by Kacey Shea
But I can’t let him. Even now in the safety of his room I know this is only temporary. He can’t lock me away from my past forever. Coy’s the freaking drummer for his band. This could never work, but I don’t tell him that. The truth hangs heavy between us, yet I know he’s only trying to make me feel better. Give me some hope because that’s the kind of man he is. “Thank you again. For letting me sleep here.”
“Jess?” He stops me from closing the door.
I lift my chin and meet his gaze. Or at least I try to. It’s difficult to hold his stare when his eyes search beyond my front. There’s a landmine of insecurities I’d rather not divulge, and they’re just waiting to bubble to the surface.
“I don’t want you to regret this. Us.” His eyes widen with what I guess is a mixture of optimism and pain, and I force myself not to look away.
“I won’t.” I rest my head against the door jamb and lay out an honest answer. “I could never.”
His lips pull with a smile that slowly fills his face.
I push the door closed until it softly clicks. Relief floods my gut the minute I’m tucked inside and away from his perceptive gaze. Sean holds me with such regard, such faith and promise, and it’s an expectation I’ll fall short on. I don’t want to contemplate what will happen tomorrow. Where I’ll go, or how I’ll make it on my own. I’ve done things in the past to get by as a means of survival, but that fight in me isn’t the same. That, and I’m no longer a young, naïve girl. I won’t sell myself for another day on this Earth. This time I’d rather disappear.
Pulling on clothes that smell of Sean helps warm my body and keep my worries at bay. I won’t think about tomorrow until the dawn comes. I ready myself for sleep and crack open the door. Sean’s on the bed, his body a work of art, his skin inked with tattoos.
“Hey.” He glances up, his gaze falling to my outfit, and smiles. “This is my new favorite look of yours.”
“Dressed like a child?” I glance down at his shirt, which hits my knees, and the pants I had to roll several times to stay at my waist.
“No. Dressed in my clothes.” His eyes heat with desire like we didn’t just spend all night acting on those urges. He gives his head a little shake as if he were thinking the same and pats the space next to him. “Come on. Let’s have a sleepover.” His enthusiasm brings a giggle to my lips.
I have some big decisions to make. Life changing ones. But for now, I’ll stay in this fairy tale. He makes it too inviting. I run the rest of the way and jump onto the mattress. The impact jostles his body and I grin with satisfaction. “Are we going to stay awake talking until it’s morning?”
“God, I hope so.” He wraps his arms around my waist and tugs me to him so our noses touch.
“You’re crazy,” I whisper, but the smile on my lips stretches wide before turning to a yawn. I roll onto my back so I don’t yawn all over his face.
“Yeah. I am.” He settles back onto the bed and drops his cheek to the pillow to meet my gaze. “Tired?”
“A little, yeah.” I yawn again. It’s to the point I couldn’t stop if I wanted. The day’s been long, but this night has been enchanted. As much as I don’t want it to end, I can barely keep my eyelids open.
“Then sleep.” Sean turns on his side and tucks the pillow under his head. He slides a hand over my belly to my opposite hip. His thumb caresses the skin there and he nestles his face into the crook of my neck. “I’ve got you, Jess.”
If only that were really true. That’s the last thought I have before my lids become too heavy and I give over to their pull, sleep claiming what little is left of this very long day.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The door rattles with the slam of a fist and fear claws at my chest.
Sean’s fingers tighten around my waist beneath the blanket.
“She in there? She fucking in there?” Coy. “I will kill you. I will fucking kill you.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. Sometimes fear is paralyzing, but in this instance it douses my body with adrenaline. Quiet as I can, I attempt to slip from the bed.
Only Sean won’t let me. He pushes up onto one elbow and presses a finger to his lips. Stay quiet. Yeah, no kidding! Does it stop Coy from assaulting Sean’s door? Not in the slightest.
“I have to go,” I whisper, and try again to pull out from his embrace.
He shakes his head, a deep scowl etching lines into his forehead. “Don’t. You stay here. I’ll handle him.”
