Losing Us

by Jen McLaughlin

  “It was one time,” I said, frustration making my voice hard. “Haven’t you ever messed up once before? I mean, shit, Mac. I’m trying here.”

  She let out a small laugh. “You know, I read almost those same exact words in a magazine article on the plane, but I thought it was normal tabloid junk.” She gently placed the bandage on my head, then clapped her hands together twice, as if she dusted them off. I got the distinct impression she was dusting me off her hands…and out of her life. She stood. “Apparently, your new friend likes to talk to the media even more than she likes to strip naked in your dressing room.”

  I struggled to sit, but I couldn’t get my balance. “She’s not my friend. I don’t even like her, or know her. It was all a mistake. A stupid, drunken mistake.”

  “That’s too bad,” she said, holding a hand out to help me. “It’s really just too freaking bad.”

  “You’re angry again,” I said flatly.

  “I never stopped being angry,” she replied, wiggling her fingers. “You want help or not?”

  I slid my hand into hers. The electrical spark that existed between us hit me, and I tightened my grip on hers. She pulled away slightly. “I’m sorry, Mac.”

  “I know.” She locked eyes with me. “I am too.”

  I struggled to my feet, but the room spun. I swayed a bit, trying to catch my bearings. “Shit.”

  “Come on.” She wrapped her arm around my waist and pressed her curves against me. “Let’s get you on the couch before you crack your head open again. Your head might be hard, but it’s not that hard.”

  I let her lead me into the living room. As we walked, she pressed even closer to me, her soft curves tantalizing me. Despite my aching head, my body responded to her with ferocious enthusiasm. It had been too long since she’d touched me, and man, I’d missed her. Missed the way that she fit against my body, all softness where I was hard.

  When we reached the couch, I let go of her reluctantly and yawned, my lids feeling suspiciously heavy. “I’m just going to crash. It’s been a long day.”

  A day when I’d flown into Nashville, performed, and then almost, maybe, broken up with the only girl I’d ever loved…besides Rachel. And would only ever love.

  But we weren’t broken up yet. I’d fix it after some shut-eye.

  “You can’t go to sleep.” She placed a blanket over me. “You have a possible concussion, remember? Stay awake, Austin.”

  “Yes, Mother,” I muttered, my eyes opening the tiniest fraction. “I’m up.”

  “Good. Stay that way. I’m going to go clean up all the blood and stuff.” I watched her go. She picked up my hat as she went, staring down at it. “And I’ll soak this in detergent so the blood doesn’t set in. Do not fall asleep.”

  “You worry too much.”

  “You don’t worry enough,” she countered, shooting me a warning glare.

  And then she was gone.

  “I slept through worse before.” I closed my eyes. “I’ll do so again.”

  The couch pillow and blanket smelled like her. I inhaled her scent like a starved man and turned off my mind. Tried to forget all the horrible things that had happened tonight. I was done with this day. Tomorrow, I’d fight for us. Tomorrow, I’d figure out how to get her to forgive me, and everything would be okay.

  But tonight? I needed some fucking sleep.

  I RAN the water, filling up the sink with soapy cold suds. The power was out, so there was no hot water to be had. Heck, I didn’t know which was better for bloodstains, anyway. I hadn’t exactly been much of a bleeder as a kid. The worst I’d suffered was a nasty bike spill on the sidewalk that had gashed open my knee, and my dad had cleaned it up for me before buying me ice cream at the shop.

  Hearing Austin talk about his own twisted childhood so matter-of-factly had hit me hard. He’d had such a horrible upbringing. I’d thought mine had been bad, with my drug addict mother stealing money from me and all, but before that, she’d been okay. Not mother-of-the-year material, but not like Austin’s father. I’d known his childhood was rough, but he didn’t often share glimpses of it like that.

  Just here and there, and when he spoke of it, he acted as if it was completely normal. As if every kid got beat up because he looked too “pretty.” It broke my heart. He’d known so little love in his life, and I knew he loved me. I knew he would never intentionally hurt me, so I kept trying to remind myself of that. But despite knowing…

  It still hurt.

