RUINED - The Price of Play: Everhide Rockstar Romance Series Book 2

by Tania Joyce

  With a wave of her hand, she ordered another double shot.

  Taking a mouthful of whiskey, she swirled it around in her mouth. She closed her eyes and imagined her heart slowing down. Growing colder. Growing harder. Stronger. With one ripping, burning, blazing gulp, she swallowed. And drowned Hunter out of her system.

  Once and for all.

  He was gone.

  A new Kara was born.

  Chapter 25

  Dusk blanketed Lower Manhattan in a soft golden light that filtered through Hunter’s apartment windows, hit his glass of JD, and refracted a kaleidoscope of color onto the shiny black piano surface. The rainbow effect was unable to filter through to his clouded mind. He sat at his piano. This was what he needed—a break. No stress. Just him, music, and a bottle of JD. Brushing his fingers over the keys, he played a low, slow tune.

  Da-da. Dum. Dum. Dum. Da-da. Dum. Dum. Dum

  Nothing meaningful. Nothing new.

  While the One World Trade Center dominated the view south, it was the small cobblestone street half a mile farther down the avenue that held his focus. The street that led to Kara’s place.

  He’d been home from tour for two days. He hadn’t called her, texted her, or seen her. Ever since she left him in Rio two weeks ago, after one text he’d sent, there had been total radio silence. Every night, thoughts of her kept him awake, and when he caught some sleep, she invaded his dreams. He looked for her face in the crowd at every concert, hoping she’d miraculously returned. But she never did.

  He couldn’t blame her. He’d been an insensitive prick at the shoot, hanging out with the models. And that stupid girl who’d kissed him during the session still boiled his blood. Bitch. He’d been so close to calling cut and having her thrown out. That was what he should’ve done. He didn’t want girls all over him anymore. He wanted . . . Kara. She’d been there for him, and he’d left her alone. He’d screwed up. Again.

  He’d been foolish to kiss her, thinking it would be enough to make her stay. When she’d asked him if he wanted to be with her, it took every ounce of his being to hold his tongue. Because she deserved someone so much better than him. How could he ask her to settle for a man who wasn’t good enough? When he saw her heart break, it tore him apart. He’d never wanted to hurt her. But what else could he do? He had to let her go. They lived two streets away from each other, but they were worlds’ apart.

  He closed his eyes. His fingers glided over the ivory keys. The sound resonated throughout his living room and seeped into the marrow of his bones.

  Grabbing his glass, he sipped his whiskey and opened the journal resting on top of the piano. He flipped through the pages and stopped at the lyrics and notes he’d written for Ryan’s song. His fingers fell to the keys.

  Dum. Dum. Dum.

  Nope. Better not. Still too raw. Even after two months.

  The elevator in the hallway dinged. Gemma’s soft footsteps scuffed on the hardwood floors.

  “Evening.” She tossed her access card onto the coffee table and sat beside him on the piano stool. She looked over her shoulder toward the kitchen. “What happened in here?”

  His backpack lay on the dining table, untouched since he came home. Dirty coffee cups and glasses sat on the counter by the sink. Five new bottles of whiskey stood front and center on the dining room table next to leftover containers from last night’s dinner. The sixth bottle of JD sat open in front of him. She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. “Want some help to clean up?”

  “Nah. Leave it.” He’d get to it. Maybe tomorrow.

  She yawned and covered her mouth. “It feels like forever since I’ve been here.”

  “Yeah,” His voice was deadpan. “It’s been too long.”

  With only a brief few days over Christmas and New Year’s, and the void of three weeks when Ryan died, he hadn’t been home for nine months. Where had the time gone?

  Gemma rubbed her bleary eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept so good in my life. I’ve barely risen for two days. I missed my bed and my shower. And I love not living out of a suitcase. Let’s not tour again for ages. I’m drained. So looking forward to a break.”

  He tinkered on the keys. “It will be nice to stay home for a while. No planes. No shows. Just chill.”

  “Absolutely.” She slapped his thigh. “For the next two weeks anyway.”