“No.” The thought catapults more anxiety into my limbs and this time it’s me holding Sean from making another move. “I don’t want him to hurt you.”
“Like he hurt you?” His gaze narrows and drops to the bruises on my skin. He shakes his head, letting loose a ragged breath, and I can’t bring myself to hold his stare. His whispered commands only bring on more shame. “Go to the bathroom. Lock the door. I’ve got this.”
“This is all my fault.” I squeeze my eyes shut as if somehow that will help block out Coy’s angry shouts or reverse time so I wouldn’t be here in Sean’s bed. If I could take it back . . . no. I wouldn’t take back our night together. But this—Coy here and angry—is all on me. What did I expect? That I could go from the drummer to the bass player without any confrontation or retribution? As if Coy would let me? I was a fool to forget Coy’s vengeance, even for a night.
“No. It’s not. We were both consenting participants. Now, go.” Sean points to the bathroom door.
“I’m sorry.” I’m not even sure what I’m apologizing for, but the words leave my mouth regardless. Sliding from the warmth of Sean’s blankets, I pad quietly into the bathroom and lock the door. Pressing my ear against the wooden panel, I hold my breath and strain my ears to make out what’s going on.
Coy continues to bang and cuss at the door.
“Fucking hell. I’m coming.” Sean’s weary shout stops Coy’s racket.
I hope he knows what he’s doing, because something tells me Sean underestimates Coy. And if something happens to Sean . . . If Coy hurts him because of me? I don’t think I can live with that on my conscience. This isn’t his battle to fight. It’s mine.
22
Sean
“What the fuck do you want?” I crack open my bedroom door enough to meet Coy’s angry snarl.
“Where is she? She’s here.” He has the audacity to storm into my room and start throwing pillows and sheets off of the bed. He turns toward the closet but I block his path. “Where is she? You fucked my girlfriend, you piece of shit!” He shakes his fist in my face, but I don’t flinch.
“I didn’t fuck her,” I grate through my teeth. Last night with Jess wasn’t fucking; it was worship. We weren’t having sex; we were making love. Every touch on her skin was another way of proving to her how beautiful she is. I don’t clarify that to Coy.
“Fucking liar!” he seethes, and his hands go straight to my throat.
“Get. Out.” The words spit from my mouth as I struggle to break free from his hold. He’s strong, I’ll give him that, but I’m in damn good shape. I get in one good knee to his balls, but that only earns me an elbow to the kidney. We scrap around, finally banging into the wall so hard that the portrait I bought from the fundraiser slips off its hook and tumbles from the bed to the floor.
“You’re gonna pay, dipshit. Where is she?” Coy puffs through labored breath, and the stench of alcohol and stale cigs hits my face. He’s still sloshed, and I can only hope to work that to my advantage.
“She’s not here, dumbass.” I shove him and he trips over a pillow and falls flat on his ass.
“I’m going to . . .” He lunges off the floor but I skirt him before he catches my legs.
“What? Whatcha gonna do?” I egg him on, fully pissed that he not only interrupted my sleep but my snuggle time with Jess. He has no right to burst into my room like this, or even come after her after what he did. “You’re gonna what? Beat me the way you do her?”
“Fuck you!” He slams forward with more speed than I anticipate and kn
ocks me to the floor.
“What the hell! Sean! Coy! Knock it off!” Trent rushes into the room but he can’t get between us. We roll around, sneak in cheap shots, and grapple for the upper hand.
“Dude! Stop already!”
“I’m not gonna let the fucker go. Not till he tells me where Jess is.” Coy’s breath stinks like ass and only boils my blood further.
“Go. To. Hell,” I spit out between several hits.
“That’s enough!” Jess’s shout freezes Coy for a moment. Even with the curtains drawn and lights off there’s enough light from the hallway to illuminate her profile.
As soon as he catches sight of her in my bathroom doorway—her hair a mess and wearing my clothes—he turns on me with a surge of vengeance. “You fucker!” His right hook connects with my face. “You said you didn’t fuck her!” An elbow to my gut knocks the air right from me. “You’re going to pay!”
