Guarded

by L. A. Witt

I popped another pill and lay back down, dragging an extra pillow under my head. Maybe propping myself up would help. For a few minutes, the worst of it subsided, until the bus rumbled over another patch of rough road, and everything started to shake—

  Including me, on the inside.

  Fuck.

  I ran to the bathroom and barely got the toilet seat up in time. My knees hit the floor, I grabbed onto the bowl and held on until my stomach was empty, until spit hung from my mouth in strings and all I could feel anymore was the noise inside my head.

  Eventually I got one hand on the sink and pulled myself up. Splashed cool water on my face. Opened my eyes, and almost vomited again.

  When did I turn into such a fucking wreck? I didn’t go out much during the day when we were on tour, so I was used to being pale, but now I looked downright corpse-like. Between sweating onstage and the water I’d just flung on myself, I’d rinsed off the makeup covering the circles under my eyes.

  I stumbled back to bed. Took another pill. Hopefully my stomach was settled enough now that I’d actually keep it down.

  I yanked up the covers and my hand slid over to Jase’s empty side of the bed. I didn’t want him to see me like this, which was the other reason I’d sent him to watch over Daniel. There’d been one too many close calls. One too many times I’d let someone in and ended up having to pay them off before they could spill the details about my migraines to the press. One more nail closer to hammering my career—and the rest of the band’s—into a fucking coffin. Millennium would never back us on another tour if they thought I wasn’t up to keeping Daniel in line.

  But I couldn’t tell Jase that. He’d think I didn’t trust him.

  The bus hit another bump. Groaning, I rolled onto my back, waiting for the world’s tiniest drum kit to stop crashing and thumping against the inside of my skull. My stomach fluttered, finally calming down.

  Do you trust him, though?

  In everything that truly mattered, yeah. I trusted him to keep me safe. Trusted him to wrap those beautiful hands of his around my neck. Trusted him to know when to let go.

  But I couldn’t trust him not to lose it if he finally saw the real me. Sick. Weak. Puking my guts out. Sure, he’d seen me in desperate need of what he had to offer—peace and calm. Solace, if only for a little while. Sex had always been my drug of choice, self-medication the only thing that’d gotten me through our last tour, but a few nights were the most I’d ever asked of anyone, until now.

  Were we getting too close, too fast? Part of me didn’t care—the part that wanted Jase here, even if I knew it would hasten the sell-by date on our relationship. I wanted him, needed him—hell, just the thought of those strong, callused hands on me left me trembling. Aching. Jonesing for him the way Daniel did for meth and coke.

  I reached for my phone. One call was all it would take. We’d find a place to pull over, let Jase off the other bus, and I could fall asleep with his arms around me, instead of lying here alone in the dark.

  Milo answered on the second ring. “Hey, boss.”

  “Hey. I’m gonna need Jase after all. Let’s stop at—”

  “Um, Jase is a little... indisposed right now.”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “Wasn’t he supposed to—”

  “He was keeping an eye on Daniel, like you wanted, when he should’ve been keeping an eye on his own beer.” Milo sighed. “Daniel put something in it.”

  Shit. My stomach started churning again. “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, I don’t think it was anything strong. He’s in his bunk, sleeping it off.”

  I wet my lips, sucked in air, trying to hold the fresh pounding between my temples at bay. “Okay.”

  “Want me to come over? You don’t sound so good.”

  Tempting, but... no. Milo would take perfectly good care of me, but his care wasn’t what I needed right now. “I’ll be fine. See you in the morning.”

  I hung up, tossed my phone on the nightstand. I’d been through worse migraines than this—hard as that was to believe with my brain whirling like it’d been run through a blender. No remedy for it but time and quiet.

  And wishing I wasn’t too miserable to wring Daniel’s fucking neck.

  * * *

  I didn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing I knew, someone was rapping on the door. “Jordan?”

  Jase. “C’mon in,” I called, sitting up slowly. My head still hurt, but it was more like a dull throb now. I popped another pill as Jase stepped into the room. “How you feeling?”

