by Sarah Grimm
“I feel bad. You were planning to bring Vivian here, weren’t you?”
He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
“How can you say that?” He’d set it up ahead of time, called a friend and, most likely called in a favor. All to impress a beautiful woman who’d caught his eye. He certainly couldn’t have imagined being here with her instead. “I’ll leave and you can—”
“Sit down, Emma.”
She mirrored his pose, crossing her arms. “You do know I’m not afraid of you, no matter what tone you take with me.”
“No? Just a few moments ago you thought I was going to toss you off the roof.” His dimple made an appearance as he smiled then sank into the seat nearest him. “Please. Is that better? Stop worrying about who I planned to bring here. You’re who I brought, so sit down, please, and enjoy.”
“Fair enough.” She chose the seat across from him and sat. “But if you think you’ll still get to use those condoms I know you have stashed in one of your pockets, think again. I mean, I love you and all, but it’s more of a brother-sister thing.”
“Shit.”
“Maybe cousins—just not the kissing kind.”
“You are too much,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know that?”
Emma smiled and looked up at the night sky. It was clear, the moon but a sliver.
“At least you’re back to goading me.” His voice softened. “I like that better than the tears. Witnessing a woman’s tears makes me want to…”
“Punch people?” she suggested. A plane moved through her field of vision, most likely coming from Denver International Airport. It’s destination a mystery, she began mentally guessing where it could be heading. “You’re a natural born protector, that’s why you can’t stand tears.”
They lapsed into silence. One she eventually broke. “I knew what I was getting into with him.”
“Joe? I believe you did.”
“I’ve never worn blinders about what his life was like.”
“That’s good.”
She straightened, feeling the ache behind her ribs that made its presence known whenever she thought of Joe and that damn bottle of whiskey. With a shake of her head, she focused on Gary, who sat with his hands clenched together between his knees, brow furrowed as he stared back at her. “How do you do it?”
His frown deepened at the hitch in her voice. “Do what?”
“Watch him drink his life away?”
“I’ve been with Joe for seven years.”
She nodded. “He told me.”
Gary unclenched and clenched his hands. “Joe was a different person back then. Reckless, sure, but not self-destructive. He was happy, a pleasure to be around. Loved the music, the life, and it showed.” Gary stood, walked around to the back of his chair and curled his fingers into the cushion. “Gradually, over the last two years, that all changed, until he became the man you met.”
“The accomplished drinker.”
“I was going to say narcissistic asshole.”
Emma chuckled.
Gary shrugged. “Since he met you, he has become more and more the man he was when he hired me. Joe saw something in you that first night. I don’t know what it was—I don’t really care—I just know, the moment he laid eyes on you, you were it for him.”
Great, the lump was back in her throat.
“You took his life, shook it up and rearranged it. You leave him not knowing if he’s coming or going. It’s good for him.”
“Is it? He’s drinking again.”
Gary let the silence hang between them a minute then blew a breath. “What happened today?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean. In the tour bus, after the incident with the motorbike. What did you say that sent him into a tailspin?” He was quiet another moment then rubbed the back of his neck. “I think he turned to alcohol tonight for the same reasons he’s been turning to it for years now—to quiet the demons. The thing is, once you came along, he gave up the booze and turned to you. Why not tonight? What happened that caused him to panic?”
She choked a laugh. It sounded more like a sob. “I’m in love with him.”
Gary didn’t even blink. “That’s what you told him?”
“Yes.”
“That would do it.” He released his hold on the cushion and straightened, pinning her in place with his gaze. “I thought perhaps you finally told him you’re sick.”
“What?!”
“You’re sick, aren’t you? All the signs are there.”
“I’m exhausted, sure. This life is—”
Gary stopped her words with a lift of his hand. Then he returned to his seat across from her, his mouth flat and his features tight. “My real name is Tobias, Tobias Garrison. I joined the British Army at eighteen, and was selected for Special Air Service—S.A.S.—at twenty-two. In the military, they call you by your last name, Garrison, which became Gare to my friends, then—”
“Gary.”
“Yes.”
So she’d been right about all of it. His military background, his name.
“Your turn, Emma.”
She sat up and offered her hand in introduction. “Emma Mae Travers.”
Instead of shaking her hand, he sandwiched it in both of his. “And?”
A tear escaped.
“Fuck!” He launched to his feet, paced away then returned. “Have you told him?”
Emma shook her head, swiped the tear from her cheek.
“He knows. And he’s scared shitless.”
“So am I,” she whispered.
“Jesus. You have to tell him. Why haven’t you already?”
She didn’t mean to look into his eyes, but felt the need to know. What she discovered solidified her fear. “That look. That one you’re wearing is why I haven’t. I can’t bear to see that look on his face.”
He scrubbed his hand over his cheeks like he could wash the pity from his eyes. It didn’t work.
“So instead of telling him, you’ll run away?”
“He’s killing himself. Sliding back into the—”
“And you honestly believe that is going to stop if you leave him?” He was so upset he shook. “Or is it just that you won’t have to watch? What about the rest of us, Emma? What about me?”
