Losing You (Stars On Fire #4)

by Ryleigh Andrews

  “I would like that actually . . . this book though, I needed to get it out. I may have been a reporter but it never was the kind of writing I wanted to do, but I did it because my dad hadn’t done it.” Then Marc explained how the book came up from his therapy. “I had to purge the words from my head . . . my heart. I’d always known my father’s death affected me, but I’d never realized to what extent.”

  “I missed you but I’m glad you went to rehab and therapy. And right now, I’m so stoked that you’re back home where you belong.”

  “Me too. Been gone too long. Missed too much. So . . . a fourth album?”

  “Ha! Yeah. Mia’s a workhorse. Just got back from her Malibu pad last week. Album is now complete. If I didn’t love Chicago as much as I do, I’d be her neighbor there—fucking gorgeous place.”

  After her overdose, Mia had given Clark Marc’s information and he’d become his contact. She’d said that she wasn’t a person he should be around and he hadn’t talked to her since. He missed his baby girl.

  “How is Mia?”

  “Better, but not the same . . . she still seems sad . . . lost from time to time, but yeah, better. She’s arriving tomorrow. You should definitely call her. It’ll do you both good to see each other.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” he said then finished off his beer and set it on the coffee table.

  “I’ll have to do that.”

  “Good.”

  After a minute of silence, Clark spoke again. “You gonna call Tom?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Lizzie?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. He tried not to think of Lizzie . . . or Tom. Marc knew how much what he had done had hurt them, especially Lizzie. Marc had promised Tom that he wouldn’t hurt her and he’d totally let him down. He was still ashamed of that. “I lost my two best friends when I left Chicago.”

  “No, you haven’t,” Clark countered.

  “Yes, I have. Those relationships I had with both are forever changed because of the stupid ass decisions I made, the drugs I took instead of dealing with my father’s suicide.”

  “But you have. That’s what this past year has been. You’ve done it. You’re here and you haven’t lost your best friends. They are very much alive. Your relationships may be different but it doesn’t mean that you should abandon them. You can still be their friend. And it starts with you making the call to your best friend, telling him you’re back. He needs to hear it from you sooner than later.”

  When did the young one become so smart?

  After dinner, Marc claimed he was exhausted and went to his room to unpack. Once everything was in its place, Marc sat on the bed and regarded the four pictures he’d placed on the dresser. The people in them were quite literally his world. One picture was of him and the band when they were on their first tour. Next to that was a photo of him and Clark as kids before his father’s death turned his world upside down. The other two frames contained pictures of the people he’d hurt the most—Lizzie and Tom.

  Time to start fixing that. He pulled out his phone and scrolled to Tom’s number and hit the call button. When the phone started to ring, Marc stood up and paced in front of the windows, his nerves letting him know that they were present.

  “Marc?” came his friend’s voice, still the same yet there was a tremor of disbelief now.

  Marc cleared his throat. “Yeah, it’s me.” As the words came out so did the tears that blurred his eyes and burned his nose. With a quick swipe to each eye, he took care of them.

  “Where are you?” Tom asked, no hostility in his voice. Just concern.

  “Clark’s.”

  “You’re back home?”

  “Yeah. About three hours ago,” Marc replied.

  “Oh . . .” Tom said and then there was silence. He knew Tom was in his own head, trying to come up with the correct way to go about getting the answers he wanted. Marc decided to beat him to the punch.

  “I know you have a lot of questions, but if it’s all right with you, I’d like to do this in person, not over the phone.”

  “Yeah . . . sure. I’ve got a full day tomorrow, but I could do dinner?”

  “Dinner’s good. I’ll set it up and text you the details.”

  “Okay.”

  “See ya tomorrow.”

  “Marc?” Tom called out.

  “Hmm?”

  “Welcome home.”

  Marc woke up full of energy. He went out to breakfast with his brother then they returned to his place and played video games until the restaurant opened so he could set up the reservations.

  He texted Tom the info and before putting down his phone, he decided to call Mia. Marc needed to see her, plus he could do with some support in his corner when he saw Tom.

  “Hello,” came her husky voice, a little out of breath.

  “Hi, baby girl,” he said, so happy to hear her voice again.

  “Marc!” she exclaimed.

  “The one and only,” he said with a grin.

  “I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear your voice. I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too. I missed a lot,” he said, letting her take that as she would. She’d answer or ignore. If the overdose was too uncomfortable, she’d ignore.

  And she did.

  “Are you back? Tired of all the rain watering down your coffee?” she asked in reference to him living in Seattle for the past year. His brother had a big mouth. He wondered who else Clark had told.

  “Something like that. My little brother tells me you bought a sweet place in Malibu.”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “So, is that a permanent move?” he wondered because he’d really like to spend more time with her, catch up, see how she was really doing.

  “I don’t know. For the time being, I suppose so.”

  He frowned at that answer but understood the need to be away.

  “I get it. No need to explain.”

  “I’m in Chicago . . .” she offered.

  “I know. Clark told me that too. That’s the reason I’m calling. I need a favor.”

  Mia didn’t hesitate. “Anything for you!”

