Reverb

by Lisa Swallow

  Reverb

  By

  Lisa Swallow

  Copyright © 2015 Lisa Swallow

  Cover designed by Najla Qamber Designs

  Editing by Hot Tree Editing

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Reverb (Blue Phoenix #5)

  Blue Phoenix drummer, Bryn Hughes, prefers a quiet life away from the spotlight. But that’s proving difficult when his life is complicated by three very different girls:

  Mia, the girl who doesn’t understand the word no.

  Avery, who wishes she’d said yes.

  And his forever girl.

  Add to this a secret that threatens to take decisions about the future out of Bryn’s hands, and Bryn’s reputation as the uncomplicated band member is over.

  Dedication

  For everybody who cares about the drummer.

  cariad

  Pronunciation:ˈkarɪad/

  noun

  WELSH

  darling; sweetheart.

  Origin: WELSH, ‘love’

  Chapter One

  NOVEMBER 2014

  BRYN

  Every time I want to talk first, but each time, the talking comes later.

  The moment the heavy door clicks shut, the polite veneer disintegrates. Hannah’s arms snake around my neck, mine circle her waist, and our mouths meet with the frenzy of reuniting lovers. The familiarity of her taste, the sensation of her soft lips moving against mine, and the warm skin beneath my hands drags me back in time, as if the last time I saw Hannah was yesterday.

  This time it’s been four months, but when she walked into the hotel lobby this afternoon, the days disappeared. The tall woman in her summer dress, striding confidently across the tiled floor to pretend she’s here on business, stops my heart every time. Hannah’s honey blonde hair is pulled from her face, glowing from her walk through the Australian summer heat. Natural. Beautiful.

  She isn’t my sixteen-year-old Hannah, but she’s still my Forever Girl.

  We don’t talk when we meet. We don’t even use the same elevator. Our routine is clockwork. I arrive and wait in the cafe area, hoping she doesn’t change her mind. Hannah arrives half an hour later, checks in, and goes to our room.

  Our room.

  Being here each time is like warping time, a day that loops through my mind in the months we’re apart. The upgraded furnishings in the room are brighter coloured; a sleek modern design to match the new hotel chain who own the place now. This disorientates me; the time and place aren’t the same as before.

  Hannah’s lips are familiar yet alien because she isn’t mine. I attempt to hold her head and kiss her gently, but she’s pressed against me; as if I let her go, she might fall away and never pull herself together. Her body curves against mine, soft cotton dress thin between us. Hannah runs her fingers along my arms, digging into my biceps as our kisses deepen.

  I drag my mouth away. “I’ve missed you,” I say hoarsely.

  She doesn’t reply; instead, pushes her mouth back on mine, running her tongue along my lip. Control is useless. I slam Hannah against the door, hitching her dress and grabbing her ass. She wraps her legs around my waist, gripping my shoulders, refusing to take her mouth from mine.

  Slow comes later.

  Hannah’s soft skin beneath my fingers bolts arousal through me. This is my girl and she wants me. I’m blinded by the desire, the need to get naked with Hannah overriding any plans to talk first. Unzipping Hannah’s dress, I shift to kiss her collarbone, lips against her pulse point where her own desire beats through. As the soft cotton falls to the floor, I pull at the buttons on my shirt, aching for her naked touch.

  Hannah doesn’t say anything; her hot breath against my cheek as she shifts and curls her hand into my hair.

  “Bryn,” she whispers. “Wait.”

  Abruptly, I release her legs and she stands, steadying herself against my chest. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t.”

  Pissed off with myself, I push a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and cup her heated cheek. “Too much?”

  She smiles, but her eyes don’t and the first dig of pain pushes in. “We usually are; it’s all good.” My Welsh girl is an Aussie girl now; Hannah has lost her accent the same way I lost her when she left. Something’s wrong. Am I about to lose her again?

  “We can go downstairs to the restaurant,” I suggest. “Maybe that’s a better idea. I might be able to keep my hands off you then.”

  Hannah doesn’t return my smile and the sadness doesn’t leave her eyes. “I don’t want to be seen.”

  This is the clincher, her refusal to be seen with me, the fierce protection of her privacy. I thought we were moving past this. “Last time we spent a couple of days together, went out a few times. Everything was fine then.”

  Hannah pulls her dress back on, and zips it, hiding herself away. She’s my Hannah from ten years ago; the girl I lost and try my hardest to keep hold of, and she’s hiding. Herself and something.

  I lean in for a kiss but she dips her head. “I can’t stay long.”

  “That’s okay. I’m here for a few days,” I say, running my fingers along Hannah’s arm.

  “I can’t see you again this time.”

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t stay. It’s tricky…”

  “Why?”

  Hannah examines her nails but she doesn’t need to answer, I know what she’s going to say. “I’ll be missed this time.”

  “Someone else?”

  Her eyes widen and blur with tears but she won’t look me in the face. I grasp onto the hope I can change this. “It can’t be serious; otherwise, why would you be here?”

  “To make sure.”

  “Make sure what?”

  “That I’m doing the right thing.” I give her a look to indicate my confusion. “I need somebody in my life. Somebody who’s around more.”