  What really stung, though, was that my worst fears were coming true. Back when I’d met Austin, and fallen for him, I’d told him we would never work because he lived in Florida, and I was always on the go. He’d assured me he didn’t care, that he was willing to deal with my crazy life, and I’d thrown caution to the wind—and myself—in his arms.

  For a while there, I’d thought he’d been right. That we would be okay, even though we barely saw one another. That we could make it past all the fears and doubts and be happy. Really, really happy. I’d thought we could have it all. The whole relationship had played out in front of my eyes. A happy dating life, followed by a romantic proposal. A lavish wedding with a pure white wedding dress, and then the life that came after. The one with the house and kids and pets. The life I’d thought we both wanted. But then he’d dropped the bomb on me that he wanted more. That I wasn’t giving him enough of me.

  The thing was, between school and my career, I worked almost fifteen hours a day. Two hours went to eating three well-balanced meals a day, and another hour went to the gym. That didn’t leave a whole lot of time for being a dedicated girlfriend and, you know, sleeping. I didn’t have more of myself to give.

  As it was, I was already stretched thinner than any normal human should be, and I was barely holding on to my sanity. If he wanted more, then he had every right to do so.

  But he wouldn’t be able to get more from me.

  So that meant I’d been right to break up with him, whether or not he’d actually cheated on me. When he’d fallen in love with me, he probably hadn’t fully realized the type of life I led, and I didn’t blame him for second-guessing what we had. I agreed. It wasn’t enough. I’d hoped he could be a permanent part of my international tours, and we could see the world together, but it wasn’t possible because of his commitments to Rachel. Commitments I admired more than anything else. Which meant we weren’t possible. As much as I loved him…

  I had to let him go.

  And I would do it, if that was what was best for him. Letting him go wasn’t best for me, but he deserved a chance at a real girlfriend. One who lived in Florida. One who could love him as much as he deserved to be loved. I loved him more than I’d ever thought possible, but I wasn’t there most of the time.

  And I certainly understood, no matter how much it hurt, that I wasn’t enough anymore. Sometimes, like the song said, love just wasn’t enough.

  It wasn’t enough now, obviously.

  Shutting off the water, I swished his hat around in it and dried off my hands. Tossing the rag onto the counter, I followed the candles into the living room. On any other night, this would be a romantic setting, but tonight it was all falling apart.

  I was losing him. Losing us.

  Lightning flashed again, and a boom of thunder shook the house. Things were still raging out there, and God only knew how long it would be before it calmed down. Stopping outside the living room, I took a second to compose myself. He didn’t need to see how much it hurt to know it was over. “I think your hat will be okay. I—”

  Was wasting my time talking.

  He’d fallen asleep after I’d told him not to. Damn him. If he had a concussion, he didn’t need sleep. He needed to stay awake. Snatching the flashlight off the floor, I stalked across the room and stopped at his side. As I crouched beside him, I froze just short of shaking him. He looked so…so… Peaceful.

  His breaths were even, and he looked younger in his sleep. Softer. I hadn’t seen him sleep in so long. His lips were pursed and
his brow furrowed, as if he’d been having a nightmare. I reached out and gently brushed my fingers over his forehead. He instantly settled in, the creases fading away. His dark brown brows were hard and slanted, but I knew underneath those lids were the bluest eyes I’d ever seen.

  Trailing my fingers down his cheek, I traced the curve of his chin dimple. It had been one of the first things I’d noticed about him, followed by his blue eyes and dark tattoos. Then I’d talked to him, and I’d fallen under his spell. I’d thought I would never have to climb back out again. I guess I’d been wrong.

  I closed my eyes. The headline of the article I’d read on the plane flashed before my eyes. The one Diane had sold to Star. “Rock Star Austin Murphy wants out! See why he’ll break it off with America’s Sweetheart.”

  It had gone on to say he wanted to be wild and free, and explore his newfound stardom, rock-star style. Drinks, girls, and rock and roll. If the rest of the article had been true—the part about him wanting more from me—then he’d probably said the rest of those things. He might not remember it or admit it…

  But it’s how he felt, and he couldn’t erase that.

