by Deanna Chase
My breath catches in my throat. The silence hangs in the air. I glance over at her, but she’s staring out the passenger’s window. “Jax?”
“What?”
“Did you just say what I think you said?”
She doesn’t answer. And I don’t push her. She’d said she’d wanted me to be her one-night stand. And that’s why she was so pissed earlier. Unease grabs hold of my gut and doesn’t let go. Jax is my friend. Just about the only one I confide anything of importance to. Sleeping with her is out of the question.
I pull to a stop in front of the bar and put the truck in park. “I think we need to talk about this.”
“No we don’t,” she says and grabs the handle, her face pinched in anger. “I just thought you should know what was bugging me. It’s over. That ship has sailed. I won’t make that mistake again.”
I place a hand on her arm, stopping her. “Why are you mad?” I ask softly, genuinely confused. “I thought we’re friends. You know I don’t want to do anything to mess that up.”
She turns, unshed tears shining in her eyes. “I just don’t get it. You sleep with everyone and anything. Even that bitch who works at your shop. But not me? Why not me? All I wanted was a little fun. I’m not looking to have a relationship or anything, but I sure as hell don’t want to get it on with a random stranger. I need someone I trust. And you’re it. Don’t you get that?”
I sit back in my seat, feeling as if I’d been gut-punched. “But we’re friends.”
“I know. That’s the whole point,” she says with conviction.
“I don’t… shit.” I run my hand through my hair. “Okay, let me try to explain this.”
She folds her arms over her chest and waits.
Good God. This is exactly why I avoid romantic relationships. Had I completely misread what’s going on here? “I’ve never considered pursuing a sexual relationship with you because I value your friendship. Those other girls, that’s purely physical. Just a moment in time to forget… everything. Then it’s over. But you, you’re my best friend. I don’t want to fuck that up.”
She doesn’t say anything, just sits there studying me.
“But I guess I might have anyway? Because of Lucy?” I glance at the bar’s front door, hoping she’s in there. Even now, sitting here with Jax, my mind is on the petite brunette, worrying about her.
“Yes. No. I mean, I don’t know.” She lets out a breath. “I didn’t expect a relationship with you, except friendship. I just don’t understand how you can treat people that way. Using them and then moving on. And what about Lucy? It sure as hell looks like you care about her from this end.”
Frustration replaces the unease eating away at my stomach. “Look, I don’t even know what I feel for Lucy. I can’t even believe we’re having this conversation. And that’s bullshit anyway. I’m honest with everyone I’ve been with. It’s their choice what they want to do. Hell, you just said you wanted the same thing. Double standard, much?”
She unfolds her arms and puts her hands in her lap. Staring at them, she says, “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Shit, Jax, this is what I don’t want to happen.” I suck in a breath, prepared to be completely honest. “I like you. A lot. And you’re gorgeous. But since E, I haven’t wanted a girlfriend. Haven’t even been able to comprehend a relationship. Not like that, hence the one-night stands. And you deserve better than that.” I reach over and brush a lock of hair out of her eyes. “You are not a one-night-stand sort of girl, no matter how much you think you want to be.”
“You’re probably right,” she says on a sigh. “But does that mean you used my best friend? Because she’s not a one-night-stand kind of girl either.”
“I don’t know. Hell, we just met, and normally for me, last night would’ve been the end of it, but today something happened. I spent the day in my artist’s loft.” I shift forward and lock my gaze on hers. “Working.”
Her eyes get big. “You painted today?”
“Sketched. With charcoal.” I glance away, far more uncomfortable talking about my art than why I didn’t try to seduce my best friend.
“What did you sketch?”
For whatever reason, I think it’s important that she knows, so I say, “Lucy.”
“I see.” She bites her bottom lip.
“I don’t think you do.”
“You like her.” Jax’s voice wobbles. “Everyone does.”
That’s when realization hits me smack in the side of the head. Jax doesn’t have a thing for me. She’s jealous of Lucy. “Hey,” I say softly and hold out my hand. “Come here.”
She stares at it, then tentatively places her hand in mine. I tug her over and wrap my arm around her, giving her a half-hug. “You know you’re beautiful, right?”
Laughing, she thumps me on the arm. “Don’t start hitting on me now, Keenan. It’s gross.”
“Not on your life. I just wanted you to know that if you want a night of wild abandon, I know a few guys who’d be more than willing. Nice ones who will take care of you.”
“The moment’s passed,” she says stiffly.
“I figured as much. But I wanted you to know they exist. And about Lucy?”
“Yeah?” She tilts her head to really look at me.
“She’s pretty messed up right now. Me and her, we’re not that different, and that might be part of why I’m drawn to her. But she’ll never replace you. Got it?”
She forces a smile. “Yeah.” Then she blushes. “I don’t know what got into me.”
“I think it was about half a pint of tequila.”
“Oh God,” she groans. “Don’t say that word ever again.”
“As long as you don’t try to get in my pants again.” I grin and wink at her.
She looks me up and down, then gives me a pouty smile. “No deal. You can’t ask a hot-blooded girl to agree to such hardcore demands.” She laughs and her eyes sparkle with mischief the way they usually do when we’re joking around.
