Becca cupped his cheek in one hand and placed a kiss on the other to pull him from his somber mood. “Let’s go before they run out of virgin cocktails.”
The American Museum of Natural History’s annual gala was one of New York City’s hottest social events, and she didn’t want to miss a thing, especially since Elaine was still hounding her for more celebrity gossip. She managed to unearth a few gems during the New Yorker Festival and NYC Food and Wine Week last month, but this would be the first time she’d be surrounded by enough big names to land a good story.
Of course, the breakout story was escorting her to the event. Ethan’s turnaround and comeback never ceased to amaze her. He’d written fourteen songs since Rosh Hashanah and was working with some set musicians to record them for a solo album. All this was being done in secret, but when the news would eventually get out, it would set the music world buzzing.
But no matter how many times she was tempted to be the one to write that story, she refused to betray his trust in her.
The taxi drove across Central Park and dropped them off at the Museum of Natural History. Growing up, she’d heard stories from her parents about the extravagant event that took place under the shadows of the blue whale and the T-rex, but this was her first time attending. And it was all due to Ethan. She’d mentioned wanting to go a few weeks ago when they were touring the exhibits, and he surprised her a few hours later with tickets.
Once inside the rotunda, they found their way to the bar. Ethan ordered her usual club soda with lime and got a Coke for himself. A scan of the room identified dozens of her parents’ friends and the elite of New York society. Celebrities from stage and screen mingled among them, adding extra energy to the excitement in the room.
Becca made her way through the crowd, stopping to chat with people she knew. She introduced Ethan as her boyfriend, using his first name only. Every time she said it, though, a little rush of glee struck her. She still couldn’t believe this charismatic, sexy man was dating her. He could’ve had his pick of any of the actresses or models in the room, but his fingers remained firmly entwined with hers, and his attention never wavered from her.
How did I get so lucky?
She was floating on cloud nine until she heard someone say her name and turned around.
***
Despite his aversion to crowds and large parties, Ethan was glad he’d gotten the tickets for the Gala. Becca lit up the room. It was more than the icicle blue dress that hugged her full breasts and accentuated her curvy hips. It was the way she worked the crowd—smiling, laughing, engaging with complete strangers and making them feel at ease. The Gala awakened the partying side of her that had been dormant for years, but her maturity tempered it with a sophistication he wished he could replicate.
Initially, he’d held her hand to soothe his anxiety about being recognized at such an important event. The craving to get high and forget about his jitters ambushed him several times during the first half hour, but each time, he looked inside himself and found a way to push it aside. As his nerves eased, he held on to her hand as a symbol of pride. He’d caught the admiring glances some of the other men had thrown her way as she weaved through the crowd, and a flame of jealousy roared to life within him. She was his girlfriend, and he wanted to make that very clear to anyone who met them.
All was going well until Becca turned around and came face to face with a tall, elegant older woman.
The color drained from Becca’s face, and it was her turn to squeeze his fingers for support. “Claire.”
His gut knotted with worry, but he resisted the urge to swoop in and rescue her, especially with so many people there to witness them making a scene.
Claire started to reach for her like she wanted to hug her, but then lowered her arms and drew back. “It’s so wonderful running into you here, Becca,” she said, her shaking words mirroring the nervous smile on her face. “And who’s this?”
“My boyfriend, Ethan,” she replied, just as she’d had all evening.
The tension between the two women smothered the joy from earlier. Claire kept looking as though she was waiting for Becca’s permission to continue, but Becca looked like she was a breath away from bolting. She trembled beside him, her grip threatening to cut off the circulation in his hand.
The uneasy silence that stretched between them gave him a chance to study Claire closer. She was tall and lithe, the few lines around her eyes hinting at her age, but the glowing beauty of her skin made it difficult to guess. Her honey-colored hair cascaded over her shoulder in glossy waves, and her strapless evening gown created cleavage that most men probably wouldn’t be able to turn away from. But there was something about her that seemed vaguely familiar.
“Is there any chance you’ve changed your mind about Thanksgiving?” Claire asked. “Jacob told me you had plans, but your father and I would love to have you at the table.”
“Claire, you know I can’t.” Becca’s attention shifted to someone behind Claire, and she stumbled back, her hand slipping from his. “Excuse me. I have to go to the ladies’ room.”
Claire’s face tightened with anguish as Becca fled in the direction of the Asian Mammals Exhibit, but it wasn’t until she spoke that Ethan believed it was genuine. “I’m terribly sorry you had to witness that. Even though she’s as stubborn as her father, I still have hope they can make amends.”
That one sentence made him realize there was a whole side to Becca he didn’t know. They’d been together for almost two months, but during that time, she’d hardly ever mentioned her family. And now that he’d gained a hint as to why, he became determined to unravel the whole story.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said to Claire a moment before an older man with the same blue-green eyes as Becca came up and put his arm around her waist. Ethan nodded in acknowledgment to the man he assumed was Becca’s father, and turned around to find his date.