  Even if my heart didn’t want to accept it yet, my mind had already done what I needed to do. He needed to be set free, because he wouldn’t leave me. He was too honorable to do it. I had to do it for him. Tears rolled down my cheeks, and I sniffed. He was asleep, so I’d let myself have this last moment of tears, and then I’d do what my father always told me when I’d been upset as a little girl.

  Pick up my toys, and move on. Just like life always did.

  I would miss him so much, but it was for the best. For him, anyway. Not me. But I had to believe he’d thank me later. He’d get to cut loose and have fun. Screw all the Dianes in the world, and then more. If that’s what he really wanted, then he’d get it. And that was that.

  Pushing off the couch, I headed across the room to my purse. Tears blurred my vision, but I ignored them. I pulled my phone out and broke one of my rules in this house—I activated my hotspot. As the Internet powered up, two missed calls from my best friends popped up. They’d been trying to return my earlier calls.

  I opened my texts and pulled up the group iMessage between Quinn, Cassie, and myself. There were a few texts asking me if I was okay, and how my reunion with Austin had gone. I swallowed hard and typed. I broke up with Austin. Remember that article I told you about? The one that said he wanted out of the relationship?

  A few seconds passed, and then Quinn said, Yeah, but it’s just the usual tabloid fodder.

  Cassie replied, Right. Just crap.

  But it wasn’t. The source is credible, and Austin actually said that stuff. He wants more, and I can’t give it to him. I…I saw him with another girl. He claimed nothing happened, but she’s the one he talked to about this. She’s the source.

  ASSHOLE! Quinn said in all caps.

  Jerk! Cassie threw in.

  A small smile came out. My girls always had my back. I’d had Cassie’s, too, when all that drama went down a few months ago. He isn’t, though. I don’t blame him for wanting more, not really. And he didn’t break up with me, I broke up with him. I think I need to. He wants to be free…so I’m going to give it to him.

  Are you sure this is what you want? Cassie asked.

  No. I don’t want it. But he does…so I’m going to give it to him.

  Think about it first, Quinn typed. Before you jump in, think about it real long. It’s a big decision to make for the both of you.

  I already told my publicist. The decision was made the second he decided I wasn’t enough. I’m setting him free, and he’ll thank me later. I’m sure of it, or I wouldn’t be doing it.

  Mac… Cassie typed.

  I don’t know… Quinn typed at the same time.

  But I do. It’s done.

  After a few more exchanges in which I promised to let them both know how everything was going, I said my goodbyes and opened up my email. There was an email from my PR person, so I opened it up. All it said was: Are you SURE?

  No, of course not. I didn’t want this at all. But he’d been so miserable that he may or may not have cheated on me, and then forgotten about it. And so miserable he’d complained to a groupie about our relationship. My thumb hovered over the screen, and I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to do this…

  But I should.

  I walked over to Austin, my thumb still hovering over my screen. If only there was a sign I was doing the right thing. Something to tell me that I should follow through with my plan, and break it off for his own good. Because I was wavering. Maybe I should keep trying. Keep fighting…

  On the table next to him, his phone lit up with a message, and I glanced down out of habit. The message, of course, was from Diane. And it had a heart emoticon next to it. He’d saved her number in his phone. My heart wrenched, and I closed my eyes.

  I shouldn’t read it, but I was going to anyway. This was the sign I’d been asking for, even if it wasn’t the one I’d been hoping for. Slowly, I bent down, picked it up, and read the message on the lock screen.

  Sorry if I got you in trouble with the old lady. And sorry for spilling the beans about that night we shared. That was personal, and I shouldn’t have told anyone, like you asked me to. Let me know when you’re back in Florida, so I can make it up to you…personally. ;)

  Dropping the phone back to the table, I closed my eyes and a small, shattered sound escaped me. Just when I’d thought I couldn’t break any more, life proved me wrong. He’d said nothing had happened between the two of them, but I didn’t think that was the case. Not anymore. Fans didn’t have your number, and have their name in your phone with a freaking heart emoticon. And they definitely didn’t call your girlfriend the “old lady” and apologize for “spilling the beans.”