  Promotions, events, and appearances were lined up for summer. Tour was over, but the work was never done.

  Hunter glanced toward the hallway. “Where’s Kyle?”

  “He was waiting for dinner to be delivered. He’ll be here soon.”

  “Good. I’m starving.” He hadn’t eaten since reheating last night’s leftover pasta in the microwave for breakfast this morning. Then he’d slept most of the day away. JD was his staple.

  “Whatcha working on?” She glanced at his journal.

  He quickly flipped the pages over to his latest work-in-progress. Not even Kyle and Gemma would hear Ryan’s song. It was too private. Too painful.

  He wiped his hands on his jeans and scanned the scribble on the new page. He’d written this a few days after Kara left Rio. Before Ryan, he wrote songs about partying, picking up girls, Amie screwing him over or his unbreakable bond with Kyle and Gemma. Now Kara was inside his head, and his lyrics came out full of anguish, turmoil, and heartache. While he wrote a lot of his thoughts down, many would never be made into songs. But this one was good. It summed up how he felt. “I’ve been working on this for just over a week. Working title is ‘Torture.’ I’ve got this real mellow melody for it in mind.”

  Gemma clapped her hands and shuffled closer to him on the seat. “Awesome. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

  Her enthusiasm was like a jump-start to his heart. Yep . . . with Gemma and Kyle, he’d be fine. His two best friends and music were all he needed. He had to remember that.

  The first time of playing songs for each other were usually awkward, rough, and unrefined. But this one was clear. He took another swig of JD and let the burn slide down his throat, loosening his vocal cords. He put his glass down, cracked his knuckles, placed his fingers on the smooth ivory, and played. “Okay. ‘Torture.’ Here we go.”

  He licked his lips and sang, deep and slow.

  Loving you is like t-t-t-torture, you’ll be the death of me,

  You stole my heart and threw away the key.

  You tied me down when I looked away,

  Injected me with something I can’t explain.

  Electric shocks surge through to my brain,

  You’re like a drug surging through my veins.

  I wish I, I wish I could walk away,

  Because baby,

  Loving you is like t-t-t-torture.

  Torture.

  And all I know, and all I know,

  Is I want it more and more,

  More and more.

  Loving you is like t-t-t-torture, feel like you’re drowning me,

  Can’t come up for air, yeah, I’m struggling, cannot breathe.

  You hold me down and smother me,

  Your kisses are so hard they keep on blinding me.

  Loving you is like t-t-t-torture, a mixture of pleasure and pain,

  You can dominate me, in every possible way.

  My hands are bound, my tongue is tied,

  Loving you sure is one wild ride.

  Gemma sat still, staring at the keys. “Wow. You’re really fucked up, aren’t you? The song is awesome. But totally twisted.”

  “Is it too much?” Doubt washed over him.

  “No. I think it’s brilliant. I love it. I’d like to see it as a psycho, fun, crazy-in-love song, not an I-want-to-slash-my-wrists one.” She placed her hands and mimicked the keys he’d played perfectly, taking it up an octave, then down an octave. Then she stopped. “It’s about Kara, isn’t it?”

  His stomach dropped, hovering somewhere around the piano’s lowest note. “What makes you say that? I wrote a fucking song. That’s all.”

  S
he groaned and dropped her head back. “When are you going to stop with all this bullshit and admit that you’re into her? Why are you fighting it?”

  “It’s not meant to be, Gem.” He shot down a mouthful of JD and refilled his glass.

  “Have you gone to see her since we’ve been home?”

  The whiskey churned in his gut. “No. I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  His heart screamed as loud as the fire-truck sirens wailing past his building. “It hurts.”

  “Because you’re not being honest with yourself.” She grabbed his glass, knocked back the JD, and slammed the empty glass down. The whiskey fumes on her breath wafted through the air and she slowly shook her head. “You two have grown so close. I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself. On tour, your eyes were on her every time she was in the room. You rushed to her side when you thought she was hurt. You always sat close to her. You were always touching her. You were never that affectionate with Amie . . . or me. You’re into her, so what’s your problem? What are you so afraid of?”

