by Skye Jordan
Troy.
Her heart leapt with pleasure and spiraled with affection while a smile curved her mouth—until the condition of his face registered in her sluggish mind. More scrapes and cuts had been covered in strips of tape, bruises marred his smooth tan, a black eye made Giselle wince. Alarm sang along her nerves. She lifted her free hand to run her fingers through his hair, but her wrist jerked to a stop. Confused, she darted a look at her arm. Something was wrapped around her wrist. Fabric? Rope?
She didn’t understand. She just pulled at the fabric again and again. Fabric tied to a metal railing. A metal railing on a gurney. A gurney in a hospital room.
“Troy?” With each thought, panic jumped another rung. “Troy. Troy!”
She wasn’t thinking, just reacting, jerking and yelling.
“Shh, honey, I’m right here.” He was on his feet, pressing her shoulders to the mattress. “Everything’s fine. You’re okay.”
“W-what is this? Why…” She jerked both hands at once. “Get these off.”
“Okay, okay,” he said. “Just show me you can calm down first.”
Anger immediately replaced panic, but she clenched her teeth and forced herself to lie back and stay still. Which made it easier to fill her lungs. Helped her brain clear.
With two tugs, Troy freed her hands, and relief engulfed her, followed by a mess of other intense emotions she couldn’t define and didn’t understand. All she knew was she needed security, and she went directly to her purest form—Troy.
She threw her arms around his neck. Holding him tight, she closed her eyes as deep relief swept in with such force, she shivered. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”
Memories rushed in—the cave, Troy, nearly getting crushed and buried, losing it when they reached the hospital. Mortification made her bury her face in his neck.
“The others?” she asked. “Were there others?”
“One of the engineers was caught in the stunt cave, but he’s out and he’s recovering. A few others had minor injuries, but they’ve all been treated, and they’re on their way home. Everyone is going to be okay.”
Thank God. She closed her eyes in relief. “How long have I been here?”
“About eight hours. They had to sedate you.”
“When can I leave? I need to get out.”
“I know. We were just waiting for you to wake up.”
He held her tight. Spoke softly, but firmly, never treating her like she was crazy or weak. And remembering how insane she’d acted after that cave wall had collapsed, the way she’d fought when she realized they’d brought her to the hospital… She’d definitely earned a looney-tunes label.
He pulled back and met her eyes. “The doctor wants to check you over one more time. If you’re all good, you can go.”
She nodded and let one arm fall from his shoulders to wipe at wet cheeks. “Okay. I’m ready.”
Troy grinned and shook his head, then pressed a button on a remote nearby. “You still fuckin’ amaze me.”
A nurse slid the glass door to her room open and offered a tentative smile for Giselle. “Look who’s awake. How do you feel?”
She nodded. “Better.”
“The doctor’s seeing another patient, but I’ll send him your way when he’s finished.”
When she slid the door shut again, Giselle dropped her head and covered her face with both hands. “Oh my God. Please, tell me I’m here under an alias.”
“Yes, ma’am, Miss Susie Cue.”
A puff of laughter escaped her, and she dropped her hands. “You named me Susie Cue?”
“I wish I’d thought of it, but no, actually, the hospital named you. Turns out they’re quite familiar with the rich-and-famous protocol. But the press is already swarming. There were some big stars at the site today, so this is going to stay on the radar awhile.”
“Does Chad know?” Dread flooded her belly. He would be so bent out of shape. So worried about every show she missed, every conceivable contract glitch, every potential endorsement blip. “Is he here?”
“He brought you some of your things and went back to the hotel to reschedule your concerts. Everything’s fine.”
“Reschedule— No. No, he can’t. I can’t… Oh God. No, no, no. Where’s my phone?”
“Ellie.” Troy lifted her chin until her eyes met his. “Can you hear yourself? You sound like an addict who needs a hit. And if you even try to sing one line of ‘You Are My Sunshine,’ your head’s going to hurt so bad, you’ll be begging someone to shoot you.”
