cold floor to let him know I’m up.
Grabbing my clothes, I head to the bathroom and get dressed. Giving myself a good look in the mirror I notice the dark circles under my eyes are gone and the flush that hasn’t been present since I got the call about the group, is back. I quickly brush my hair and teeth and make my way to the kitchen.
“How in the hell did you get to stay the night with Rowan?” I hear Liam ask.
“Will you shut up?” Lark barks. “I think she was having a hard time falling asleep. She just needed someone to be with her. It’s no big deal.”
My stomach flutters because he knew exactly what my problem was.
“She didn’t ask me,” Liam sulks and I can’t help huff in exasperation. I knew he was sniffing around me a little too closely. I know he wants me to be comfortable around him, but I don’t like him like that.
“Sorry, buddy. I don’t know what to tell you. Don’t hog the bathroom for an hour and maybe she’ll ask you next time. Anyway, I didn’t stay long. I made sure she was asleep and went back to the house.”
“Chris said you fell asleep.”
Silence.
He did?
“Yeah, well, I was tired.”
Boys are so weird.
I put on my smile and round the corner. “Morning, guys.” I give a wave to Lark and sit next to him.
“Cheerio,” Liam greets but Lark stays quiet, not looking in my direction. “So, what are your plans today?”
I shrug my shoulders, poking my fork into the bowl of mixed fruit. “Rehearsal. I was thinking…” I stop when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
Cameron: I made a huge mistake. Can you meet me after rehearsal?
I take a deep breath and re-read the text, again.
He made a mistake? Uh, yeah you did, buddy.
Me: I’ll think about it.
Cameron: You’re never very far from a maybe. Just say yes.
Is he insinuating that I have no backbone? I scowl and look up from my phone to find Lark staring at me. But, the second we make contact, he looks away and gets up from the table. “I’ll be back,” he says.
Me: Let me think. I’ll let you know later.
He doesn’t text back right away, and I think I might have pissed him off by not being my spineless jellyfish-self.
Cameron: I’ll take it.
I slip my phone back into my pocket as Liam sets a plate full of sizzling bacon and pancakes in front of me. “Umm, Liam? I don’t think I can eat all of that. Plus, I have to go sing and dance for the next six hours.” I laugh.
His face goes white. “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Well, fruit it is.”
“Ah.” I slap his hand away. “One piece of bacon and a pancake. Thank you.”
“You got it.”
“Where are Chris and Evan?” I ask.
“I sent them to do a perimeter check at the theater.”
I nod and take a bite of the hot pancake. Holy deliciousness. Mr. English can cook. I try not to moan. “What about Lark? Where did he run off to?”
Liam’s mouth turns down. “Had to get air, I’d imagine.”
“Oh,” is all I say.
“I miss the oats and honey out of you, Rowan,” my mom says into the phone. It’s the middle of the afternoon here in New York, but knowing mom, she probably just got out of bed. Dad and her have been living it up lately.
They had me at a very early age, and calling them “old” would be a slap in the face. They’re just pushing fifty-nine, but they are retired and ready to have some fun. The nest is empty and they are living it up. After the
initial shock of me being gone, they reveled in the quietness and decided to live the young life. I mean—as young as two fifty-nine year olds could.
“I miss you too, Mama. How is everything going?” Our little town in Alabama is long over the shock of their beloved Rowan going off to Broadway, so it’s fun to hear the latest gossip that doesn’t involve me.
“Lord have mercy,” she says, her twang extra thick with sleepiness. “We have a new doctor in town. She’s a mess. From some hospital in New York, can you imagine? Trying to open a practice here.”
I laugh, hoisting myself into the black SUV. “What’s so bad about that? I’ll have you know your daughter is a New Yorker.”
“Don’t sass me. I already know that, child. She’s not like you. She’s—oh, hell, I don’t know. She’s uppity. Wears all designer dresses that are far too short for my liking, she wears a bunch of eye make-up. She looks like a hooker!” she cries. “It’s too bad Dr. Madison had to up and retire. He’s seventy-two for God sakes. He’s got a few good years left in him.”
