by Caisey Quinn
There. Hopefully she’d go on back to her room now.
“Another nightmare?” Her voice was soft, tentative and alluring. His dick threatened to go hard on him. But the shame of the situation kept his erection at bay.
He tried to swallow but couldn’t. Not easily anyways. “What do you mean, another one?”
“You have them sometimes. I hear…through the walls. You shout and moan and sometimes you cuss. Like you’re fighting with someone.”
Dammit. He knew exactly what she’d heard. His nightmares were always the same. Always had been. Well, sort of.
All his life he’d dreamt about his dad beating the hell out of his sisters and his being powerless to stop it. But after he’d left Kylie and gotten sober, sometimes the girl being hurt in his dreams was her. The shrink in rehab had himself a field day dissecting that one.
“Yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t realize you could hear.”
“You want to talk about it?” She took another step into the room.
Trace was torn. He wanted to pull her into his bed and bury himself deep inside of her until he forgot everything else. His past, his present, his name. Everything. But he knew that wasn’t what she was offering. And he damn sure did not want to talk about it.
“Naw, I’m good. I’ll try to keep it down. You go back to bed and get some rest.”
The next words out of her mouth were the last ones he’d expected.
“Earlier tonight, I wasn’t upset about the article. I mean, it hurt that he called me a diva or whatever. But I was upset because my publicist had called me back about something that I thought was handled. Darla wrote a tell-all book. Confessions of a Wicked Stepmother, she’s calling it.”
“No shit?” Well this was news. Even though he was surprised by this information, his body was one hundred percent aware that Kylie was coming closer to his bed. In his room. In the dark. In nothing more than a T-shirt. On the bus on which they were mostly alone as far as he knew.
“No shit. A small press picked it up and the demand for it has led to five thousand copies being printed.”
“Jesus. I’m so sorry, baby.” He almost clamped his hand over his mouth. He had no right to call her that. The darkness was fucking with his head. Confusing him and warping him back to a place in time where she was his.
It must’ve been confusing her too, because she didn’t correct him. Or yell at him. In fact, the only thing she did was come one step closer. Her legs were touching his bed. And for the first time in his life, he had no idea what to do with the woman in his bedroom.
So he stood as still as possible in an attempt not to fuck up whatever spell the dark had them both under.
“I never thanked you. Earlier…for the ice cream.”
“Well, I never technically said I was sorry for kissing you on stage in Detroit.”
“So we’re even then?” she asked quietly.
“Can we ever really be even, Kylie Lou?” He lowered himself onto his bed. “Can you ever really forgive me for all the pain I caused you?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “I should go now.”
“You don’t have to.” What the fuck? He hadn’t thought the words before saying them. They’d just shot out of his mouth. A pathetic plea he hadn’t meant to utter. Damn nightmares. They made him feel vulnerable and fucked up. Even more fucked up than usual.
She was silent for a moment. Not that he could’ve heard her over the screaming in his head anyway. He held his breath until she spoke.
“If I stay, what do you think will happen?”
He exhaled. It sounded entirely too loud. “I have no idea. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.” Screw it. They could go back to pretending they were over everything tomorrow. Tonight all he could be was honest. “I could tell you I’ll keep my hands to myself or that I’ll respect the fact that you’re with someone else. But none of that would be true. The truth is I want you so bad it hurts. I swear to God, if I ever get to hold you again, I will never let go. Ever. I want to be inside of you so damn bad. I fucking need to be inside of you.”
She was quiet for so long that, if his eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark and he wasn’t staring at her silhouette, he would’ve thought she’d left.
What was it about whispered conversations in darkness that made people honest?
“I want that too sometimes,” she answered, barely loud enough for him to hear. The pain in her voice, in her confession, raked over him like razor blades. He was raw and exposed, and he wanted nothing more than to feel her naked body against his.
“You’re not staying though, are you?”
“You know I can’t.” Her words lingered in he space between them.
He let his rigid muscles relax. She was leaving. He was going to have to let her go, whether he liked it or not. “Goodnight, Kylie Lou. Sweet dreams.”
“Goodnight, Trace.”
He didn’t move a muscle until she was gone and had closed the door behind her.
I want that too sometimes.
Her words echoed in his head until the sun came up. One thing was for sure. If even a small part of her still wanted him—despite everything—if she still had any kind of feelings for him, then he had to try. And try he would.
Later that afternoon, he was exhausted as he helped unload equipment in Texas. But her words were still fresh in his mind.
“What’s with the goofy grin, man? You drunk?” Mike asked.
“Naw.” Trace’s eyes found Kylie standing with Hannah and Lulu. She offered him a smile that was worth more to him than any amount of money would ever be. He winked at her. “I’m throwing my hat in the ring.”
“Good for you, man.” Mike clapped him on the shoulder. “Good for you.”
“DO YOU know most musicians don’t help set up for their own shows?” Kylie watched Trace’s muscles strain and flex as he and Mike worked alongside the stage crew to set up for their show in Austin.
“I didn’t know that,” Lulu said absently as she put the finishing touches on Kylie’s makeup.
