by Carian Cole
I grab her and lift her off him. "I'm sorry, I don't know why she keeps doing this." Every time he lies down, she curls up against his bad ear and won't leave him.
"Leave her. She purrs against my head and it helps drown out the ringing in my ear. I like it."
"Oh…" I didn't know that. I place her back on the bed and she immediately crawls back up on his shoulder, under his hair. It's so endearing that I want to take a picture, but now doesn't seem like the time for photos.
"I just talked to Dr. Hollister. She said you missed the last two video meetings."
"Fuck her. I'm sick of telling her how I feel."
I swallow hard. "It's part of the project, Tal. We agreed to it. Are you writing in your journal?"
He rolls his eyes. "Yes, I'm writing in my journal. You want to read it?"
Yes. Very much. I want to know what's going on in his head. I want to know how he feels about me. "No. It's private. If you don't follow the rules we agreed to, then you may not get the payment at the end."
He makes a face at me. "Do I look like I care about that? Or are you afraid you might not get your cut because I'm not playing by the rules? Don't worry, babe. I'll give you fifty grand in cash if you want to go."
I glare at him from the foot of the bed. "That's the last thing I'm worried about, Talon. I'm worried about you. I'm worried about us. Look at you. You've been in that bed for a week. The doctor said you have to move around, learn to fight the vertigo."
"Fuck him. Let him walk around falling into shit and get accused of being wasted all the time. I'm done with it."
"And you're always in a bad mood. We have two weeks left of this experiment, and I'm scared. Are you going to leave me?" Finally, I spit out my fears.
He puffs on his e-cig, which now has some sort of legal liquid weed or something in it that is supposed to calm him down, and gives me an expressionless stare.
"Do you want me to?" Even pissed off and being nasty, he looks so sexy and adorable to me lying in bed with the cat curled up against his head. I ache to have him teasing me again, playing cat and mouse with me again. I miss having him hold me all night.
"How can you even ask me that? You know I don't want that."
"No, I don't."
"Then you're stupid!" I yell at him and storm out of the room. That man is going to drive me crazy. I go downstairs to the kitchen, where I have homemade batter waiting to make his favorite cupcakes for him. In an effort to make him smile, I even bought special supplies and watched a video tutorial on how to make the white icing look like a little sculpted cat head, with candy eyes, ears, nose, and little whiskers.
Two hours later, he comes into the kitchen, bare chested, with faded jeans hanging low on his hips, unbuttoned. My insides quiver just looking at him, even though I'm still upset with him. He stares at the three-tiered platter of cat cupcakes.
"You made me cupcakes," he says, surprised. "Or are they soap?"
I turn to the sink to wash my hands. "No, they're real cupcakes."
"They're cats. Like Pixie."
"Yup."
"They look adorable. Almost too good to eat."
"Well, you better eat them. It took me hours to make them for you."
He comes around the kitchen island to stand closer to me. "You made me cupcakes? When I've been such an asshole? Why?"
I turn around to face him, fighting back the tears I've been holding in since our fight. "Because even though you've been an asshole, I want you to be happy. I want to see you smile again."
"You called me stupid."
"Sometimes you are."
He nods and bites the head off a cupcake. "You're right." He swallows, and he has a tiny bit of icing on his lip that he licks off, reminding me of how his tongue felt on my skin when he used to lick me all over. "These are fucking awesome, baby. I feel like I'm eating Pixie's head, though."
I laugh a little. "I didn't think of that when I made them."
He grabs my chin and forces me to look at him. "Have you been crying?"
I try to look down, but he holds me still. "Yes…a little."
"I don't want to make you cry, Aze. I'm just—"
"I love you," I interrupt.
His eyes go huge. "What?"
I gulp and say it again. "I love you. And I don't know why you don't love me back." My voice cracks and a tear slides down my cheek as I stare up into his face.
He brushes his thumb across my cheek, wiping the tears. "Is that what you think?"
I nod, unable to talk. I never should have said anything.
