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  His head lifts, eyes bloodshot as he stares at me with a dimpled chin. “You didn’t leave?”

  I step across to the dock and turn the music down. “No. Didn’t you see my message?”

  His maniacal laughter dissolves in a guttural moan. “Kitty, they took the fucking thing off me. Can you believe that shit? I got my motherfucking phone confiscated like I’m a goddamn kid.”

  It’s kind of funny. “Really?”

  “You’re here,” he repeats on a whisper. “Why?” The brief respite slides away, not a shadow of it left as he slumps onto his heels and gently rocks to the music.

  The song starts again.

  “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

  “Because everyone always leaves.” His fists flex on his knees. “Everyone has enough. Everyone breaks. Mostly me.”

  I drop to my knees and shuffle before him, torn apart watching him self-destruct. “Talk to me. What brought you to this, Rey? Make me understand how you went from the cocky guy I met a few weeks ago to this complete one-eighty.”

  His jaw flexes as he swallows, his reddened eyes fixated on mine. I count the breaths he takes, praying for the patience to let him come to me in his own time. I want to shake the doubt from him, slap him with the incredible talent he possesses.

  But none of that will help when he can’t see it for himself through the fog of his depression.

  “You wouldn’t understand.” He drops his head, chin tucked to his chest as he fidgets with the frayed threads on his jeans. “Fuck. It was a good show.” A bitter laugh escapes. “Why am I like this, then? What the fuck is my deal?”

  “Where are the others?” Something has to have happened to send him over the edge.

  “Doing interviews.”

  Probably a good thing he chose to come back here then. “Why are you mad at them?” I break his day down; filling in the blanks in the hopes it’ll give me something to go off.

  “They cut me out.” His smile is beautiful in its honesty, yet ugly with its pain. “They told me to leave because I couldn’t be trusted not to ‘make a scene.’”

  Ouch. “Who told you to leave?”

  “Toby. Rick. Even Emery nodded at what they said.”

  “Kris?”

  Rey laughs. “Fucker never says much anyway.”

  “Hey.” I take his hands in mine, resting them on my knees. “Tell me about the show. Why was it good?”

  “Fucking epic crowd.” His voice is clearer as he lifts our joined hands to wipe his face with the inside of his right elbow. “I got down front with them, had them singing lines for me. It’s always cool when they’re so interactive.”

  The shift is measurable, the topic enough to pull him from his spiral. “What songs did they do for you?”

  He keeps talking, recounting the night. Tells me all about a birthday girl they got up on stage to serenade with their own twisted version of “Happy Birthday.” I hold on throughout, feeling the stress enter me as it melts from him.

  Yet as he wraps up his retell of the concert, the darkness remains. His lips quirk up on one side apologetically as he sits in silence, only the song repeating between us.

  “You’re still here,” he murmurs, cycling back to the start of the conversation.

  I get to my feet, pulling him with me. “Not going anywhere, Rey. Except”—I tug my hands free to head for the music dock—“over here to switch this off.”

  He huffs a laugh, standing on the spot with his hands tucked in the back pockets of his jeans as he watches me. “You’re fucking incredible, kitty. You know that?”

  “Not really.” I give him a sad smile. “I’m just me.”

  “Which is what makes you so incredible.” He reaches for me, sighing when I step into his embrace. “I wish I could be more of a man for you.” He huffs at the sentiment.

  I pull back to shake my head at him, keeping my eyes on his. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

  “It’s girly, crying and shit. It’s weak.”

  Ugh! “No, it’s not,” I snap. “It’s never weak to admit when you need help. It’s the bravest fucking thing you can do.” Heaven knows I don’t do it enough.

  “You were on my mind all night,” he says, lifting a hand to sweep the hair from my face so that he can rest his palm against my cheek. “I just wanted one more minute to talk to you. One more minute to tell you how sorry I am.”

