My eyes close, tears cascading down my cheeks. He looks utterly destroyed yet there’s still so much he hasn’t told me.
“A week went by without any word and no clues as to where she was, other than my telling the police about him. Then it was a Thursday. Her birthday.” He bites his bottom lip so hard he breaks the skin. Blood beads. “They found her body on her fucking birthday.”
I cry right along with him. I want so desperately to reach out to him, but I know he’s not ready for that. “I’m s-so s-sorry, Chris.”
Skin bunches around his eyes. “I haven’t told you the worst part.” He swallows hard. “He hadn’t touched her. The police speculated he was surprised by her condition. The only marks on her were from trying to escape the room he had her in.”
“Her condition?”
“She was …” He goes completely ashen. “She was—” His chair falls over as he bolts out of it. “Bathroom!”
I point to the door and he runs in and slams it behind him. For five minutes, between agonizing sobs, he retches into the toilet.
When he returns, pale and sweaty, I hand him a bottle of water. He nods his thanks and drinks.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“Yes I do.” He finishes the water and sits again. He gazes at his notebook for endless moments. He leafs through the pages and stops. Tears stream as he pushes the notebook across the table.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
He nods.
Moisture clouds my vision as I read the song title: ‘Gone Too Soon.’
My throat tightens knowing this is a song about Abby’s death.
You were gone before I met you, taken dark into the night
Would have fought like hell to keep you, would have given my own life
It’s hell on earth without you, but I know we’ll meet one day
You’re gone too soon
Now you’re far away
I swallow a painful lump and read the second verse.
I visit you in the tiny grave, it’s all that I have left
Every time you fall upon my dreams is one more precious gift
Her face I place upon you every night and every day
You’re gone too soon
Now you’re far away
I shake in realization. Gone before I met you. Tiny grave. This song isn’t about Abby. I glance at his tattoo—the knife piercing two roses. Not one, two.
My heart sinks as I look up at him. “Abby was pregnant?”
He lets out an agonizing howl. It’s the most painful sound I’ve ever heard. I fall to my knees next to him, and he wraps me in his arms, his sobs shaking both of us. I stay there so long that my knees hurt and my feet go numb, but my pain is nothing compared to what he’s going through. What he went through.
Sometime later—I don’t know how much time has passed—he lets go of me, and I sit in the chair next to him. “You don’t have to say anymore.” I take his hand in mine.
“You have to hear all of it, or maybe I need to say it.”
“All right. I’m listening.”
He breathes in and out three times. Deep slow breaths. I know because I’m counting. “Like I said, the police think her condition freaked him out. Or maybe it confused him. After everything came out, they said he was delusional. He wanted her for himself. He fantasized that they were a couple. He was probably going to …” He pulls his hand from mine and rips at the napkin again. “He was probably going to rape her, but they think when he saw her belly, the sicko somehow thought the baby was his. He left her there. Locked her in his basement and went to work. After his shift he … God, Bria, he went shopping for baby stuff.”
Bile rises in my throat.
“He was gone all night and most of the morning. He worked the overnight shift at a gas station. He waited outside the baby store for it to open. By the time he returned home …” He hesitates, and I lean over and wipe his cheeks. “By the time he got home, they were dead.”
I’m both devastated and surprised. “He didn’t do it?”
“He fucking did it, all right. By taking her—them—he caused it to happen. The medical examiner said she was so traumatized she went into early labor. She was dehydrated because he didn’t bother to give her a goddamn glass of water. Between that, the emotional trauma that psycho put her through, and the physical exertion of her trying to escape, she had contractions. With no medical help to stop them, she” —he looks away— “she delivered the baby.”
“Oh, God,” I cry, my hands trembling almost as hard as his.
His lips twitch painfully. “My daughter was too little to survive.”
I have no idea what to say as he relives his nightmare. All I can do is be here. Offer him my hand. Share in his tears. Absorb some of his pain.
“She died giving birth?” I ask hesitantly.
He shakes his head. “I wish she had.” His words are so thick and gravelly, I have to strain to hear them. “She watched our tiny baby come out of her, then she watched her die.” He slams a fist on the table. “Fuck!”
I grab his hand. “It’s okay. Let it out.”
His eyes are red and swollen, his cheeks pale, and his breathing fast. For the first time today, he looks directly at me. “She watched her die and then she tied a sheet to a rafter and looped it around her neck.”
My hand covers the sob that begs to come out. I want to break down, but I can’t allow it. None of this is about me.
“He didn’t even call the goddamn police when he found them. He cut her down and laid them both on the bed he’d put down there. He kept them there for a fucking week, like they were his family. It wasn’t until a neighbor smelled—” He looks like he’s going to vomit again.
“Chris.” I stand. “Come with me.” I lead him to the couch and get him a shot of whiskey. Then another.
He tells me about wanting to kill the guy. About Dr. Evans killing him instead and then about seeing him today for the first time since it all happened. He tells me he planned to name the baby Nicole, which was Abby’s middle name, despite how he teased her about wanting to call her Slash. Then, from sheer exhaustion mixed with alcohol, he falls asleep, his head in my lap. I cry as I brush back the hair of this broken man.