“Enough! Stop!” Austin and Trent catch his arms and heave him off of me. They force him closer to the door, but I’m not sure if the space is meant to protect me or him.
With my ego wounded, I wipe blood from my face with the back of my hand, stand, and squint through a quickly swelling eye.
Trent doesn’t let up on Coy even though he’s stopped fighting against him. “Let’s all just calm down here. I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding.”
Coy lifts his chin at me. “Yeah, Sean, give me a reason I shouldn’t kill you right now. Why the fuck is my girl wearing your clothes? Why’s she in your room?”
I grate my jaw back and forth, meeting everyone’s stares.
Jess let’s her hair fall forward and it hides the evidence of Coy’s wrath. As if she doesn’t want the guys to see. She gives a little shake to her head, but I can’t let this go.
I can’t let him off for what he’s done.
“Oh, you want to play show and tell? She might be in my clothes, but you wanna explain her face? The bruises she’s wearing this morning?”
Coy lunges, but thankfully, Austin and Trent have a good hold.
Austin rolls his eyes. “Not helping, Sean.”
“Oh, what? That’s not helpful? Exposing him for the woman abuser he is?” The words fire from my mouth but still I don’t feel any source of relief.
“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about.” Coy growls as if that will intimidate me enough to shut up.
“I think I do.” I take a step forward.
“Stop. Stop it!” Jess’s shout pulls my stare back to her. Her gaze bounces between Coy and me. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”
“Did you fuck him, Jess?”
Her eyes find mine, and for that I feel like I’ve won.
“If I find out you fucked him, I will kill him!” Coy roars.
“Let’s not go overboard here. No one is killing anybody.” The warning leaves Trent’s lips and Coy breaks free, hurtling toward me.
“Oh, fuck,” Austin groans.
Coy barrels right in my face, but I stand my ground. He thinks I’ll run? Not with Jess here. He can beat me to a pulp because I’m not backing down. His fist clenches the fabric of my shirt and his other cocks back for what’s sure to be the most painful hit of my life. He wants to hurt me, and I’m okay with that as long he doesn’t touch her.
I glance at Jess and dread fills my gut. Her eyes don’t hold the light they did last night and as she drops her gaze to his, a dreadful anticipation fills my gut before she even speaks a word.
“No, Coy. I didn’t. Sean let me stay here last night. Because you hurt me.” Her gaze stays with his and she steps forward until her hands cover his fist. As soon as she does he drops his hold on me.
“Jess, I’m so sorry, baby.” He reaches for her and I expect her to shrink back. I expect her to push him away, or step out of reach. But she doesn’t do any of that. Confusion and hurt burst in my chest as she allows him to pull her into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry,” he chants over and over.
“I know,” she whispers. “I know, Coy.”
“Sean.” Trent places his hand on my shoulder and drags my gaze from the couple. I can’t believe what I’m witnessing. I can’t believe she’d forgive him. Not after last night. Not after all we’ve shared.
I can’t even breathe.
My heart literally breaks.
My vision clouds from beneath my tears and I have to turn away. “Get out.” The command doesn’t even sound like my own voice. “Get the fuck out of my room.”
“Sean?” Jess’s voice begs that I turn around but I can’t bear to look at her.
“Just go.” I stomp over to the photograph that fell and pick it up only to find the canvas sliced down the middle. Fucking Coy. He ruins everything. I don’t try to fix or hide it, just hang it back on the wall.
“Sorry about the misunderstanding. And your picture.” But Coy doesn’t sound the least apologetic. He got everything he wanted. He has Jess. And that hurts more than any punch to the face or ruined photograph. She deserves him too, if she’s so willing to go back into the arms of a monster. I wait for the shuffle of their footsteps to leave the room before I turn around.
Trent’s there, his gaze somber. “Sean?” He lifts his chin and gives a nod.
I glance down at my arms to see they’re streaked with blood. Probably all mine. I touch my lip with my tongue and taste the metallic, salty tang before wiping it with the back of my hand.