"Then ya know what?" he says, taking a deep breath. "You're stupider than I am." He moves his hand to the back of my neck and pulls me hard against his lips. "I do love you. I love you more than anyone ever fucking loved anybody, okay?" My knees go weak as he kisses me, and I have to cling to his shoulders to hold myself up.
"That's a lot," I whisper.
"Damn fucking right."
He loves me.
He picks me up and heads for the living room, throwing me down on the couch and falling on top of me. "I'm afraid I'll drop you if I carry you up the stairs," he says, kissing me.
"The bed's too far away, anyway," I reply as we tear each other's clothes off and fling them around the living room. He kisses my neck, sucking hard enough that I know it will leave a mark, but I don't care. I only care that he's back to his normal self right now.
And he loves me!
His lips move down my body, his tongue dragging over my breasts and teasing my nipples before he continues down my stomach, making me shiver. He lifts my legs over his shoulders and lowers his head between my thighs, his mouth and fingers working magic on my pussy as he licks my folds and slowly slides two fingers into me.
I reach down and tangle my fingers in his hair, writhing beneath him but trying not to roll my hips too much. This is one of the few times we've been able to fool around without him getting dizzy, and I don't want to do anything to bring on an episode. After a few minutes of ecstasy, I gently pull him up to me.
"I want you inside me," I say, wrapping my legs around his waist.
"Say it first." He teases me with the head of his cock, rubbing it back and forth against my clit.
"I want you inside me," I repeat, squeezing his shoulders. God, I love how muscular and hard he feels.
"Not that…"
I groan in frustration, not sure what he wants, and grind myself against him.
"Talon, please…"
"Say it, and I'll give it to you, baby."
"I love you?"
"It's a question now?" He grins wickedly at me and continues his teasing, pressing against my opening.
"No. No question at all. I love you." I pull his head down and kiss his lips. "I love you." I kiss him again and push my hips to him. "I love you."
He slides his shaft into me slowly, making sure I feel every hard inch of him, until I've taken his full length.
"Wow, I love you," I breathe against him, my hands sliding down his back. "So much."
Staring down into my eyes, his hair falling over us, I can see his expression change. His eyes soften and his lips curve into the smile that always melts me. He's like a happy little puppy, wagging his tail. He wants to be loved. Why did it take us so long to get here?
"I love you too, jelly bean. With every one of my fuckin' heartbeats."
38
TALON
AS USUAL, Finn is in Lukas's work area when I get to the shop for my appointment. I missed a few of my ink appointments because I couldn't drive and I didn't want to drag Asia down here, but since I feel pretty good today, I drove myself here. Other than getting down my own driveway, it wasn't too bad.
"Hey, Tally-Ho, how are you feeling?" Finn asks, louder and slower than he has to. I hate this prick.
"Great. Thanks for impersonating me when I was in the hospital. Sorry you had to read all those reviews online about how your playing sucked compared to mine. You tried, though."
"Guys…" Lukas warn
s. "This is a non-asshole zone."
Finn smirks. "It's too bad you won't be able to hear your hot little wife scream in pleasure anymore. That must suck."
I grind my teeth. "I hear her just fine, man."
"Well, it looks like she's got a backup lined up for when you go totally brain-dead. I saw her with another guy on my way over here."
In a flash, I push Lukas out of the way and pummel Finn in the face.
"Don't talk about my wife," I say calmly, wiping his blood off my hand.
Lukas jumps up. "Okay, that's enough. I won't tolerate this shit." He stares Finn down, as he's definitely contemplating punching me back. And I want him to. "Finn, I love you like a brother, man, but you're a fucking asshole. I'm moving your appointments so you're not here on the same day anymore. Get your shit and leave. I'll call you when I find a time for you."
Rayne comes running in as Finn stands, and she starts to go crazy, touching his face and freaking out like I just punched Jesus. "Oh my God!" She turns to me. "What the hell did you do to him? He's bleeding."
I shrug. "I got dizzy and somehow my fist landed on his face."