An hour later, he wakes, pops up, and looks at the time. “Shit, I have to go. The gig.”
I get off the couch with him. “You’re going to the show?” I look back at the kitchen table where he spilled his guts to me. “After this?”
He fetches his phone and notebook. “Ronni’s got us by the balls, Bria. I have to.” He holds out a hand. “Come with me.”
I step back. “I’m grateful you opened up to me, but it’s a lot to process, and I’m not sure it changes the reasons why I left.”
“But now you know why I am the way I am.”
“But knowing why you act that way and putting up with it because of your loss are two different things. You need help, Chris. Help I can’t give you.”
“I’ll get it, I promise. Anything. Just sing with me.”
I shake my head sadly. “I can’t.”
“Even if …” He looks pained. “Even if I say I might love you?”
My heart twinges. My eyes get glassy. “Especially if you say that. I can’t be with someone who might love me. I know you love her even though she’s gone, and I’m okay with that, but you need time. You just ripped off a big damn Band-Aid, and your wounds are raw. You need time to deal with that before you can move forward with me.”
“But you only have until Monday, and I don’t want to sing with Tiffani.”
My eyebrows touch the ceiling and my spine stiffens. “Tiffani?”
“Ronni pulled another dick move and hired someone to replace you if you don’t come back. She practiced with us this morning.”
I sit on a chair so heavily, it hurts my butt. “She didn’t even wait for the body to get cold, did—oh God, Crew, I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t walk on eggshells around me. That’s not why I to
ld you.”
“Why exactly did you?”
“Because it was time, and I wanted you to know. I can’t explain it, but everything about today was, I don’t know … cathartic.”
I smile. “I’m glad, and I’m happy you went to see Dr. Evans, but I’m still not going tonight.”
“You’re not going tonight, or you’re not going ever?”
I try to picture Crew singing with someone else. A wave of nausea comes over me. But jealousy is not a reason to give in. “I can’t answer that right now. I have a lot of thinking to do.”
He comes close and takes my hand. “There’s a reason I never told anyone until now. I know you don’t trust me after what I’ve done, but I swear to you I’m going to change. Give me a chance to prove it to you.”
I gesture to the door. “You should go. You’ll be late.”
He opens it. “I really hope you’ll give me a chance, Bria. Give us a chance. This is the honest truth. Even if you can’t take me back, there’s nobody else I want onstage with me. You’re the only woman I want to sing with. Our songs belong to us, no one else. I’m willing to have you there any way I can get you.”
His words resonate in my head long after he’s gone.
I love him. He might love me. That also means he might not. Am I willing to risk it all again? What happens if nothing gets better? What happens if we end up right back where we were? Wouldn’t it be easier to make the break now?
But my truth is the same as his. He’s the only man I want to sing with, and maybe that can be enough.
Chapter Forty-two
Crew
Seven years ago
A week after Abby’s eighteenth birthday, they finally let us put them in the ground. A week of seconds dragging on like hours. Of every torturous minute being a reminder of how alone I am. Of each day feeling like an eternity without them.
I didn’t hear a word at the service. All I could do was stare blindly at the caskets, one of them so tiny it’s hard to believe they make them that small. Abby’s parents asked if I wanted the baby to be buried with Abby, but she was already a person to me. She deserves to have her own place in the world, as she did in my heart. I picked the words for her tombstone. ‘Baby Girl Rewey – gone too soon – loved forever’
I was asked if I wanted to speak at the service, but I couldn’t. Anything I wanted to say was written in a song that is about to be lowered into the ground, along with her body. I didn’t need to stand up and tell everyone what a great person she was or how much I loved her. Everyone knows it. The words belong solely to Abby, and the song dies with her. No one will ever see it. Nobody will ever sing it.
Music is the only thing that’s kept me going. I eat when I’m forced to. I sleep when exhaustion claims me. But music is the constant in my life, though I’ll never be able to sing again.
But I can write. I want to kill Rob Vargas—I wrote a song about it. I contemplate killing myself—I wrote a song about that too. I can’t sing—yup, another song. My notebook fills with lyrics pouring from my heart and soul.
After putting a single rose on each casket, I sit in the front row of chairs at the gravesite. Mom holds my hand while the minister says something about ashes and dust and returning to where we came from. Someone behind me puts a hand on my shoulder. I think it’s Liam. He’s all too familiar with burying a loved one. The circumstances were different, but he might be one of the only people who understands the hell I’m going through.
On the other side of the caskets are Abby’s parents. They look as devastated as I feel. I’m sure they think it’s worse for them, losing their only child. They think I’m young and can go on to love someone else. Have another baby even. Replace what I’ve lost, unlike them. They think that at eighteen, maybe we didn’t know what love really is. But they’d be wrong. I loved her. I love her. I promised her I’d never say those words to another person.