She had seen Gary angry and happy, even intimidating. This was new. She didn’t know what to do with distraught Gary. She looked away. Needed to look away. Then kicked her own ass and walked over to him.
Emma placed her hand in the center of his chest, the way she did with Joe when she wanted him to listen. “This ends badly no matter what. That hit me the other day when I looked at him and realized I love him. Not the star-struck crap I felt when I met him. Not the half-assed love that brought me to him. I love him, Tobias.”
“You think I don’t?” He covered her hand with his. “If you walk away now, he’ll backslide. There will be no stopping it.”
“God.” She dropped her forehead to rest alongside their hands. “I never meant for this to happen.”
“It did happen. Now you have to deal with it. We all do.”
“And if I stay and tell him and he regresses anyway?”
“That’s always a possibility, isn’t it? However, I can guarantee what will happen if you walk without telling him. Joe will blame himself.”
She felt his hand brush her back lightly before settling.
“You brought him this far, Emma. He didn’t want to be in there tonight, with the whiskey and the women. He wanted you. Tell me you could see that.”
She’d seen a man who’d gotten spooked and didn’t know how to handle it. A man she was sure felt the same way about her as she felt about him, but had been too afraid to deal with it. If he knew about her illness, and it seemed they all did, then the wild fear she’d witnessed in his eyes took on a whole new meaning.
She lifted her head and met Gary’s gaze.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “You need to be hone
st with him and see this through to its natural conclusion—whatever that may be.”
May 16
You can’t stop your body from failing you.
I’ve learned that the hard way. No matter how well you treat yourself, how strictly you play by the rules or even if you never do, when it’s your time to go, nothing you do can stop it.
I spoke with Alison today. Let her know that I’ll be home soon. It’s almost my time.
She said she would have everything ready.
She knows how important this is to me, so I know she will.
Poor Al. I’m going through so much personally that sometimes I forget what this must be like for her. I try to imagine, if the roles were reversed, how I would feel having to make preparations for her death.
Thank God she has Kevin. He’ll be strong for her when she can’t be. He’ll hold her when I no longer can. He’s a good man.
Al deserves a good man.
Number of days since I decided to live: 86
Number of days since I met Joe: 43
Current level of panic: 7/10
EIGHTEEN
May 20
Emma’s head throbbed by the time they returned to the arena and she climbed the bus steps. Gary had made some excuse about needing to check in with his team then ran off. She had no idea if it was the truth or just his way of giving her and Joe a bit of privacy. Either way, she was happy to have it.
Joe sat on the larger of the two couches, arms resting on the table before him, right hand curled around his favorite mug—the blue and white one with the word ‘wanker’ across the front. The mug always made her smile and tonight was no exception.
He wore jeans and nothing else. One look at him and her heart took off on a run. Her throat tightened. “Joe.”
His eyes never left her face as he stood, closed the space between them and slowly pulled her in. His warmth enveloped her as he snugged her against his body, tucking her head beneath his chin. “I’m sorry, Sunshine. So damn sorry.”
This was where she wanted to be. Right here, wrapped in his arms. She pressed her nose into his throat and inhaled him. Just him, no telltale scent of whiskey. He couldn’t have consumed much more after she’d left because he appeared to be sober now.
“I went looking for you,” he said, drawing a deep breath. “When I couldn’t find you, I thought you’d left me. I panicked. Started texting and calling Gary, but—”
“He turned his phone off.”
Joe muttered a curse. “Of course, he did.”
“Why, Joe?” She pulled back until she could look into his eyes. “The whiskey. The silence. Tell me why.”
“Em…”
She cupped his face with one hand and made him look at her. “Give me the truth, please.”
“I had to see if I could go back to it.” He didn’t take his gaze off her and his eyes were filled with pain and sadness. “If I could survive having nothing but that…once you’re gone.”
Oh, God. Her breath stuttered, heart lodged in her throat. She shifted, pulled away from him and he let her. Gary’s words popped into her head. “You didn’t want to be there.”
Joe shook his head. “I hate that place and that man I used to be. You make me want more, Em. You are the first person in a very long time to make me want to be better. When I’m with you, I forget.”
“Forget what?” she whispered.
“That I’m not good enough for you.”
“How can you say that? How can you even think that?” Sweet Jesus, he wasn’t the one pretending to be something he wasn’t. Keeping secrets, hiding the truth because the pain of losing him scared her as much as the thought of how little time she had left.
She looked everywhere but at him. That damn mug, the floor. Her throat tightened, tears burned the backs of her eyes.
The Monster in her head roared.
Emma rubbed the back of her neck, soothing the beast. She looked back at Joe, found his dark eyes on her. “You are better than the people you surround yourself with lead you to believe.”
“I’m not.”