She shakes her head at me like I'm a lunatic and walks Finn out, holding a towel over his face. I don't like how friendly she seems with him. If that fucker is messing with my little sister, I'll kill him.
"Nice, Tal," Lukas says, spraying bleach all over the chair. "Did you really have to do that?"
"Yes. He's been begging for it for months."
"He did you guys a favor filling in for you on the tour. And he's not a bad guitarist. You know that."
"I don't care. He's a douchebag, and he got what he deserved. Did you see how Rayne was falling all over him? I don't like it."
"They're friends—that's it. I've never seen him touch her."
"He fuckin' better not."
Lukas puts away his cleaning stuff and reorganizes his desk while I get comfy in the chair, rubbing my hand.
"You need to calm the hell down,” he says, then changes the subject, because Lukas is a peacemaker. “So you made it here without crashing. That's good."
"Yeah, I feel pretty good today. Not as dizzy. Just that fuckin' noise in my head."
"You're still struggling at practice, though. We all see it."
I take a drag off my e-cig. "Everything sounds fucked up to me, but I'm trying to get used to it. I think by the time we go on tour, I'll be able to get through the set."
He turns his stool toward me. "And what if you can't? You gotta be realistic, man."
My mood is going south again fast. "What are you trying to say?"
"I'm not trying to say anything other than I hope things work out… But if they don't, I've had an idea I've been playing around with in my head for a while that I've been wanting to talk to you about."
"Oh, yeah? What's that?" Last time someone suggested an idea to me, I ended up marrying a stranger. Which turned out okay, so I guess I'm open to another one.
"You know how me and you were jammin' the acoustic stuff in the studio last week?"
"Yeah…"
"You played that great, and you could play sitting down."
"True."
"So, it seems like the toned-down stuff and the acoustic pieces are easier for you. Like, it's not fucking up your head so much. I think the loudness, the amps, and the vibration of all the instruments at once is making you worse."
I nod. "Yeah, that's definitely true." I've been playing a lot of acoustic at home now. And he's right, it's a lot easier for me.
"I was thinking, what if we finished writing some of those songs you and I were messing with, all unplugged. I can play the violin or mandolin on some, you could play guitar and sing, we can throw in a little piano, and Rayne could sing on some, too. Her voice is so melodic, man. It's haunting. You could do some really cool duets, just everything stripped down like some cool-ass, folk ballad stuff."
"You want to start a band?"
"Yeah, just us. And play some local gigs, no tours. I hate not playing, man, but I can't leave the shop and I'm not gonna do that tour shit. I want to be with Ivy and the kids, not on a fucking bus. But this, we could do. And you can write the kind of songs you want, instead of the band always fucking with your songs. You're different than them, ya know. You're more like me. You play with way more soul and emotion. It's in your bones in a different way."
My interest is piqued. Lukas can play pretty much every instrument under the sun. There's no doubt we could create some amazing songs. I've been at a crossroads with Ashes & Embers for a while now. Lukas is correct that I want to write and perform deeper songs and lyrics and not just rock out on stage.
A & E is my family, though. It's what my dad has conditioned me to do since I was five—play the guitar and be in a band with my brothers. For some reason, my interest in singing was always ignored. Even though she's young, Rayne has a unique, raspy, lilty voice, but she hates the entire rock band scene. My parents purposely tried to keep her away from it, not wanting a daughter in the industry. This would be good for her, too.
Truth be told, I like to sing. I love ballads. And I absolutely love the raw, unplugged sound.
I watch the gun needle go in and out of my arm. "Lemme think about it."
"No pressure. I just think it would be good for all of us, and we work well together."
I nod. "It would be hard to leave the band, but maybe you're right. Maybe it's time for a change. I gotta try to get through this next tour first and see how it goes. I'm on some new meds."
"That's cool, man. The offer will stand. I won't do this with anyone but you."
"You've definitely got my mind going. I never considered anything like this before."
