He opened the front door, expecting to find her on the phone with Ethan. He didn’t know what else she would be doing out there. Instead, he found her sitting in one of the chairs he had on the porch. She was just looking at the trees, lost in thought. The sun was starting to lighten the sky. As soon as Chris spotted Val, he said, “Mama!”
Brad sat in the chair next to Val, ready to hand Chris over to her, but he seemed content in his arms. “How’d you sleep?”
She shrugged. “What about you?”
“Probably about the same.”
“Did I wake you up?”
He lied. “No. Chris did. He might be hungry.”
“Yeah, probably.” She touched Chris’s nose. “My little pumpkin.”
The child smiled at his mother and touched his nose too, imitating her. “Pukkin.” Val started laughing.
Seeing the smile on that woman’s face made everything seem better. She really was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known. No, it wasn’t her looks. If it were looks only, she’d have stiff competition. Yes, she was beautiful on the outside, but it was the person he saw inside too. She was a beautiful soul—caring, giving, passionate, even if she was sometimes stupid in love. Since he’d met her, he’d felt like she was his other half, like she could see inside his soul and knew him, really knew him, and he felt the same way. He would read her lyrics and feel like she’d reached inside his heart to pull out his raw emotions and slap them on the page. But, more than that, he would read her words and know what the catalyst was for a particular song.
That was why he’d known at one time she’d considered loving him but had held herself back.
And why was he letting himself feel these things so deeply now? It would never work. He knew that. He was just fucking putting himself through the wringer if he deluded himself into thinking otherwise.
Still…he was going to allow himself this moment to enjoy her and her son. No pressure, no thoughts about tomorrow. They’d get there at some point, but for now…for now, he wanted to enjoy her beauty, let it wash over him, and maybe—just for a second—he could pretend that Val had chosen him and not his fucked up friend. How different their lives would have been if…
No. He couldn’t go there. Instead, he let her laughter wash over him and he smiled at her. “I can put some coffee on, or would you rather grab some breakfast somewhere?”
“I just want coffee right now.” She frowned. “I hate to bug you, but do you have some cereal or something Chris could eat?”
“Can he do scrambled eggs and toast?”
“Yeah.”
“Then let Uncle Brad make some breakfast too.”
She touched his arm then, and that made the psychic scar he’d been fiddling with all the more painful. “Brad…thanks for everything. You’ve always been my best friend. I can always turn to you. Always. And…I’m sorry I always get you involved in the middle of all my bullshit.”
His mind flashed back to last night, his fist in Ethan’s face over and over. He tried to laugh, but he really wanted to cry. “Jesus. You have no idea.” She grimaced. She’d misunderstood, and that was his fault, because she had no idea what he’d been up to the night before. He shook his head. “Come on…I’ll explain over breakfast.”
They got inside and Chris then decided he wanted his mother. She took him in her arms and said, “Oh…he needs a diaper change. Be right back.”
She went back to his bedroom and he felt like a heel. He probably could have changed that diaper, but he’d never changed one before. He could tell Chris was soaking wet, but he didn’t even know where Val had put the baby stuff.
He was being way too hard on himself. He made his way to the kitchen and grabbed some eggs out of the fridge. He melted butter in a skillet and then scrambled a few eggs before dumping them in the skillet. Val came in then, setting Chris on the floor with a toy. She had a bottle of juice that she took the lid off of and then screwed on a nipple, handing it to him. She asked, “Want me to make coffee?”
“Sure.” He needed it.
He glanced over at her while she looked around the kitchen. “I don’t have a high chair for the little guy.”
“Maybe a stack of books or something to sit on?”
“If you don’t care if he’s standing, he could just eat in the living room, and we could put his food on the coffee table.”
She smiled at him. God, he’d do anything for that smile. “Have you seen the way he eats?”
He shrugged, removing the skillet from the hot burner. “Fuck it. You only live once, right? I own a vacuum.”
“Your house. If you’re sure.”
He pulled a saucer out of the cupboard. “Little guy’s gotta eat. You want any?”
“No.”