  “Shouldn’t I be asking you?” The bed dipped, and his hand found mine. The feel of his fingers was already doing me more good than the damn meds. “Milo said you called last night.”

  “Just worried about you, is all.”

  His chuckle told me I wasn’t fooling him one bit. “I’m fine. Um, mind if we turn a light on?”

  The notion made me shudder, but I nodded. “Bathroom. Just leave the door open a sliver, okay?”

  “’kay.”

  I screwed my eyes shut, then tried opening them slowly. But even that tiny amount of light sliced right through my skull. “I-I can’t, I’m sorry…”

  “S’okay, I got it.” The door bumped closed, swallowing the light.

  I reached for his hand. Even in the dark, I knew exactly where he was, and not just from the floorboards creaking under his feet or the soft puff of his breath. He cast such a solid presence, it didn’t matter if I could see him or not. I’d find him anywhere.

  “C’mon back,” I whispered, pulling him down on the bed with me. His shoes hit the floor with a muffled thunk-thunk, then he crawled up next to me, yanking off his shirt. I buried my face against his chest, kissed the warm, lightly-furred skin under my cheek.

  God, finally.

  “I shouldn’t have sent you away,” I said.

  Another chuckle. “I could’ve told you that.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Because you’re the boss.”

  “I told you, we’re not—”

  “Okay, okay, we don’t need to talk about that now.” He ran his hand over my damp, tangled hair and down my shoulder. Shivering, I burrowed in closer as he pulled the covers up over both of us. “We’re at the hotel, by the way.”

  “Everybody checked in?”

  “Yup. I’ve got your key card in my pocket. We can go up anytime you’re ready.”

  Which was why he’d been trying to help me get used to the light. But I wasn’t ready to let go of him yet. “Just a few more minutes.”

  * * *

  Eventually Jase got me up, got me dressed. Handed me my shades. Escorted me off the bus, through the hotel’s service entrance and into the private elevator up to the penthouse. The suite door swung open on a blindingly bright living room—

  And there sat Daniel, flipping channels on the remote. “Hey, bro. We need to talk to our booking agents. This shitty hotel’s only got one presidential suite.”

  As if my head wasn’t pounding enough. I nodded at Jase, and he went over to close the drapes. “So you decided to hog it all for yourself?”

  “It’s got two bedrooms. Milo and Jase can flip a coin for the couch.”

  “Soon as you get your punk ass off it.”

  Daniel flicked off the TV. “What did you say?”

  I shot Jase a look. He was way ahead of me, grabbing my luggage and heading for the bedroom. Well, one of the bedrooms. “Milo told me about your little prank last night. What did you put in Jase’s drink?”

  “Jesus, relax. It was just a fuckin’ Xanax.” He stood and came closer, his fake smile fading with each step. “Don’t send your boyfriend to spy on me again.”

  “And how else am I supposed to keep tabs on you?”

  “How about you knock that off too?”

  “Because you know I can’t, Daniel. I won’t let you…” Fuck. Bad enough that my eyes felt ready to pop out of my head. I didn’t need to start tearing up too. “I promised I’d take care of you.”<
br />
  “We promised each other, only you don’t…” He tried to put his arms around me. I fell back a step without thinking. “You won’t let me in anymore.”

  I went cold all over. No, we weren’t talking about this. Not ever again. “I’m going to bed. I’m sick.”

  “Yeah, you sure as fuck are.” He stepped right in front of me. “You think this one’s gonna make you happy? Does he think you’re his soul mate? That you’re gonna take him home to LA and live happily ever after? Big fuckin’ surprise for him at the end of the tour, huh?”

  “Don’t you say a word to him. About anything.”

  “You think I’ll have to?”

  “Fuck you, Daniel.” And fuck me for ever thinking this could work. I pulled off my shades so he could see exactly what he was dealing with. “You want out of the band? Fine. Stay with us through the end of this tour, and you can have your wish.”

  “Y-you’re kidding.”