I chuckle. “Okay, perv. Keep your fantasy, but don’t be surprised when the tequila shots show up in the near future.”
“Oh, damn you.” This time when her hand reaches for the door handle, she jerks and opens the door. “Let’s go look for your muse. She’s got to be here somewhere. There aren’t many other places in town she could be.”
Chapter 17
Lucy
Sitting in a booth, I swirl my straw around the cherry bobbing in my ginger ale. Even though I’m not hungover from the night before, alcohol is the last thing I want right now. Actually, I’m dying for a hot chocolate and a hot bath, but I’m not getting either anytime soon.
“So what do you think?” Mike asks. He’d called while Holt was giving me a ride to town to ask if I’d be available to discuss singing in the band on a permanent basis. Without anywhere else to go, I’d suggested meeting at the bar to discuss it. And luckily when he found out I was carless, he’d agreed to give me a ride home later. We’d been in the bar ever since.
I glance at the notebook in front of me. It’s a song list he wants the band to consider. One of them happens to be one of mine. It’s about meeting your soul mate and sticking with them no matter what. Everyone thinks it’s about Cadan and how love conquers all. It isn’t. I wrote it after my Mom found her mate and left Dad. “Sure, I can sing these.”
“Even that last one?” He studies me with a concerned expression.
He’s asking about “One Last Step.” My song. I shrug. “Sure. I like that song.” And I do. It helps me work through the conflicting emotions that have plagued me since the divorce.
It starts running through my mind, and before I realize it, I’m humming the melody. It’s familiar and brings me a sense of comfort.
Mike starts a slow background beat with his hands against the table and hums along with me. I smile. It’s been months since I’ve sung anything of mine, and the melody winds through me, taking hold the way it does when I’m singing something I’ve created. I can’t help mys
elf. The words come spilling out.
You take the road less traveled
You say you know your way
But we both know there’s more to living
Than the path you chose yesterday
As I’m singing the last verse, peace settles in my bones and my soul fills with a pure, euphoric state. My tone smoothes out, harmonizing with a voice I know better than my own. I turn in my seat and meet Cadan’s eyes. He’s crouching near me, singing the verse softly, emotion radiating from him. The love is overwhelming, and it’s spreading to everyone in the room. They’ve gone silent as they wait for us to finish the song, to give them what they crave. A few minutes of joy, of love, of contentment. I let everything go and lose myself to the words and him.
Take my hand now, baby
Don’t be afraid to meet me halfway
Take that one last step, baby
And meet me halfway
Everything Cadan and I experience when we sing together is amplified to the audience, even when we don’t intend it to be. Most say it’s a mind-blowing experience that’s like a natural drug. It’s what makes our concerts sell out in less than three minutes when they go on sale. Or when they used to go on sale, before I left.
I abruptly clamp my mouth shut and ignore the pleas from the bar patrons.
“Luce,” Cadan says, his eyes pleading. “Can we talk?”
I shake my head. “Now’s not the time.”
“Please, love. There are things I need to say.”
“Don’t call me that.” I try to snap at him, but it comes off as weak, like I don’t mean it. Sadness immediately replaces all the music-filled places in my heart.
He holds his hand out to me, his expression understanding. “I’m sorry. You’re right. Just a few minutes and I’ll let you be. I promise.”
I meet his eyes and see the person I met three years ago. The one I knew before the record deals. Before he was the rock god everyone catered to. None of our bandmates or roadies are here. No managers, no handlers, no one. It’s just me and him. He does nothing to hide the vulnerability written all over his face, and it nearly breaks me. As much as I hate him, I still love him. I will always love him. And no matter how far I go, no matter how much distance is between us, it will never go away. It’s at the core of me.
Reaching out, I close my eyes as I slip my hand in his. His fingers are warm and clasp protectively around mine—gentle, yet firm. My traitorous body longs to be near him, to be touched by him, but my heart is breaking with the bittersweet reality of what lies between us.
He tucks my hand between both of his, holding on as if I’m someone to be cherished and protected. The way he hasn’t held me in months.
“Lucy?” Mike says. His hands are fisted and he’s casting murderous glances in Cadan’s direction.
“What is it?” I ask him.
“Are you sure you want to do this? Talk to him, I mean?” His tone implies he thinks I should run in the other direction. He’s right. I should. It’s what I’ve been doing. But it’s also clear Cadan isn’t going to go away until he’s had his say.
I nod, fighting back tears. This is something I have to do.
“I’ll be right here if you need me.”
“Thanks,” I choke out, overwhelmed by his concern, and then force myself to step closer to Cadan.
Cadan wraps a protective arm around my shoulders and regards Mike with disdain, but he doesn’t say anything as he tugs me off to another table, one in a quieter corner where we can talk. He pulls out a chair for me and scoots his close so our shoulders are almost touching.
After being away from him for so long, my instinct is to lean in. I stop myself and move my chair to the left, pointedly putting some distance between us. He opens his mouth to talk, but I hold up a hand, stopping him. “Whatever you do, do not start singing or I’m out of here. Got it?”