  Her words are a punch to the head and I pull my head back as the words I dreaded assault me.

  Someone else.

  Sidestepping Hannah, I walk to the opposite end of the room, unable to believe her words. I touch the heavy brown curtains to double-check my reality. Two years since I found her; two years of waiting, of secret meetings, and hiding from the world. Not because of me, but because of her.

  Hannah said she wasn’t ready to live my lifestyle, didn’t trust I could be anything but the Blue Phoenix guy she believes I hide from her. Two years of proving this isn’t me, only seeing her several times a year, not touching other girls. Waiting for her. I did this because of the certainty we belong and that me and Hannah never chose to lose each other.

  Now she’s made her choice.

  “How long has there been somebody else?” I ask.

  “His name is Josh.”

  “How long?”

  “Three months seriously, but we’ve known each other a while.”

  “That’s so soon.” Too soon, she’ll change her mind.

  She inhales. “I love him.”

  Four months ago, Hannah said the same words to me and now they belong to somebody else, along with her. The happiness of seeing her drags away, anger filling the space it leaves behind. “I’ve told you a thousand times that I love you, Hannah; you know that. I’ve even asked you to marry me. You said you loved me and we’d wait. So what the hell happened?”


  “Because I think we’re holding onto a fantasy that’ll never happen. Maybe this has been a bit of a fantasy… the last couple of years.”

  “Not to me! What we have… it’s real!”

  Hannah crosses and places a trembling hand on my cheek. “I thought so too, until I met Josh and I realised how wrong this all is.”

  I step away so her hand falls from my face. “And you came here today prepared to have sex with me. That doesn’t sound like love.”

  “I didn’t. I came here today to tell you. You’re the one cheating.”

  “I’m not cheating on anyone!” I retort.

  “The heiress, Bryn?”

  “What the fuck? No!” I shove my hands into my hair. “I’m not with her! That’s the media – and her – making up stories.”

  “You expect me to believe you’re not lovers? I saw you at the awards night last month, her hanging off your arm.”

  “Not all the time. Shit.” I sink into the nearby chair. “Did this contribute? Did you decide to… with him because you thought I was cheating on you?”

  “Bryn, a few hook-ups a year isn’t a relationship. I need more.”

  “I offered you more! I wanted to give you everything!” Her eyes widen at the force of my tone and I lower my voice. “Don’t do this.”

  Sitting beside me, Hannah takes my hand and curls her slender fingers around mine. “We can’t rewind; we were fooling ourselves.”

  “For two years?”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  I’m ripped back to the day she told me she was moving to Australia, her dad taking a job in Sydney and uprooting my sixteen-year-old, first and only love. For a couple of months, we were in constant contact and then she stopped. I tried to find out why and although I gave up, my heart never did. When fame and money hit, I was sure Hannah would want me back but I couldn’t trace her. Turns out her dad left the family and her mum returned to her maiden name. They moved states to Western Australia. I could’ve stalked Hannah harder, but didn’t think it would help.

  Out of the blue two years ago, Hannah contacted me. She’d read a magazine article where questions were asked about the lack of girls in my life, hinting I’m gay. Again. The guys find this hilarious; I usually refuse to confirm or deny because what the hell does my sexuality matter? This time I gave the interviewer a cryptic answer about the girl I loved and lost – the one I’m waiting for. Hannah asked if the girl was her and when I said ‘yes’, the secret life and hidden hopes began.

  “But we’re meant to be,” I say. “Me and you. Forever and always.”

  “Please, Bryn, don’t make it harder. I really didn’t think this meant so much to you. I rarely hear from you between visits.”

  “Because you tell me not to get in touch! I’d call you every day; take you home with me. Fuck.” I grip my head and lean forward. So fucking stupid. What have I been doing?

  Hannah perches on the bed and I cross to join her, sinking into the sheets we should be under together.

  Our friendship came naturally. We met at primary school and immediately bonded, best friends who spent a childhood together, who had sleepovers and shared secrets until, as teens, we finally admitted we were more than friends. Two years of deepening our relationship followed, confirming we were two parts of the same soul. Then Hannah was taken from me.

  Our history counts for more than this. “I don’t understand, Hannah.”

  “This hasn’t been easy, Bryn.” She curls next to me, the scent of coconut in her hair new and unfamiliar. “I spent years sure we were meant to be, but our lives are too different. I want to live in Australia, have a family, and marry someone who’ll be around.”

  “I’ll be around! I’ll move to Australia. I told you that too!”

  “You tour, split yourself amongst different countries and people.”

  “I’ll stop!”

  With a small smile, Hannah shakes her head. “It’s you. Who you are. Don’t you remember how much you’d talk about your music, when you met the boys? I think we’d already drifted a little then.”

  “I always promised I’d take you with me. You’re my forever girl.”

  Hannah’s eyes glaze with tears, and I pull back on shouting, anger. She’s hurting at her decision, confusion in her eyes, and I don’t want to make this worse. But I can’t cope with the feeling of betrayal, the false hope she gave me.

  “Whatever happens, you’ll always be her,” I say and hold her fiercely, aware that when I let go and we walk away, I wake up from my dreams of a forever with Hannah and try to move on. Again.

