Max stepped forward, his voice hard with anger. “The last time you spoke to her like that, I backed off because she asked me to.” His hands clenched at his sides in a white–knuckled fist. “But it won’t stop me this time. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to her? Don’t you have any loyalty at all?”
Ron sneered. “Oh, you’re one to talk about loyalty to Kit. You’re going to fuck her and then move on. Get out of my face and let me do my job.”
I stared at the two of them arguing and my brain hurt with the effort it took to process all the crap thrown at me in that last twenty–four hours. I knew what I had to do. Ron wasn’t going to be happy and neither was Max. Fuck; I wasn’t happy about it, either.
“Ron, call the publicist and issue a denial of any romantic relationship with Tyler.” He sputtered to say something and I raised my hand to stop him. “Also, confirm that Max and I were seeing each other but that it’s over.” I heard Max mutter a low “fuck, no” but ignored him. “I’ll call Tyler and warn him. This will hurt his ego and he’ll be an ass on tour, but that’s how it’ll have to be. I’ll record that duet with him as an apology.”
Ron shifted on his feet, his face red with frustration and his jaw clenched with the effort to shut up and do as he was told. Finally, he gave a curt nod of agreement.
I looked at Bridget and took a deep breath. “I want a drink…”
“Kit.” Bridget’s voice was soft, understanding of what I was asking in her eyes.
“So, I need you to clear my calendar today after my meeting with Liam so I can go talk to Cyrus. I’ll be okay.” Cyrus was my sponsor and he knew everything. He was the one safe place I had when I was like this. When I was at the crossroads of good and bad decisions. I was feeling edgy, like I was craving something I couldn’t name. I knew the signs of my illness and I knew when I needed help. A good talk with Cyrus and I’d get past this.
Right now, I needed air and space and to get away from their sad, scared, concerned faces looking at me. I walked out of my kitchen, turned the corner and bolted up the stairs that led to my rooftop terrace.
I emerged at the top of the stairs, sunshine warming my icy limbs and boosting my energy level a little bit. I stood at the railing, watching the people on the street below and wondered how I’d arrived at this place in my life. I was faced with so many decisions, and no path looked familiar or correct.
I needed to deal with Ron. He was somebody I didn’t know anymore and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. At twenty–one I was bone–tired, overwhelmed, and more scared than when I’d arrived in Nashville with no job, no money, and no home.
“Kit.”
It was Max.
“Go away.” I just couldn’t deal with him right now. I was starting to feel a little out of control and I needed to focus, to work through my exercises that were designed to help me deal with panic attacks, my cravings for alcohol.
“No. I want you to talk to me.”
“Not now. I need time to think.”
I felt him walk up behind me and, even though I anticipated his touch, it still moved me. I wanted to turn and let him hold me and lose myself in him but playtime was over.
“I swear I didn’t talk to the reporter.”
“I believe you.”
“You do?” He turned me to face him, his face holding too much hope for me to string him along.
“It doesn’t matter. I have to focus on fixing this and I can’t worry about this thing between us. I just can’t.”
Hell, it hurt to say it but I was right. My life was too crazy, too fucked up to try to navigate whatever this was. And no matter how much I wanted to take the time to figure it out, I was out of that commodity.
“I can help you deal with this. Don’t shut me out.”
“I’ve got people to help me with this.”
“People on your payroll. People with their own agendas.” He pointed back towards the stairs. “You can’t trust Ron. You know that, right?”
I just stared at him. I wasn’t going to argue with him about it. The possibility of parting ways with Ron had been on my “to do” list and, with the last conversation, it had moved to the top. Max took my silence as agreement and plowed on.
“Kit. Let me help you.”
“No. I can’t.” He tried to pull me close and I pushed him away, shifting just out of his reach. It was too hard to do this when he was touching me. “Just go away. Call Ron if you need help dealing with the NFD.”
“So that’s it? What about our three weeks?”
“I’m sure you’ll find a suitable replacement in no time.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Don’t.” I sighed.
“Don’t what?” he asked, stepping closer and backing me up against the wall. “Don’t let me help you?”
“Don’t make this more than it is!” I snapped, pressing both hands against his chest to force him to give me space. My hands were shaking and I clenched them at my sides, hoping he didn't see the tremor. “We set the parameters of this and nothing included you becoming any part of my life. Because, news flash Max—this is my life. It’s complicated and messy and I don’t have time or energy to…”
I lost steam when he stepped forward; cupping my face in his large, warm hands. His eyes were fierce, contradicting the gentleness of his tone.
“Stop,” he said. I shook my head, raising my hands to pull his away, but my actions stalled and I ended up wrapping my fingers around his wrists, leaning into his touch. “Just stop and let me help you. You don’t have to do this by yourself. Not anymore.”
I wanted him. Wanted to let him stay and be my rock. But what I hoped he was offering and what he meant did not match.
“Max. Nothing has changed.” I found the strength to pull his hands away and step backwards. “We knew this had a shelf–life when we started. I’m calling it early. You need to go.”
“And if I don’t want to end it?”
“It doesn’t matter. I do.”
