They’re still up on stage when Morgan grabs my hand. She follows Angelique as she starts pulling me toward the door to the back room.
“It’s not over,” I say.
She nods. “This is the last song. Trust me, you’ll want to be back there when it’s over.”
“Won’t there be an encore?”
She shakes her head. “Not for private shows.”
The security guard easily lets us through—we didn’t even need a badge or press pass or anything to get back there. Morgan’s still pulling me by my hand to the green room.
Morgan collapses on a couch. I sit next to her, and Angelique sits across from us in a chair.
“Good show,” Morgan says.
I sigh dreamily. I’ve never seen a private performance like that for any band, let alone my favorite band. “It was amazing.”
Angelique rolls her eyes. “Ethan messed up the riff on ‘Twice Told.’ And Mark was totally off his game on ‘Before You’re Gone.’”
I feel the sudden urge to stick up for Mark. He was perfect on every song. I didn’t see any time during the entire show when he was off his game.
“But Steve was perfect?” Morgan asks before I get the chance to jump to Mark’s defense.
“He’s always perfect.” Angelique crosses one leg over the other and purses her lips.
“Says his wife,” Morgan mutters. “He totally missed his transition cue between keys and strings on ‘Down that Road.’”
“Because he’s playing two instruments.”
“So is Mark,” I chime in.
Angelique pins me with a glare. “Mark plays one instrument.”
“His voice is an instrument, plus lead guitar.”
Angelique rolls her eyes. “A voice is not an instrument.”
“Then how come Steve doesn’t sing?” I shouldn’t be challenging her, but the primal need to defend Mark crashes through me.
“He does. He’s had to save Mark’s ass more than once since you came along.”
My chest tightens with the sort of adrenaline that takes over when your body goes into fight mode. I’m ready to throw down with this bitch. She has not only been awful to me tonight, but now she’s insulting Mark. She doesn’t know me, doesn’t know what Mark and I share, and it’s bullshit that she’s assuming she does.
“All right, all right,” Morgan says. “Enough. They all messed up, even James. It was good, and they’re gonna need our support when they walk through those doors instead of walking into a room filled with tension.” She stands and walks over to the counter to pour seven shots, leaving Angelique and me alone across from one another.
She glares at me, but instead of engaging, I avert my gaze to the floor. Morgan’s right, and besides, I’m new here. I’m finding my place, and I will find it, but tonight isn’t the night for that. I’ll find it some other time. I stand and walk over to Morgan to see if she needs help.
A minute later, the boys come tearing through the door. They’re all amped up after their performance. Steve and James beeline for their wives, and Mark strides over to me. His black shirt sticks to his wet skin, giving me a preview of the sculpted muscles hidden beneath. He stands apart from me for a minute, his eyes intense on mine, his chest heaving. Then, without warning, he grabs my chin and presses his mouth to mine. The stubble along his jaw rubs fire against my mouth, but I love it. I love the sensation of being rubbed raw by him. That’s what he does to me inside, too—rubs me raw with his fire until I’m open and exposed only to him.
“Shots! Shots! Shots!” Ethan yells in chorus to that pop song, the lone wolf in a three-pack of couples. Mark physically lets go of me, but his eyes are still on me, dark with desire.
He leans in close to my ear. “We need to go take these shots. It’s tradition before and after a show. Then a shower, then the meet and greet. But then...” He pauses as he nuzzles that rough stubble against my neck. “Then it’s time to fuck.”
His filthy words cause that ache between my legs to ignite a forest fire of need.
Morgan hands out the shots to each of us, and just like earlier, we all raise them up and touch them together.
Mark leads the toast again. “Show six seventy-one is over, load the truck, we’re all done. Now...”
The group finishes the toast with, “Let’s get fucked!”
I laugh then tip the tiny glass of Jägermeister to my lips and swallow down the taste of black licorice.