  “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

  I didn’t wait for him to answer, just went around him and headed for the bedrooms. The one on the right hand side of the hall had its door open, and there was Jase, unpacking my luggage.

  The look on his face made me wonder how much he’d just heard.

  Chapter Eight

  Jase

  I held Jordan’s gaze for a moment. The conversation he’d had with Daniel probably hadn’t been for me, though, so in spite of my curiosity, I quietly turned back to unpacking his suitcase. I wasn’t sure exactly when this task had been relegated to me. At some point, I’d taken over and just never stopped, and right now it was better than looking at him and awkwardly wondering what the fuck I should say.

  “You don’t have to do that.” He lifted the other suitcase off the bed and leaned it against the wall. “We’re only here for two nights.”

  “You sure?”

  Jordan nodded. Jesus fuck, but he looked exhausted.

  I stepped around the bed, stopping just in front of him. “You look like shit.”

  His lips quirked. “Gee, thanks.”

  I smiled and cupped his face in both hands. “You know what I mean. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

  Jordan sighed, then nodded, his unshaved jaw scratching against my palms. “I usually have a hangover after one of those bastards, so…”

  “Yeah.” I kissed his forehead. “Sleep. I’ll be right outside.”

  “Okay.”

  I left him to sleep, and carefully closed the door behind me as I stepped out into the suite’s living area.

  The noise of the TV abruptly quieted, and when I turned around, I met Daniel’s gaze. Still half-sprawled across the couch, he looked right at me. “What’d he do? Boot you out of bed to babysit me?”

  “He’s sleeping off a migraine.”

  Daniel snorted. “Sure he is.”

  “Otherwise I’d have stayed in there.” I eyed him coolly. “Since I’d kind of like a cup of coffee, and I can’t say I think it’s safe to drink anything around you.”

  He shrugged. “Relax. It didn’t hurt you.”

  “And it’s a good fucking thing you knew my medical history, allergies, and all that shit before you slipped me a goddamned roofie, isn’t it?”

  Daniel blinked. Then his expression hardened. “Maybe if you hadn’t been tailing me quite so—”

  “What the fuck was I supposed to do?” I slid my thumbs into my pockets to avoid folding my arms. “Let you go out and—”

  “Is ‘babysit me’ really part of your job description?”

  A defensive response came to the tip of my tongue, but I bit it back. “Look, Daniel, you’ve got it made.” I gestured at the instrument cases and No Rules paraphernalia piled in one corner of the room. “Headlining world tours? Multi-platinum albums? When I was still playing, I would’ve sold my soul for this shit.”

  He folded his arms and glared at me. “Your point?”

  “My point is that I don’t think you realize how much you’ve got.” I paused, looking straight back at him. “Or how easily you could lose it. The music industry is a bitch. Believe me, I know. Do you really want to piss away a level of success that most musicians would kill for?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Is this your way of telling me to shape up so it doesn’t get taken away from Jordan?”

  “What? No!” I bit back an exasperated sigh. “No, absolutely not. You’re a talented musician, Daniel. I’d just hate to see you lose all this amazing success over—”

  “You know what, man? Blow me.” Daniel tossed the remote on the couch cushion and shoved himself to his feet. “Do what you want with Jordan, but don’t act like you give two shits about me or that you’re doing a goddamned thing for my benefit, you son of a bitch.”

  With that, he stormed into the other bedroom and kicked the door shut.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, scrubbing a hand over my face.

  “This isn’t your fault, you know.”

  I turned around to see Milo sitting at the table by the window. He rested his elbows on the table and cradled his coffee cup in two hands, bringing to mind some wise old sage eyeing me over a steaming cup of tea.

  “I, uh…” I cleared my throat. Then I gestured at the door Daniel had just slammed. “Is he okay on his own right now? I mean, is he—”

  “Going to get high?” Milo shook his head. “We’ve got that festival coming up in a few days. One of the biggest events we’ll play this tour.” Nodding toward the door, he added, “He’ll only get fucked up after a show like that.”

  “Oh. Right.” I paused. “And, um, what isn’t my fault?”