I’d known it would hit the mark and I had excellent aim. Max looked as wretched as I felt and I was the one killing this thing. Whatever we could have been was done.
“Kit.”
I lifted my hands to keep him from coming any closer. “Please, Max.”
He stared me down, waiting me out to see if I would cave.
“This isn’t over right now. I will not accept it. I respect that you need space to deal with your shit but I’m not going anywhere.”
All I could do is stare at him. I had nothing except the headache that was now spiraling behind my right eye. I must have looked like I meant business because after a few moments he nodded and turned his back on me. I watched him as he progressed across the terrace, never taking my eyes off him as he descended the stairs and disappeared.
I wanted to call him back so badly it was like a physical ache in my marrow. Every part of me hurt with the effort to stay where I was. I turned and leaned on the terrace wall and reached for my phone.
There was one more person I needed to worry about. I thumbed the screen and placed the call. The phone rang once, twice and then the voice of my mother’s nurse came across the line.
“Lilah? It’s Kit. No, no I’m okay.” I closed my eyes and steadied my voice. If I didn’t, Lilah would worry about me and I needed her to focus her emotions elsewhere. “How’s she doing today? That’s good. Listen; let me know if anything weird happens. No… nothing to worry about… the publicity is heating up and it could get a little crazy… I won’t be there tomorrow… okay, call Josef or me if you need anything… I mean it—anything. I’ll be there as soon as I can… Bye.”
I ended the call and brushed away the tears that burned my eyes. I was so tired but I had to hang in there. A few meetings. A potential lawsuit. Liam Connor was going to be a dick and I needed to bring my A–game. We’d figure it out. I’d paid for the best lawyers and security for a reason. Same shit, different day in this business.
I wiped at my cheeks, cursing t
he stupid tears that were running down them and a fucking reporter named Earle Foster.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Max
I walked into the firehouse looking for one person.
“Max,” Dean called out as I walked past him.
I didn’t even slow down. Dean’s known me long enough to understand what was about to go down. He ran up behind me and our movement drew the attention of the rest of the guys on duty. I was going to have an audience and I didn’t give a shit. The more people to back up how this went down, the better.
I found Bobby in the truck bay and I knew the minute he saw me. Fear has a look and he was the poster child for terror.
“How much?” I advanced on him, using my height and bulk to my advantage. He cowered and I was glad. Be very scared, motherfucker. “How much did he pay you for the pictures?”
“Man, c’mon.” Bobby backed up two steps and I followed him. “This is how it goes. She’s a celebrity and she should know better than to blow you at a party where everyone can see.”
I hit him. I was aiming for his fucking ugly mouth but I he dodged and I landed it on his nose. I felt the crunch and saw the blood. I’d likely broken it and I didn’t care one little bit. When I was done with him, his nose would be a minor problem.
“You asshole. You broke my nose!” The pain pissed him off and gave him a backbone because he got up in my face and kept talking. “I’m you’re brother. You’re coming after me because I sold some pictures of a drunk, shitty singer who’s probably fucked half the town to get her record deal? Dude, you of all people know what women will do to get a contract. They’ve all been on their backs.”
“Bobby—” Dean’s voice cut in over my shoulder, his tone full of warning. “You don’t want to go there.”
“What? We don’t talk about Sarah. Everybody knows that she fucked around on him with that producer.”
“This isn’t about Sarah and I asked you a question… how much?” I was like ice, stone–cold and serious about getting my answer and the SD card.
“Fuck you.” Bobby spat blood on the floor and dared me to make my move with a “come on” wave of his fingers.
That was his second mistake. I jumped him and beat him with every ounce of anger in my body. I punched him until he fell down and then I pinned him to the ground for another round. He was tough and he landed some good punches on my face and stomach. I tasted blood but it didn’t slow me down—I had purpose. I didn’t do this for me. I was doing this for Kit and for the vulnerable look in her eyes when she said she wanted a drink and for the tears she cried when she’d thought I’d gone inside.
And I did this for the way my chest hurt when she’d pushed me out of her life and ended us.
“Butler! Stop this now!” The voice of my captain barely pierced the haze of fury, but his arm latched around my neck as he yanked me off Bobby got my attention. He manhandled me up and shoved me towards Dean with a terse “keep him on a leash” and then he leaned over to jerk Bobby to his feet.
“What the fuck is going on here?” He was looking at Bobby when he asked the question, but he turned to me for the response. “Butler? You’re still in deep shit with the director and me over your trespassing. Don’t think we didn’t hear about it because your new friend got the charges dropped.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So why did I come in here and find you beating on a brother firefighter? In my fucking house?”
I didn’t want to tell him but I had no choice. I wasn’t going to add insubordination to my list of infractions. “He took pictures of me and Kit at a party and sold them to a tabloid reporter.”
“And what were you doing in these pictures? Anything that would violate department rules?”
“No, sir.”