As if the mention of her head made the injury a reality, pain stabbed her skull, and she winced.
He took her face gently in both hands and smiled so sweetly, she wanted to melt. “It’s okay. Performers get sick all the time. They have accidents. Family emergencies. They’re human. Venues schedule backup acts for situations just like this.”
She closed her eyes and her shoulders slumped. This didn’t happen to her. She never missed a concert. She never let a venue’s manager or her fans down. None of this had to be her fault for her to still feel bad. And even though she had enough money saved to live the rest of her life comfortably if she used it wisely, she doubted she’d ever get over the ingrained fear of going hungry or homeless if she failed.
“This is one of the reasons you pay Chad to manage your career. Let him manage. He wants you to take the time you need to get better so you can come back full steam.”
Tension ebbed from her shoulders, but she frowned. “He…does?”
“Do you doubt that?”
“No, no.” She shook her head and looked away, but she was having a hard time envisioning Chad saying such a thing. Then again, she’d never been gravely ill or seriously injured, so she couldn’t say she really knew how he’d act in this situation. “It’s just, I’m at a sort of pivotal point in my career…”
She trailed off, her mind filling with all the promotional networking they had planned. All the concerts she still had scheduled…
Troy’s dry laugh drew her gaze to his smirk. “When was the last time your career wasn’t at a pivotal point?”
Her brow pulled harder. “What does that mean?”
“It means that when you’re in entertainment, every step you take seems pivotal, especially as you gain notoriety.” He took a deep breath and blew it out, his shoulders relaxing. “When I’m under a lot of pressure to get a stunt right, say, one I can’t repeat because it will cost a ton of money or because it would be too dangerous or simply because it’s a one-time-only situation, I always, always, take a moment to step back and assess the big picture before I go for broke.
“I can’t tell you how many times that’s saved money, time, injuries, and even lives. It also makes for better filming, because that moment of perspective gives me one more layer of security, allowing me to give the stunt my all.
“Sometimes,” he said, his voice softening as his focus eased off his work, “it makes the most sense to step back during the hardest push, to make sure you’re on target, that you have everything you need in place to make the project successful…and sometimes, even to make sure it’s still what you want.”
God, that was so…true. His advice so sage. How did he do that? And why did that suggestion sound so rational, so reasonable coming from Troy? But so unthinkable in her own mind? Unimaginable coming out of Chad’s mouth?
“Wow,” she said softly, half in awe, half teasing. “That’s…deep.”
A grin flashed across his face. “And I’m good-looking too.”
Laughter popped from her throat. Only Troy could make her laugh at a time and in a place like this.
He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “Feels good to hear you laugh.”
But she was too exhausted to laugh for long. And even that pressure made her head ache, which meant Troy was right about singing. If she tried to get up on stage now, she might just snap her vocal cords and blow her brains out her ears.
“I should call Brook,” she said. “I’m sure she
’s talked to Chad, but she’s a worrier.” She glanced around for anything that looked personal. “Where’s my phone?”
“Brook’s already been here.”
Giselle’s gaze jumped to Troy’s. “Oh no. If she saw me like this… Oh God, she’s going to be freaked.”
“She’s stronger than you think, that one.” A sly smile tilted his mouth. “A little devious too. I like her. She’s an amazing friend to you.”
A soft spot opened in Giselle’s chest. “What did she say?”
“A lot. Like, really fast.”
Laughter rolled from her throat, but pain stabbed her brain. She grabbed her head with both hands, rocking back and forth. “Oh, ow. Ow, ow, ow.”
Troy massaged her scalp, and the pain faded into a dull throb. “She wanted me to tell you that she has you completely covered on the home front. Your mail, e-mail, social media—everything. She wants you resting and healing, and she doesn’t want to see your pretty face until you’re one hundred percent again.”
“Is that right?” she asked with a smirk.
“That’s right. She also said, don’t plan on singing until you’re cleared by Jacque, whoever the hell that is.”
Giselle gasped, and her mouth hung open in an expression of irritation. “That little…”
“Uh-uh.” He put a finger underneath her chin and forced her mouth closed. “That little has your best interest at heart.”