He pulled a plate out of the cabinet as well, just as the bread popped out of the toaster. “Suit yourself.” He filled both the plate and saucer with eggs and then buttered the toast for Chris, placing it next to his eggs. “A spoon for the little guy?”
“Yeah, but he’ll probably just use his hands.” He smiled and opened the silverware drawer, taking out a spoon for the kiddo and a fork for himself. The coffeepot started to sputter and Val asked, “Sugar and cream?”
He nodded, and then took the food to the living room. Then he went to the linen closet in the hallway and took out a bath towel to spread out where Chris would be eating. He didn’t want Val to fret about Chris’s eating habits. It would be easy to clean up if it all landed on the towel. By the time he returned to the kitchen, Val had two cups of coffee doctored and ready to drink. “Want me to get the coffee or Chris?”
“If you don’t mind getting Chris…”
“Come on, buddy.” He bent over and picked Chris up, grabbing his bottle of juice with him. When he got to the coffee table, he stood Chris right in front of his food. Brad touched the top of the scrambled eggs—not too hot. Then he sat on the couch on the other side and Val joined him, placing a cup of coffee in front of him on the coffee table but out of Chris’s reach. Chris was already shoving eggs in his mouth, using his hand just as Val had predicted.
Brad touched his fork but didn’t pick it up. “I don’t know why I made any for me. I’m not that hungry. Sure you don’t want any?”
She nodded, sipping her coffee. “I’m sure.” She took a deep breath. “So what were you going to say about being in the middle of my crap?”
He shook his head. Part of him didn’t want to tell her, because he didn’t know what she’d think of him from that point on. She’d know he had a dark side, a horrible secret. He’d pummeled her husband, for Christ’s sake, and she might not find it easy to forgive him. “It’s not what you think.” He had to force the words out, though. He’d never lied to Valerie, and he didn’t plan to start now. He took another drink of his coffee and said, “I went to your place last night.”
She looked at him for a bit before saying, “You what?”
He couldn’t stop now. “Yeah, Val.” Hurting Ethan had been the culmination of years of shit, but seeing what his friend had done to Val had caused the dam to break—he hadn’t been able to hold it in any longer. He didn’t know how to explain that…but he had to try. “You’re not the only one having Ethan problems. And…what he did to you yesterday. That’s it. We’re supposed to be rehearsing three days a week, and we’re lucky if he comes to one. And when he bothers, he’s argumentative and asinine. Nick, Zane, and I have been considering kicking his ass out, even though he was a founding member.” He took a deep breath, looking down at his hands. “He’s a wrecking ball. He doesn’t create; he destroys. He tells us our new material sucks, but he won’t do anything to help. And know what? He couldn’t, because it’s the most perfect stuff we’ve ever written. But he wasn’t involved in it, and that’s why he hates it.”
“That’s his fault for not being there.”
“Damn right.” It didn’t make him feel any better about what he’d done, though. “But he doesn’t see it that way, and until he does, he’ll
never change.” He grabbed his coffee and forced himself to look at Val. “I was lying here on the couch last night, and I was pissed. Pissed about what he did to you, even though you haven’t told me exactly what happened. Pissed that he doesn’t give a shit about his friends, his band, his kid. Nothing. He’s so goddamned self-absorbed. When we were kids, you know, that was fine, but Ethan never grew out of it. I’d stood by and never said a word, but I’m done.
“So…I just told him he has a week to get his shit together or he’s out.”
“That’s fair.”
“I don’t want you worrying about income, Val. You’re still writing most of our lyrics. You’re in the loop. We’ll take care of you.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
“I know. But…” He took a deep breath, clenching his jaw together. He was not going to fucking lose it again. “I also beat the shit out of him, Val.” He hung his head, resting his forehead on his fist. “I’m sorry. I just…am so angry.”
She touched his shoulder. God…she forgave him. She’d already forgiven him when he didn’t know how to forgive himself. “I know, Brad. I know.”
He looked at her. “If he ever touches you again, I’ll probably kill him.” It scared him, but he knew it was true.