The music signaling the Gala attendees to make their way downstairs to the dinner tables sounded, and Ethan found himself fighting against the tide of humanity heading in that direction. Once he broke free, he searched for the nearest ladies’ room.
He found Becca leaning against the stone walls outside the restroom, her head tilted up toward the ceiling and her eyes closed. The calm, collected woman he’d always known seemed on the verge of having a panic attack. Her ragged breaths flowed in and out with enough force to shake her body. Her hands clenched and unclenched, and a sheen of perspiration covered her pale face.
He approached her with caution, afraid any sudden movement might send her over the edge. “Talk to me, Bec,” he said when he got close enough to talk in a hushed voice.
Her eyes snapped open, wide with fear. “Ethan, I….” She exhaled with a sigh and closed them again. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
It wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but she seemed to pull herself together. Her breathing slowed, and some of the color returned to her cheeks.
He stood in front of her and leaned against the wall. “Funny. Claire said the same thing.”
He waited for her to expound on the encounter, but all she did was crack open one wary eye.
“So, what’s the story?” he asked, determined to get to the bottom of the situation.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit, Becca. I watched you all night long, and something about that woman made you lose your cool.”
“Just drop it, okay?”
“No, I’m not going to let up until you at least tell me who she is.”
She let out another heavy sigh, this one full of exasperation, and opened both eyes. She continued to look up at the ceiling while her body squirmed and the toe of her shoe tapped against the floor. “Claire is my stepmother.”
“What’s your problem with her?”
“Nothing at all. I like her. She’s the only mom I’ve ever known, and she’s pr
obably the kindest person you’ll ever meet.”
“Then why did you run away from her?”
The tapping of her toe quickened, and Becca bit her bottom lip. “It wasn’t her I was running away from. It was my father.”
A protective urge rose inside him so quickly, he forgot to breathe. His vision clouded with red vengeance. What had that asshole done to her to make her this terrified? “Why?”
She pushed off the wall, still avoiding his gaze. “Listen, Ethan, it’s complicated, and I don’t want to drag you into it.”
“Too late.” He corralled her back against the wall, his arms fencing her in. “I’m your boyfriend, remember? I’m already involved.”
She finally looked at him, and the tension in her face softened into affection. “I know, Ethan, but—”
“No buts.” He tilted her chin up. “Now, what happened between you and your father?”
She chewed her bottom lip and tried to turn away, but every time she did, he guided her attention back to him. After a minute of trying to avoid his question, she said in a quiet voice, “I avoid my father because he’s my trigger.”
The air whooshed out of his lungs, and the angry rigidity in his arms slackened. “Are you planning on taking a hit?”
Her face drew up in disgust. “Absolutely not! I’ve been clean for too long to relapse just from something like this.”
“Then tell me why he’s your trigger.”
She opened her mouth, everything in her body screaming in protest, but he stopped her by placing his index finger on her lips. “You helped me when I was in a bad place. Now it’s my turn.”
That brief glimpse of gratitude bloomed in her eyes, and he knew he’d done the right thing pressing the issue.
She took a deep breath, her toe still tapping its rapid beat, and then grew still as she exhaled. “My mother was a heroin addict, too. She overdosed when I was a baby, so I have no memory of her. But my father did. And it became apparent at a very early age that I was just like her.”
Becca played with one of the tiny beads on her skirt as she continued. “My father thought that if he controlled everything, if he kept me on the straight and narrow, I wouldn’t end up like my mother. What started out as a gesture of concern became smothering. If I walked in a minute past my ridiculously early curfew, I was punished. If I made a B instead of an A, I never heard the end of it. If I had a hair out of place or gained a couple of pounds, I was lectured on how my appearance reflected negatively on the family. By the time I got to my teen years, I lived in constant fear of him finding some fault in me. And he always found something wrong.
“My relief came through a skiing accident. I broke my ankle and got Percocet for the first time. And oh my god, what an epiphany it was. When I was on the meds, I didn’t care about anything. I could be in my father’s company and not suffer the gut-wrenching panic that I’d do something wrong. It was the release I’d been searching for, and for once in my life, I felt peace.”
Ethan’s heart squeezed a little tighter as he listened, knowing all too well what she was talking about.
“I went through the first bottle, then the second, then the third. My ankle healed, but the craving never went away. I started raiding my parents’ and grandparents’ medicine cabinets for more. I faked a back injury. I found contacts at school who could supply me with more Percocet. But when the cost got too high, I was introduced to the cheaper fix from heroin.”
She gave a rueful laugh. “I’d been using for well over a year before Claire noticed the track marks. Daddy had a shit fit when he found out and forced me into rehab, but we both know what happened next.”
He recalled her story of how she almost died before going clean for good.
“The night I overdosed, I was at a charity event like this with my parents. My father criticized my dress for being too revealing, so I retreated to the bathroom and shot up so I could make it through the rest of the evening.” She drew in another deep breath. “The rest is history.”
