Her face didn’t reveal a hint of what she was thinking, and Elliott would have given anything to read her mind. Did she want their family unit back together? Would she be able to forgive Adrian? After all, there wasn’t much Kendalee wouldn’t do for Daniel’s safety and security. His heart stuck in his throat at the thought of her going back to Adrian, and he was flooded with a desire to fight for her. He could provide for Kendalee and Daniel in a way Adrian couldn’t. And not just financially. He could provide a solid home for them because he cared about them in a way he’d never imagined he could feel about anyone but the “brothers” he’d lived with for so long. Even if he was terrified of putting those feelings to words.
“I won’t let anything get in the way of that happening,” Adrian said. He met Elliott’s eyes.
It sounded a lot like a threat.
* * *
Kendalee watched Elliott’s naked body disappear into the bathroom and then allowed her head to fall back onto her pillow, praying that the way her pulse raced wasn’t a precursor to a heart attack. A sex-related injury would be impossible to explain at the hospital. She grinned to herself, knowing that Elliott was dealing with yet another condom. At some point, she should tell him that it was practically impossible for her to get pregnant without medical intervention. Idiopathic infertility: a fancy way for doctors to say they didn’t know why. Not that she wanted him to stop using condoms, because lord knew they served another purpose, but if they were to continue together, she needed to tell him it was unlikely that they could ever have kids.
Elliott was leaving for Europe later this morning. London seemed like such a long way to go for just four days, but that was the life of a rock star. When he’d told her about the trip, he’d taken her in his arms and told her that after Daniel was out of the hospital, there would be plenty of opportunities for them to travel together. One of the things she appreciated most about him was how accepting he was of her situation and how adaptable he was. Not once had he tried to persuade her to sleep at his house when she wanted to be at the hospital, fully understanding her need to spend the majority of her time with her son.
He walked out of the bathroom wearing a plaid robe she hadn’t seen before. Normally he was more than comfortable naked, but the robe looked good on him. She had one just like it pinned to one of her Pinterest boards.
“Here, put this on and come join me on the back patio.” Elliott handed her a large gift bag.
As he left the room with a wink, she peeked inside. Beautiful white pajamas that were incredibly soft, and a robe that matched his own, were tucked inside. Heart racing, she looked at the label and then reached for her phone. Quickly she pulled up her board. They weren’t just similar . . . they were the exact same items of clothing. For a second, she wondered if he’d seen her boards, but how could he? With a grin, she rushed to the bathroom to clean up a little before pulling them on. The pajamas felt like clouds next to her skin. Well . . . how she imagined clouds felt without the whole wet rain thing.
As Kendalee wandered down the hallway to the stairs and turned the corner, Nikan came out of his room, and they collided. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her and then pulled his headphones away from his ear.
“Sorry, Kendalee,” he said. “Just getting in one last run before we head out, and already had these turned on. Didn’t hear you.”
“No, I’m sorry . . . I was daydreaming.”
“Catch you later,” he said, jogging down the stairs. Why was everyone in Elliott’s band so ridiculously handsome? She wasn’t sure where she stood on their talent, as she still couldn’t understand why Elliott, who sang beautifully and played wonderfully, insisted on creating music that sounded like the garbage truck on collection day. Actually, scratch that, it sounded like somebody being murdered horribly in the crusher of a garbage truck on collection day.
Smiling, she wandered down the stairs and out onto the back porch. The sun was just beginning its lazy assent, but a fire burned in the fireplace and lit candles rested on every surface. Someone had definitely worked magic on the area. Cushions now covered the formerly utilitarian gray furniture, and soft cream throws were placed over the backs of the chairs. A table was set for two.
“I wanted to take you out on a date before I left,” Elliott said. “But I know that’s hard right now. So, I did this instead. Breakfast date.” He shrugged as if it was nothing, though the very sight of it took her breath away. She didn’t need flashy and fancy. She needed small doses of good old-fashioned romance.