“Says the woman who retired at forty-two,” I mumble knowing well that she can hear me.
“Say what?” she retorts, but I know she’s joking.
“Oh, Mama. It’ll be all right.”
“When are you comin’ home for Christmas?”
When she found out I wasn’t coming home for Thanksgiving this year, she about had a conniption, but when I promised I’d be home for three weeks in December, it seemed to soften the blow a little bit.
“My flight—oh shit,” I stop. I hadn’t taken into account that I would need to consult with the guys before I left. “Actually, I don’t know.”
“You what, now?”
I cringe and watch as Chris enters the car, talking into his earpiece. “Well, you know I have security with me all of the time now. I need to make sure it’s okay that I go. I’m sorry, I didn’t think about it.”
“Oh, honey,” she sympathizes. This entire situation hasn’t been easy on any of us. Mom and Dad both wanted to come here the minute they found out about my current problem. “Get back to me when you know. But I’ll kick those boys’ asses if they don’t let you come, you hear me?”
I snicker and promise to call her when I have a more concrete answer.
“Hey, Chris. Do you think you could take me to the coffee shop on fifth and forty-seventh?”
He speaks low into his radio and when he gets conformation, he agrees.
Me: Coffee in ten minutes. Our usual spot.
After Chris does his thing and makes sure the place is secure, I take my customary seat in the back by the bookshelves and wait for Cameron to arrive. I order a skinny caramel latte, and thank the waitress. I’m lost deep in a book I found on the table when Cameron sits down in front of me.
“Thank you so much for meeting with me, Row,” he offers, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips. “I didn’t think everything through when I broke things off with you. I’m sorry. You’ve ditched me every night this week. What am I supposed to think?”
I take a drink and try to center myself before I blow a gasket. “You’re supposed to understand that my life is sort of in shambles right now. I can’t just go out anymore. At least not right now. There’s a very good chance I can get hurt if I make the wrong move, Cam.”
“I know.”
“Then what is it?” I ask. “You understand—yet—you don’t?”
“It’s not easy being with someone who has four other guys around all of the time.”
No shit.
“Cam, listen. I was upset. I said things I shouldn’t have and Lord knows you did, too. If this is too hard for you, it’s fine. But if you’re going to pull me in and then let me go, leaving me to the bears, I can’t do that. You’re either in it, or you’re not. It’s simple.” I let the last word hang in the air as I try to put as much weight on it as possible. I don’t do things half-ass. I’m all for having some fun, but if he’s going to act like a jealous boyfriend, I better get a damn title out of it. He’s maddening as hell, and some days I want to give him a good slapping, but he also has an amazing side that only I see.
Do I want to give him up? No.
Do I see a forever future with us? Probably not.
But, I need something.
“This is harder than I imagined,” he concedes. “I want to be with you, but you come with a lot of extra baggage. I want you but I don’t want this.” He points to Lark—Lark?
Why is he here, now?
And, oh God, can he hear this?
I sit up straighter and take the last sip of my coffee. “Well, this,” I mock, “is all I have at the moment. So, I guess that’s your answer.” I stand up to leave, no longer feeling the need to stay, and Lark catches my eye. I make a move toward him, but before I can get too far, Cameron places his hand on my arm, stopping me.
“Don’t leave like this,” he pleads. “Don’t go angry.”
I move away from his hand and Lark steps closer to me in obvious worry. “I’m not mad. I get it. Nothing will change in the show. I just—I need to leave.” I’m not about to ruin my career because he can’t handle the obstacles that come with being with me.
His eyes relax and his shoulders sag. “You sure?”
I tilt my head. The guy can’t help that he’s worried. Celebrity will do that to a person. “I’m sure.” I offer a fake smile and turn for the exit, meeting Lark as I step out into the cold. He keeps his eyes straight ahead as he leads me back to the waiting car. Without saying a word, he lends me his hand and I sit in the warm seats letting my mind drift off to a place where I don’t need security and I don’t have to worry about whether or not someone is confident enough to date me.