Part of Ethan physically ached for her. He’d always wondered why someone as privileged as Becca would turn to drugs, but he’d just assumed it had been out of boredom or to fit in with her fellow partiers. “So that’s why you avoid him?”
She nodded and stared at the toes of her now-still shoes. “I realized during my second stint in rehab that I’d be better off not dealing with the constant pressure he put on me, so I cut myself off from him. I have lunch with Claire once in a while, and I talk to my younger brother, Jacob, at least once a week, but I haven’t spoken to my father in almost two years.”
He couldn’t imagine cutting himself off from his family. Yes, his old man had given him a hard time growing up, but he’d also encouraged Ethan’s love of music and stood behind his decision to forgo college and hit the road with the band. And as much as his mother and brothers annoyed him with their constant need to check on him, he knew it was because they cared. He was thankful to have a large family that gave a damn about him.
Now he just had to help Becca realize her family did, too.
“So what’s this about Thanksgiving?” he asked.
“Jacob called a couple of weeks ago and asked me to join the family at our cabin in the Catskills for Thanksgiving. I tried to tell him no, but he wouldn’t back down until I at least said I’d think about it.”
“Sounds like both he and Claire would like for you to be part of the family again.”
“Yeah, but look what a mess I became when I saw my father across the room. Now imagine what would happen if I was sitting at the table with him for an hour or more.”
He cradled her hand in his own and kissed her knuckles before pressing it against the spot in his chest where his heart beat. “I’ll be there with you.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “Really, you don’t have to do that. My family is fucked up, and I’m sure you’d much rather spend Thanksgiving with yours.”
“They’ll understand.” He closed the space between them until their foreheads touched. “Please, Bec, let me help you the way you helped me. I’m not suggesting you have dinner with your father every Friday night, but I think we can get through Thanksgiving dinner together.”
Her eyes glistened with tears, but she managed to blink them back before they fell. She squeezed his hand in return. “Okay, then. Together.”
“Good.” He took a step back and looped her arm through his. “Why don’t we tell Claire she’ll need to set the table for two more guests?”
Becca shook her head and gave him the first smile he’d seen since she’d bumped into her stepmother. “Oh, no. Not tonight. I’ll text her tomorrow. Right now, I just want to forget about my father and enjoy the rest of the evening with you.”
“I can live with that.” They went downstairs and joined Ari at a table, not bringing it up again for the rest of dinner.
Chapter Twelve
“I’m going to be sick.”
“My driving isn’t that horrible,” Ethan teased as he drove the rented Mercedes G-class SUV along the snow-covered country road.
She only wished she could blame it on being in a car for the last two hours. The closer they got to her father’s cabin, the tighter the knots in her stomach squeezed. In a couple of miles, she’d be ready to hurl.
As though he knew what she was worried about, he reached over and wrapped his hand around hers. “It’ll be okay, Becca. We can get through this.”
Not her. We. For some strange reason, he was in this for the long haul, and her heart did a little flop. Every other guy she’d dated had been so terrified of her father, they’d take off at the first sign of his presence. But Ethan had not only agreed to come to the Catskills for Thanksgiving dinner, but for the whole weekend. She just hoped that he wouldn’t come to his senses halfway through and say, “Forget this.”
“Let’s find something to distract you,” he sug
gested.
Yeah, something besides how good it would feel to shoot up and block out this whole weekend.
“Um, how did your last recording session go?”
“Really well.” He grinned, his eyes never leaving the road. The snow fell heavier as the SUV wound up the mountainside.
“Care to expand on that?”
“I played with some new riffs, and it added a whole new level to the song.”
They hit a patch of ice under the snow, and the rear end of the SUV fishtailed. Becca gripped the door handle and clamped her jaw shut, so scared that if she opened her mouth, she’d puke. When her pulse returned to normal, she asked, “How so?”
“It created more depth.” He slowed the car down as the incline grew steeper. “It’s strange doing this solo album. On one hand, I still miss collaborating with Ty and the other guys, but on the other hand, it’s so freeing. I’m finally getting to make music I like, to record the songs that speak to me.”
“Any chance I can hear a demo soon?”
He shook his head, just as he had every other time she’d asked. “Not until it’s ready.”
“And when will that be? When you launch it on iTunes?”
He laughed. “No, Bec, I’ll let you hear it before then. I’m just still trying to sound it out, if you know what I mean. Sort of like how you don’t let your editor see your rough notes for a story. You wait until you think it’s polished before turning it in. I feel the same way about my music.”
The GPS dinged, and he slowed down to a crawl. “Is this where I turn?”
She nodded, the queasiness reviving tenfold.
The car passed the metal gates that marked the beginning of her family’s property and inched up the narrow lane through firs that bowed down under the weight of the snow. She’d almost talked Ethan out of going this morning when the weather report called for a winter storm in the Catskills, but he’d shrugged it off by telling her he grew up in Chicago and could handle the snow. The trees cleared to reveal the sprawling Arts and Crafts style home surrounded by three smaller bungalows.
Rockers After Dark: 6 Book Bundle of Sexy Musicians Page 104
