by Quinn, Cari
He tipped back his head to stare at the ceiling. It was only then that he noticed the cluster of balloons in the corner, decorated with get well wishes and cartoon characters. “Who sent those?”
“Everyone.” She smiled. “Your bandmates and assorted friends and family have been in and out of this room constantly while you’ve been napping.”
The surge of hope nearly stole his breath. Hell, it did entirely. “You lied to me?”
She patted his hand. “Selective truth.”
“If I ask if she’s been here, does that prove I need to go to Visions?”
“No, it proves you love her, and for good reason, because she’s barely slept since you’ve been in this white-walled prison. I finally sent her home an hour ago to get some rest. She’s worn out and on the verge of getting sick.”
“Good. I mean, I’m glad you sent her, that she went.”
“Me too.” Lila picked at her nails. “So how long are you going to evade the question?”
“I didn’t realize there was one.” He let out a breath. “I’ve gone a few days without any blow.”
“You’ve been unconscious for most of them.”
He dropped his head to the pillow. “I’m not your husband—”
“Hey, am I interrupting?”
Gray glanced up at Nick’s brush of knuckles against the doorframe. It wasn’t even close to an actual knock, but Nick expending even a modicum of effort in the manners department was big. Gray started to respond until he realized Nick’s gaze was locked on Lila.
“Your husband, hmm?” He smiled blandly as he walked into the room without waiting for an invitation. “I must’ve missed that you have one.”
She angled her chin. “I must’ve missed that it was any of your business.”
Nick’s smile never faltered. “Everything’s my business, sweetness.” He shifted his attention to Gray. “You look semi-alive.”
Gray cocked his head, wondering if the pain meds he was on had influenced what he thought he’d just witnessed. Even now Lila and Nick were so noticeably not looking at each other that they might as well have been in a staring contest. What the hell?
Too bad Jazz wasn’t there. She’d be able to weigh in—yeah, like that wouldn’t be the least bit awkward.
It was all so fucking awkward.
“I’m okay,” Gray said, tucking the card Lila had given him under the sheet. He had no intention of going down that road with Nick, today or any other day.
“Your color’s better. Gray’s not a good color for you.” Nick grinned at his own joke. “See what I did there?”
“Impressive.” Lila rose to her feet. “Think about what we discussed, Grayson, and get back to me when you’ve made a decision.”
“What if I already have?”
She tucked her bite-sized purse under her arm. “Then my original terms for your loan repayment stand. You didn’t use the money as intended, so you’re out.”
“Wait a second,” Nick began, shocking Gray into silence.
“Butt out,” Lila snapped. “If you were such a humanitarian, you wouldn’t have caused trouble for him and Jasmine at every turn. I know what the hell I’m doing.” She strode out of the room and shut the door. She didn’t slam it, but it was damn close.
“Goddamn women.” Nick grabbed the chair Lila had vacated and linked his fingers between his knees. “So about what you saw the other night—”
“I know it wasn’t like what I thought. I wasn’t exactly in my right mind.”
“Yeah, and that news about your brother…I’m sorry, man.”
“Me too. Not that the fucker’s dead, mind you, but that I had to find out like that. That she knew and didn’t tell me, probably because she thought it would send me headfirst into a mirror.”
“Was she wrong?”
“Christ, I don’t know. If a line was in front of me right now…” Gray shook his head. “Fuck, I am sorry he’s dead, but acknowledging it makes me feel as if I’m betraying Jazz.” He glanced at Nick. “You know what happened?”
“Yeah.” Nick locked his linked hands behind his neck. “You only had one brother. I get it. My sister and I aren’t exactly the Olson twins, but she’s still my fucking sister. I still shared a freaking womb with her.”
Gray snorted out a laugh. “Olsen twins gone really wrong, maybe.” He sobered and rewound something in his head that Lila had said earlier. “Have you been around much the past few days?”
“Aww, worried that I don’t care?”
“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”
Nick jerked a shoulder. “I’m tired of looking back. Time for us to look forward, don’t you think?”
“Yeah.” Gray scrubbed his hands over his face and smothered the groan that nearly escaped him. A bit early for moves like that just yet. He dropped his hands and decided he didn’t have much to lose.
Lies. All fucking lies. He could lose everything.
“Did my parents come?” he asked quietly, not meeting Nick’s eyes.
“Yeah. I saw Jazz talking to them.”
“Okay.” He forced out the breath that had gotten lodged in his throat. “Okay.”
“You could talk to them yourself, you know. It doesn’t mean you don’t love her.”
“What does it mean then?”
“It means you’re human, and sometimes you need someone. That simple. And that complicated.” He paused. “She’s still wearing your ring, you know.”
“Christ.” His breath left him on a shudder he couldn’t stop. “I shouldn’t want her to be.”
“You know, it seems like you’re not real comfortable with feeling how you actually feel. You could try relaxing and seeing what happens.” Nick lifted his hands, his smile slipping into his trademark smirk. “Just a suggestion.”
“I’ll take it under advisement. I, ah, heard you covered for me at the show.”
