HIS JAW TICKED, HIS face locked down, and with more force than he needed to, Ben threw the car back in drive and pulled onto the road.
My heart, my soul, they broke apart into a million pieces.
I saw the determination in his expression. I knew the honor he carried, and the debt he felt toward my mother for everything she’d done for him. But she was dead, and I couldn’t make him stay around out of obligation. I loved him too much to do that to him.
So I gave him his freedom.
He didn’t get along with Marcus. His life was going places, and he didn’t need to be saddled with a poor girl and her sick brother. I knew how the media worked. They’d dug up Myles’s entire past since the band had been on the road, and they’d made a meal out of his parents’ deaths and his upbringing. I wasn’t going to let that happen to Ben.
I did what I’d had to do, but it hurt so much worse than Marcus’s blows, I wanted to crawl in a hole and never come out. I’d failed Marcus. I wasn’t going to fail Ben.
Lost in my own misery, I flinched when Ben’s deep, quiet voice filled the silence around us.
“I’ll let Marcus know you’ll be with me for a few days.”
I stared out the window feeling like every choice in my life had been ripped away from me. “I’ll leave him a note.” If Ben said something to Marcus, it would end badly.
The streetlights moved by in a blur. The large tires of the Jeep hummed steadily, but Ben didn’t say anything else.
I couldn’t let it go. “You don’t have to do this,” I said quietly.
Silence.
“I’ll only be in your way,” I added.
He turned down my street, then pulled in front of my house. Before I could open the door, his warm hand caught my chin and he gently turned me to face him.
Shadows falling across his strong features, his gaze intense, he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Despite the bruises covering my body, electric shockwaves of awareness sparked through my veins from his touch.
“You’re right.” His thumb stroked under my chin as his voice branded my soul. “I don’t have to do this. I want to do this.”
My heart raced, and my stomach twisted. A familiar pang I’d lived with since the first time I’d laid eyes on him sprouted into a cruel seed of hope, and I needed to crush it. “You’re my brother’s best friend.”
His thumb glanced across my throat, and his voice dropped. “I haven’t been that in a long time, Elyssia.”
I shook my head, holding onto denial like a lifeline. “No.” He was my brother’s best friend. He had to be. I couldn’t be sitting here, in Ben Stark’s car, with his hand on my face and his attention on me. He was a rock star. I wasn’t a part of that life. I couldn’t be. I hated crowds, and I hated the groupies his band had even more. I knew all the stories Marcus had told me about backstage parties and the beautiful girls willing to do anything for attention. I couldn’t compete with that. I couldn’t be a part of anything else that would crush my heart. And Ben’s world, it would crush me. He would crush me. “You’re still Marcus’s friend.”
His grip gentle, his intense stare dominant, he held me with his grasp and with his gaze. “You’re in my car, not him.”
A tremor ran up my arms and spread. “Stop,” I whispered.
Blue eyes pierced mine, and I knew he wasn’t going to play fair even before he opened his mouth. “Who held you the day you buried your mother?”
The devastating memory flooded in, and I choked back a sob. I’d lost both my mother and my brother that day. Marcus’s vocal grief had overridden everything, the funeral, the wake, everything. Everyone had surrounded him, drawn to his storm, but I’d slipped away to the dark of my closet to hide my grief—until Ben had found me. Without a word, he’d sat down and pulled me into his arms, letting me cry until I fell asleep. The next morning, I’d woken up in my bed, smelling like the man who owned my heart.
His fingers brushed across my cheek. “Who texted you every day for month? Every week for a year?”
“Stop.” My voice shook.
“No,” Ben practically growled.
“Please,” I begged. “Don’t do this.” I couldn’t bear to hear any more. I’d wanted Ben for so long, I didn’t know how not to want him. But I couldn’t have him. Not now, not ever, if it meant choosing between him and Marcus.
“Don’t what?” he demanded. “Tell you I’m here for you? Tell you I care about you?”
My heart hurting more than my battered body, I squeezed my eyes shut. I needed to breathe. I needed to escape. I needed my brother to get better, and I needed Ben to keep his distance. But I wasn’t going to get any of it.
I pulled away, and this time, Ben let me. “I’m going in to leave Marcus a note.” I reached for the door handle.