He looks up at me and smiles. "Well, now you can."
I rub the side of my head, trying to ignore the buzzing. "Tomorrow's the big day. The end of the experiment."
"Holy shit, really? That kinda flew by."
"In some ways, yeah."
"You're staying together, right?"
"Hell, yeah,” I try to sound enthusiastic, but I have my doubts. I’m not sure how she feels anymore. Or what I can promise her.
He slaps my arm. "Congratulations, man. We're gonna have to celebrate."
ON MY WAY out of town, I get stuck behind a school bus that keeps stopping every three blocks, and the familiar dizziness starts. Shit. I bang the steering wheel, hoping I can get home without having to pull over and puke on the side of the road. Popping my e-cig in my mouth, I turn the air conditioning on full blast, hoping the cold air will help me feel better and stave off the nausea that usually isn't far behind the vertigo.
As I wait for the bus in front of me to move, I look over to my right and see a girl who looks just like Asia standing in front of the diner, talking to a guy who's smiling down at her. I blink, trying to clear my head, and my blood turns to ice as they hug. She doesn't just look like my wife—that is my wife.
The driver behind me leans on his horn as I freeze in the middle of the road, torn between driving away and jumping out of the car to find out what the fuck she's doing down here with a guy I don't recognize. Who's fucking hugging her now. They're so wrapped up in whatever they're talking about they don't even look over at the guy blaring his horn behind me. If she did, she would definitely see me. But she doesn't, because she's totally focused on him.
The piercing whirl in my ear ramps up several decibels as I drive home in a rage, my brain spinning, trying to figure out an explanation. She never leaves the house. She doesn't know anyone. She was home when I left this morning, sitting on the floor cutting fabric and telling me to be careful. She blew me a kiss and told me she loved me.
When I finally get home, I expect to see her car in the garage. I hoped the vertigo was making me hallucinate the entire thing, but she's not home.
I enter the house through the garage door and head into the kitchen, and there's a note on the counter.
Ran to the store. Xo
Panic rises up in me. Maybe s
he wasn't with that guy by choice. Maybe she was at the store and he took her, like an abduction.
She was smiling, though, not trying to get away. Whoever he is, she knows him. She let him put his arms around her, and she had her arms around him. My blood boils.
WHOOSH.
I follow Pixie down the hall to the craft room and see the fabric still on the floor, like she left in a hurry. She always cleans up when she's done working. Did she fucking bolt the minute I got off the hill? I stopped at Asher's before I went to the tattoo studio, so she had some time to do whatever it is she's doing.
I turn to leave the room and spot her journal on her desk next to her laptop, lying open with a pen on the page. In the six months we've been doing this, I've never touched her journal.
But today, the last day of this experiment, I pick it up and read the most recent entry.
This process has taught me so much about myself. I've learned so much about what I want, what I need, and what makes me happy. Given the choice, I never would have married him. He's broken my heart a thousand times. I hate what's happened to him and how it's changed him. Things were so good for a while, and then they changed.
And of all times for D to come back into my life. I've ignored his texts for weeks, but he just won't let up. I can't tell Talon. He’ll never understand. I don't even understand. I feel like I can't move forward and I can't go back until I get the answers I need. I'm stuck.
What the fuck does that mean?
She never would have married me. If given the choice. And she's stuck.
Stuck with me—the loser who’s going deaf. Does she just feel sorry for me now? Stuck with the fucked-up, crumbling rock star who can barely please her without falling off the bed half the time?
And now she's with Danny. Of course, that must have been him I saw her with.
Motherfucker.
Whoosh
I didn't think the sound in my head could get any worse, but fuck yeah, it is. It's like a train just drove straight through my ear. I'm actually shaking as I'm standing here holding her journal. I drop it back on her desk like it's on fire and go upstairs to take more of my pills, staring at her side of the bed while I wait for them to start to work. Then I pull out my own journal, along with the final paperwork we're supposed to fill out and bring with us to our meeting with Dr. Hollister tomorrow.