“Not that it’s a big deal or anything, but most of them just stay on their buses until soundcheck and then performance time. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that. Hell, I do that. But there’s something about a man who knows how to work, you know?”
“Yep,” her friend agreed as her own eyes made their way over to where Trace’s band was setting up. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“Who are you ladies talking about?” Hannah asked as she glanced up from her phone for the first time in an hour.
“No one,” they both replied quickly.
Hannah’s own gaze followed the path the other two had made. “Oh. I see. Nice.” She nodded her approval and went back to her phone.
“You got a fella in New York, Hannah Banana?” Lulu asked her.
“What?” Hannah looked up again. “Oh, no. No fella.”
“Why not?” Kylie asked, glad to be involved in a conversation about someone else’s love life instead of her own for a change.
Hannah sighed and put her phone away. “Well, for one, my job keeps me really busy. At one time I was helping manage three different bands and interning at a record label. I usually prefer work to the crappy blind dates my friends always try to set me up on.”
Kylie clapped her hands and then leaned out of reach of Lulu’s makeup brush. “Ooh! Tell us the worst one ever!”
Hannah let out a light chuckle and shook her head. “Well, there was this one guy, Shawn. Ugh.”
“Did he hit on other girls during your date?” Lulu put the makeup away and focused her full attention on Hannah. “’Cause I had a guy do that once and I left to go to the bathroom and never came back.”
Kylie laughed. “You never told me about that!”
Lulu waved her hand. “He was a douche. Not much to tell. Anyways, Han, about this Shawn character.”
Hannah stepped closer into their circle. “Well, I should’ve known it wasn’t going to w
ork out when I ordered a beer and he ordered a Cosmopolitan.”
Kylie laughed out loud at the thought of Hannah sitting with a dude with a fruity umbrella drink.
“And as if that wasn’t bad enough, when the check came, he slid it over to me and kept talking about how he was saving for his own apartment, blah, blah. Because he still lived with his mom. In his childhood bedroom. So by the way, we’d have to hook up at my place.”
“Dear Lord,” Lulu muttered.
“He was twenty-eight!”
“What are you three gossiping about?” Mike Brennen asked as he approached.
“Boys,” Lulu informed him.
“Of course,” he said with an eye roll. As Lulu stepped aside to chat with Trace’s bass player, Kylie resumed the conversation with Hannah.
“So do you ever meet anyone at work that you think you might like to date? I mean, you’re young and pretty. And you seem like a smart chick.” She paused to swallow her pride. “I should’ve listened to your advice about the Rolling Stone interview.”
Hannah shrugged. “It’s okay. I know sometimes I’m kind of singularly focused with work and I forget to say things like ‘hello’ and ‘good morning.’”
Kylie smiled warmly at her. “I’m like that too, actually. Music is so…I don’t know. All consuming, I guess. My job isn’t nine to five. It’s twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, and then some. I have a hard time pulling myself out of that mindset.”
“Totally understandable. To answer your other question, that’s why I haven’t met anyone at work that I’d consider dating.”
“Because…”
Hannah looked as if she were nervous about what she was going to say next. She met Kylie’s eyes with apprehension. “Because I don’t date musicians. Hard rule.”
“Really? Because we’re awful people or something?” She tried to ignore the hurt feelings Hannah’s words had caused.
“No, not at all,” Hannah reassured her. “I love working in this business because people who make music are passionate and creative and they never cease to surprise me.”
“But you wouldn’t date one? Ever?”
“Nope,” Hannah said matter-of-factly. “Because music always comes first. And I got tired of competing with it. True artists don’t have an off switch, like you said.”
Kylie glanced over at Trace as he chatted with some roadies. He was simultaneously tapping out a beat with the hand he had propped on the back of the bus behind him. She couldn’t help but smile.
“Good point,” she told Hannah as she did her best to tear her eyes from him.
Her experiences with both Trace and Steven had revolved around music. But that was what had drawn her to them.
She didn’t mind that they didn’t have an off switch when it came to music. It was as much a part of them as their hair or eye-color. Same as it was for her.
“HEY YOU,” Steven said as he and Kylie’s drummer, Ty, headed towards her after the show. “Do you remember Ben, the guy who used to be the lead singer in my band?”
Kylie had to stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so. Him and his girlfriend kicked our asses at that game the night we met.”
Steven chuckled. “Yeah, that’s him. Well turns out he’s starting a band. He’s married now so it’s just a side thing, mostly small-time stuff, but he’s looking for a guitar player. And he knows your drummer and sent along a message for me.”
“Nice.” Kylie forced a smile. “Does that mean you’re ditching me?”
Steven put an arm around her shoulders. “No way. It’s just good news is all. It means after this tour ends, I’ll have a steady gig.”
“Well that is good news. We should go celebrate. Wanna grab dinner somewhere? We’ve got a while before we head to Atlanta.”
Steven glanced over at Ty. “Actually the guys are having a poker tournament and I told them I’d play. That cool?”
“Sure.” A night of kicking some ass at cards sounded kind of fun. Kylie hadn’t really ever connected with her band the way Trace had with his. She hoped maybe this would be an opportunity to do so. “Tell everyone I’m in too. I love poker.”