I knew what his next question was going to be and to say that telling him the answer was the last thing I wanted to do was an understatement. Not just for my sake; he was the one who’d caught me fucking the director’s niece at the Christmas party, so my sexcapades weren’t a big mystery. I didn’t want everyone to know about Kit. We’d been secluded, in a private area and Bobby had followed us. There was a good chance that no one else knew about it. And if Kit’s lawyers succeeded in getting the article stopped, then I didn’t need to expose her actions to all the guys standing around and watching the show.
“So what was in the pictures?” The captain’s tone told me he wasn’t going to ask again.
I walked closer to him, close enough so only he could hear me. “We’re having sex in the pictures. She’s giving me a blowjob.”
To his credit he didn’t even blink, only a muscle twitch by his left eye gave away any reaction.
“I see.” He looked at Bobby. “Is this true?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you accepted money?” Bobby nodded and he bit back a foul curse. “How much?”
“One thousand dollars.”
I saw red; my jaw clenched so hard that pain shot up my temple. He’d gone cheap when he’d thrown her under the bus. Fucking Bobby.
“Where are these pictures? Did you make copies?” Bobby mumbled “on my phone” and “no” and the captain held his hand out. “Give it to me.”
Bobby handed it over and I watched as the captain pulled out the SD card and handed it to me.
“Give this to Ms. Landry. I’ll call her manager and let him know that if she wants to sue Mr. Taylor, the department will fully cooperate.”
“Yes, sir.” I shoved the card in my pocket, knowing it was not the end of this. There was no way I was getting away with whaling on Bobby, no matter the reason. It was NFD policy.
I was right.
“Butler, you’re suspended for two days without pay for fighting at the house. I’ll write it up and you have five days to grieve the reprimand.”
It was a light reprimand, since I could have received a week without pay but it was going in my jacket. As of right now, I could kiss the next round of promotion boards goodbye. Fuck it. I’d do it again.
“Taylor, get cleaned up and report to my office immediately. You’re suspended indefinitely, pending a full review. I don’t think I need to tell you that your behavior casts a pall on the department and violates every tenet of common decency.” The captain’s voice was like a whip and I was really glad it wasn’t aimed at my ass. “And bottom line, that’s a shitty thing to do to a brother. How is he or anyone else here supposed to trust you to have their back at a call?”
The message was loud and clear: Bobby might lose his job.
Look at me not giving a shit.
Everyone filed out of the bay since the show was over, and I turned to head out to my truck and head home. It had been the shittiest day and there was a six–pack and my back porch calling my name.
But I had to do one thing first.
I dug in my pocket for the SD card, holding it out to Dean. He looked confused, but took it from me, no questions asked. This was why we’d been friends our whole lives.
“I’ll call Bridget, Kit’s P.A., and tell her you’re bringing this over.”
“Why don’t you deliver it?” he called after me as I walked out of the bay and into the sunshine.
“Because she doesn’t want to see me anymore.”
And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it—no matter how much I wanted to.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Max
It wasn’t any surprise at all to find my mom waiting for me when I got home.
I pulled into my yard and parked my truck alongside her little Prius in the shady spot under the magnolias my great–grandparents planted many years ago. She was sitting on the broad front steps of the farmhouse that had been in my family since before the Civil War. It was mine now, my early inheritance from my Grandpa Butler who held the note that I paid every month. He was living it up and charming the ladies at the Augusta Senior Living Village now.
I climbed out of the truck, grabbed the beer off the passenger seat and walked over to sit
next to her. She didn’t waste any time making her point.
“Dean said you got suspended for two days.”
“Fucking Dean,” I didn’t even dodge the smack she leveled against the back of my head for my language. Some families put money in a jar for every curse word; we had my mom’s half–hearted attempts to give us brain damage. I pried the top off a bottle with my keychain and handed it to her and then opened my own.
“You want to talk about it?”
Did I want to? No.
Was she going to stay here until I did? Yes.
“Are you going to tell me how you ended up in a sex tape with Kit Landry?”
I made a mental note to kill Dean the next time I saw him.
I turned and faced my mother. She was looking at me with the same look she’d worn when she’d caught me half–naked on the living room couch with Tamara Riggs. She’d calmly sent Tamara home and then proceeded to pierce me with her steady gaze until I confessed everything and willingly listened to the “sex talk”. Ten years later, she still knew how to make me talk.
“It wasn’t a sex tape.” I cleared my throat and took a drink from my bottle. “It was just… you know… pictures.”
“Uh, huh.” She sounded skeptical and reached over to adjust the collar on my shirt. “You two seemed to have hit it off.”
I needed to tread carefully here. She was circling in for the kill. “Well… you know… we’ve become friends.”
“That’s great, Max.” She smiled and took a sip from her own bottle.
I knew it was coming. There was no way my mom was letting me off the hook on this one. As a rule, I didn’t talk with my mom about the women I slept with. My dad, either. I didn’t bring them home, so there was nothing to discuss.
Her voice was deceptively soft and sweet. “Would that be what they call ‘friends with benefits’?”
“Mom!”
She turned back to me and shrugged her shoulders. “Did I get it wrong? That’s what Ashley told me the term is these days.”
Why in hell was she talking to my little sister about this?
Pain started throbbing at my temples. I covered my eyes. “No, Mom, you got it right.”
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