She heaved an exasperated sigh. “I know.” A moment of sweet silence filled the room, but memories quickly invaded her peace. She scanned his face, grimacing at the injuries. “Did I…do any of that?”
“The black eye with your elbow.” He pulled down the collar of his T-shirt, showing four raw, linear welts. “These. A few miscellaneous bruises. You’re stronger than you used to be, but, still, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”
She drew air through her teeth. A fresh wave of tears burned her eyes. How and why he’d put up with her and all her problems for as long as he had all those years ago, she’d never know.
“I’m so sor—” Her throat choked off her apology, and she lay back on the gurney, hands covering her face.
“Baby,” he said quietly, “you can’t afford any more crying. You’re already looking at a long haul to get your throat back to singing status, but more urgently, after the way you came in here, you need to get ahold of yourself before the doctor checks on you, or he’s going to hold you on a seventy-two-hour psych eval. That’s not going to do anyone any good.”
Ice chilled her skin, and Giselle gasped. Her hands slid down to clear her eyes, and she focused on him. Their past came spiraling back at her again in vivid, terrifying color. No, she couldn’t go through three days of lockdown and zombie-inducing drugs. That had never crossed her mind, and if word leaked to the press… “Oh my God. I totally forgot…”
“I’ve got your back.” He covered her hand with his, using the other to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I know getting you out of here as fast as humanly possible is what you need most right now.”
Her heart flooded with a level of gratitude she couldn’t begin to describe. No one in the world knew her better than Troy. Brook ran a close second, but Troy knew her every flaw, inside and out. He knew her every vice. Her every fear. And after all that had happened between them, he was the last person with any obligation to help her, because everything he’d said in the cave was true. Yet, he was here, comforting her without judgment.
But the only words she could find among the torrent of emotions were “Thank you.”
A smile fluttered across his lips before it fell again. He picked up a piece of her hair and twirled it around his finger, his gaze distant, the way he used to whenever his mind drifted.
“Do you remember?” he asked, voice quiet and hesitant. “What happened in the cave, I mean?”
She swallowed the surge of anxiety pushing up her throat. “Yeah. I mean, I think I do.”
“Do you remember…” His eyes flicked to hers, guarded, a little shy. “You said some things… I mean, I know we all say things we shouldn’t or things we don’t mean when we’re angry or stressed. I’ve made a million mistakes since I set eyes on you again…” He dropped the hair coiled around his finger. “Never mind.”
The sliver of intimacy they’d developed in that moment vanished, and Giselle felt it like a cut to her heart. She grabbed his hand back but couldn’t meet his gaze when she said, “I remember. And I meant what I said.” She pulled his hand to her heart, eyes squeezed shut. “Things I should have said a long time ago. I’ve made just as many mistakes as you have.”
He wrapped his other hand around the back of her neck and pulled her into the circle of his arms. He dropped a kiss to her head and buried his face in her hair, holding her tight. “God, I’ve missed you.”
His pained rasp sounded almost violent in the quiet, drawing her gaze to his face. His dark eyes were warm and swimming with tears. All the pain from their breakup, all the loss she’d felt over their years apart flooded back, filling her chest until she ached. “I’m so sor—”
He covered her mouth with a hard shut-up kiss. When he broke away, a tear slipped over his lashes and down his cheek. Giselle wiped it away.
“No more apologies, okay?” He cupped her face, his gaze open and vulnerable. “It’s all in the past. We’re different people now. When I heard you sing today”—he shook his head, his expression filled with awe—“I was blown away by how your voice had matured. How sophisticated and professional you’d become. And I thought, everything happens for a reason, because if we’d stayed together, you wouldn’t be where you are now.”
Pain twisted her heart, and her mind scrambled to make sense of this. “Troy, that’s… Nobody knows what—”
“But now you’re here,” he said, gripping her arms to punctuate his words. “You and me, here, together. That happened for a reason too. This is a gift, Ellie.” His hands lifted to cup her face, thumbs stroking her wet cheeks. “I want to get to know you again.”