  Marc hoped that was the case after he asked what he was about to. “I need the support of one of my best friends when I have dinner tonight with another one.”

  “Tom?” she guessed, the excitement gone from her voice. Sorry, baby girl.

  “Yeah, Tom. I need you there, holding my hand as I tell him what I’ve been doing the past year. Please?”

  “I said anything and I meant it. What time?”

  “Pick you up at six thirty?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Can’t wait to see you, baby girl.”

  He thought he heard her sniffle on the line, but her voice came through clear. “Me either.”

  “Thanks, Mia.”

  “You’re welcome, Marc. Later.”

  Tom

  Tom was preoccupied. Not a good place for his mind to be as he drove his bike to the restaurant.

  Marc was back in town. His current lover’s ex-boyfriend. His best friend besides Lizzie.

  Tom didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what this meant. He’d tried calling Lizzie to ask her but she was still out of town for work.

  Should he tell Marc about the change in his relationship with Lizzie or should he wait until Lizzie was around? He had tried to have this conversation with Lizzie before but she’d resisted and he hadn’t wanted to push because a part of him was afraid of her answer. But now, here they were . . . Marc back and those unanswered questions needed answers . . . even if some of them he didn’t want to know.

  Tom had no idea how Marc would react to this news. Well . . . no, he did. Marc would be upset. Just how upset was up in the air. The other question that he really didn’t want to address was how Lizzie would feel about Marc’s return. Would she leave Tom and run right into Marc’s arms?

  The thought made him sick. Mia had taught him multiple t
imes that it was a distinct possibility.

  Parking his bike a few stores down, Tom made his way to the restaurant to see Marc, still not clear on what he should do.

  “Play it by ear,” he said to himself as he opened the door.

  He proceeded to the hostess who told him his party was toward the back. Sidestepping waiters and waitresses, Tom entered the back room, his eyes scanning it and finding Marc.

  His breath whooshed out of him when he saw Mia by his side.

  What the hell was she doing here, he wondered as his eyes drank her up from her much shorter hair to her tan skin barely covered by the long black tank dress she wore. Though it covered the entire length of her body, the top showed off her beautiful shoulders as well as the curve of her breasts.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her, noticing her nervousness in the repeated tugging of her lips with her teeth.

  Shaking his head, Tom approached the table. Marc stood up and Tom couldn’t stop the emotion coming at him. He pulled his friend into his arms, so damn glad he was back, regardless of the complications that came with it. His best friend was home.

  “I’m glad you’re back, man. You’re okay?” Tom asked.

  “Now I am,” Marc said, those three words saying so much.

  After a final tight squeeze, Marc backed out of his embrace and returned to his seat. Again, Tom’s gaze fell to Mia whose glassy eyes stared straight ahead, fighting not to cry. He wanted to know why she battled those tears, wanted to hear the words from her mouth.

  “Hope you don’t mind that I brought a buffer. I thought you’d be happy to see her,” Marc rambled on as Tom’s focus stayed on his ex-lover.

  “Mia,” Tom said quietly, an order in his voice, and when she lifted her eyes from his stomach to his face, her obedience managed to pull his mouth into a smile.

  Her gaze followed his hand as he reached out to her, then shot back up to his face. His nod was barely noticeable, but he made sure she saw it.

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath, and when she opened them again, Mia placed her hand in his. Tom wrapped his fingers around her delicate hand and helped her to her feet. She looked at him with teardrops dotting her eyelashes.

  He was apprehensive of his next move. He wanted to hug her but didn’t know what that would do to him because this woman before him had once meant everything to him. Part of him knew she still did.

  Tom couldn’t fight it any longer and pulled her to him, his free arm going around her, their joined hands between them, his fingers resting against her chest. Mia placed her arm around his waist, her face pressing against his chest. He loosened his captive hand from hers and wrapped it tightly around her, pulling her even closer. She felt so good in his arms, her body against his. He didn’t want to let her go, though he knew that he must.

  Tom didn’t know what possessed him to place his lips to her head, but when he did, Mia inhaled sharply, her fingers digging slightly into his back.

  “Tom,” Mia managed to say. He tightened his embrace, his lips pressing harder against her head before finally letting her go and sitting down opposite them.

  Mia returned to her seat and with a shaky hand, reached for her wine glass and gulped down a good portion of her drink. Tom wished he had a drink as well. He sure as hell would need it. He didn’t want silence nor could he stomach small talk. Time to dive right into why they were all there.

  “Marc . . . I need you to talk to me. Tell me what the hell happened to get us all to this point—sitting at a restaurant after not seeing each other for over a year. Can you do that?”

  “I need to,” his friend replied.

  “What brought you to that point . . . I thought you were clean . . .”

  “I had been. Honestly. That day with the drugs was an accumulation of a lot of things,” he said with a quick glance at Mia. Tom knew it meant something. “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you. I’m sorry I ran without telling you where I was.”

  He narrowed his eyes on Mia, remembering the night when she told him she knew where Marc was, the night she ripped his heart out. “Why did you tell Mia and no one else?” Tom asked, needing to understand why Marc had made that choice.

  Marc turned in Mia’s direction when he spoke. “She knew what I was going through. A part of me hoped it would push her to get help.”

