CHAPTER 25

 

 

London

 

 

 

The tour bus looks just the same. As much as I hate seeing it, I like it, too. Yeah, everything’s different, like a big, bloody explosion blew up everything around me, but a sense of peace soothes me from knowing some simple things in life haven’t changed.

“London?”

Rye comes up behind me, smiling softly.

“Rye! Hi.”

“How are you?”

I try to smile, but it feels too weak. I’m grateful when Rye doesn’t mention it.

“I’m…okay. Baz just dropped me off.”

“You ready to go inside?”

“Uh…yeah. I guess so.”

He smiles again and takes my arm, helps me inside like I’m elderly, or maybe broken. I do feel a little bit fractured in places, fearful and sad and guilty, and yet trying somehow to stay strong.

How am I ever going to do that?

Reaching the top step, I discover Ajia and Bree are snuggled on the couch, watching a movie. It’s…This is Spinal Tap. I surprise myself with a smile.

Rye laughs. “How many times have you seen that, man?”

Ajia grins. “A few.”

“Hundred,” adds Bree.

“Hey, it’s a classic!” Ajia defends their choice.

“Well…yeah.” Rye shakes his head, still smiling. “Yeah, okay. You got me there, bro.”

“London, sit down!”

Bree pulls herself from Ajia’s arms and rushes over to give me a hug. She takes me by the shoulders and seats me on the couch opposite from where Ajia sits. She takes my hand in hers and squeezes.

“How are you?” Her sparkling green gaze carries all the intensity of her brother’s. Her look is caring.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re sure?” The guys are silent, letting Bree take the lead.

“Positive.” I nod.

“And aftercare?”

“Baby,” calls Ajia, and she slants her eyes in his direction. “Give the woman some privacy.”

I smile, maybe a little crooked, but I can’t help it. It feels good to have these people care about me. It’s bloody soothing after Knox—

Nope, not going there right now. Only when I’m alone.

“I just want to help her,” says Bree primly, and my smile straightens.

“It’s okay. Thanks. Really. Physically I’m good. I’m free to follow my normal routine. The doctor gave me some pain meds for headaches if I get them, and I have to be careful of the ribs for a while. Ice if they hurt, no carrying things…you know.” I don’t mention the huge bruise just below my ribcage.

Bree hugs me carefully. “You let us help you, okay? We’re here for you. However you need.”

“Okay…”

The word sounds a lot more tentative than I mean it to, but…how can they be so nice when Knox was so angry? Aren’t they upset with me, too? They have every right to be.

As if sensing my dilemma, Rye plops down on the other side of me. He lays a light hand on my knee and repeats Bree’s words. “We’re here for you, sweet thing.” “Whatever happened between you and Knox stays between you two, unless you want it different. But you’re our friend, too. We ain’t gonna abandon you.”

Tears prickle behind my eyelids. They all know enough about what happened; I can tell by the tender look on Ajia’s face, the way Rye squeezes my leg and lets go, the way Bree hugs me again.

“Where is…everybody?” I ask to ease the mood.

“Noah’s in Austin with Zayne.” Ajia seems to take up the role of leader when Knox isn’t around. “He’ll meet up with us in Salt Lake tomorrow. Knox is—”

“Passed out in the bedroom,” inserts Bree, disgusted. No doubt about it.

“Passed out?” I repeat. “As in…drunk?”

“As a skunk,” says Ajia.

“But…” Knox drinks. I’ve seen him drink a fair amount and still keep himself under control. But for him to get drunk enough to pass out?

Shit.

“Knox doesn’t get drunk.” The words are unnecessary, but they come out on their own.

“Not often,” Ajia agrees, “but when he does, it can be epic.”

Epic. Is he that bad off this time?

“I…” I look among the others. “Should I go to him?”

Don’t be an idiot! A voice of self-preservation shouts in the back of my mind. He turned his back on you when you needed him. Why should you go to him now?

But another part of me knows that the things eating at Knox are my fault. They eat at me, too, and I understand how they can seem bad enough to drink enough to pass out.

“What do you want to do?” asks Bree.

I don’t answer for a minute, and Rye offers, “You can hang out here with us if you want to. Or just rest in your bunk. Whatever you want.”

“You can let Knox come to you,” suggests Ajia. “He owes you that.”

I consider the words. Let Knox come to you. He owes you that.

Let Knox come to you.

