The Power to Break (The Unbreakable Thread Book 1)

by Lisa Suzanne

  “I’m sorry,” he says.

  “For what?”

  “Whatever I did that’s got you all twisted.”

  “Nice,” I say, my voice snide. “That’s a real sincere apology.”

  He glances over at Griffin like he doesn’t want him to overhear us. All that does is make my blood boil further. “Babe, I’m sorry,” he says, his voice softer and more genuine this time. “I’m sorry we didn’t fuck somewhere on Bourbon Street.” He gives me a wicked smile.

  “Fuck off, Ethan,” I say.

  “I’m sorry I was about to do something that could’ve gotten us both fucked over.” He lowers his voice. “I’m sorry I put you in danger. I’m sorry I was a dick about it and I’m sorry I ignored you.”

  I soften for a beat, but I’m too mad right now to accept his apology. I rip my arm away from him and out of his grasp. “Are you?” I ask, anger simmering through me to my very core. “Or are you just looking for a hole to fill?”

  His eyes widen in surprise that I’d be so blunt. “I’ve had plenty of offers, believe me.”

  “I’m sure you have. So why don’t you leave me the fuck alone and take one of them?” I cross my arms over my chest so he can’t see the trembling in my hands.

  He shakes his head and his eyes slide beside me, focusing on the side panel of my bus. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  He turns his eyes back to mine, and when I see the overwhelming fear in them, I know I’ve won. I’m almost to my goal. I’ve almost reached the finish line.

  It just doesn’t feel as victorious as I thought it would.

  “I don’t know,” he says.

  I do, I think to myself. It’s because you’ve fallen in love with me.

  “Well, let me know when you figure it out.” I spin on my heel and beeline toward my bedroom.

  I hear his voice, a whisper so soft I’m sure he doesn’t even intend for me to hear before I slam my bedroom door.

  “I’m scared, Mace.”

  I lie on my bed with those whispered words swirling around in my mind.

  I’m scared, too.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  ETHAN

  She won’t talk to me, won’t even look at me, and I’m clueless as to why.

  All I know is that she hasn’t wanted anything to do with me at all since the night at Larry’s club in New Orleans. We’ve hit a few more tour stops since then, and Griff keeps her locked away on her bus or in some hotel he won’t share with me. I’ve tried calling and texting, but she doesn’t answer.

  I don’t know what to do at this point. I may be experienced in some things when it comes to women, but how to deal with their emotions and how to treat them the right way has never been my forte.

  The only conclusion I can come to is she’s pissed I ignored her when she was silently trying to tell me not to do drugs with Naomi. But that night—I don’t know. Something washed over me, something told me I couldn’t live my life like that. No one will ever tell me what to do or what not to do.

  No one.

  Not even her.

  It was immature to completely ignore her wishes and do it anyway, but I apologized. If she’d just let me explain…

  Then what?

  If she’d let me explain I don’t know how to do this, how to be in love or whatever the fuck you want to call it…she could teach me?

  She could teach me.

  I’m so desperate to touch her, to hold her, to get her to hear me out that I actually go to Mark and his wife for advice.

  They’re sitting on their bus in a parking lot in Jacksonville, Florida, and they’re playing cards. The atmosphere is warm and cozy on their bus—just enough of a woman’s touch to make it feel like home. Pillows line their couch and there’s one of those fake candles flickering on the counter to make it look even warmer in here. They’re laughing about some inside joke when I step onto their bus. I collapse on the couch and they both turn their attention to me when I breathe out a loud, heavy sigh.

  “What’s going on, man?” Mark asks.

  I stare up at the ceiling rather than make eye contact with my friends. “She won’t talk to me. It’s been five goddamn days and she won’t talk to me.”

  “You’re in love with her.” Reese says the words like a statement, not a question. They both set down their cards.

  I nod then sit up and cradle my head in my hands. Fuck if this isn’t giving me the worst headache of my life.

