Ben sat in the seat next to her while she conjured up a smiling, less bitchy version of her enemy flitting past them at the hotel like a princess. But fairytale Vangie required too much mental making over. She leaned her head down on Ben’s lanky but sturdy shoulder. He smelled nice when she inhaled. But inevitably the overwhelming scent of sweaty musician knocked away whatever cologne Ben had splashed on that night. She was about to close her eyes but remembered the phone call. What did Ben have to do with him? Even though she’d only heard the first few words that had come from Lucky’s mouth, it’d still been enough to turn her emotions inside out.
She’d been holding Ben’s phone for him backstage while he’d scribbled a note to Erby then ran off to hand deliver it. A hand-written love note. How could Erby not fall for that? But then Ben’s phone rang with the familiar number popping up on the caller ID. It’d left her stunned and gawking then hearing his first couple words had been enough of a shock to temporarily deafen her. That along with the fans’ roaring applause.
When the phone rang again, she couldn’t make her fingers press accept. She’d already hurt Lucky so badly that he couldn’t stand the thought of her. So of course there was no possibility he’d been calling to speak with her. She wouldn’t embarrass herself by attempting to speak to him at this point. He had some business with Ben and she would stay out of it. That’s why this curiosity was so dang annoying right now.
“Ben, you got a call earlier. I answered at first, but um, well, they ended up leaving you a message.” She wanted to tell him it might be important so that he’d listen to it right then and there. But she knew better. It would only hurt her if she opened that part of her heart back up.
She had responsibilities to those in the van. There’d be no Trista Hart, Sin Pointe VIP, if she was coddling a broken heart.
And it was broken.
Smashed.
Decimated.
Ignoring it during the day then letting it out to wash over her night after night had left her an insomniac. Going thicker on the eyeliner in an attempt to mask the circles under her eyes tonight had left her looking like the walking dead. She took another long whiff of Ben’s shoulder and held it as long as she could.
Ben pulled out his phone and held it up to his ear, pushing temporarily at his hat and hair. His eyes widened and she knew it was probably Lucky’s message. She didn’t know why Ben would respond like that. It was her love that had vanished without a word. No chance to explain or beg him to stay long enough for her to drag Jaxon out of the room by his ear and confess about his stupid kissing test. What business did Ben have with Lucky?
The guys had started flinging Chiclets at each other. Stefan’s favorites. She sighed at their foolery then focused on Ben, who had gently lifted his shoulder to budge her into looking at him. Was he trying to come up with the right words? Did those even exist? He stuttered through a few beginnings. She couldn’t contain herself any longer. This was going to hurt, she just knew it.
“Ben, why was Lucky calling you?” She wanted to add when he won’t even consider my calls, but refrained. It wasn’t Ben’s fault.
“Okay, promise you won’t be mad at me?”
“I promise. Please, Ben.” Her eyes competed with his as saucers.
“Lucky called me a couple days ago and asked if I’d help him out.”
“With what?”
“He wanted to come out and see you…wanted to know what town we’d be in this weekend and where we were staying. I got him a room on our floor. I’m sorry, I know I should have told you but he was so paranoid.”
Her mental capacities were too strung out to process most of what he’d just confessed. Especially the last part. “Paranoid?”
“Yeah, he didn’t want to tell you ahead of time because he thought you’d refuse to see him.”
She should refuse to see him but the thought knocked another chunk from her shaky heart. “You’re saying he’s at the hotel, now?”
“Yeah, room 2107.”
No Ben, you take that information back! How could she be on the same floor as Lucky, and not go miserably haunting the hall in hopes of seeing him? No, not to see him. She just wanted to be near him. To feel the calm he’d brought to her for their few days together. In her mind, it would be okay to rest her cheek against his door. In anyone else’s mind, she knew that would be insanity.
“What did he say in his message? Please tell me.”
“He’s there, waiting up for you. And hopes that you’ll come to him.”
She processed it, again not believing entirely that this was happening. What had changed his mind? What had steered him back to her? Didn’t he know he’d escaped the madness and should stay gone? Why was he heading straight back into the storm? Was he crazy?
Her thoughts volleyed from needing him back—to prove she hadn’t dreamed up the past few weeks and what they’d shared—to preserving his goodness for someone who deserved it more than her. Oh god, that hurt.
But she couldn’t have his pure, good soul around her night after night. He wouldn’t last.
“Ben, I need you to do me a favor.”
“Oh, no. I really feel like I’ve already done enough. I like Lucky and I love you like a sister, but I really think you two need to talk this out. He wants to apologize, Trista. You should at least hear him out.” Ben’s shoulders tensed and he pretended to dig in his vest pockets for something.
“Ben, if you really care about me, and I know you do, then you will do this for me. Please tell Lucky that I accept his apology, that he owes me nothing, and that I want him to go back home.”
“Oh no. Come on, Tris. Don’t make me do this.”
She looked him in the eye. But, if she had to blink or move any part of her face to say her point again, she’d lose it, here in front of all these guys, the ones she was trying desperately to play it cool with.