God, how I’d love that to happen! For Knox to make the gesture to talk to me. Give me the chance to tell him everything I couldn’t say when I should have, and that he wouldn’t listen to the other day. But I know better than to wish for that much of a dream.

Knox won’t do it—and I don’t deserve him to. I know that, too. He doesn’t owe me a bloody thing.

“No.” I let out a soft sigh. “I’m the one who created this mess with my lies. I can’t—”

“You didn’t lie!” Bree’s defense warms me.

“Maybe not directly. But I kept secrets I shouldn’t have. I owe it to Knox to go to him. To explain.”

“Are you sure you want to?”

Bree will give me an out, but I can’t take it. “Yes. Absolutely.”

And I mean that. It might change nothing, but I owe it to Knox. Maybe even want it for myself, though I can’t say I deserve it.

For everything that could have been—should have been—I’ll take the chance.

 



 

The bed in the tour bus’s only real bedroom is queen sized. It fills almost the whole space. Knox and I spent some beautiful moments here.

Well, at least some lust-filled moments. I’d like to smile with the memories, but I don’t have it in me.

He’s stretched out on his stomach, still dressed in his jeans and a T-shirt, stocking-footed. I wonder if Bree’s the one who pulled off his boots. His head’s turned to one side; his hair falls over his cheek. He’s snoring a little.

My love.

Seeing him this way, even knowing he might hate me, I still embrace the truth. On the inside, at least.

I love Knox Gallagher, and I have for a while now. Probably since I first saw how much he’s willing to do in order to protect his family. Blood and the others he adopts into his life, automatically making them family. It takes a special man to care that much.

And me? I’m under no illusions, have no expectations. I’m not sure he ever cared that way about me, and now he never will. I’ll probably never get the chance to tell him how I feel about him, and maybe it’s just as well. I squandered whatever rights I might have had with my secret and lies, even if they were only lies of omission, and the time may never be right again.

What words might he accept from me? I shake my head slowly, sadly, watching as he shifts and lets out a soft breath. Not telling him about the baby changed everything. He’s made that perfectly clear, and it’s my job to accept it. Gracefully. Generously. Apologetically.

Can I do it, even with these holes in my heart and soul? Holes left from losing the peanut. And now Knox.

What choice do I have? I have to try to accept them.

I deserve them.

I didn’t do right by him, and I can’t pretend otherwise. It was selfish and cruel, and even though it made sense to me at the time, it was the absolute wrong thing to do.

Worse, I pretty much knew I was wrong about what I was doing to Knox at the time. Even so, I let fear make my decisions for me. Now, I might never get the chance to make it up to him—and if I don’t…well, it’s my own damned bloody fault!

I stiffen my shoulders, my spine, but only in the recesses of my mind. Physically, I move carefully, peeling off my loose tank top and wiggling out of my yoga pants. Bree brought them to the hospital today, the loosest clothes I own, and I’m glad for them now. The bruised ribs still make certain actions difficult, but I suppose I deserve the pain.

In my plain white bra and panties, I crawl into the bed next to Knox. He sprawls over two-thirds of it, but there’s enough room for me to curl up on the far side. I slip under the covers and try to remain still.

What do you think you’re doing? a voice of horrified uncertainty demands in my mind.

Truthfully, I don’t know. I just know I’m feeling a little brittle suddenly, maybe after seeing Knox in this new and vulnerable way, or facing the unflinching truth of my thoughts. Whatever explains it, I need to be close to him. I won’t push myself on him; that wouldn’t be right. But if I’m here, close enough to be in bed with him, to draw on his energy, his strength. Even if we aren’t touching, maybe it’ll help.

I just want to lay here and look at him. Love him. Steal a few peaceful moments. Pretend for a little while.

My eyes water with unshed tears, and I blink them away. Close my eyes. Breathe. And, eventually, I fall asleep. I must have, because the next thing I know, I’m still laying on my side, facing Knox, but his eyes are open. He’s looking at me.

Has he been staring for a while? Is that what woke me?

I swallow. “Are you okay?”

He blinks and keeps staring. “No.”

On the surface, the word sounds stiff and maybe unfeeling. I know better. Oh, maybe his feelings aren’t for me, but I hear the underlying pain and a thousand other emotions that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. That doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

I watch him for a few silent moments before I crawl slowly, carefully, from the bed. “Let me get you some water and aspirin.”