“He won’t. Ethan and I are done. Forever.”
Oh, God, if only he could believe it. But they’d been there…over and over and over again. Val had told Ethan she was done more times than Brad could remember. And he couldn’t—wouldn’t—believe it ever again.
Chapter Fifty-seven
BRAD AND VAL started texting like the old days, but he stayed away. Yeah, four months and Val and Ethan were still apart, but he knew they’d been apart longer in the past, only to get back together. Brad would be a fucking fool to make a move, and he knew it.
He and Karen were definitely done. As promised, she had come by later that day to get her things. Val had called her parents earlier that day and decided to visit them for a week or so. Brad called Ethan a few days later and met him for lunch. He apologized and Ethan said it was cool. Brad could tell the guy was in the worst shape he’d ever been in, but he didn’t know what to do.
Ethan moved out of his house, letting Val and Chris have it. And he tried twice to show up to rehearsals, but he was blitzed out of his mind. Brad went to the powers that be and told them Ethan was out of the band. They weren’t pleased. Ethan was publicity, plain and simple, and no publicity was bad, they said. He kept the band in the spotlight. After Brad yelled, asking them if they were out of their fucking minds, they asked him and the other two guys to sit tight for a few more months. Money was still pouring in, not only from album sales but also merchandise. There was no rush. The band’s manager and label agreed, but the label was not amused with Brad’s demands.
They didn’t know Brad very well. Brad felt the need to make sure he was still on top. Number one. It wasn’t about the money.
To quell his fury, the label let him, Nick, and Zane release a single, something to keep fans interested and eager, and they’d have no idea Ethan wasn’t involved.
Ethan was in bad shape, though. He was living with a woman who was draining him dry, and Brad decided not to deal with the guy anymore. It hurt too badly. If the goddamned label wanted Ethan, they could fucking deal with him.
A couple months later, Val called him and asked if he’d come over for dinner. He expected her to want to talk to him about Ethan. They’d been down this road before too. When she’d worried about Ethan in the past and hadn’t known what to do, she’d ask Brad. This time, though, he’d washed his hands of the guy. Until Ethan cleaned up his act, Brad couldn’t go there anymore. It hurt too much. He couldn’t watch Ethan kill himself anymore.
Reluctantly, he agreed to visit Valerie. Before he left his house, he stood in front of his mirror. “Don’t you fucking give in to her, Payne. Not again. If she says Ethan’s name once, shut her down, right then and there.” He nodded his head and walked out of his room toward the front door, continuing the thought. When she mentioned Ethan, he was going to tell her to seek psychiatric help. He’d be sincere about it. He believed she and Chris had a lot of healing to do.
He had managed to talk her into getting her long-overdue throat surgery now that she had the money to do it, so maybe she’d listen to him again.
He drove slowly to her house. He was looking forward to seeing her and Chris, but he was afraid too. Val had more control over him than she’d ever know, and he still felt like a major asshole for unleashing his fury on Ethan.
He almost bought her flowers and stopped himself from doing it. They were friends and that would be all they’d ever be.
It didn’t matter that his heart was crying out to him, telling him he needed to tell her how he felt.
Fuck that. Every time he’d ever come close, she’d driven another knife into his heart. He had to stop torturing himself with those thoughts.
He rang the doorbell to her house and waited. He could hear dried, dead leaves rustling on the lawn behind him as the breeze blew them around, and he took a deep breath. He wasn’t cold, but he could tell the night was going to get colder.
Val answered the door, her hair pulled up in a ponytail. She looked harried and overheated. Chris came to the door too. “Hey, come in.” Chris tilted his head. “You remember Uncle Brad, don’t you, sweetie?”
He nodded. “Uncka Brad.”
“Oh, you’re getting better at that.” He closed the door behind him and stuck out his hand. “Give me five.” Chris grinned and slapped Brad’s palm. “Atta boy.” He started following Val to the kitchen, Chris walking beside him. He noticed she had flour on the back of her jeans where she’d wiped her hands. “You look a little stressed.”