“I’m coming in with you.” Ben was out of the car and at my side before my feet hit the ground. “Careful.” His arm slid around my waist and he helped me out of his Jeep.
Heartsick, hurt, angry, I lashed out at him. “I can walk.”
Ben’s usual quiet reservation slid back into place. His hand landed gently on my back, and he silently led me up the front walk. I was so caught up in him that I was unlocking the front door before I remembered what may be waiting for us in the living room.
“The house….” Oh God. “It’s a mess,” I warned, hoping like mad Marcus had picked up his destruction.
“It’s fine, Elyssia.”
Preparing myself to lie, I flipped the overhead light because we no longer had lamps. When I saw vacuum lines across the carpet, I exhaled the small breath I was holding and moved toward the stairs. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Elyssia.”
I paused at the abrupt change in his tone. “What?”
“Where’s the furniture that was here two days ago?”
I gave my best practiced, unconcerned glance and shrugged at the single couch that was now our only furniture in the living room. “Marcus is redecorating.” Fighting exhaustion and soreness, I slowly climbed the stairs.
Halfway up, the warm hand returned to my back.
My fingers tightened on the banister. “I don’t need help.”
His breath fanned across my neck a second before he whispered, “Tell me the truth.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Ben swept my hair aside, and heat enveloped my bruised back as he rested his chin on my shoulder. “Please.”
Cotton, woods, musk—the smell that was uniquely Ben filled my head and made me dizzy. I bit my bottom lip.
His thumb stroked across my lip, tugging until I released it. Then his hand covered mine as his voice turned even quieter. “I’m afraid to touch you.”
Oh God. My back stiffened, but my heart leapt. “Ben, stop.” I couldn’t let this happen.
He ignored my plea. “You shouldn’t be walking up stairs, but I can’t even carry you. Every inch of you is bruised.” Distress bled through his words and seeped into his tone.
I swallowed back my delusion, telling myself I was glad he didn’t mean anything more. “I’m fine.”
His fingers curled around mine. “How many years have I known you?”
Too many. Not enough. “Seven,” I tested him.
“Eight. Stop lying to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Why won’t you let me help you?”
No one could help me. The stairwell closed in on me. “I’m thirsty,” I whispered.
In a rare show of emotion, Ben sighed. “Let’s grab your things, then I’ll get you something to drink.” He released my hand, and his chin left my shoulder. “Come on, I want you off your feet as soon as possible.”
I made my way to my room with Ben at my back and started grabbing clothes. His gaze tracking my every movement, he stood sentry in the doorway. Even though he didn’t say anything, his presence was larger than my personal space. In fact, he was even larger than Marcus.
I reached for a bag in my closet, and that’s when Ben crossed the threshold to my room.
“I got that.” He took the bag, efficiently placed my clothes into it, then raised his eyebrows at me. “Anything else?”
“Toothbrush,” I murmured, going to the bathroom. I grabbed my small makeup bag and shoved my hairbrush and toothbrush in it. As an afterthought, I took a hair tie and the bottle of perfumed lotion my mother had given me that I’d been sparingly using.
Ben held my bag open but discreetly kept his eyes averted. After I placed everything in it, he zipped it up and swung it over his shoulder. “Let’s go.” His hand landed on the small of my back again, and he led me to the stairs.
We were halfway down when the front door banged opened.
Dripping sweat, Marcus’s head snapped up. His eyes zeroed in on Ben, and a rage I hadn’t seen in twenty-four hours spread across his face.
“What the fuck?” Marcus ripped his headphones out of his ears.
Fear gripped my chest. “Marcus—”
“You’re fucking dead, Stark, you hear me? Dead.” Marcus lunged.
Ben was in front of me so fast, it was a blur. Leaping from the third step, and with a move I’d never seen before, his knees landed on my brother’s chest as his arms locked around Marcus’s neck in a choke hold. Marcus hit the floor, and Ben landed on top of him. Marcus got a solid blow to Ben’s ribs, but Ben delivered a crushing strike to Marcus’s jaw.
Marcus’s head snapped to the side, and he momentarily went still.
Ben seized the opportunity.