  “I can’t be, Bryn,” she says, voice muffled against my chest. “I tried.”

  So did I, but not hard enough.

  Chapter Two

  BRYN

  The music hits me first, then the overpowering and all too familiar perfume.

  Fan-fucking-tastic. Eighteen hours on a plane, first class or not, and I’m shattered. Too tired to deal with Mia Jordan; heiress, airhead and girl I still feel obliged to watch over.

  I head to the source of the noise and grab the remote to kill the music playing in the lounge of my London apartment. Almost instantly, Mia appears dressed in a tiny black crop top and pink shorts that barely cover her ass. Mia’s brown hair is piled on her head and, for once, face clean of make-up.

  “Bryn!” She covers her naked face with her hands

  “Why are you here?”

  “You said I could if I needed to.” She peeks through her fingers. “Tammy was being such a bitch and I couldn’t stay with her; she said some really mean things and I don’t know where to go because I don’t want to go home to the States and I didn’t think you’d mind and…” My eyes glaze over at Mia’s ramble, seriously not caring why she’s here, just wishing she wasn’t.

  “You can’t stay here.”

  “Please? I’ll look after you, like, do stuff in the house.”

  Did she seriously just flutter her eyelashes at me?

  “Do stuff? You can’t even cook, Mia!”

  “I can order food.”

  Mia’s rat of a dog appears, walks straight past me, and lifts its leg to pee on the leg of the low coffee table.

  “What the fuck is that doing here?”

  “Oh! Phoenix! You naughty boy!”

  Phoenix?

  Mia scoops up rat dog and proceeds to scold it like a child, using a stupid voice. The long-suffering animal stares blankly back. “He’s my baby; he has to be with me!”

  I slump onto the sofa and stare at the ceiling. “Book into a hotel, Mia. I’m too tired for this.”

  “Bryn, please.” Her voice enters whine mode. “I promise I’ll keep out of your way. And it’s getting late; I can’t go now.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “A couple of days.”

  I eye the magazines and clothes strewn around the lounge room. “A couple of days?”

  Mia puts Phoenix on the carpet and begins to gather the offending items. “I wasn’t expecting you back. I thought you’d gone to Austria.”

  “Australia.” My stomach lurches as Hannah climbs into my tired head.

  “Oh. That’s a long way, isn’t it?”

  “Exactly, so I’m tired and want to be on my own.”

  At my gruff tone, Mia pauses and carefully places her pile of clothes on a nearby chair. “Are you okay, Bryn?” A moment later, she’s on the sofa next to me, holding my large hand in her taloned one. “Did something happen? You look so sad.”

  This surprises me. Mia never asks how people are, lost in her ditzy world of money and the famous. “I’m tired,” I repeat.

  “You’re upset. You shouldn’t be on your own. Did the girl you go to see hurt you?” She strokes my hand as if soothing a child.

  “What girl?” I snap.

  “I don’t know, just guessing.” She touches my cheek with her small hand and I jerk my head away. “Let me stay and look after you.” She smiles encouragingly. Okay, not concern for my welfa
re but for hers.

  The room spins with jet lag and my bed calls. I can’t deal with Mia blackmail right now; fuck knows what I might agree to. I’ll tackle this later.

  “You know what, Mia? Stay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow about what to do, but you and that thing can’t stay here for long.”

  Rat dog now sits on the chair opposite, staring at me as if I’m the one with no right to be here.

  Why didn’t I take my key off Mia last time she left?

  ****

  “And you say I’m too nice!” Liam throws a magazine at me across the large dining table.

  “What? What did I do?”

  In an attempt to focus on something else, the following weekend, I accept Liam’s offer of Sunday lunch, a bizarre ritual I’d never thought possible. Liam and Cerys with his soon-to-be stepdaughter, Ella. Happy families.

  “I’m surprised Cerys reads these kind of magazines,” I remark, leafing through the glossy pages of beauty product ads, and pictures of the stars who lie about using them. “Why are you showing me this?”

  “They’re Emily’s.” Emily, Ella’s nanny, isn’t around and neither is Ella. “Keep looking.”

  Toward the back is a spread of the week’s celebrity news: who’s doing what (or who) as evidenced by the latest paparazzi pictures. In one shot, Mia is leaving my house, dark sunglasses, head bowed with rat dog in the pink designer bag she carries the bloody thing around in.

  The accompanying text reads: ‘Bryn Hughes on again, off again affair with heiress Mia Jordan looks like it’s on again!’

  Next to that picture is a shot of me and her. I trawl my memories of the last couple of weeks and can’t remember going anywhere with Mia in public. Holding the magazine closer, I study the shot.

  “That’s from last year!”

  “So she isn’t living with you?” asks Liam.

  “No, I mean, yes. The second picture. That’s from last year and it’s cropped! You guys were with me, too!”

  Liam ignores me. “Mia Jordan is living with you? Again? Why?”

  “Kind of. Not ‘with me’, she’s staying in one of the spare bedrooms while she sorts her shit out.”

  “Hmm. Good luck with that. Don’t you remember how long it took to get her to leave last time?”