“She covered for you, and she kicked ass. If you’re nice to me, I might hook you up with some really hot footage of your really hot fiancée playing your guitar.” Nick waggled his brows.
Gray tried not to grin. “You’re a frigging perv.”
“So?”
Gray extended his fist, waiting until Nick bumped his knuckles to his. “Thanks.”
“Yeah. You know, since you owe me, we could always try that threesome again…”
If anyone had ever told Gray he’d be able to laugh someday about one of the darkest nights of his life, he would’ve told them they were crazy. But somehow he managed it, even if it hurt like hell—at least physically if not emotionally. “Yep. Perv.”
Nick grinned. “You know it, brother.”
Thirty-Seven
Then
A knock on the door had Gray lifting his head. Jazz stood in the doorway, her normally bright colors and funky jeans exchanged for black shapeless pants and a black turtleneck. Ever since that day three weeks ago when Brent had attacked her, she’d worn little else. Her crazy braids and ponytails had been exchanged for a style that hid her face.
She was in self-protection mode and he couldn’t stand the part he’d played in pushing his brother to that point. He’d known he was prodding a bear with his taunts, but he’d just never guessed Brent was capable of going that far.
He’d regret his mistake for the rest of his life.
“Hey there.” She gave him a weak smile. “You ready to head back?”
“No.” He pulled the zipper closed on his duffel. “I don’t want to go.”
“You’ve already been here way past your spring break.” She shook her head and came into his bedroom, pulling the door shut behind her. “What are you going to do? Drop out of school so you can keep an eye on me?”
“Yes.” He didn’t hesitate. “But not to keep an eye on you, just to be together. I have a good amount of money set aside from birthdays and Christmas, and that’s enough to get us started. We can move to San Francisco. We’ll both get jobs—”
“You already have a life.” She sat
on the edge of his bed, a careful distance away from him. Since that day with Brent, she hadn’t so much as let Gray hug her. “I don’t want you to put that aside for me. We can’t just run off together.”
“Why not?”
She laughed, the sound as brittle as dry leaves. He’d begun to worry that he’d never truly hear her laugh again. “Because I got a better offer.”
“What offer?” he asked, pushing his bag to the floor so he could sit beside her.
“My great-aunt Casey asked me to come live with her. She’s older and needs help getting around. But it’ll get me out of the system.”
“You never mentioned an aunt before.” He couldn’t keep the suspicion out of his voice, especially when she ducked her head. “Why does she want you to live with her now?”
“She knows I need a place. And like I said, she’s older and has a few health problems. My being there will help.”
“You don’t have to leave here. My parents won’t make you go—”
Again she laughed, her gaze faraway. “They want me out. Brent wants me out. And to be honest, I need to go. This isn’t—it isn’t where I want to be anymore.”
“So be with me.” He grabbed her hand and held it to his cheek. She stiffened, and he knew he should let her go. But God, he couldn’t. It felt like she was slipping away from him, and he’d be damned if he gave up without a fight. “You remember how it was between us in San Francisco. We had so much fun. Riding bikes, playing guitar, coming up with really bad drink concoctions from the hotel mini bar.”
The last he added to make her smile, but she didn’t respond. She’d retreated inside herself to a place he couldn’t reach.
“We’re not a couple.” She met his eyes then, her chin firm even as her lips trembled. “We’re just friends.”
“Just my ass. I’ve never had a friend like you. No one matters to me as much as you.”
“And that’s not right.” She tugged her hand back and stood. “You have a million friends at school and a full, busy life. God, you got all As this year so far. You’re being offered internships and opportunities right and left. Why would you consider giving any of that up for me? Not to mention leaving your family—”
“You’re my family,” he interrupted. “I love you.”
She shook her head. “I know we played brother and sister for a short while, but that doesn’t make it real.”
He rose and tugged on her hand, pulling her against him. Before she could evade the move, he cupped her cheek and lowered his head. “You’re not my sister,” he murmured.
Her pupils widened, the darkness swallowing the blue until only a hint remained. Her breathing sped up, her breasts rising and falling against his chest. He tried like hell not to be affected, not to even notice the points of her nipples pressing into his flesh through his shirt, but the reaction below his waist was instantaneous. From the sound of distress she made, she felt it.
She jerked back and turned away, covering her face with her hands.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. “I’m sorry,” he gritted out. “I didn’t mean to push you.”
“No. You didn’t. You wouldn’t. It’s just…it’s never going to happen, Gray.” She turned around and relief surged through him that she wasn’t crying. Until he realized her face held no emotion at all. “You’re always going to be part of some of the best memories of my life. I’ll never forget you.”
“Forget me?” He clenched his fist. “So, what, you’re just going to move on like we never knew each other?”
“Of course not,” she said, letting out a quick laugh. “I won’t be far away. I’m just going to my aunt’s.”
“Where does she live?”
“In Carson. I’ll be fine.”
Something felt wrong. “Give me her address and phone number.”
“I already wrote it down for you.” She dug out a piece of paper from her pocket and placed it in his hand. “Go on. Your mom’s waiting to say goodbye, and I’m on my way out too.”