Yanking Marcus’s arm behind his back as he rolled him, Ben bent his wrist almost far enough to break it. “You done?” he asked calmly.
“You fucked my sister in my house. I’m gonna fucking kill you. That’s how done you are.”
Ben increased the pressure on Marcus’s wrist. “Watch your language.”
“Fuck you,” Marcus spat. “I told what would happen if you touched her!”
Ben lost his cool. “It’s not your damn house!”
“I live here!”
“She owns it!”
Marcus’s face beet red, he fumed, but he didn’t say anything else.
Anger rolling off both of them, Ben recovered first. “She’s staying with me a few days,” he said with complete finality.
Marcus’s head whipped around, and amber eyes the same color as mine looked at me. “Sia.”
Seeing Marcus facedown on the floor with Ben twisting his arm, my heart took a hit. “Marcus, it’s—”
All the anger and rage from seconds ago dissolved into the wounded voice I knew too well. “You’re with this asshole?”
“He’s not an asshole. He’s your friend,” I reminded him.
“He fucking walks out of your bedroom touching you, he’s an asshole. I talked to you about this.” Marcus’s face crumpled. “I warned you what would happen. You know I didn’t want you hanging around him. You know what he is now. You’re too good for him.”
“Marcus, stop,” I warned.
As if sensing Marcus’s mood swing, Ben slowly let go of him.
His fight with Ben all but forgotten, Marcus rose and came toward me like a wounded puppy. “I told you what would happen if you gave it up. I tried to tell you. I tried to fucking raise you right, Sia,” he agonized. “Why?” He grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged like it was one of the pigtails I used to wear as a girl.
Ben moved to my side. “I’m warning you, watch your language with her.”
Marcus ignored him. “Asshole rockers don’t marry the girls they fuck.”
“Marcus,” Ben snapped.
I lost my patience and swatted Marcus’s hand away. “Stop it, nothing happened.”
Marcus’s face twisted with confusion. “Then why are you going to his place? You’ve got a home here with me.” He thumped his chest with his fist. “I’m your family.”
My heart shattered. The PTSD eating away at his mind, there were few emotions Marcus understood anymore. Betrayal, anguish, anger, there was nothing left of the brother who brushed my hair before school every morning and made sure my clothes were clean because Mom was already at work.
Grief lodged in my throat. “I’ll be back in a couple days, I promise.”
“What, why? I’ll make you the pork chops you love. I already went to the store.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “They’ll be ready in a half hour.”
I briefly closed my eyes to the shame of having Ben witness this, and Marcus misread my embarrassment. Wrapping his huge, overmuscled arms around me, he pulled me in to his sweaty chest.
I gasped first in pain, then for air, but Marcus’s arms only tightened. “I’m sorry, Sia,” he whispered, rocking me.
Ben’s voice went tight with control. “Ease off, Marcus.”
Marcus held me tighter as his voice dropped with utter despair. “Sia,” he pleaded. “Don’t leave.”
I tried to pant through a few short breaths, but fear lodged in my throat. “Marcus, let go.”
“Sia—”
“She said let go,” Ben warned.
It was as if a switch had flipped. Marcus dropped his hold on me, and with pure rage, he lunged at Ben.
Marcus’s hands went to Ben’s throat, and he roared in hatred. “She’s my sis—”
It happened so fast, it was like a movie.
Ben executed a perfect knife strike to the side of Marcus’s neck, and he dropped to the floor like a ton of bricks.
My stomach knotted and bile rose in my throat.
Ben picked my bag up and slung it over his shoulder. His nostrils flaring, but his voice calm, he took my hand. “Careful.” He gently pulled, and I was forced to step over my unconscious brother. “You okay? Can you walk?”
I had nothing—no words, no defense of the brother who’d given up his childhood to take care of me, no tears, no anger, no gratitude for Ben, nothing.
“Come on, let’s get you off your feet.” As if sensing my fall into a void, Ben put his arm around my waist and led me to his Jeep.
He carefully set me in the passenger seat, but when he studiously avoided eye contact, the fear I breathed every second of every day slammed back into me.
My heart racing, my stomach rolling, I watched my house as Ben pulled away.
I had no idea if the crumpled heap on the floor would be the last time I saw my brother alive.