Wait (Bleeding Stars #4)

by A. L. Jackson

  Throat heavy, I nodded, not having the strength to speak, and I turned into the huddle made up of Sunder.

  Lyrik. Ash. Zee.

  And me.

  Lyrik and Ash slung their arms around my shoulders, Zee in between the two of them. All of us came together like we were some kind of sports team, which was just about laughable considering none of us had ever hit a field.

  But here we were, hitting the stage, and Ash was feeding us all the cocky shit he loved to spew. Amping us up. Feeding the frenzy that sizzled beneath our skin and flamed in our stomachs.

  Sunder. Sunder. Sunder.

  They chanted it louder.

  Demanding.

  A rush of energy bristled across my flesh, and I gulped down the air that was alive with the frenzy.

  My lungs were so damned heavy. My heart a manic pound, pound, pound.

  “Tonight belongs to us.” Ash shouted it, pushed off to break the circle, bouncing on his toes.

  Zee went striding out onto the stage. He shoved two drum sticks above his head.

  A tribute to his fallen brother.

  My chest tightened at the sight, and for the first time I wondered how much Zee and I might be alike.

  I paced.

  Back and forth.

  Three steps one direction, three steps the other.

  What was I doing? What was I doing? I didn’t belong.

  Sunder.

  The crowd screamed it, and I was hit by another rush of energy.

  Ash sauntered out.

  Cheers and screams.

  Something close to hysteria blistered through the space.

  Growing stronger.

  More complex.

  As if it understood the intricacies of this night.

  Lyrik rode out on his intimidating way. Slow, sure, and confident.

  From where I stood, I could feel the way the crowd surged. Standing-room only. A crush of bodies vied to get closer to the stage.

  I stood there at the side.

  Fisting my hands. Wanting to fist my hair. For the first time in months wishing for the security of that damned hoodie.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Wasn’t worthy to stand in my brother’s shoes.

  In his light.

  In his legacy.

  His hand was on my arm, his eyes telling me he’d heard every single fear playing out in my head.

  He didn’t need to say a word.

  Everything in his expression promised me I was wrong.

  That he believed in me.

  That after all this time, what he saw? He saw something good.

  I sucked in a breath. Steeling myself.

  The frantic air drawn into my too-tight lungs only amplified the thunder of my heart.

  I stepped out onto the stage to shouts and screams.

  The swelling mass undulated with the confusion of my presence and not my brother’s. All of it was messed up with the profuse excitement. A living, breathing ring of intensity.

  Lights flashed.

  Strobed across the toil of bodies and indistinct faces.

  With my heart in my throat, I slung my brother’s electric guitar over my shoulder and got up close to the mic.

  There was no missing the weight of the eyes brimming with questions. Like everyone present was trapped in the bated, bottled anticipation.

  An expectancy waiting to snap.

  Energy stretched taut and tight.

  No chance it wouldn’t break.

  “Evening,” I called out. I dug deep for the confidence my brother had done his best to instill in me. Even after everything I’d done, he’d believed, and I wasn’t about to let him down.

  I strummed an echoing chord.

  Cheers went up, the shriek call of whistles.

  “Things look a bit different up here to y’all?”

  Shouts, mostly of approval, but a few boos made their way to my ears.

  And somehow…somehow that was okay.

  A grin pulled at my mouth. “Look a little bit like my brother, yeah?”

  Screams. Mostly of the female kind.

  And that buzz lifted, a constant throb, throb, throb.

  Propelling me forward.

  “Let’s see if I can play and sing like him, too.”

  That was all it took for the thrill to go lurching out of control.

  For the energy to snap.

  I jumped into the hard, hard chords of the song. A riot of chaos slammed at the bottom of the stage. And the rest of the boys…they were right there. Playing strong and sharp.

  The music.

  I’d always known it was there. Seated deep in my soul.

  Tonight it flowed free and fast.

  Fierce.

  And I sang…sang the song my brother had written years ago.

  Back before he found a way to be free.

  Before he found love.

  I tapped into the lyrics. Into the feel. And I thought maybe for the first time I really got their meaning.

  I can’t touch time

  There’s no remedy for this space

  How long will you hold me under?

  Just end it now

  End me now

  And I knew.

  I knew with the crowd a tumble of energy.

  With the song weaving its way into my spirit.

  With this overwhelming feeling of being one with the guys.

  With the way it crashed over me with the force of a tidal wave.

  All-consuming.

  Overpowering.

  Uncontrollable.

  Wanting to be up here wasn’t some distorted sense of loyalty.

  It wasn’t obligation or duty.

  It was just like Baz said.

  Right here was where I belonged.

  But I was willing to give it up.

  To forever let this feeling go.

  Because nothing was worth it if Edie wasn’t by my side.

  Do you know what it feels like to stand at the precipice of life?

  Teetering on the edge of the here and now?

  You know in your gut you’re only one fumbled step away until you’re in a free fall.

  Tumbling down, down, down.

  On a direct collision course with your past.