“It looks wonderful,” she said as she wrapped her arms around his waist. “Thank you for doing this.”
“Let’s eat before it goes cold.”
She nodded. “I need to relieve Rachel at the hospital soon too.”
Elliott opened a metal container and pulled out an array of dishes. Eggs Benedict, her most favorite food ever. Waffles with bowls of fresh strawberries. The food looked great, but it had to be costing him a fortune to serve her up all the meals he’d been providing. “You know, I’m a sure thing,” she said, cutting into a perfectly poached egg. “You could have served up a toasted bagel and I would have been happy.”
The clang of cutlery sounded through the air as Elliott placed his fork down. “I’m not sure I’ve ever really made the effort to date a woman. But you, Kendalee Walker, are a woman worth dating. And if you didn’t have a son in the hospital, I’d make all kinds of other plans. But you do. So, I want to make the very best of whatever time we have. I want to show you how much you mean to me, even after such a crazy short time.”
Embarrassment filled her, as well as a deep feeling of belonging—a feeling she’d never had with Adrian, even after all those years. It was proof that time really was irrelevant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. I just still can’t believe all this,” she said, gesturing between the two of them with a strawberry perched on the end of her fork.
“This?” Elliott copied the gesture.
She nodded.
“What is there to not believe, Kendalee? Do we need to have one of those ‘What are you thinking?’ chats that I’ve done my best to avoid for the last decade? Because I can go there if you want. You need me to spell out where my feelings are at?”
Did she?
“The pause tells me we do.” Elliott stood, walked over to her chair, lifted her out of her seat, and sat down with her on his lap. He did it all as if she weighed absolutely nothing.
Uncertain what to say, she wrapped her arms around his neck, hoping that this at least went some way toward telling him how she felt.
“For the first time in just about ever, I don’t want to get on a plane and fly to England. You want to know why?”
Her heart skipped a beat in anticipation of his answer. “I think I need to hear it, Elliott. Which probably makes me as silly as a high-schooler.”
“Which is ironic because I was still in diapers when you started high—umpf.”
“Not unless you started school wearing diapers,” Kendalee said as she rubbed her elbow. His chest was harder than she’d anticipated, though after the amount of time she’d spent with it, she should have known. “Just get on with the romantic bit.”
Elliott kissed her elbow gently, then her lips. “I don’t care how old you are, because this . . . you and me . . . works for me. The idea of leaving you and Daniel behind with everything that’s going on right now sits in my gut like a rock. I don’t think you realize how much you help me. I want to be here. With you. For you.”
Kendalee smiled at the mention of her son. It reduced her to mush that he knew without her having to tell him that they were a package deal. “I like that. If it helps, I don’t want you to leave either.”
“I’m pleased to hear that.” Elliott ran a finger from her temple, pushing her hair behind her ear before trailing along her jaw. “I have fears of my own, you know. Like Adrian’s comments in the hospital on Wednesday. I’ve slept on it for forty-eight hours, and I can’t help worrying what it means
for us, that he intends to fight to get you guys back.”
She placed her hands either side of his cheeks and studied his eyes, which were flecked with shadows of doubt. “I’m not going to lie. Right up until the moment you asked about my five things to do in the rain, I wanted my life back together. But you taught me it was the idea of a family life that I wanted. A happy family, a great relationship, a strong partnership, finally getting the chance to go out and do work I am passionate about. If I get back together with Adrian, I get a roommate, a routine, no job, and a lackluster love life.”
“Lackluster, huh?” Elliott said, teasing her, but she noticed the way his shoulders relaxed, and his thighs softened beneath her.
“There’s a reason I’ve never tried reverse cowgirl, Elliott,” she said, primly. “And while I shouldn’t compare you to my husband, I’ve probably had more orgasms in the last couple of weeks than I did in the last couple of years with him.”
Elliott chuckled. “It’s been my pleasure. Literally. And if you want at least one more before I leave, we should finish eating before everything gets cold. Are we clear on us? That there is an us? And that we like us? And that we want to see where us goes?”