Damnit. She pushed back her own pain and focused on his. “Is this why you keep them around? Because you honestly believe you’re not good enough?” Needing to touch him, she settled her hand over a hard pec. “Of course you feel unimportant when none of them gives you anything in return. But it’s not true. It’s a falsehood. You are important. You are special—but not because of the reasons they all feed you. Not just because you can play a guitar and sing.”
“Emma.”
She trembled as desperation welled up within her. “Listen to me. Hear what I’m saying to you. You need to get rid of the leeches. Get rid of all the toxic shit. Live your life. Stop being the rock star you think everyone wants you to be. Be the man I know you to be. The man in this room, right now, is who you are. This man is the man I love.”
He shook his head and she stopped the action by cupping his cheeks. She shifted closer, close enough his hand dropped to her hip and he released a sigh as he pulled her in.
“I love you.” The desperate edge left her voice as she softened against him. “The man who danced with me beneath the stars even though you can’t dance for shit.”
He chuffed a laugh.
“Who kisses me senseless to distract me from my fear whenever we’re in an elevator.”
“It’s not like that’s a hardship.”
“You were in the midst of an interview the other day, actually in the process of answering a question when you grabbed me. I think the interviewer swallowed his tongue and you didn’t even blink. You just pulled me into your arms the moment those doors closed. In the middle of something that should have taken most of your attention, you were still thinking of me. No matter how you feel about yourself, I’m telling you that’s something special.”
His hands slid over her body, one cupping the back of her head, the other slipping beneath her shirt to settle against the bare skin at the base of her spine. “I’m always thinking of you, Sunshine. I love you.”
Oh, God. He’d given her the words. Emotion clogged her throat. Tears spilled from her eyes. Emma pressed her face against his chest.
“Em? What did I say? Shit. I take it back.”
“You better not,” she said, her words muffled.
“Don’t cry, Em. Please.”
The tremor in his voice made her cry harder.
“I’m not good with tears. I’ll do anything. I’ll…sing that stupid song you love so much.”
Then he was. His voice pitched just for her. “It’s too late, to save myself from falling.”
“Stop,” she whispered.
“I took a chance and you changed my way of life.”
“That’s not how it goes.”
“But you misread my meaning—”
“No, I didn’t.” She pulled her face out of his chest, leaned in and kissed him, because she had a feeling if he finished the verse she wouldn’t be able to stop crying.
“What? You don’t like my singing?”
“I love your singing.” She smiled, threaded her hands into his hair and kissed him again.
Kissed him until he was cupping her face in his big hands while his thumbs wiped the tears from her cheeks. “It’s a stupid song.”
“It’s a beautiful song.”
“You’re beautiful.” He pressed a kiss to one swollen eye then the other. “My ray of sunshine. Stay with me after the tour. Come with me to England.”
No. She backed up as panic surged.
“I’ll take you for a ride in my Koenigsegg. We’ll dance through the halls of my house in Prestbury.”
“Joe, I…can’t. I won’t be…”
Pain flashed in his eyes. “Don’t leave me, Em,” he said softly, much too softly. “You’re my salvation.”
It was too much. What she’d done to him. The pain her silence had caused them both. She sobbed and The Monster used her weakness to take a stronger hold.
“Joe.” It was hard to ta
lk, damn near impossible to get the words out. “You have to see in yourself what I see. You have to save yourself. I won’t always be here with you.”
He pushed his over-long hair from his face, his eyes pleading. “Don’t say it.”
The pain in her head intensified—became a living thing with a pulse all its own. Her arms shook uncontrollably. Worse, so much worse than ever before.
“Joe, I—” Her vision blurred. Her heart galloped at a terrifying rate.
Her doctor had warned this would happen. That, one day, the pain would become too much to bear. That it would most likely occur during a time of stress or physical exertion. Yet it still couldn’t touch the pain in her heart. The ache for the man who was in his own personal hell. Who knew what she was going to say to him and it hurt him so badly, he all but vibrated with it.
The room spun. She was the one vibrating.
“No,” she whispered.
“Em?”
“No. Not now.” A deep breath did nothing. She pushed the words out, needing to give voice to them before the seizure took hold. “I’ve kept something from you, Joe. I’m sorry.”
His image faded as everything went dark.
Joe sat at the head of the emergency room bed and stared into the eyes of the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. The one who’d worked her way into his life, his heart, and changed his world. Drove away the darkness. Saved him. He looked into her eyes and swore to do anything to save her. He’d give up his fame, his fortune, give it all away. As long as it meant keeping Emma in his life.
None of those things mattered. Not if she was gone.
Watching her collapse had to be the scariest event he’d ever witnessed. She’d been shaking, crying, then, down she went. Thank Christ, he’d managed to grab her before she hit her head on the floor. Even so, she’d been out for at least thirty minutes. As long as it had taken for him to pull on a shirt and stuff his feet into shoes while Gary carried her to the car, held her for the ride to the hospital then brought her inside.
Joe hadn’t wanted to let go of her, but Gare had insisted, snatching her off the floor while mumbling about not needing the publicity should someone get a photo of Joe carrying an unconscious woman off his tour bus.