  “I know you are.” I allow my eyes to slip closed as I lean into his touch. “But it means nothing if you let things get this bad again.”

  I lift my head and hold his gaze, hoping I haven’t pushed too far. Judging by the sullen look on his face, I skate the line.

  His hand slips down to rest on my back. “I drove Kris mad with how many times I screwed up one song in practice. I should have known then I’d be useless tonight. Owe him a pack of smokes for it.”

  Little things like that, little glimpses of their friendships remind me that behind all the fuss, they’re just men. They’re simply a bunch of friends who got together doing what they love.

  Except now that same thing tears them all apart.

  “How long have you got before we leave this place?”

  “A day. We hit the road again tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow morning. You need to sit down with the guys and talk about what’s going on,” I level. “You can’t stay angry at them, and they can’t have a reason to be mad at you.”

  “Kitty.” He steps back, the void between us physical as well as mental. “They know what’s going on. That’s the problem.”

  “Do they? Because I don’t see them around right now. I don’t see them here witnessing this.”

  He holds my gaze, jaw working left to right.

  “What do they see, Rey?”

  His scrutiny shifts as he heads for the bedroom.

  I follow him in, standing at the door as he begins to undress. I need to hurry this conversation up if I expect to hold it without distraction. “Tell me.”

  He sighs, tossing his denim vest and T-shirt to the floor. “Put it this way: Toby wrestled me after I told him to leave me alone to get it right next time so that he wouldn’t have to deal with me and my shit ever again.”

  My heart damn near stops as sickness rises. “Get what right?”

  Those red eyes snap to mine as he looks over his shoulder. “You know what.”

  Fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t pretend that I’m strong enough to do this.

  “I said I won’t leave, and I meant it. But I’ll only stay on one condition, Rey.”

  “Give it to me.” He heads for the bathroom.

  I follow him to the door, talking to his back as he flicks the shower on. “That you promise to let me know if you think of doing that again.”

  “Say it.” His words are a cold knife against my throat. “Show me you have enough guts to say it. Don’t pussyfoot around me, kitty. I don’t like people who treat me with kid gloves.”

  “Taking your life, Rey,” I grit out. “Promise to tell me if you feel like dying is the only option.”

  His smile is sad as he unbuckles his belt. “Guess what.”

  I can barely get the word out of my throat. “What?”

  “I feel like that right now.”

  Shit. Holy shit. How the fuck do I deal with this. “Why?” My voice breaks.

  “Because I miss the mania.” His shoulders rise with a sigh before he drops it all; naked as the day he was born before he steps in the shower and behind the frosted glass panel. “That’s the only thing about a high that great,” he calls out as I literally fold to the floor. “It amplifies the low.”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “I wish I could promise you the same.” He stops moving beneath the flow as a sigh echoes off the glass. “I really do. And you know why?”

  God, don’t tell me. “Why?” This is going to hurt; I know it.

  “Because I think I figured out why I need you here with me.”

  My chest aches as I fight
to control my breathing, my legs tucked to my chest.

  “I think I love you.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  Rey

  Ordinary – Like A Storm

  She thinks I can’t hear her cry, but I can, and it fucking tears me apart knowing I caused that.

  Water runs in rivers from my hair, slicked over my face, hiding my eyes. I like it, the pretense of a cloak to hide me from the world. I stand in the shower until my fingers wrinkle, even my dislike of water not enough to shift me from this spot.

  Her sobs have stopped by the time I decide enough is enough and dry off to head through to the bedroom. She lies on the bed, curled in on herself as her fingers fidget with a fold in the sheet beside her.

  “You okay?”

  She snorts a bitter laugh, refusing to move. “Shouldn’t I ask you that?”

  I make my way to the bed wearing only my boxers, and slide on to sit beside her, my back against the headboard. “Difference is, I’m used to this. You’re not.”

  “Your prolific phone use made a review of the show,” she states flatly, sliding her phone toward me.