  Even when you’ve done everything in your power to leave it behind.

  So careful not to travel the same roads littered with mistakes and regrets and unbearable pain.

  And there those roads were.

  Circling right back around again.

  Bringing you face to face with the past you’d give anything to forget.

  Funny how I’d done everything to avoid this.

  Facing my past.

  But I didn’t want to be afraid.

  Not anymore.

  I wanted to be brave. Filled with the kind of courage Austin swore he saw when he looked at me.

  That didn’t mean I wasn’t trembling when I unlatched the door of the taxi, mumbled a quiet thank you, and slipped out into the Hollywood night. The thick air was warm against my already heated skin.

  I felt hot.

  Shaky.

  I stepped up onto the busy sidewalk.

  I stood in the middle of it while a hoard of people bustled around me, voices lifted and carefree as they headed to whatever spot would keep them entertained for the night.

  And I just remained there. Frozen. My heart pounding in my ears as I stared up at the vintage-style marquee. The sign was all lit up, big, bold, black letters proclaiming tonight’s act.

  Sunder.

  When I first got to L.A., I’d gone to the one place I knew to find him.

  Where we’d started.

  Praying we weren’t at our end.

  The old Sunder house in the Hills.

  It’d been dark.

  Quiet.

  Almost eerie.

  Or maybe it’d just been the stunning amount of discouragement and dread I’d felt in the possibility that I’d missed them. The irony that after all this time I’d finally gai
ned the courage to step out and they were gone. On the road.

  With a dash of hope, I’d looked up their tour schedule.

  And here I was.

  Standing in front of the glitzy, flashing lights.

  A beacon.

  The faint beat of the loud, hard music seeped through the thick block walls, stretching out to touch the night.

  Sunder.

  My head spun with the old fears and insecurities, with the old shame I no longer wanted to wear, and I forced myself up to the window.

  My tongue darted out to wet my dried lips, and my voice cracked. “I need a ticket, please.”

  A girl with teal streaks in her platinum blonde hair and a ring in her lip leaned toward me. “Sorry, you’re about a month late. Shows been sold out for weeks.”

  Desperation rippled through my senses. I gripped the edge of the counter. “Please…I have to get in there…my brother…”

  What was I supposed to say? My brother was on stage? That I clung to the hope that the boy I needed was somewhere in there, sharing in the show with his own brother?

  That I belonged?

  I guess I looked just desperate enough, because she shook her head, gave me a wry smile. “Go on. It’s open floor. Don’t tell anyone I let you in.”

  Relief flashed. “Thank you.”

  “Sure thing.” She said it like it meant nothing. She had no idea how wrong she was.

  I moved through the double doors and into the lobby area. People were everywhere, mostly youth, here to lose themselves to the hard, chaotic songs that spoke to them. The lyrics intense and pronounced.

  As if they, too, had come here to be set free.

  Free.

  Nerves fired fast, and my pulse thundered, my breaths getting spun tighter and tighter as I shouldered through. Each step spun me higher.

  Finally, I made it into the main room.

  The lights were completely darkened.

  All except for the bright bursts of light flashing on the stage.

  Glowing silhouettes.

  Strumming guitars.

  I pushed deeper through the raving crowd.

  Drawn.

  Deeper and deeper.

  Everything locked in my throat.

  Bewilderment. Love. My spirit danced in recognition.

  I blinked.

  Austin.

  I blinked again, trying to make sense of what I saw.

  Austin.

  He was here.

  On stage.

  With Sunder.

  Singing.

  Playing.

  In place of Baz.

  What was happening?

  A tumble of confusion rippled in waves, and my attention was drawn to his right.

  To my brother.

  My blood.

  I’m going to miss you when I’m gone.

  Never before now had I felt the full magnitude of that claim. The fourteen-year-old girl who’d just wanted to be around her older brother, desperate for a moment to feel important. The one who’d been ripped up and tossed aside.

  I missed. Oh my god, I missed.

  My heart clenched, and I was trying to swallow around the clot of emotion at the base of my throat. I fought to get closer.

  A tumble of dark faces and thrashing bodies went wild at the foot of the stage.

  I pulled in a breath to steady myself. It felt as if I did nothing more than suck down more of that throbbing turmoil. Pulled it deep inside. Where it penetrated muscle and bone.

  Calling me back.

  Closer.

  Nearer.

  Something severe simmered across my flesh.

  A sizzling, powerful force.

  A raging storm building in the distance.

  A bristle of energy and a lash of wind.

  I’d run so far from this. And here I was. After all these years. Crawling back like a broken, beaten-down vagrant begging for a return ticket home.

  Austin screamed into the mic, that gorgeous mouth twisted and harsh. His fingers flew in precision across the frets. Up and down the neck of the electric guitar, his other hand strumming the reckless beat.

  Oh god.

  No boy should have the right to look that good.

  My beautiful, broken boy. And I spun and spun and spun.

  Darkness.

  Light.

  Chaos.

  And this unyielding ration of hope.