Ben put a soothing hand on top of hers where it sat on her lap. “Okay, please don’t cry. You know I can’t handle that.”
She sniffed then let her head fall to his shoulder again. Her stupid tears seeped through his vest and t-shirt. Where was that damned boring predictability when she needed it?
Trista sat safely in her room on the decadently draped bed dressed in a down-filled comforter and corner-tasseled spread. She picked up the mint that lay at the base of the pillow closest to her. And left the other one there, untouched.
Assumptions didn’t normally affect her, but this companion mint did.
Ben should have delivered her message by now that she didn’t want Lucky waiting around for something that wasn’t coming. She unwrapped the silver foil and then thought better of it, placing the chocolaty mint on the nightstand instead of her undeserving tongue.
Fluorescent green numbers made like a tiny strobe light from the alarm clock to the wall. Yeah, it was late. No doubt Lucky’d been given the message and had given up and gone home. She should be asleep.
The light to her bathroom vanity had been left on and turned to low by the staff, an offer of ambience to inspire tranquility. Yeah, like that was possible. She’d have gotten up to turn it off but feared discovering they’d drawn her a warm bath. That would have been the perfect way to drown her sorrows and also a little too convenient for someone feeling as low as she did. So instead she sat there on the corner of her bed. Her elbows dug painfully into her knees under the weight of her heavy head.
She started to cry.
* * * *
“What do you mean she’s not coming, Ben? Did you tell her I just wanted—”
Ben held up both hands like stop signs then shoved his dangling hair behind his ears. “I told her, Lucky. Every word. She said to tell you that she accepts your apology and that you should go back home. I’m sorry, man. Look, I really like you, I think you’re a good guy but she’s hurt.”
His hope flickered just above the layer of his heart aching for the pain he’d caused.
“What room is she in, Ben?” he pressed.
“I
can’t tell you that, Lucky.”
“Ben, I need you to hear me out on this. I know I screwed up. I just want to tell her, face to face, how sorry I am. I can’t leave things like this.”
“Dude, unfortunately, I think it’s too late.”
Tension laced with some furious frustration jabbed the space between his eyes. He rubbed his face trying to massage some of it away. “Ben, I need to know her room number. Come on. I swear, I’ll knock on every door of this floor until I find her.”
Ben’s eyes widened again, somehow finding new ways to look horrified.
“Shit. What if I tell you Jaxon’s room? Maybe you could go talk to him and the two of you could work something out.”
“Yeah, because that’s gone so well up to this point. Let’s say he doesn’t want me anywhere near her. I still have to go banging on doors until I find her and now your boss knows all about it. Come on, Ben, help me out here. I swear, I’ll never ask you for another favor as long as I live.” It wasn’t right to use these scare tactics on the poor guy but desperation had set in, big time. He did his best to soften his approach and tone. “Please. I love her.”
“You know, she might be asleep, might not bother coming to the door. If that happens, I’m out of this.”
“So you’re going to help me?”
Ben’s gaze darted down to his Doc Marten shoe as he sighed. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”
He grabbed his guitar by the neck and shadowed Ben down the hallway to their left. When they turned the corner, Ben asked, “What’s with the guitar?”
He tried to ignore the comment as he already felt foolish and completely out of his league. “Are we close?”
They stopped in front of room 2152. He had to trust Ben hadn’t led him to Jaxon’s or Stefan’s room. No, Ben had more self-preservation than that. This had to be Trista’s.
“Thank you.”
“All right, I’m out of here.” But then came a warning. “Don’t hurt her. I don’t care what you have to do and I don’t care about your pride or your need to hear her say she forgives you in person. If she can’t do it, just leave it at that.”
“I promise you, Ben, I’ll never hurt her again.”
Ben huffed out a breath then left the way they’d just come.
When Ben had turned the corner and was out of sight, he knocked lightly on the door. A lesser man would have hid from the peephole. But Trista deserved to see who was here and make her choice whether to open up or not.
There was no answer and so he knocked again in a subtle one two, one two…one, two, three tap.
* * * *
Trista didn’t bother checking to see who it was. She knew the one two, one two… one, two, three like she knew the sound of her own bludgeoned but still beating heart. She hoped Jaxon didn’t wanna talk. Maybe the camouflage to hide her dark circles had been in vain and he was here to sing her to sleep. She needed to sleep.
Still in her clothes from the show, she wearily undid the deadbolt, opening it without looking up.
The toes of the boots were not big, black and round. Nor were they steel-toed. They were triangular, and the legs were longer and leaner. By the time she’d brought her eyes up, all the way up past the un-tucked black silk of his shirt, skimming over the red detail of small roses and swirling lines that rested near his shoulders, all she could do was stare in disbelief.
After a couple minutes had awkwardly passed, Lucky pulled up a guitar to his chest. He held it without a strap, cradled it by the neck, and strummed to find the key.
She still couldn’t as much as wiggle her toes.
Lucky’s fingers plucked at the strings and then he began to sing. Probably quite a bit of this unfamiliar song but it had taken her a few moments to resuscitate her heart. The first thing her ears registered was, “If only you knew, if only you knew.”