  Milo gestured at one bedroom, then the other. “The shit between them. It’s, well, between them.”

  “Yeah, and it doesn’t seem to be getting any better now that I’m involved.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  I shot him an “oh, really?” look.

  Lowering his gaze into his coffee cup, he pulled in a long breath. “Listen, what you and Jordan do is none of my business, but whatever it is”—he looked me in the eye—“keep doing it.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  “It’s keeping Jordan on an even keel.” Nodding toward the closed door, he added, “And if there’s one thing Daniel needs in this world, it’s Jordan on an even keel.”

  Something in my stomach pulled tighter. As casually as possible, I pulled out the chair opposite Milo and lowered myself into it. “Why do I get the feeling I’m getting in between two people I shouldn’t be?”

  He waved a hand and shook his head. “It’s not that. They’re… friends.”

  “Sort of.”

  “Well, it’s complicated. Always has been.” He held my gaze, and he must have seen the question in my eyes, because he went on, “No, they haven’t always been ‘just friends.’ And no one but them knows exactly what happened. Whatever it is, Daniel isn’t over it. I don’t know if he ever will be.” Sighing, Milo shook his head. “To be honest, I doubt he ever will be.”

  I glanced at the door, pursing my lips. “That why he doesn’t like me?”

  “He likes you fine.”

  I arched an eyebrow at Milo. “We talking about the same Daniel here?”

  He chuckled, then took a sip of his coffee before setting the cup down. “I’ve known Daniel a long time. If he didn’t like you, you’d know it.”

  “I’m still not sure how I’m supposed to know he does like me.”

  “He’s a tough one to read.”

  With a dry laugh, I nodded. “That’s an understatement.”

  Milo chuckled, but it didn’t last. He played with the handle of his coffee cup and avoided my eyes. “Look, Daniel’s not a bad guy. He really isn’t. He’s just… messed up.”

  I sighed. “Yeah. I’ve known people who were, um, like him.”

  Nodding slowly, Milo met my eyes. “Never easy, is it?”

  “Never.”

  We both fell silent. What was there to say in a moment like that? While Daniel fumed in one ro
om, and Jordan slept in the other, and there was so much unsaid and unresolved that probably couldn’t be said or resolved…

  I ran a hand through my hair and released a long breath. I’d loved an addict before. Who knew loving an addict’s—best friend? Ex love?—would be nearly as hard?

  And who said anything about love?

  Before I could give that thought too much attention, Milo said, “To be perfectly honest, it cuts Daniel right to the core whenever Jordan’s got somebody else, but at the same time, knowing Jordan’s got somebody who can give him what Daniel can’t anymore? I think that helps him. He worries about Jordan. Especially when Jordan’s alone.”

  “Oh.” I chewed on that for a long, long moment. “Why is he so hostile toward me, then?”

  Milo regarded me silently. Admittedly, he hadn’t struck me as terribly bright when I’d first been introduced to the band and crew, but it was becoming apparent that I’d misjudged him. “Truth is,” he finally said, “Daniel’s not used to seeing Jordan this involved with someone.”

  I swallowed. “What do you mean?”

  Milo was quiet again, but after a while, he just shook his head. “Daniel is used to Jordan going through guys like he goes through guitar picks. Somewhere in his fucked up mind, he believes Jordan will eventually come back to him, and every guy he’s with now is just there to tide him over until Daniel gets his shit together.”

  My throat tightened.

  Speaking softly, Milo said, “And I think Daniel can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that things have changed.”

  “Changed?” I forced some breath into my lungs. “In what way?”

  Milo’s eyebrow rose. “If you can’t see it, I’m not going to be the one to spell it out for you.”

  I resisted the urge—barely—to roll my eyes. “What do I do, then?” I folded my arms on the edge of the table. “You know both of them. If you know what I should do here, please, I’m all ears.”

  Milo shook his head. “It’s your call, man. But if you’ve got something good going with Jordan, then great. Jordan’s happy and Daniel”—he half-shrugged—“will find a way to live with it.”