  Her head dropped with Marc’s response, big tears falling from her eyes. Before she spoke, Mia sniffed at her tears. “Well, that plan totally backfired.”

  “Mia,” Marc spoke her name the same moment as Tom. She shook her head.

  “What? I’m just being truthful. Being honest,” she added.

  “Talk to us,” Marc pleaded.

  “Tonight isn’t about me,” Mia deflected. “And here’s our waitress.”

  “Baby girl, we are not done,” Marc said to her in a hushed tone.

  “We are done,” Mia said just as quietly. “This is something I do not want to discuss in public.”

  Not just public, Tom thought as they ordered their food.

  After the waitress left, Mia almost immediately excused herself to the restroom.

  “Tough topics Mia still bolts,” Marc said, taking a long swallow of wine.

  Tom nodded. It was her pattern. She needed to stop or she was going to run into something she couldn’t get herself out of.

  “She needs to talk about it,” Marc continued. “Clark told me she pretty much acts like it didn’t happen. There are no drugs, but she’s still broken. She almost died, and she doesn’t know what to do with it.”

  He wanted to go to her . . . wanted to help her still. Just like he had in the hospital when she was so damn vulnerable, so broken. “That day . . . in the hospital, she looked . . .” Tom began, picturing her on the bed. The memory still so clear in his mind.

  “You were there?” Marc asked.

  Guess Clark kept that quiet. “Yeah. I saw it on the news and called your brother. He told me where she was and I went to her. Clark was a mess, picturing you there.”

  “I could have easily been . . . I think of what I had in my arm when Lizzie found me. I . . . if she had been just a few seconds later what was in that needle would have been coursing through my bloodstream. She saved my life.”

  Tom was happy for that sentiment, but in saving Marc’s life, Lizzie’s suffered. Though listening to Marc speak of the drugs, Tom realized that Lizzie could have easily walked in on a dead body.

  “I’m going to check on Mia,” Marc said, clearly concerned about her and left the table.

  Tom didn’t even have time to wrap his head around a thought before Marc was heading back with Mia, the two engaged in a heated discussion.

  “Old news, okay?” he heard Mia say.

  “It helps to talk about it,” Marc suggested.

  “It has been talked about enough. The entire world has had a field day with this, dissecting it a million different ways. I am done,” Mia said, slipping out of his arm and returning to her seat, ending whatever discussion they’d been having.

  Not long after her return, the food arrived and the forays into Mia’s overdose were absent. Marc told him about what he did post-rehab. Tom was impressed with his friend writing a book. Though he wished it could’ve happened a little closer to home.

  While they ate, Tom’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his back pocket to silence it but when he saw who the caller was, he picked it up. “Hi. What’s up?” he asked, feeling weird speaking to Lizzie in front of not only Mia but Marc.

  “Hi, Pooh bear,” Lizzie said, laughter coating her sweet voice.

  Not responding to that damn nickname was an Olympic feat, though he did loudly exhale, causing Lizzie to laugh. “You love the nickname,” she pointed out.

  “Maybe,” he conceded.

  “So . . . I’m calling with some news.”

  “Do tell.”

  “Looks like I’ll be home in a few days.”

  “Oh, really?” he replied. He couldn’t contain all the excitement
he felt at that news and some of it leaked into his voice. In a few days, she’d be in his arms . . . in his bed.

  “Yeah, I should be home by seven o’clock, Friday evening.”

  “Oh, yeah? Well, I’m having a party at my place.”

  “I think I’ve been there before,” she said with a nervous chuckle.

  “Yeah, I think that could be a possibility,” he teased. “So, will I see you there?”

  “Tom . . . you and your mighty hammer are my number one priorities. I’ll have the limo drop me off there instead of my place.”

  “Fuck,” he cursed quietly. He really wished he was having this conversation privately.

  “I had wanted to call so often, but we’ve been so busy this past week. The rest of the week will be no different. This really has been my first opportunity to call,” she paused and Tom heard a muffled voice talking to her. “Shit. I’ve got to go. Break time is over.”

  “Okay. Bye,” he said, desperate to get off the phone, not missing Mia’s not-so-secretive glances in his direction.

  “Tom. Wait. Is everything all right?” she asked, her voice full of worry.

  “We’ll talk when you get back.”

  “Tom?” she pushed.

  “Everything’s okay,” he said quietly. “I promise,” he added.

  His girl knew something was up. “Damn, I have to go. You and I are so talking when I get back.”

  He didn’t reply. He hung up the phone.

  Yeah . . . talking definitely would trump hammer time. He sighed and slipped the phone in his back pocket. “Sorry about that.”

  Not entirely sure he was making the right move in asking this but he felt things needed airing out, sooner rather than later. “Are you guys going to be in town this weekend?” Tom asked them. “If so, you should come to my house on Friday. Party. It’s been awhile since we’ve all been together. We can get Marty and Clark to come . . .”

  “I’ll be there!” Marc said excitedly. “I was just talking about that with Clark a few days ago.”

  Tom turned his head to Mia wondering what she’d say.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll be heading back to California in a couple days,” she announced, her downcast eyes concentrating on her salad.