Avoiding his eyes, she focused on his hands but their beauty hurt just as much. His voice cracked but still singing, he let the guitar drop down to his side.
“Your smile is the only one that ever meant anything to me. I’ll go on living without it; if that’s the way it has to be. But I don’t want to. No, I don’t want to.” He bowed his head as he set the guitar down on the floor in her doorway and held out his hand to her.
Oh no, no touching. That would kill me.
“Trista, I know I don’t have the right to be here, asking you this after the way I treated you. I know you don’t want to see me; Ben gave me your message.”
A mix of hurt and shock held her tongue back like trembling weak claws that knew they must strike to stay alive but were too kind to pull it off. “Then why are you here?”
“I owe you an apology.”
She aimed a fierce, trembling finger at him and heaved back the feelings his song had forced her to feel. “No, I don’t need any more apologies, from anyone. I’m so sick of them…Why are you here, Lucky? What do you want?”
He stepped forward and she edged back. “I want to ask you to give me another chance.”
“Another chance at what?”
“At being together.”
She slunk back even further from the entryway, never having taken his outstretched hand. Lucky Mason does not belong in your world. He does not belong to you.
“Why?” She turned away and walked over to her bed. Of course he followed her. The heavy door thunked loudly and closed behind them. They were alone, in this magnificent room, together.
It didn’t matter.
“I admit it; I was stupid and afraid…”
Stupid and afraid? He’d never been that way with her. “Don’t, Lucky. Whatever it is that’s eating you up right now, I can’t hear it.”
Why was he looking at her like that? She’d memorized all his quirks and this one didn’t fit. He’d never scratched the side of his neck like that and he’d never darted his eyes side to side.
He’d done something he felt terrible about. Had it been Jaxon, she’d have known an apology for letting her down, usually something stemming from Vangie’s jealousy, was on its way out of his mouth. Had it been Ben, she’d have known it’d be something trivial; the boy felt badly about everything. With Stefan, it would’ve been him asking her to forgive his tardiness but that she’d have understood had she seen the red head with non-stop legs he’d had to leave.
But this was Lucky and she had to admit that her history with him was too short to know for sure. Either he still felt bad for leaving, or he had gone and done something that a southern gentleman would regret. Shit. He’d probably slept with someone. The deeper the skin between her eyebrows puckered, the more he avoided her gaze.
“I just thought…” he started but again, she stopped him.
“You thought what? That you’d come and sing me a song and that everything would be okay again? That I’d what? Hop into bed with you? Fine, let’s go.”
Lucky didn’t hide the stab quickly enough. Yes, she knew how crude she sounded but confusion was knocking her ass around the ring so hard right now, she couldn’t help herself. Then in the next instant, she remembered something that sliced straight through everything else. How hard had it been for him to pick up that instrument after all these years? It was her intention to drive him away but not like that.
“No, I just wanted to tell you, face to face, that I’m sorry for the way I left you without any word. I hoped it wasn’t too late to talk about that night. I didn’t understand what was happening…”
How could he stand there so still? She ached to grab his sturdy shoulders and shake him until she felt better. Until she crumbled into pieces and he knelt down to gather her back up. But she couldn’t do that. She knew better.
“You didn’t understand? And now what? Now you do? How is that possible?” she asked, fortifying her will with hands dug into her hips.
“I spoke with Jaxon a couple days ago; he explained to me what happened. He didn’t tell you, did he?”
“No, he didn’t. I guess the joke is on me.”
“
What? Don’t say that. It’s not what I meant.”
“I’ve been worried out of my head about you. I’ve been lugging your stupid bag around with me, everywhere I go. And you’ve been talking to everyone but me. Lucky, do you have any idea of how hard that is for me to understand?”
“I do and I know you don’t want to hear it, but I’m sorry.” Lucky fell to his knees and before she could turn away, he whispered, “Trista, that night I left you at Jaxon’s house…when I got back to Nashville, I almost slept with a woman. I didn’t, but I was angry and I thought I’d lost you.”
From the corner of the bed, she stared down at him. His head was bowed and his shoulders began to shake. She didn’t have to see his face to know he was crying and in pain.
So she’d been right, sort of. And could she blame him after what he thought he’d seen that night with Jaxon? Nope. As it was, he hadn’t even done anything, not really. It wasn’t like they were committed to each other in any official way, although she knew that was a lame excuse. If it was any other man besides Lucky, she wouldn’t have believed that nothing had happened. Sadly, that’s what her world was like. She’d never been as aware of it as she was now.
“Lucky,” she whispered. She leaned a hand out and let it fall on his crumpled shoulder then rubbed back and forth a couple of times. He came forward as if unafraid to touch her now that she’d been the one to make first contact. Gently, he rested his face in her lap, and for a few minutes, she savored the comfort too. Her hands, however, returned to her sides. She fought against the urge to run them over his head like she’d done so many times before, to feel the silky blond waves of his hair steadying her shaky fingers and softening her hard hands. But she knew how much he loved it too and how hard it would be to pull away. She won the fight.
Sidewalk Flower Page 22