  It was stunning.

  The fever that raced inside me.

  I battled to get closer, weaved and squeezed through the tight-knit bodies who fought for the same position as me.

  Closer. Closer. Closer.

  My body canted with the dizzying tilt of the room, my steps bringing me nearer.

  Wanting more.

  That’s why I was here.

  I finally was ready for more.

  I was ready for it all.

  Strobes flashed. Bright strikes of colorful lights streaked across the defined lines of his face.

  This boy who I should have known would always be a part of me.

  I wanted it.

  I wanted him.

  Wanted everything he had to offer.

  I stood there in complete awe in the middle of the bed of disorder. Bodies slammed, thrashed, and screamed all around me. Fists in the air. Voices lifted to sing along with this beautiful, mysterious boy.

  A boy who without a doubt had belonged there all along.

  I’d seen his fear of standing there. Heard it in his words and felt it in his reservations.

  But I knew…I knew he belonged.

  Joy lit.

  Hope and peace in the middle of the darkest night.

  Unable to take it any longer, I pushed back out through the crowd. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised the task was so much easier than my endeavor to get closer to the foot of the stage.

  But that’s exactly where I was heading.

  Closer.

  Moving toward forever.

  The need pounded through me like the beat of Zee’s drums.

  With the manic chaos of their songs.

  I moved to the backstage side entrance and started up two steps. My approach was cut off by a big, burly, bouncer.

  He probably could have doubled for Jed.

  He crossed his thick, tattooed arms over his chest.

  “I need to get back there.” My voice was both weak and strong.

  Needy.

  He laughed. “Yeah…you and every other girl here, sweetheart. Invitation only.”

  “Please…Ash Evans…he’s my brother.”

  And I wanted to say it.

  And Austin Stone is my life.

  It froze on my tongue.

  The big guy shook his head. “Nice try.”

  His smile turned almost sympathetic. “Maybe hang tight right out here…your brother is likely to go scouting through the crowd sometime tonight. Never know what flavor he’s looking for.”

  My stomach turned, and I fought the burn of moisture pricking at the back of my eyes.

  Tears of protest and hope and this elusive freedom that taunted me.

  Hovering in the distance.

  The future I hadn’t been brave enough to hope for just out of reach.

  I noticed movement behind the bouncer, and my eyes adjusted to make out the lines and curves. The familiar face came into focus.

  Relief slammed me from all sides. “Anthony!” I yelled.

  Desperate, I struggled to peek my head around the hulking mass who stood like a concrete barricade in front of me. “Anthony!”

  Anthony di Pietro, Sunder’s manager, stumbled in his confident stride. He took a curious step back, brows dented as he peered at me through the haze of darkness and smoke.

  “Do you remember me?” I all but begged.

  “Edie?”

  Deliverance.

  “Oh my God, yes, please, I need to…”

  I needed to live.

  Bouncer guy was already swiveling to the side. He muttered an apology, letting
me by just as Anthony was scooping me into the warmth of his chest.

  As if I were his long-lost child.

  I clutched him and let free the sob that rattled against my ribs.

  Relief.

  His voice washed with concern. “Edie Evans. Where the hell have you been? Ash…your brother…he’s going to be so relieved to see you. He told me he hasn’t talked to you in forever.”

  Regret fisted my heart. I knew the one letter I’d sent my brother was no less than a feeble attempt at covering my grief. Ash would have worried about me all these years.

  I knew he would.

  I just hadn’t known how to stand.

  Now I was ready.

  “I can’t believe you’re here,” Anthony mumbled at the top of my head.

  Tears streamed down my face. He just hugged me, rocked me, soothed me in a way that let me know I was welcome. “Hey, it’s okay. He’s going to be happy to see you. I promise.”

  Shame.

  It hovered in the periphery. Taunting me from the shadowy fringes. A dim, wavy hue of red that simmered and glowed.

  At the ready to strike.

  To pull me back into the depths of loneliness and nothingness.

  I refused to let it.

  Anthony peeled me away, held me at arm’s length. “I’ve got to run up front to take care of something really quick. Why don’t you head over to VIP at the side of the stage. Boys’ll be off in less than five…only have one more song after this one.”

  Sniffing, I nodded, raked the sleeve of my shirt across my face to mop up the moisture.

  I offered him a small, thankful smile while freedom bounded through me.

  “Okay, thank you.”

  He slanted a nod, lips pulling at one side. “Welcome home, Edie.”

  He strutted away, and I moved through the shadows, hugging my arms across my chest.

  Every cell in my body felt drawn to the sound of the voice that lifted from the stage.

  Mesmerizing.

  Spellbinding.

  Hypnotizing.

  This haunted boy, so dark, so grim, so full of life.

  I edged up to the side where I could see him. I was hidden behind the sweeping curtains that blanketed the stage, the rise of them high and heavy.

  They kept me veiled as I looked out on the future waiting in the distance.

  Trembles rolled, desire and devotion as I looked upon a face too brilliant.

  His talent too beautiful.