  I’d never, ever given a fan my phone number, or made them think they were someone who could call me and text me. There had to boundaries. Rules. Or people could get hurt. If I’d needed one more reason to let him go…

  I’d just gotten it. Loud and clear.

  Waking my phone, I jotted off a quick reply to my publicist and hit send before I backed down. As my fingers flew over the screen, my tears dried up. It might hurt like hell, but I knew what I had to do. Knew what needed to be done. It was up to me now to get it that way. To accept what was staring me in the face.

  It was time to let Austin go.

  I RAN through the dark streets of Miami, chasing Mac as she tried to escape me. My heart pounded hard, and I increased my pace, knowing if she got away I’d never see her again. I’d lose her.

  “Come back!” I called out, pumping my arms and legs so fast it hurt. “Don’t leave!”

  “Austin,” I heard from a distance, as if through a wall or something. I’d know that voice anywhere, and I knew who was shaking my shoulder. It was Mackenzie. How was that possible when she was right in front of me, running away? “Austin!”

  I jerked awake, which hurt my head, and blinked at the ceiling, my breaths coming ragged and uneven. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “I told you to stay awake.” She lifted a flashlight, grabbed hold of my head—which pressed her wrist up against my mouth—and shone the light into it. The brightness hurt my already aching head. “You were having a nightmare¸ crying out in your sleep.”

  I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. I still couldn’t breathe, as if I’d actually been running. “Yeah, I know.”

  “What was it about?” she asked, her touch soft.

  “Losing you.”

  She froze, but then went back to doing whatever it was she was doing. “Stay still. I need to check you over.”

  She was obviously still concerned I had a concussion, but I was 99 percent certain she was wrong. My head hurt, and my heart hurt, but that was it.

  My brain, unfortunately, was just fine.

  “Do I have a choice?” I mumbled against her wrist. If she hadn’t been so angry with me, I’d have licked it or nipped at it. “I tol
d you, I’m fine.”

  “Your pupils are responding nicely,” she said, ignoring me. Her tone was professional, as if she did this for a living. Again, it scared the shit out of me. She was acting as if we were already done. We weren’t. She shifted to the other eye, and I turned away from the light because it hurt. “I told you to stay still.”

  Her face was mere inches from mine, and the need to close the distance between us, to kiss her until she forgot why she was mad at me, was overpowering. I swallowed back the impulse, knowing it wouldn’t be welcome. “Do you even know what you’re looking for?”

  “Yes.” Lowering the flashlight, she flicked it off. Again, she sat there beside me, so close I could touch her, but unable to do so. “So far, so good. But you still need to stay awake for a little while longer, just to be safe.”

  I nodded once, fingering the bandage she’d placed over my wound. “My hat?”

  “It’s soaking. I think it’ll be okay.” She smoothed the blanket over me. “How’s your head feeling?”

  “Better than the rest of me.” I caught her gaze. “Thank you for taking care of me and my hat.”

  She nodded but didn’t speak.

  Fear, of the like I’d never known, pierced through my chest. She’d shut me out already. I could see it. Hear it. Feel it. “Can we talk?”

  “It’s a free country,” she said, her tone as even as before. “Talk all you want.”

  “You have to understand…I didn’t mean to hurt you, Mac.”

  She fidgeted with the blanket. “I know, but you did. I had to hear you were unhappy through a magazine, and through some other girl. You told her before you told me.”

  Shit, I got it now. Got why she was so upset.

  I should have come to her first. Told her I missed her and wanted to see her, but I hadn’t wanted to stress her out more than she already was.

  Despite what she thought, I knew she was a busy woman. I got it. So I hadn’t wanted to add more stress to her life by being a clingy boyfriend. Fuck that shit. She didn’t need me weighing her down. I was supposed to help her, not make her life harder.