I pull on my tank top but forego the yoga pants; I’m just going to the bathroom and the kitchenette. Besides, modesty is something that lives on a sliding scale on a rock band’s tour bus. There just isn’t enough privacy to get too hung up on it.

I slip into the bathroom first, take care of my own business, check for spotting. I’m clear, and oddly enough, I have to sniff away a few tears. I know intelligently the D and C was the right thing to do medically after the miscarriage, but I hate that all evidence of the peanut is gone from my body now. The spotting felt like I still had some small connection left, but that’s gone now, too.

I blink away the last of the tears, wash up, and collect a couple of aspirin. Next I grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Rye’s watching a movie—I can’t tell what—and Bree and Ajia are nowhere to be seen. In their bunks, I guess. The bus is moving, which tells me we’re on the way to Salt Lake City.

I glance at the clock on the built-in microwave. Almost eight o’clock.

My eyes pop. Whoa…three hours since I got back from the hospital! Guess I did nap.

Knox was out longer than that. Was it long enough that he’s somewhat recovered? Enough to talk?

I swallow, knowing what’s coming and, just as clearly, that I can’t put it off. I did that already, and look how that turned out!

Back in the bedroom, I close the door quietly behind me. Knox is on his back now, still stretched out across the bed, but his smoky gray eyes watch my every move.

“We’re on the road,” I say as I offer Knox the aspirin and water. “To Salt Lake, I guess.”

He pushes up on one elbow, tosses back the painkillers, drinks some water, and otherwise just keeps staring at me. I back away towards the foot of the bed, not sure what else to say or do.

I’m in mid-step when the bus swerves a little. I twist to catch myself against the wall, and pain sears through my midsection. Gasping, I grab my middle, lean forward at what turns out to be an awkward angle, and breathe as deeply as I dare. I count to ten, pant a little, count again.

A handful of seconds, maybe even a minute, pass until the pain retreats to no more than a dull throbbing. I swallow and look up. Knox is watching with that damned unreadable gaze.

“You okay?” he asks, sounding all too distant.

“Yes,” I breathe and try to smile. I fail. “It’s the ribs. Doctor Brown told me bruised ribs can be almost as painful as if they were broken. I just need to be careful for a while.”

He nods once but doesn’t say anything.

I finish my walk around the bed, breathing carefully with each movement, and perch lightly on the other side of the mattress. I assume Knox won’t mind, but the instant it’s too late, I reconsider. I glance around anxiously, but there’s nowhere else to sit in the small room.

He’s sitting up now, propped against the faux headboard, his ankles crossed. His jeans are stylishly ripped, and his T-shirt is vintage Rolling Stones. His hair flops over his forehead, his shoulders, leaving him looking a little ragged, hungover, and miserable.

How much of that is my fault?

“Can we talk?” I ask softly.

His eyes go dark, and his expression hardens. “I don’t know—”

“You’ve been avoiding me,” I interrupt before he can put me off completely. “I know this probably isn’t the best time, but I need to say some things.” I pause, swallow. “They haunt me…” My voice cracks. “You may think I don’t deserve it, but please, let me explain.”

I know better than to take a deep breath, so I try to out-stare Knox. Finally, slowly, he nods.

“All right. I’ll give you that.”

“I…” I close my eyes, sort through my thoughts, gather my strength. With a swallow, I force myself to reveal myself as clearly and openly as I’ve ever looked at anyone.

I try again. “I didn’t lie when I said I was protected, that I was getting the shot for birth control. I was, but I hadn’t been on it long. About six months, and I was due for my third dose. Everything I told you was the truth when I said it. I just…got my dates mixed up.”

Knox doesn’t try to hide his disbelief. “And how did you manage that?”

“I told you about Colin.” I wait until Knox nods. “My trips to England got me confused about the dates, I guess. Or maybe it was everything else. Breaking up with him. Graduating from college. Interviewing with the label—and you.”

I drop my gaze for a moment, but force myself to look at him again. I might feel weak, but I don’t have to show it.

“I don’t know,” I add with a soft sigh. “All I can say is I thought I’d gotten my last shot after spring break. Turns out it was before. I didn’t know until I went to get the STD test. By then, it was too late.”

“And so you decided to get a pregnancy test?” Knox demands, his voice filled with disbelief.