Ty cleared his throat and shot Steven a look before walking a few feet ahead of them to catch the rest of the crew.
“Um, actually, babe, word on the street is you’re a hustler. So I don’t think you’re invited.”
“I see.” Kylie bit her lip in an attempt to contain the pout that threatened to expose how much that stung.
“You can come give me some pointers if you want,” Steven said, giving her a squeeze. “So the guys don’t take all my money.”
“Nah. You have fun. I’m gonna spend some time with Lu and Hannah. Do some girly stuff.”
“Sounds good, babe. I’m going to go find out everything I can about who bluffs and who—”
“Ty won’t make eye contact when he’s bluffing. And Lenny Vasquez, the roadie with the naked lady tattoo, he starts twitching in his seat when he has a good hand.”
Steven chuckled. “See? That’s why they don’t let you play.” With a quick kiss to the side of her head, Steven followed the rest of the band to the area where the buses were parked.
Kylie walked to her bus alone. She pulled out her phone and texted Lulu.
Where are you?
She waited a few minutes but no response came. So she texted Hannah.
You busy?
Her response was instant.
Just catching up on emails. Do you need something?
Kylie sighed. Yeah. She needed something. She just didn’t know exactly what it was.
Just checking in. Want to grab some food or something?
Again, Hannah’s response came so quickly Kylie wondered how she’d had time to even read the text much less type out a reply.
I already ate. Is everything okay? Want me to have someone go get you something to eat?
She typed out a quick no thanks text, telling her that she was good and to have a good night.
She’d only take a few steps onto the bus and back towards her room when she heard it. The moaning. The unmistakable sounds of people having sex. It sounded like extremely good sex from what she could hear.
She gasped out loud without meaning to. Her hand flew to her mouth to cover it.
Inexplicable tears filled her eyes instantly.
Trace was having sex with someone. On their bus. And not discreetly either.
“Yes, harder. Oh god don’t stop,” she heard a muffled female’s voice cry out. A hard thumping sound came repeatedly from the back of the bus.
A sob choked its way out of her throat. She gripped the door to stay upright. She couldn’t fall apart. Not here.
Her chest ached and it was too much pain to keep on the inside. She let the tears fall freely since there wasn’t anyone around to see.
She caught a glimpse of the bananas he’d gotten her and wanted to slap herself. She’d thought he’d still cared for her. All because of some stupid bananas. And because of the words he’d whispered in the darkness.
I swear to God, if I ever get to hold you again, I will never let go. Ever. I want to be inside of you so damn bad. I fucking need to be inside of you.
Obviously he’d found a replacement. And she’d lost an entire night’s sleep because she’d felt guilty that he’d seen Steven kissing her on the forehead.
He probably wouldn’t give two shits that she’d heard this. Clearly he wasn’t too concerned when it came to being faithful to Gretchen either. She wasn’t sure how that aspect of it made her feel.
She wiped her sleeve under her nose and began to run off the bus. She would never forget those sounds.
Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she scrolled through Chaz’s messages until she found the contact info for the guy who was responsible for keeping up with her daddy’s truck. His name was blurry through her tears but it was the last message Chaz had sent so she knew that had to be it.
She was just about to dial the number when she s
lipped on the top step of the bus and crashed into something hard.
Whoever it was grunted at the impact and wrapped strong arms around her so she didn’t fall on her face. Strong, familiar arms.
She looked up into hazel eyes watching her from under a dark ball cap.
“Trace?” Well now she was just plain confused.
“Hey there, Kylie Lou. What’s your hurry?”
The sight of him made her want to kiss his face. But she restrained herself. Instead, she wiped the remaining moisture from her cheeks and pulled herself together. Straightening out of his grip, she shook off her temporary insanity. “Sorry, I was just, um, going to check on my truck.”
His face scrunched under his cap. “Uh huh. And you were crying because…” he prompted.
“I wasn’t crying,” she answered quickly.
Trace climbed the bus steps, forcing her backwards. She didn’t hear the moaning and thumping anymore, so she figured whoever was getting it on must have been finished. She was kind of curious to see who it was.
“Yes you were. Is someone on the bus? Steve do something to you?” His tone went from concerned to lethal in a split second.
She waved her hand between them. “No. Not at all. He’s playing poker with the guys. I’m fine.”
“Fine minus the crying part?”
Before Kylie could deny her breakdown, the bathroom door opened and Lulu stepped out with Trace’s bass player close behind her.
Kylie couldn’t even begin to contain her shock. Or her laughter.
“What the hell, Mike?” Trace didn’t seem to find the situation nearly as amusing as she did.
“Um, hey, man. I was looking for you.”
“Oh yeah? In my bathroom with Kylie’s friend? How long did it take you to figure out I wasn’t in there?”
Kylie watched Lulu’s face turn ten shades of red. She couldn’t resist embarrassing her friend a little more. “Sounded like they were looking really hard. Like slamming cabinets and everything.”
“Cabinets, huh?” Trace glared at Mike, who shrugged apologetically and yet didn’t appear to be the slightest bit sorry.