  I skim the headline on the link to the article, not in the slightest bit interested in reading what the piece has to say. “Never mind the music, huh?”

  “What were you doing?” She goes back to toying with the sheet. “You only messaged me once.”

  I reach down and take her hand, stilling the anxious fidgeting. “Mostly refreshing it to check if you’d replied.”

  She swallows, fingers flexing beneath mine.

  I slide down the bed to lie face-to-face with her, and yet she still can’t look at me. “Remember what I said about how it makes me feel when you can’t look at me?”

  She nods. And yet she fixates on the bed between us.

  “Look at me.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to cry for you anymore. That’s not why you brought me here. I’m trying, Rey. I really am, but I don’t think I’m the person you need. I’m not strong enough for this.”

  “You are.”

  “I’m not.” Her eyes flick up to mine—it’s a sucker punch straight to the gut. “Look at me, for fuck’s sake.”

  “I am.” She pulls in a sharp breath as I bring my hand to her face, easing the stress lines with my thumb. “The only person who has ever cried when I told them how I felt is my mom.” I chuckle at how ridiculous it is to lie on a bed with a girl I’m madly in love with and talk about my fucking mother. “You know what that tells me?”

  “I’m soft?” She smirks.

  “You care.”

  Her gaze drops before she finds enough courage to speak again. “You said you love me.”

  “I said I think I do.” I’m not sure, to be honest. I can’t trust what I think at the best of times, so how do I know this is a feeling that’s going to remain and not one that’ll pass with time? “I know I need you like crazy, and I can’t think of any other reason why that would be.”

  “Because I shut out your loneliness.” Her face falls as she rolls away. “I don’t want to start something here if it’s going to be based on dependency.”

  “Why is that so bad?” I follow her across the bed and lie propped up on my elbow to look down at her. Like fuck she can just take off when it gets too intense.

  “Because the whole point of me being here is to help you find a way to self-soothe through your music.” She shifts her gaze to mine. “We haven’t touched a damn instrument yet.”

  My lips kick up. “I was kind of busy tonight.”

  She huffs a laugh. “Funny guy, huh?”

  “I can be.”

  A sigh makes her chest swell as she looks at me. “What am I going to do with you?”

  “Hopefully some pretty dirty things.”

  Her smile is soft, yet clearly unamused. “How the fuck do you swing from one extreme to the other like this?” Her brow pinches in a frown.

  “That shit we talked about when I was in the shower? It’s still there,” I reassure her. “I’m not focused on it, is all.”

  Her hand finds my face, her fingers soft against my jaw. “I don’t like that.”

  “Neither do I.” But it is what it is, and I refuse to let it ruin what I’m doing here. “Can we start the night over?”

  “How?”

  I pause a moment, enjoying the feel of her hand as she trails it down the side of my neck. She doesn’t appear to be touching me in a desperate attempt to seduce me, like women in the past have. Instead, it’s an exploration. Her hand seems to map my skin as she traces the line of my collarbone with her thumb, reversing direction to skim lower over my chest with the heel of her hand.

  I could lie here and let her do this for hours.

  It’s insane how good it feels to have somebody touch me as though I mean something to them, especially when all I can associate with myself at the best of times is disgust.

  “I fucked up, didn’t I?” I open my eyes to find her watching me, waiting.

  “I think that’s a little undeniable at this point, yes.”

  I search her eyes for any hint of fear, any sign of doubt. “I hurt you.” There isn’t a single sign that she wants out right now.

  Yet I refuse to believe that could be possible.

  “You did. Yes.” Her hand skims back to my face. “But I know it wasn’t the real you.”

  Fuck. I thought we were getting somewhere. “It is, though.” I jerk free of her hand. “That is the real me, kitty. Can you deal with that?”