  He rubbed at his chest, wishing he could erase the pain. “Hurting her.”

  “You already have.” Gemma splayed her hands on the keys and pressed them hard. The strum echoed through the room. “She left Rio because of you.”

  “I know.” He slumped on the stool as visions of Kara’s eyes, full of tears, flickered through his mind.

  Gemma looked up at him from underneath her long lashes. “I thought I knew you. Nothing Kyle and I say or do is getting through to you. We’ve given you time and space, but enough is enough.” She clutched his hand on top of his thigh and squeezed it tight. “You can’t keep lying to yourself. You said you’d never lie to me. So I’m gonna ask you again: why the fuck are you doing this to yourself? To her?”

  Tugging free of her hold, he dragged his fingers down his face. She was too perceptive. His head ached, tired of everyone’s concern and worry.

  Like a high-tension steel cable breaking, something inside him snapped. He clamped his fist and slapped his palms down on top of the piano. “Because I don’t want to hurt anymore.” Every muscle in his jaw ached. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. Or be hurt again. Isn’t that enough?”

  “No. It’s not.” Gemma’s tone, clipped and sharp, stung.

  He closed his eyes, hating how she stressed about him. She was one of the reasons why he was like this. She may have forgiven him, but he could never forget. “I remember how much I hurt you, and it killed me. You’re my best friend. What kind of person does that make me? Other than a complete shithead? Then Amie screwed me over. I thought nothing could hurt me ever again. But then I lost Ryan. I lost my son. I can’t take any more heartache. I’ve got nothing left.”

  Gemma curled her arm around his and rested her head against his shoulder. “I was heartbroken and shattered after Ben—afraid to open up to anyone. But then there was you. After being friends for so many years, you were suddenly my light. Yeah, you broke my heart, and it sucked. It was one of the worst days of my life. But look at me now. Kyle and I. In a crazy twist of fate, we’re together and happy. He’s my one. You’ve had an unlucky run with love. Don’t block yourself off from ever experiencing it again.”

  “Kara’s not the one.” Even saying her name hurt his throat.

  “How do you know?”

  “We’re too different. I’m a rock star; she’s a princess. She wants marriage . . . and wanted kids.” His voice snagged like splintered wood. Had her desire for children changed now she couldn’t carry her own? “You, me, and Kyle are never around. We’re always traveling, touring, and living our crazy lives. I’m not the guy for someone who wants a homebody.”

  “Being with someone is about compromise. You should know that.” Gemma jabbed him in the side, but he didn’t flinch. “After everything the two of you went through, it’s changed you too. You were so excited to become a father. Maybe what you want in life is now different. Maybe the thought of being with one girl isn’t scary anymore.”

  It wasn’t. But his past haunted him. “I don’t trust myself.” The hardest of truths quivered his voice. “Look what I did to you.”

  Pain swirled in Gemma’s vivid green eyes. “Is this about being faithful?”

  Hunter hung his head. He’d cheated on her. Because Amie, someone he’d thought was better, had come along. God, he was pathetic. He hated himself so much.

  Gemma stroked his hair and tucked it behind his ear. “Being faithful and committed is easy when you give your heart to someone.”

  The last remnant of daylight disappeared, and the city lights took over the sky.

  He puffed air through his nose. “I don’t think I have any heart left to give. I’m the tin man.”

  “You have too much heart. That’s your problem. But you’re not letting it beat. Give it a chance. Think how awesome it would be if it worked out. If not, I’ll be there for Kara. And Kyle and I will always be here for you. We’re not going anywhere.”

  He grabbed her hand, placed it on her leg, and squeezed it. “We’ve got each other’s back. Haven’t we?” He brushed his thumb over the tattoo on the inside of her left wrist, the GKH—initials of their names. “I love you.”

  She clutched his hand. “I know you do. And I love you. After everything the three of us have been through, we deserve some happiness. I found mine with Kyle. I’ve been lucky to find my forever guy in one of my best friends. That blows my mind every time I think about it. Now, why don’t you stop this nonsense, let go of those chains, and take a leap of faith?”