Kendalee nodded. “Yes. “Us” just became my favorite word.” She pressed her lips to his, savoring the way they softened against her.
“Wow. Who did all this girly shit?” A man with dirty blond hair who as tall as Elliott, but a little leaner, walked into the garden. He fingered the throw on the back of the chair in disgust. “And are you really wearing matching robes? I just walked into a fucking chick flick.” He sat down on the sofa and landed his heavy boots on the low table.
Elliott grinned and shook his head. “Lennon McCartney. Drummer. Dickhead,” he said, tilting his head in Lennon’s direction.
“At your service, ma’am,” Lennon said with a cheesy wink.
Kendalee laughed and stood, allowing Elliott to return to his chair. “I’m Kendalee. Thank you so much for the guitar you loaned Daniel.”
Lennon looked around her, pointed at the table, and gestured to Elliott with his hands. Elliott haphazardly threw food onto the plate and handed it to Lennon without cutlery. Lennon took a large bite of pancake. “I didn’t loan it,” he said, crumbs going everywhere. “I gave it to him.”
“Daniel told me it was worth thousands of dollars. We can’t accept a gift like that. It’s too much,” she explained.
“Yeah, well, sell it then,” Lennon said, getting to his feet. He started to walk back into the house with his food. “P.S.,” he shouted over his shoulder, “that bed you’re sleeping in would be a whole lot better if I were still in it.”
* * *
When we first met, you said you were like me. Did you mean starting fires?
Elliott’s heart raced as he read the text from Daniel. He looked around the studio into which they were all crammed at the radio station. Large microphones hung in front of him and the rest of the band. Everyone was casually chatting as they listened to “Nightmare,” an old Avenged Sevenfold song, taking a quick break from the questions as it played.
He should be focused on the radio interview he was currently sitting in, but Dred and Nik were on fire today, and he really wasn’t feeling it. Plus, their interviewer, a peroxide blonde from Liverpool, asked her questions at rapid-fire speed and in such a thick accent that they could barely understand her.
Day one of their trip had been spent in London, doing national radio appearances on BBC and recording a late-night TV show. He’d also popped into Tiffany, where he’d bought that strange-looking bracelet Kendalee had on her Pinterest board. The bone cuff. Wide, silver, and, he now knew thanks to the very helpful assistant at the store, designed to fit over the wrist bone. Not that he’d had any difficulty figuring out her dominant hand. All he’d had to do was think about the way she stroked his cock to remember she was right-handed.
Day two had been spent in Edinburgh—a quick, exhausting visit to do more personal appearances, but had also involved a wonderful trip up the country on the train.
Now on day three, they were in Liverpool. This morning they’d taken a private trip to many of the Beatles’ spots, including Strawberry Field, which turned out to be a rather underwhelming set of red gates with grafittied gateposts leading down a narrow path; the Cavern, which he’d love to play one day; and Penny Lane, where he’d gotten Jordan to take his picture next to the street sign and sent it to Daniel. Long-haul flight, jet lag, and three straight days of appearances were a bitch, and all he’d been able to think about until an hour ago was how all he wanted was a couple of hours sleep.
But then Daniel’s messages started to come, questions with long pauses in between, all leading up to this one. He really didn’t want to answer it, not without talking to Kendalee first.
You got something on your mind? Answering with another question instead of an answer was a grown-up tactic, but he hoped he could distract Daniel . . . could put him off long enough for them to have this conversation face-to-face.
My head’s fucked up. I keep thinking about the fire. And . . . okay, promise you won’t tell mom?
Elliott smiled sadly. He wasn’t a bad kid. He was a kid who’d acted out against the abuse he’d received. Even now, he was worried his mom would find out what he was talking about and he’d end up in trouble.
I promise. What you say stays between us.
Okay. Well, I keep thinking about the fire. How I shoulda done it different. Like if I’d been more careful, or if I’d stepped out of the room and thrown the match in. Or perhaps if I’d used a lighter.