“Oh,” she breathed, her heart fluttering with both fear and excitement. “I… I…want that too.”
“Neither of us can work right now,” he said. “Just spend a week with me.”
“I…” She shook her head, the idea impossible at first thought, but she couldn’t come up with one valid excuse to reject it.
“Ryker’s back from Syria. He and Rachel are here.”
“Here?”
He nodded. “They’re probably not in the waiting room anymore, but they’d love to see you. And everyone on my team wants to meet you. We can all stay with my boss, Jax, and his girl, Lexi. They’ve got a house in Hollywood and another on the beach in Malibu, where I live on the bottom floor. We’ll take long walks, sleep late, eat out, talk, laugh, relax. They’re good people, El. They’re my family. They’re Ryker’s family. They should be your family too.”
Family. Her heart floated, and a longing pulled deep inside her. But something else inside, something deeper and smaller, felt suddenly overwhelmed. And scared. She didn’t know how to do family. “I really need to talk it over with Chad…”
But even as the words exited her mouth, she knew he would hate the idea. And the thought of arguing with him over her going away where he couldn’t hover with constant access instantly drained her.
“I’ll talk to him.” Troy pulled her gaze back to his, those dark eyes imploring her. “Just say yes, Ellie. Just say yes to seeing who we are together now, say yes to meeting these great people who treat me and Ryker like brothers, and I’ll take care of everything else. I’ll call Chad, I’ll get you sprung from this place, and we’ll grab a cab to the airport. We’ll be in LA in a couple of hours. Anything you need that’s not in this bag, we’ll get in the city.”
She laughed, trying like hell to force all the irrational unease away. “Troy, look at me.” She held out her arms, marred with bruises and scrapes where they extended beyond the hospital gown. “I can’t go anywhere like this. If
anyone saw me, I’d be headlining the tabloids tomorrow as a battered woman.”
“With a ball cap and sunglasses, you’ll just be any random hot chick returning from a Vegas bender. Believe me, I’ve worked with enough stars to know exactly how to get them from one place to another incognito. You can relax and take all the time you need to recover once you get there.” He gave her a slanted grin, the charming, quirky, secretive, little smile that made her insides jump. “Come on, you know you want to escape as bad as I do.”
A knock on the glass cut in, and as the door opened, a dark-haired man in a white lab coat walked in. The sight swamped Giselle with anxiety.
“Say yes to a week of healing,” Troy said softly, one hand sliding down her back, “and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Are we talking about a vacation?” The doctor was in his mid-forties with a buoyant, easy manner, and Giselle forced back the irrational unease. “I’m Dr. Davenport.” He shook her hand. “And I would be highly in favor of that idea. I told your manager, Mr. Moore, the same earlier. I strongly suggest two weeks but insist on at least one. After that, I’ll leave it up to your discretion.” He set her chart on the gurney and scanned her face. “You look much better with color in your cheeks.”
Giselle smiled, but Troy wouldn’t be ignored.
“Ellie,” he said, easing toward the door with his phone out. “Should I make that call?”
Half-giddy, half-terrified, Giselle exhaled and nodded. Troy’s mouth kicked up into a lopsided smile.
When he turned for the door, Giselle said, “But, Troy?” He paused and she took a breath, then dove in head first. “Can we spend that week together—just us?” Her belly fluttered with the thrill of having time alone with him. “I’d love to meet everyone eventually. But right now, I really want just you.”
His face split into a brilliant smile, one that lit her heart and almost washed away all her concerns over Chad and her immediate future.
Almost.
Giselle stood outside the door to the master bathroom, leaning against the wall, her head and hands resting on the doorframe as Troy ran the water in the tub. He was on his knees, in a gray tank top and tan cargo shorts, his bare feet still a little sandy from their walk on the beach. She loved watching the way his muscles rolled beneath his tan skin when he moved. Loved the way his hair flowed over the nape of his neck, all unruly and wavy from the wind.