  His throat ran dry and he struggled to swallow. “Because I’m terrified of how I feel for her.”

  “I know you are. But love can also be exhilarating.” She nudged his arm. “Do me a favor. Do yourself a favor. Go and see her.”

  He tilted his head and stared at the downlight. Visions of Kara filled his mind. In LA on the shoot. The snow fight in Chicago. Ryan’s scan. Being with her on tour. No one riled him up, pissed him off, excited him, or fucked up his head like she did. He hated not being around her. Was that enough to go on? Like a Zippo struggling to light, his heart tried to kick to life. His past relationships had sprouted from friendship first. Maybe this would be a case of third time lucky.

  Gemma was right. He was crazy not to do something about it.

  The elevator pinged, and Kyle walked in. “What’s up?”

  Hunter swung around one way on the stool, Gemma the other. He hooked his arm around her neck and tickled her in the ribs. “You need to control your fiancée.”

  Kyle laughed, placing the takeaway on the coffee table. “Control Gem? Are you kidding me? Why? What’s going on?”

  “Hunt has to go out.” Gemma punched him in the arm.

  He bit on his lip and nodded. Yeah. He did. He turned to grab the bottle of JD, but Gemma stopped him.

  “You don’t need that. Let the feels in.”

  “I hate you.”

  Smile lines creased the corner of her eyes. “Hate you, too.”

  She was the best. But hopefully he was about to find something better. He stood and kissed her on the head. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Gemma leapt from the stool and dashed over to Kyle. She flung her arms around his neck, jumped up, hooked her legs around his waist, and kissed him.

  “Okay.” Kyle clutched her ass and mumbled over her kisses. “What’s going on?”

  Hunter smiled, chuckling at them. Gemma was right. Seeing how happy they were gave him a spark of hope it might happen to him one day.

  “Hunt needed a kick in the butt.” Gemma pressed her cheek against Kyle’s and gave Hunter a wink. “He’s going to see Kara.”

  Kyle lay Gemma down on the chaise, hovering over her, and nestled between her legs. He nuzzled into her neck. He didn’t even bother to look up. “About time, Hunt. Good luck.”

  “I just need to do something. In the office. I’ll be out of here in a few minutes.”

  Five minutes later, Hunt
er stuffed the printed-out piece of paper into his jeans pocket and walked out of the office. He grabbed his wallet and cell phone. He rolled his eyes at Kyle and Gemma making out of the sofa. “Please don’t have sex on my sofa while I’m gone.”

  “Why not?” Gemma giggled like a schoolgirl. “We have before. Many times.”

  “Whatever. I’m out of here.” With his heart hammering, he headed for the elevator.

  ***

  It took Hunter seven minutes to walk to Kara’s. Pacing the pavement in front of her building, his stomach flipped, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. God, he hoped he was doing the right thing.

  With a shaky hand, he entered his access code into the panel by the foyer door. He held his breath, hoping Kara hadn’t canceled his details from the system. The door latch clicked open. The air rushed from his lungs and he dashed inside. Not bothering to wait for the slow elevator, he darted up the stairs, two steps at a time.

  At her door, he hesitated. Music played softly on the other side. Shit. This was it. Did he look okay? He smoothed his hands through his hair. Smelled his shirt. It was fine, freshly laundered. His breath reeked of whiskey, but that was a given. It’d have to do.

  He closed his eyes. With a tremble in his hand, he knocked.

  Something fell onto the floor. Sounded like books. She swore. The music was turned off. Then nothing. She swore again, much closer this time. Maybe she’d peered through the spy hole. The safety lock clicked, and she opened the door.

  The sight of her stole his breath. His heart raced. There she stood in a gorgeous short red wrap dress. Makeup on. Hair pulled into a messy chignon. Barefoot and beautiful.

  “Hey.” She folded her arms and leaned against her door. “I heard you were home. What are you doing here?”

  He stuffed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans to stop them shaking. “Ca . . . can I come in?”

  “Um.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m going out soon. Catching up with some girls for dinner and drinks.”

  Shit. Bad timing. “Can I have ten minutes? We need to talk.”