He gives me an incredulous look as if I’ve offended him, but then he starts laughing. “Fair enough.”
The singing is my downfall. How could it not be? That’s when I go all mushy inside. His voice is a drug to me, and when I join in, we pull everyone under with us. It’s both the most amazing and the most terrible thing that can happen to a person. When trust is broken, as mine has been over and over and over again, it’s torture to be so connected and yet not be able to give oneself over to the emotion.
If I go there one more time, I’ll be broken. I turn swiftly so we’re facing each other and then stare him hard in the eye. “Tell me why you did it? The real reason this time.”
“The song, you mean?”
The fact that he has to ask makes me want to weep. I nod and finish with a sad shake of my head. “I already know why you slept with the skanks. Ego and opportunity.”
“Luce.” He huffs out a deep breath. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Neither do I. Don’t you think that’s part of the reason I’ve been avoiding you?”
“I thought you were pissed.”
This time I let out a humorless laugh. “I am. Honestly, Cadan, I don’t know what else there is to say.”
The silence stretches between us. I can’t take this. His proximity wears on my resolve. I want to touch him and share an inside joke. Write songs. Sing. Dance. Do all the things that were us before he turned into a first-class bastard. I’m just about to get up and bolt when his hand slips over mine.
Reflexively, I wind my fingers through his, wanting that connection. He’s who I’m supposed to be with. The one who’s supposed to make me whole.
“I never apologized,” he says, regret clear in his voice. “Not really.”
“No, you didn’t.” I stare at our joined hands. Nothing about this is right. I know it in my heart. Gently I pull away. “The thing is, Cadan, you’re not good for me. I crave these little moments. The ones that feel so right. But they’re always fleeting, and my heart is left trampled and bruised. Only the bruises never seem to fade. Not even when you’re this person, the one who is sweet and considerate. When you’re as you are now.”
“I haven’t been with anyone since you left.” He says the words as if he hadn’t even heard what I said.
I raise one extremely skeptical eyebrow. Jeez. The urge to punch him makes my fingers curl. “What am I supposed to say to that? Congratulations?”
“No.” He runs a frustrated hand through his dark blond hair. It’s a little longer than it had been when I left, and honestly, it looks good. “I needed a reality check, some time to get my head on straight. You leaving made that happen. I know I fucked up. Multiple times. God, how I fucked up. The life does something to people. Makes them feel like they’re greater than they are.”
“You mean makes you feel like you’re greater than you are. I was there, too, remember? I have fans. Guys hitting on me who’d be more than happy if I pulled them backstage. Yet you didn’t see me fucking random people right under your nose for months on end.”
“No? What about that guy you left with last night? Seth?” He spits his name out with utter disgust. “Jax’s friend, right?”
What? How does he know Seth’s name? Had Jax said something in her drunken stupor? I stand and glare down at him. What I did with Seth is none of his damned business. “This conversation is over.”
He jumps up and blocks my way. “Wait. Jesus. I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. You’re right. I was a total self-indulgent asshole.”
“Was?” I say, totally put off by his accusation. After I’d caught him red-handed, the truth had come out. He’d been sleeping around on me for months.
“Hey, I bailed on the tour. I’m here. Trying.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. Though I understand that for him, there is no bigger gesture. He lives for the tour, for the audience.
“I’m not the same without you, Luce. Everything means less. You gotta give me a second chance.”
He seems so sincere, so lost, that I sit back down. But I don’t know what to say. I can’t give him what he needs. Not without losing
myself.
Relief washes over his features as he settles in next to me again. “What can I do to make it up to you? To earn your trust again?”
“You can start by telling the label that song is mine.” The anger and disappointment I’d been carrying around all these months floods my senses. He’d hurt me more than he knew by cheating, but when he stole my song and recorded it without me, he’d taken a piece of my heart that belonged to my dad. I couldn’t forgive what he’d done. Not unless he made it right. “I want it back. Then we’ll talk.”
“I’ve already told them,” he says softly.
My heart starts to pound, and I’m sure I haven’t heard him correctly. “You did?”
He nods.
“And?” What if they didn’t care? Was it lost to me forever?
“They want you to come in and record it.”
Shit. I was afraid of that. I stand again, ready to leave. “I can’t do that. I can’t sing with you. Not while things are like they are. And not that song. Not now. Maybe not ever.”
As I turn to go he says, “Luce, they want you to record a solo version of it.”
I freeze. When I’d left, the label had been less than happy. I’d offered to do a solo album, but they’d told my agent something about me not having the stage presence for a solo act. Now, since I ditched the tour, I’m in breach of contract. It doesn’t make for a pleasant negotiation process.
But if what he says is true, I have a chance to rectify that with a song that means the world to me. “Since when?”
“Since I told them you wrote it. They’re pretty pissed I took credit for it.”
“Why? Why did you tell them?” But I already know the real answer. He did it because the label is going to drop him anyway if I don’t come back. The Cadan I know would never sacrifice his career by owning up to anything.
“Because, Lucy…” He grabs my hand and presses it to his heart. “I love you. Like I said, nothing’s the same. I miss sharing the stage with you. I miss you. It turns out it means little without you by my side.”