  Reese stands up and makes her way toward me, her hand on her stomach that’s just starting to show. She sits beside me and pats my knee like a fucking grandmother might. “What did you do?” she asks.

  I throw my hands up defensively. “I don’t even know!”

  Reese narrows her eyes at me. “What did you do, Ethan?” She repeats the question because she knows me better than I give her credit for.

  I blow out a breath. “I ignored her when she tried to tell me not to snort some coke, okay?”

  “Coke, Ethan?” Mark’s head whips up at me as he remains at his spot at the table. “Are you fucking serious?”

  “Yeah, I’m fucking serious.” I mimic him when I repeat his words. “It was in the dressing room at Larry’s. Naomi was there and she offered.”

  Mark shakes his head.

  “Who’s Naomi?” Reese asks.

  “A stripper.” Mark’s voice is laced with disapproval.

  “I don’t need your shit, too,” I say. I rub my eyes, defeated.

  Mark stands from the table and moves to sit across from me. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. He rubs his palms together in front of him like he’s trying to contain his anger. “You’re gonna get my shit, you fucking moron. You said you’d stop with the hard shit.”

  “And I did. Until that night in New Orleans.” I didn’t fucking come here to be scolded by Mark. “I did one tiny line. The cops showed up at the end and we left before I did another one.”

  “The cops showed up and you had Maci with you? Ethan, what the fuck were you thinking?” Mark’s eyes flash with anger.

  “I didn’t come here to get yelled at.” My voice is cool and calm even though I feel ready to throw a punch if it comes down to it.

  Mark blows out a breath and Reese looks a little shell shocked. We’re all quiet for a few beats, and then I ask the question that brought me over here in the first place.

  “How do I get her back?”

  This time the calmness has left my tone. This time I’m desperate.

  “You give her some space, Ethan,” Reese says quietly, her eyes on her husband sitting across from us. “You let her be mad and let her work through it until she’s ready.”

  “What if she’s never ready?” I ask softly.

  “She will be. Eventually.” She says it with so much confidence I almost believe her. Almost. But she can’t know that. She has no idea what Maci’s thinking or why she’s so mad at me.

  “And what am I supposed to do until then?”

  She lifts a shoulder. “You stop acting like some teenager who doesn’t have everything to lose. You man up and you think about the people around you. You be the man she deserves and you prove it to her by allowing her to see that side of you.”

  I nod as I contemplate her words. She’s right. I just have no idea how to allow her to see that side of me when she won’t give me a single glance.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  MACI

  Griffin probably deserves a raise.

  I’m not sure whether he does, because I’ve asked him not to tell me. I simply told him I didn’t want to see or talk to Ethan except when I absolutely had to on stage for Vail’s final song. So far, he’s respected my wishes. The last time I spoke to Ethan was on my bus in New Orleans over two weeks ago. Since then, we’ve performed eight shows in the southeast corner of the US.

  It’s a Friday and tomorrow night we have a concert in New Jersey. I’ve kept to myself, and everything feels off. I’m tired of being on a bus, tired of traveling, tired in gen
eral. I’ve had a headache since I closed the door on Ethan, and I’m not sure what my next move should be. I think he’s hurt me one too many times to be able to continue with my original goal. I’ve played with fire and gotten burned by him over and over again, and I think it’s time to just give it up.

  We’ll be up in this general area for the next week and a half, plenty of time to swing by the talk shows and radio studio interviews Bridget has booked for me.

  She left out some important information, though.

  She failed to mention that my first interview—the one I’m taping on a Friday afternoon where my segment will air Monday morning on a nationally syndicated morning talk show—occurs right alongside the band I’m touring with.

  I don’t find out, in fact, until I’m in the green room waiting for my call and Mark saunters into the room, his wife right by his side as usual. Those two are inseparable, and the bitter Betty in me is overcome with jealousy. Why can’t I find that?

  Oh, right.

  Because I’ve spent half my life trying to get back at the boy who ruined me.