“I told you not to get in the middle of it . . . that it wouldn’t be good.” Trent runs his hands through his hair and pushes it back behind his ears. He wanted to avoid this. I understand the concern, but the apprehension in his eyes only makes this worse. I went head to head with Coy for Jess, and it didn’t change a damn thing. It’s worse, actually, now that I’ve experienced just how good we are together, and that still wasn’t enough for her to choose me over him.
“Are you okay?” Is he referring to physical pain or that of my heart? Doesn’t matter. The answer’s the same.
“No, I’m not.” My gaze goes to the open door. I still can’t believe she walked out with him. How she could do that, after everything he’s done to her? “Can you just leave me alone?”
Trent nods and his lips form a straight line. “If you need anything, come find me. When everyone’s calmed down, we need to sit down and have a band meeting. We’ll work this out.” He turns and his shoulders slump with an exhale. Defeat? Disappointment? I should ask. I should care. But all that runs through my head is the look on Jess’s face as she met my stare and told Coy last night meant nothing. It’s great that Trent thinks we can move past this, because honestly, I don’t see how in the fuck that’s gonna happen.
How does one survive living one door down from the woman he loves after she chooses someone else? I don’t fucking know, and I’m sure as hell not doing it right. This hurts like fucking hell and I can’t find it in me to care about anything right now—her; the band; even myself. Everything is not all right, and I don’t know how to make it better.
I hid in my room on Sunday because I didn’t trust myself around the others. Everything felt hopeless and pointless, and I sure as shit didn’t trust myself around Coy. But this was my house, too. Hell, I was in the band first. Who did he think he was coming into my life and fucking shit up? So, after licking my battered ego in solitude, I woke up Monday with a plan. I would push every-fucking-one of Coy’s buttons until he proves what a bastard he really is. Oh, and I wasn’t giving up on Jess. Not yet.
Taking a longer route, I knock out an eight mile run and head into the backyard. I need to speak with Jess. To ask the hard questions. If she’s done with me, really done, then I have to walk away. But if there’s some chance for us, however slim it might be, then I will do whatever it takes to prove how good we can be.
My skin drips with sweat and I pull off my shirt as I make my way around the corner to her usual spot, but she’s not there. Disappointment churns at her absence. Another rejection, or is this Coy’s control?
Either way, I’m irritated as I push through the back door and head to the kitchen. I grab a box of cereal, fill a bowl, and mix up my protein drink. I’m pissed, and each movement comes with a slam against the counter or cupboard.
“Who shit in your Cheerios?” Austin chuckles as he struts into the kitchen and takes in my scowl.
“Fuck you,” I say through a mouthful of food.
“Oooh. Feisty.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Bring that energy to practice.”
I’m not amused, and though I realize he’s receiving the brunt of my frustrations merely because he’s in the wrong place at the wrong time, I can’t seem to care. I lift my middle finger, finish my cereal, and drop the bowl into the sink with a slam that surprisingly doesn’t break the ceramic.
“Jeez, I’m only fucking with you. Don’t have to be a little bitch,” he grumbles, but I don’t glance back, stomping up the stairs and straight to my shower. My sour mood is a direct result of not starting my day with a dose of Jess. Our conversations grew to mean so much more than a simple interaction; I don’t want to start my day any other way.
As I wash away the sweat from my body, worry pricks at my mind. I hope she’s not hurt. She’s surely not safe with Coy, though he’s more likely just hiding her from me. Either way, I need to know. I need to see her for myself, and I need to speak with her alone. She won’t answer with an audience, but I need to hear the truth from her lips. I dry off and change into clothes for the day before heading down to the practice studio a few minutes late.
“So nice of you to show up.” Austin rolls his eyes at my approach. “Still in a bad mood? ’Cause that’ll make today fun.”
“Bedo here yet?” I ask Trent, but I can feel Coy’s glare at my back.
“Nope,” Trent says with a weary stare.
“Good.” For the first time since Saturday my lips pull into a smile. I stomp over to the fridge, take out two bottles of craft beer and pop off the tops. “Thirsty.” I glance at Trent, hold out the bottle, and tip it sideways. The contents splash and splatter all over the floor.