“Liam, seriously,” I grind out, rolling my eyes. I try as gracefully as possible to shove past him to get to the woman’s room, but it looks more like I’m a bulldozer barreling through a brick wall. “I can go to the bathroom without an escort.”
Liam wiggles his eyebrows and I know I’ve already stepped in it. “Why, love? I’ll be anything you want me to be.” Escort, heh? Cheap.
I slam the door shut and take a look at myself in the mirror. Splaying my hands on the counter in front of me, I take a deep breath and focus on calming my nerves.
I’ve been on this uphill battle for almost two weeks now and nothing has changed. Not a peep. Which apparently is a good thing, but at this point, I would love to hear some sort of a sound. Something to give me hope that there’s an end to the madness. Not that I’m not incredibly thankful to have the guys here to guard me it’s just—they are four guys. Four guys who are always around. Four guys always within listening distance.
I get it. They have to be, but there are times when I just want to sit in my tattered pajamas, tie my hair up in a bun, and veg in front of the television all day. That option, though, is thrown on its ass when those same four incredibly gorgeous guys are all in the house. More often than not, there are at least two with me at a time. How is a woman supposed to be ugly when she’s never alone? Because let’s be honest, women hate wearing make up…and clothes…and a bra. We hate those things. Loathe, really. So, when a woman is deprived that little freedom, she tends to get snippy.
Enter, snippy Rowan.
I do my business and look at my reflection in the mirror one last time. Tonight is the last night I have to do whatever I want because tomorrow starts my crazy performance schedule. It’s the week of Thanksgiving, and normally I’m excited for the holiday, but it just feels flat.
I have to work, which usually makes me happy, but with all of the craziness going on, I sort of just want my mom.
Lord help me if she actually knew that.
I don’t know—if I could just go home, lie in my bed and have a good cry, I think it might be cathartic. Healthy. Maybe even a little…healing. Not that I’m hurt. I’m confused. And sort of scared.
“All right, boys,” I shout downstairs. “I’m going to bed.” I bend over the banister to listen for a reply
from someone, but not a reply is heard. “Okay…” I whisper to no one.
Just as I’m about to turn away, Lark walks past the bottom of the staircase and looks up at me. With one abrupt nod, he continues into the living room.
I wake up in a cold sweat, shivering and frightened. It takes a moment for me to remember where I am, and when I get my bearings, movement in the corner of my room catches my eye. I flinch and reach for my pepper spray, ready to defend myself.
“Whoa…whoa.” Lark says the second whoa quietly, holding up his hands.
“Lark?” I breathe. “What’s wrong?”
He stands up, his clothed chest catching the light from the moon outside. “I uhh—I heard you—in here. It sounded like you were having a bad dream.” He sounds uncomfortable. “So, I decided to stay. You know, until it passed.”
I comb my hand through my hair and find his eyes in the blackness. With him standing in front of the window like he is, my muddled brain is imagining him as an angel. Strong and able, ready to save me from my nightmares. “Sorry.” I cringe, but a slow smile spreads across my lips. He may not say much to me during the day or even acknowledge my existence, but in the black of night, he has no problem taking care of me. “Thanks for making sure I’m okay.”
It feels odd. I only know Lark at night. In the light of day, he’s a closed off shell of a guard. But at night, everything changes. He’s soft and caring.
Lark sits back down on the chair and crosses his feet on the ottoman in front of him. “It’s no big deal.”
“Oh, right.” I awkwardly laugh. “I guess it’s your job.” I settle back into my bed and turn on my side, facing him.
His eyes skirt to the side and he gulps. “Right…part of my job.”
“Night, Lark.”
“Sleep well, Rowan.”
I close my eyes, but with his presence so big in my room, I can’t force myself to go back to sleep. I know he’s sitting mere feet from me and the part of my brain, the one that likes assholes and douchebags, wants to study him and attempt to figure out what’s going on in his brain.
“Lark?” I say into the quiet room.
The Truth of a Liar Page 6