  I know he’ll be here, too. I just know it. Ethan and Mark are never too far apart, and my gut twists the moment I spot him as he walks in after Mark and Reese.

  Ethan’s eyes land on mine, but I look away first. I focus my attention on my phone as I text Griffin, who’s sitting right next to me on a couch.

  Me: What the fuck are they doing here?

  Griffin chuckles beside me and shoots me a sideways glance before he replies.

  Griffin: Getting interviewed, I’d imagine.

  I don’t hold back when I kick him in the shin, and he chuckles as he rubs the spot I kicked. The twist in my gut leaves me feeling nauseated. Or it’s the sight of Ethan. I’ve done a pretty good job ignoring his presence, or Griffin’s done a good job keeping him away from me. Or maybe it’s neither and he just lost interest when he realized I was going to be too much work.

  “Can you get me some water?” I ask Griffin. He might respond, but I can’t hear him over the sudden buzzing in my ears. My entire body feels hot and clammy as I think about taking the stage with the boy who is so many things to me. Little bright spots seem to flash right in my periphery, and I think I might pass out.

  Griffin’s across the room pouring me a glass of water from a pitcher, and I don’t know what to do. I remember when I was a kid, my cousin felt like she was going to faint, so my aunt told her to put her head between her legs. I don’t know if it’ll work, and I feel so awkward drawing attention to myself, but I do it. I lean forward, trying to act nonchalant, but I seriously think I might faint. Griffin returns and holds out the cup to me, and the heat that passed through me turns icy. His fingers brush mine.

  “Jesus, Maci. You’re freezing.”

  I sit up and gulp down the water, and the strange feeling slowly starts to recede.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I nod, though I’m not entirely sure if I am. I avoid looking at anybody for the moment even though I have a feeling I’ve just drawn a whole lot of attention to myself.

  Some intern pops her head in the room. “Three minutes,” she says.

  “You’re really pale. Can I get you anything?” Griffin asks.

  I glance up, and Ethan’s eyes are on me, full of concern. The strange heat flitters through me again and then it passes for good. “No,” I say. “I’m okay.”

  “What was that?” Griff asks.

  I lift a shoulder weakly. “I just felt like I was going to pass out for a second.”

  “Have you eaten today?”

  I shake my head guiltily. “Just coffee.”

  “Probably the caffeine.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. He hands it to me.

  “A protein bar?”

  He nods. “I never leave the house without one.” Concern colors his eyes, and I wish I felt for him half of what he felt for me. He’s a good guy, and I know he’d take good care of me. But, as my eyes meet Ethan’s across the room again, I realize Griffin just isn’t what I want.

  The intern leads us to the stage, and I brush stray crumbs off my shirt before I make my way out. I’ve still managed to avoid talking to Ethan at all, but I have this feeling I won’t be able to get away with it in this interview. I’m a little worried about the things that might come out of my mouth.

  Nancy, our interviewer, announces the Vail boys then me, and we all stand on the stage as we wait for her to cut to commercial.

  “You can all just take those seats,” she says, nodding to five stools. Two are up on a higher platform, and I go for one of those. “Maci, Mark, and Ethan, I’d like you three in front,” Nancy says. Steve and James exchange wry smiles.

  I take the seat closest to the interviewer and assume Mark will slide into the middle one beside me. I’m wrong.

  Ethan sits next to me. The stools are too close together, most likely to fit into the camera’s frame, and as soon as we sit, Ethan’s leg bumps mine and doesn’t move. I’m uncomfortably warm next to him, like I can physically feel the heat radiating from him. Surely that’s just in my imagination.

  “How are you doing?” he asks me softly.

  I ignore him.

  Nancy takes the seat across from us, and then some director walks by and holds up a clapperboard in front of the camera. Someone yells “Quiet on the set!” and Nancy paints her face with a huge smile as she looks directly into the camera.