Elliott sat back in the uncomfortable studio chair and ran his hands through his hair. The conversation was one he shouldn’t be having. It was like being an alcoholic listening to another alcoholic detail how he’d gotten hammered the day before, shot glass by shot glass. The commentary dragged him to a place he didn’t want to be in, and left him with no means of escape. He was thousands of miles and at least ten hours away from his cottage, assuming he could find a flight. There was no way he could sit and listen to Daniel explain the improvements he’d make.
And there was a difference between him and Daniel.
There was a fine line between arsonist and pyromaniac, one only the best psychologists and therapists could navigate. Elliott’s compulsion control was a different problem to solve than the criminal chaos of a firestarter. And there wasn’t enough proof that the term “arsonist” defined Daniel, anyway. Not that he had a degree in anything relevant to help, either. Although he figured he’d sat through enough sessions and treatments to know more about it than most people.
The song the DJ was playing came to an end, the Avenged Sevenfold final line summing up his conversation with Daniel. “Your fucking nightmare”!
He typed fast. That’s the kind of thinking that takes over. You gotta learn how to stop the loop. Tell your therapist. She’ll help you learn some strategies.
I’d rather talk to you. I wish you were here to chat to.
“And we’re back with Preload, who are over for a flying visit,” the interviewer said. “Elliott, you guys have been in the studio. What can we expect to hear from you this time around?”
Elliott’s heart squeezed in his chest. He wanted to be there for Daniel, but he needed his game face on now. “An evolution of our sound. We’ve still got that strong metal edge, but there’s more of a heavy rock influence this time around.”
“Are you hoping this will grow your audience, bring in some crossover from rock lovers?” she asked, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes.
Yeah, once he might have been interested in sliding his number across the desk. Hell, while he’d played it off as the stuff of legends, it was true he’d nailed a production assistant in a storage room while visiting a well-known Canadian cable show. But not now. Not when he had Kendalee, and a kid who needed him.
He looked over at Dred, and gave him his best get - us - the - fuck - out - of - here look. “If crossover happens,
that’s great, but it wasn’t our goal. Our goal was to write music we loved and wanted to perform.”
“Well, we can’t wait to hear it. Dred, why don’t you remind listeners when the album will be available?”
Elliott stood and removed his headphones. He was done with studios the size of broom closets. He needed out before the pile of papers on the table became kindling. Following the exit signs, he pushed open a pair of fire doors. Despite the gray skies and drops of rain, he walked until he reached the banks of the Mersey. Within minutes, Nik arrived at his side.
“You okay?” he asked, leaning over the railing.
The wind whipped Elliott’s hair, annoying him, so he pulled an elastic from his wrist and threw it into a bun. “I’m dealing.”
Nikan sighed and placed his hands on the railing. “I know you love her.”
Elliott looked sharply at Nik.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Don’t give me that look,” Nik said. “We can all see it. But have you ever wondered whether being in a relationship with her is healthy?”
Elliott looked back over the stretch of churned-up water. “Daniel needs help, and Kendalee—”
“I’m not asking about what they need. Or whether it’s healthy for them. I’m asking if it is healthy for you?”
There had to be a finish line. For Daniel. A time would come to pass when Daniel was out of the hospital, when he had enough help, when he’d opened up enough that they could be around each other without it messing Elliott up inside. He looked over at Nik. “I hear you,” he replied. “But what I am dealing with, with Daniel, to be around them—it’s worth it to be around Kendalee. Shit, the way I feel when I’m with her . . . it’s like everything else just fades into the background. It’s weird . . . she helps calm me, and yet Daniel is . . .”
Nik stood tall. “We’ve got your back. You know that, right?”
Elliott nodded. It was the one constant, the one certain thing he knew.
“Well, sometimes that job comes with the responsibility to call each other on shit. And I love you. So, it’s my job to look out for you. Dude, you need help to figure all this shit out. You need to call Anne.”
Elliott Redeemed Page 19