It starts to rain. Not hard, just a drizzle. I’m glad, because the sun shouldn’t shine when two young innocent people are put in the earth. As they lower the caskets into the ground, a song is played. It’s Abby’s favorite. Liam recorded it a few months ago during rehearsal. We’re singing. She’s singing. Although it guts me to hear her, I know I’ll always have this piece of her.
When the caskets go down far enough, and I can no longer see them, I stand up and move closer to keep that connection for as long as possible. When they reach the bottom and get covered, that’s it. It’s all over.
The song ends.
Hot tears stream down my face as I watch my world slip away. Only two words bounce around in my head.
What now?
Chapter Forty-three
Bria
The last twenty-four hours have been torture. Not only has Crew’s horrible story been haunting me, but someone recorded Reckless Alibi last night, and I can’t stop watching some girl named Tiffani sing with the man I love.
“You’re not going to let someone else live your life, are you?” Brett says.
He’s looking over my shoulder. I wonder how long he’s been standing there.
I put down my phone. “She’s good.”
“Not as good as you.”
“She’s pretty, too.”
Brett stands me up and puts his hands on my shoulders. “If you need me to stand here and fluff your ego by saying you’re everything she’s not, I will. Because I’m the big brother, and that’s what we do. But that’s not going to solve your problem. You love being a part of Reckless Alibi, so go be a part of it. Get back with Crew, don’t get back with him—either way, you know it’s where you belong.”
I sit. “It’s complicated. If I go back, he’ll think it’s for him.”
“Make sure he knows it’s because you love the band.”
I press my lips together and sigh. “I love him.”
He smiles sadly. “I know you do, but one thing’s for sure: you guys are not going to figure this out if he’s onstage with someone else.”
I look at the time. “I might be too late.”
“For what?”
“We’re playing in Jersey tonight.”
“What time do you have to be there?”
“Nine. I’d have to go home for clothes. I’ll never make it.”
“Get something out of Emma’s closet. I’ll pull the car around.”
“You’re going to drive me? What about Leo and Evie? Emma’s out with friends, so you have to be here.”
“I’ll text Bonnie across the street. Evie can watch Leo until she gets here.”
My heart beats wildly. “Are you sure?”
“I haven’t been to a show in a while. It’ll be fun.”
I bounce out of my chair, suddenly excited about going. I kiss him on the cheek and run upstairs.
~ ~ ~
Brett pulls up to the venue. “Wow, big place. You get out here, and I’ll find a place to park.”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime. Good luck.”
I hop out and go through the front door. Wow is right. This place is bigger than the nice club we played in the city. The first floor has a large bar in back, a big dance floor in front of the stage, and what must be a hundred high-top tables in-between. I crane my neck to see the second floor, where there’s another bar, more tables, and private VIP viewing areas along both sides.
There’s a lot of people here. Bodies mash together, dancing to the piped-in music. I weave my way through them. As I near the stage, I see Bruce setting up our equipment. There are two microphone stands.
I tense. The replacement singer is here. The whole drive over, I was worried about getting here in time. I completely forgot how awkward it would be if I barged in moments before the band took the stage. A sick feeling washes over me. What if they like her? What if they like her more than me?
I’m frozen, contemplating my choices.
“Brianna?” someone calls. It’s Jeremy. He looks confused. “Does anyone know you’re here?”
I shake my head.
He tries not to laugh. I don’t know what’s so funny.
He escorts me past a security guard, down a short hallway, and into a room. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
Six pairs of eyes turn towards us. The first person I see is Crew. A smile lights up his face when he sees me. Liam, Garrett, and Brad share fist bumps.
I expect Tiffani to pout and be mad. She does just the opposite—strides over and holds out her hand. “Bria, I’m Tiffani. It’s an honor to meet you. I’m a huge fan.”
Bria? Okay, I don’t want to, but I like her already.
Ronni stomps her heel loudly, commanding attention. “I don’t know what you’re doing here, Brianna, but everyone is ready. The playlist has been set. We’re going on as planned—without you.”
“Fuck that, Veronica,” Crew says. He smiles at me. “Are you here to sing?”
“If you want me to.”
“Hell yes, we want you to.”
“But Tiffani’s already here,” Ronni says, temper flaring. “She’s been rehearsing, and she sang last night.”
Tiffani says, “It’s okay, Ronni. Reckless Alibi is Bria’s band. She has every right to be here.”
Wow. This is not how I expected this to go.
“You gave her until Monday,” Liam says. “It’s Saturday. So there you have it. She’s back.” He turns to Tiffani. “Tiff, we’ve enjoyed having you. You’re a fantastic singer. Thanks for helping us out of a bind.”
“Anytime,” she says. “I really enjoyed it.” She pulls me aside as Ronni and Jeremy have words. “I meant it when I said I’m a big fan. I know most girls would kill for this opportunity, but Reckless Alibi wouldn’t be the same without you. Plus, I really like being a house singer for IRL. I love filling in where I’m needed. I’m not tied down to anyone and that’s the way I like it.”
I hug the woman who might have stolen my job but didn’t. “Thanks, Tiffani. I’m so glad it was you who filled in.”
Reckless Obsession (The Reckless Rockstar Series) Page 26