“No.” I set my jaw, pretending like I don’t recognize his attitude, and shake my head. Maybe his tone does irritate the crap out of me, but he’s entitled to be pissed. “My doctor insisted I have a pregnancy test when I told her I’d—we’d—had unprotected sex. There’s some special blood test they can do early. I waited for the results, and they came back positive.”

“And then you decided to keep it your own little secret.”

His anger slices through me. Enough so that I take a breath, as deep as I dare.

“No.” I shake my head sadly, and force myself to meet his fierce gaze. “It wasn’t like that at all, lu—Knox.”

I link fingers, squeezing them tightly. Oh, God. I almost let the endearment slip. As much as I’d like to recapture those soft, gentle words and the feelings that accompanied them, I know better.

Now isn’t the time.

“Yes, I did want to keep it to myself the first couple of days.” I lean forward to recapture his flickering gaze, mine earnest and his…remote. Worse, he seems willing—or able—to look at me for only so long before he turns away.

Does he hate me that much?

“I needed to come to terms with it,” I admit. “I was shocked. Overwhelmed. Scared. I’d lied to you, even though I didn’t know it at the time. I knew you’d be upset. I…knew about what your ex had done.”

He scowls. “They shouldn’t have told you about that.”

“Maybe.” I lift a shoulder. “I was glad then, because I thought it helped me be more sensitive to your feelings. Now…I’m not so sure.”

“And after those couple of days? You keep your secret for a lot longer.”

I drop my eyelids but open them again almost immediately. My mistakes glare back at me too sharply from the veil of darkness.

“You’d had the call from your—the sperm donor,” I correct, “and then the rumor about Noah and the STDs came up right after that. I wanted to wait until that died down, but he—the sperm donor—kept making threats and things stayed…difficult.”

Knox stares at me, his lips parted and his eyes narrowed. He leans toward me, just enough for it to seem almost like a threat. I force myself to hold steady.

“And what the fuck does that have to do with you telling me you were pregnant? With my kid.”

I swallow, but my voice cracks, anyway. “I…didn’t want to add to everything else. Be another burden. When I told you, I wanted it to be…well, happy news, I guess.”

“Happy news?” He shakes his head. “You telling me you were happy about it?”

“I was!” I scramble to my knees, pausing to wrap a trembling arm around my middle and pant a few fast, shallow breaths. “You can’t fault me over that, Knox. I messed up in a lot of ways. I was scared, yes, and had no bloody clue what I was going to do or how I’d manage, but, yes. I was happy about the peanut.”

“The peanut?” A soft emotion flickers through the storm clouds in his eyes, and then it’s gone.

I nod. “That’s what I called her. Him. The baby was my peanut.”

“Your peanut,” he repeats. “And what about me? Did it ever fucking occur to you that I might have wanted—needed—something to be happy about? Something good with all the shit I was dealing with?”

“I…” But the word fades on a gasp. “Good? Is that really how you would have seen it, Knox? Because I remember a lot of that shit you were dealing with. Your father and the rumors about the band weren’t enough? What about Zayne’s first OD? Can you really say that you’d have seen me being pregnant as a good thing?”

I read the shaky emotion on his face this time: Uncertainty. Even as it satisfies the part of me that prayed to make him understand, it hurts, too. Yes, I made my mistakes and I’m willing to own them, but Knox’s doubt brings all those old feelings back again.

“I thought so.” I nod, once.

“What?”

“Now, when it’s too late, you wish you’d known about the baby. But you didn’t experience it from my perspective, Knox. You weren’t scared. You weren’t almost paralyzed, not knowing the right thing to do. I watched people take and take and take from you, and I didn’t want to do that. I didn’t want to be like the rest of them. I wanted to be the one person who didn’t take advantage.”

“No, you didn’t fucking take advantage.” His mouth is flat. “But you didn’t give me the truth, either.”

“No, I didn’t. I…protecting you somehow became more important than the truth.”

“Protecting me?” He jerks back like I hit him or something.

“I guess that’s what I thought I was doing. But I was wrong, and I owe you an apology. It wasn’t my place to control the information you should have had. You trusted me, and I took advantage of that.”

He doesn’t say anything, and so I gather up any shred of dignity left to me and push carefully to my feet. I move slowly, one hand on the wall for balance, stopping only when I reach the door.

I turn back to him. “I am so sorry, Knox. Words will never be enough to make it up to you. But please know how deeply I regret everything. You were right. If I’d been honest about the baby, things might have been different all the way around. And I’ll have to live with that for the rest of my life.”