“You’re leaving now? Today?”
She gave him a brief smile. “I don’t want to be here without you, but that doesn’t mean either one of us should stay.”
He had to try one more time. He gripped her arms and poured every ounce of love he had for her into his expression, hoping to God she could feel how much he wanted to be with her. That nothing else mattered half as much. “You want freedom, baby, I can give you that. I’ll give you everything.”
“I know. It’s just…the time’s not right, okay? Maybe in a few years—”
“A few years?” The question burst out of him. “I don’t want to wait any longer. We have no reason to.” He rubbed his thumb along the inside of her arm and she trembled, closing her eyes. “We can have San Francisco. Just you and me.”
“Maybe someday. Take care, okay?” She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, her lips sliding to the left for a fraction of an instant, ghosting over the corner of his mouth. “I love you,” she said, easing back.
He held on for as long as he could, then dropped his arms.
During the drive back to school, he called the number she’d given him on a hunch. The call wouldn’t go through. The line had been disconnected.
Thirty-Eight
Now
Jazz tapped her short fuchsia nails on her table at Silas’s Tavern and debated whether or not her touchy stomach could deal with iced tea. Apparently she’d stopped getting panic attacks in the face of stress and had moved right on to bouts of nausea.
After the night Gray had been hurt, she’d mostly been okay, not counting her horrifying replays of the way he’d looked when he lurched into the cabin. Then there was what he’d said, though she couldn’t think about that part too much and stay sane. Even considering that Gray had turned to coke because of her hurt so much. But she couldn’t go back and change things, no matter how much she wished she could.
She glanced around the dimly lit restaurant and pushed aside her menu. All she could do was this.
Leaning back against the booth, she stifled a yawn. Exhaustion dogged her constantly, but that made sense since she was barely sleeping. A likely side effect of her injured fiancé being in the hospital, she suspected.
A fiancé she hadn’t spoken to for almost a week.
He’d been sprung last night and Nick—Nick, of all people—had picked him up and brought him back to the apartment. Like a coward, she’d cuddled her new kittens in her bedroom while listening to them laughing through the wall. True, they hadn’t been yukking it up, just sharing the occasional chuckle, but still. When had the earth tilted off its axis?
It wasn’t that she didn’t want them to be friends. She did, absolutely. She wanted all of the crap of the past year to disappear entirely, including the awkwardness between the three of them. She just hadn’t expected the two of them to become buddies while she tried to figure out how to even speak to Gray.
He hadn’t made much effort on that score either. He’d called her from the hospital to thank her for the balloons and for sitting vigil. And he’d apologized for his “harsh words”, of course, because his gentlemanly ways never disappeared for long. But the easy banter and enduring closeness that had always existed between them had disappeared, and she didn’t have the first clue how to get it back.
She hoped this was a good first step.
Bypassing the iced tea she doubted she could swallow, she opened her purse and checked the contents of the bank envelope inside. She was taking a risk doing this, in every sense of the word. Growing up essentially on her own had made her excessively frugal, not counting her dependence on hair dye—usually store bought with coupons—and her thrift shop wardrobe. Today she’d practically emptied her savings account, and she’d also incurred a future debt to the absolute last people she wanted to owe money to.
The Duffys.
Bumping into them at the hospital had been about as difficult as she’d expected. She hadn’t been surprised to see them, considering she’d called them in t
he first place. Telling them that Gray had a drug problem and had gotten hurt had been tough, mostly because she hated the feeling that she was betraying Gray. But his parents needed to know, and he needed them back in his life.
What he thought about her for making that decision for him didn’t much matter. She’d opened the door for them to walk through again. If Gray chose to back right out, there was nothing more she could do.
In the meantime, she was going to order an iced tea, count her big stack of bills and try to look badass while she waited for her lunch companion to join her.
Ten minutes later, her dining guest finally appeared.
The blonde strutted up to the table, every inch of her from head to toe well-coiffed and perfectly presented. She wore an expensively cut business suit, one that highlighted her many curves and also gave her an air of professionalism. If Jazz hadn’t known better, she might’ve actually believed the woman across from her was a lawyer or doctor or someone else important.
“Jasmine,” she said, slipping into the opposite side of the booth. “I apologize for my tardiness.”
“Cricket,” Jazz replied, just as agreeably. “Don’t worry about it. We’re not friends, so manners aren’t expected or necessary.”
The waitress picked that moment to reappear and Jazz ordered her beverage. Cricket ordered a salad and diet soda while smiling and laughing with the woman serving them as if she couldn’t be having more fun.
The moment the waitress left, Cricket leaned back in the booth and crossed her arms. “Out with your little proposition. My time is valuable and right now you’re wasting it.”
“You’re the one who ordered lunch like we were old pals.”
The corner of Cricket’s mouth lifted. “I enjoy their salads here. I’m surprised you didn’t get something too.”
“I’m on a diet.” She wasn’t, but there was no damn way she’d ever eat with this woman.
“Oh.” Cricket gave her a quick onceover. “Well, good luck. I always believe in being proactive and not letting a situation get too far out of hand before I deal with it.”