  “Welcome back. I’m so excited to welcome the multi-platinum band Vail with special guest Maci Dane! Good morning,” she says, turning toward us, “and welcome to the show. I’d like to introduce each of you first. This is Maci Dane.” I give a smile and an awkward wave knowing full well I’ll be displayed in HD on television screens across the country come Monday morning. “And then we have the men of Vail.” She pauses dramatically then names each man. They raise their hands in turn as she announces them.

  Nancy smiles. “Tell us about your tour.”

  Mark dives in to answer first. “We’re in the middle of thirty-four shows in just under sixty days. Maci’s our opener and she’s been just amazing.”

  I twist around Ethan to shoot him a smile. “Aww, thanks, Mark.”

  He laughs. “We did this thing at our first show on New Year’s Eve where she came out on stage for our last song and now it’s become a tradition.”

  “Does that mean fans can expect a collaboration?” Nancy asks.

  I look at Mark to answer. He grins a boyish smile and I can totally see how women everywhere would easily drop their panties for him. He lifts a modest shoulder. “We might have something in the works.”

  “And that’s all I’m going to get out of you on that one?” Nancy asks.

  Mark nods. “For now.”

  Ethan pipes up. “She and I might be working on something together, too.” He raises a suggestive eyebrow, and I think about hitting him in the face. Instead, I maintain my cool and ignore him.

  “Oh?” Nancy asks. She leans in conspiratorially. “Personally or professionally?”

  “Professionally,” I say with far more severity than I mean to.

  Ethan laughs beside me. “Why, Nancy? What’ve you read?”

  “Well, since you brought it up,” Nancy says, “I think everyone in America is wondering if you two are an item.”

  I roll my eyes. “No,” I say adamantly, and at the exact same time, Ethan says, rather flippantly, “Yeah.”

  My head whips over toward him, and he just smiles at me, a twinkle in his eyes. I could fucking kill him right here on this stage. Just murder him. For one, I can’t believe he’s turning this interview into a story about the two of us rather than about the band, but for another thing, I can’t believe he’s lying to her since nothing’s going on between us. It was, but it’s not anymore.

  “Sounds like a communication issue between these two lovebirds,” Nancy says, and I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole.

  The nausea washes over me again, and I cl
amp my mouth shut for the rest of the interview while Mark takes the lead and steers the discussion back to music. I’m thankful for that, at least, but as I seethe with anger next to Ethan, I can’t help but think he just dug his grave, jumped into it, and covered himself with the dirt.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  MACI

  “You need anything?” Griff asks me the next afternoon before we’re set to take the stage.

  “I could go for some cheese.”

  His brow furrows. “Cheese?”

  I nod. It’s not on my diet, but I have such a strong taste for some cheese.

  “What kind of cheese?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Whatever.”

  “Like brie?” He looks confused, like he has no idea how to buy cheese.

  “Like a good old slice of cheddar.”

  He raises both brows. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

  He stands and heads over to my Keurig. He starts a cup for me, and I nod my thanks.

  As soon as the scent of the coffee wafts to my nostrils, though, I’m not nodding in thanks anymore. The pungent smell is so overwhelmingly strong it makes my stomach roll.

  And roll.

  And roll.

  And then I’m standing up from my chair, my hand over my mouth. I run to the sink on the little counter of my tiny portable home and heave my lunch right into it.

  I barely register Griffin’s muttered curse, and then he’s behind me, hand on my back and I just want him away from me while I throw up into a sink.

  I rinse my mouth out with some water while Griffin stares at me with alarm.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” I say, still feeling a little queasy. “Can you get rid of that?” I ask, nodding toward the coffee. “I’m going to lie down for a few minutes. I’m totally exhausted.”

  “Of course. I’ll be right back with your cheese.”

  “Thanks, Griff.” I head toward the bedroom.

  “Can I get you anything else? Crackers and soda?”

  “Sure. Whatever you want.” I can’t even think straight I’m so tired, and I have no idea how I’m going to take the stage in just a few short hours.