“Let’s just say nothing has come out according to plan.” They walked in the kitchen. The entire table was covered with flour and Chris handprints. The kitchen was muggy, and the windows were fogged with condensation. “I wanted to make cheese ravioli, but it’s all fuck—er, messed up.” She gave Chris a quick glance. He was eyeing the table, no doubt ready to rake his fingers through the flour again. “They hit the water and fall apart, so I’ve got what looks more like mini lasagna noodles and boiled ricotta.” She grabbed a raw ravioli off a plate on the stove and dropped it in the boiling water. “See?” No, he couldn’t see. He was halfway across the room, but he could tell she was at the end of her rope. “And I still haven’t made the garlic bread or the salad.”
Brad pulled his jacket off and draped it over the chair in the kitchen farthest from Chris. He didn’t want flour all over his black leather jacket. He’d live if Chris managed to get it, but if he could avoid it, all the better. “What can I do to help?”
She shrugged. “Wave a magic wand?”
He laughed. “I have a better idea. Turn off the stove. Take a deep breath. Then hand me the phone and I can order a pizza.”
“But—”
“Or we can eat your mini lasagna noodles. I bet your sauce is awesome.”
She started laughing hysterically, almost near tears. “I haven’t even made the sauce. Chris kept getting into everything and I just wanted it to be perfect.” She frowned, pulling her lips together. Shit—she really was about to lose it. “I wanted to have it ready by the time you got here. I didn’t even have a chance to shower. He—”
Brad was standing in front of her then, and he put his hands on her shoulders. “No big deal.” He didn’t know what possessed him then, but he kissed her on the forehead. “Go take your shower. Relax. I’ll call in a pizza, okay?”
Her beautiful blue-green eyes searched his and then he saw her let go of her tension. “Okay.”
“Don’t come out till you feel better.”
She smiled. “Thanks.” She started to say something else, but she took the apron off and tossed it on the counter.
Brad watched her walk down the hall and then turned off the burner. He looked at Chris who now had his hands in the flour on the table. “You kep
t your mama busy today, didn’t you?”
Chris grinned. “Ravi.”
Brad laughed. “Yeah, ravi. Crazy, dude.”
“Dude.”
Brad pulled out his cell phone and looked up nearby pizza places that delivered to her neck of the woods. He placed an order for a large, half pepperoni, half extra cheese, and a salad. He spied a bottle of red wine on the counter and popped it in the fridge to cool for a little bit. He knew there was some rule about not putting wine in the fridge, but he didn’t give a fuck, and he doubted Val did either. That woman was going to want a glass of wine when she got out of the tub, and it would taste better cool.
He filled the sink with hot soapy water. “We’re going to clean up for your mom, buddy.”
“Keen.”
“Yeah, keen.” Chris left the room and Brad wondered if he should check on him. He figured he would after he got all the excess flour off the table. So he found the trashcan and wiped the flour off the table with the rag into the trash. Then he tossed the cloth back in the sink and walked down the hall. “Chris?”
Chris emerged from his bedroom with an electronic drum set. “Wanna come with me back to the kitchen? Show me how that works?” The child nodded and walked beside Brad. He played the noisy toy while Brad cleaned the rolling pin and pot. He left the plate of raw pasta and bowl of cooked alone so Valerie could decide what she wanted to do with them. He finished cleaning off the table and was wiping down the counter and stove when she joined them.
She was a vision. Her hair was damp and a little curly, but she’d combed it out. She wasn’t wearing much makeup—just a little around her eyes—but she was stunning. She seemed relaxed too, just like he’d hoped. “Oh, my God, Brad. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know I didn’t.”
Crash! Boom! went Chris’s drum toy. “And I am over that stupid thing.” He laughed. “Only Ethan would think that was a cool toy to give a kid.”
“Aw, Val, he’s learning music. That’s a good thing, right?” She shrugged and kissed Chris on top of his head. “Where are your wine glasses?” The doorbell rang. “Ah, that’d be the pizza. I stuck the wine in the fridge. Be right back.”
Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8 Page 132