  “If that’s the real you,” she challenges, pushing up to her elbow to level our faces, “then who’s this right here?” Her finger jabs painfully into my chest. “Who’s this guy right now? Because he isn’t the one who cracked the shits at his hair. He’s not the guy who pushed me away when he needed my support most. He’s somebody entirely different, Rey.” Her rage shows in the pinpointed black of her eyes. “So don’t you give me some bullshit about how that angry motherfucker is you, because he’s not.” Tabby collapses onto her back with the final words, huffing out an exasperated breath as she stares at the ceiling.

  I do the only logical thing.

  I kiss her.

  Her leg closest to me shifts as I roll on top, accommodating mine. I bear my weight on my elbows, careful not to crush her as I steal her air. I want to suck in every last bit of that pure optimism she breathes. I want to pull the purity from her soul and mash it with mine, bleed our colors together so that her light can balance my dark.

  I fucking need this woman to stay more than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.

  Her chest presses against mine as she battles to catch her breath, wide eyes fixed on mine as I hold myself over her.

  There isn’t a single fucking line I could deliver in this moment that would do her justice.

  “I meant it,” she whispers. “I won’t be your fix. You’ve got to do this without relying on me.”

  “I know.” I shuffle to bring my hands to her head so that I can stroke the strands from her face. “And I will.”

  Just not today.

  FORTY

  Tabitha

  “The Reason” - Hoobastank

  The rest of the band poured in sometime around three this morning. Judging by the ruckus they made as they found their way to bed, I’m guessing there were copious amounts of alcohol consumed in the hours between.

  By that stage Rey had crashed, anyway, exhausted after a night on stage. It seems that once these guys stop, they literally come to a grinding halt.

  Yeah, I was gutted that our intimate moment never really went much past first base. But the kissing… damn. I can’t remember being that giddy over a kiss since I was twelve.

  I bring my fingers to rub my lips as I lie beside him, waiting on the prince of darkness to wake. Looking back on it, I guess the fact we did hold off on taking our intimacy any further intensified the feelings associated. If this is his way of playing hard to get, then the guy has
nailed the art of seduction.

  I’ve never wanted somebody—literally craved them—so damn much.

  “Hey.”

  I turn my head toward the whisper and find Emery peeking around the door. I haven’t had a chance to talk to the guy one-on-one yet, but from the things Rey’s told me he’s a pretty good sort, excessive drinking aside.

  “Hi.”

  “You want coffee?” His gaze flicks to Rey, who lies spread-eagled on his stomach.

  “Sounds like heaven.” I slide my legs out from under the covers, checking over my shoulder that I haven’t disturbed Rey. “I can make it, though.”

  “No.” He lifts a hand, waving me back. “That grumpy fucker will wake up when he smells it, anyway. You stay there.”

  Seriously? Is this my life? I’m in bed with a guy women would give their left kidney to spend a night with, while another equally as sought-after offers to make me coffee.

  Somebody must be feeling guilty. More than one somebody, it seems. Odd.

  Emery slips from view, yet leaves the door ajar. I catch snippets of conversation as Toby rises and shuffles out to join him. The whole scenario is so homely, so normal. A bunch of roommates knocking around together, discussing mundane topics like how to get a stain out of a shirt. It’s nothing like what I expected. Nothing like the stereotype that’s given to guys like these thanks to the wild actions of a few.

  To be honest, slipping out now would have been perfect to get some alone time with the other guys. I lay awake last night, resolute in the conclusion I came to after Rey’s revelations: I need to know more. He tells me how he feels, but what about the people closest to him? The one’s he should be able to lean on, not feel he has to hide from?

  Is that their fault that he feels he has to bury the depth of what goes on here, or his?

  “How long have you been awake?”

  I look down to find Rey watching me with the one eye that’s visible from where his face remains smashed into the pillow.

  “A while.” I scoot down and roll to face him, strangely satisfied since I don’t have to wait any longer. “Rested?”

  “Yeah. Much better.” He rolls to his back, arms over his head as he stretches. “Fuck. Is that coffee?”