Mark links his arm around my waist, gripping my hip as he sets his shot glass on the counter. He takes mine and sets it beside his. “I need a shower,” he declares. That same gorgeous blonde woman who handed Mark the steaming mug earlier walks over with some towels and a small duffel bag and hands it to Mark.
“Thanks, Vick.”
She smiles and hands towels and bags to Ethan, James, and Steve. His grip tightens on my hip, and I just want to know who the fuck Vick is...so I ask.
“Who’s that?”
Mark looks down at me tenderly. “Band assistant, Victoria.”
“Your assistant is a gorgeous blonde?”
He shrugs. “I promise there’s never been anything between us.”
“Right,” I say, nodding. “Like I believe that for a second.”
“Not because I didn’t try. She’s a lesbian in a monogamous relationship, and she has zero interest in men. I even offered to bring in another woman, or her woman, and she still rejected me.”
I allow my jaw to drop dramatically. “Someone rejected Mark Ashton?”
“Yeah. Once.” He nods at Vick and winks at me.
I laugh and shake my head. Sometimes he says things that should rub me completely the wrong way, but then one look at me with those green eyes erases everything.
“She rejected Ethan, too. Not just me.”
I can’t help the next words out of my mouth. “Have you and Ethan ever hooked up with the same woman?”
“The same woman? Yes.”
“At the, um, same time?”
He laughs. “No. The only threesomes I’ve ever participated in were with two women. Why? Is that something you’re interested in?”
I look across the room at Ethan. He’s hot, sure, but something tells me he’s a bigger dog than Mark. Even Morgan said he’s a bad influence, and I remember Mark mentioning that Ethan’s into things that have gotten Mark into trouble in the past.
“No. I just want you.”
Brian flashes through my brain again. I can’t seem to help the piece of me that still loves Brian, too. This night has been a little overwhelming. I knew Mark had feelings for me, but tonight was the first night I experienced those feelings in front of other people. I realize I’m looking much further ahead than I should, but if I’m going to tear apart my relationship with a steady, strong man, I need to make sure I’m doing it for something long term, not a flash in the pan.
I believe Mark wants to make this work, and I do, too. But it means flipping my whole life upside down. It means traveling around the world and giving up my home—maybe even moving to Los Angeles, or at least spending the majority of my time here since this is where his business is centered. We’ve talked about keeping what we have under wraps, at least away from Brian for now, but how long can we last under cover? Paparazzi follows Mark everywhere he goes. I should know since I’m guilty of looking at the images in magazines and on the entertainment news programs on television. Even once we decide to reveal our relationship to the public, what would it be like to constantly be followed, to have every detail of our private lives splashed across the cover of some magazine?
The logical side of me thinks these things through, but tonight my heart is speaking louder. All that shit doesn’t matter because we’ll have each other.
As if he can read my mind, Mark’s lips press gently to mine.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, and then he heads over to talk to Vick for a second before he disappears out the door with his towels and his bag.
The other men leave, too, presumably to shower, and I’m left waiting once more with Morgan and Angelique. “So how did you two meet James and Steve?” I ask, trying to diffuse the obvious tension between Angelique and me.
“I met James through Ethan,” Morgan says. “Ethan’s aunt is my mom’s best friend. I went to one of their family events with my mom and James happened to be there. We got to talking and never stopped.”
“That’s so cute!” I say, and then I look at Angelique.
She purses her lips. “I used to work for their producer at the label. I met Steve several times before he finally asked me out.”
“How long have you both been married?” I ask.
“Four years,” Morgan says.
“Six,” Angelique says.
I have the burning curiosity to know whether Angelique was like this with Morgan when she and James first started dating.
“So you’ve pretty much seen it all,” I muse.
Morgan laughs, and Angelique looks like she’s about to respond with something nasty when Victoria walks over toward us and interrupts us. “I’m Vick,” she says to me. She sticks out her hand and I shake it.
“Reese,” I say.
She nods as if she already knew that. “Sorry I didn’t come over to say hi before the show. Duty calls.” She smiles ruefully, and I like her.
Vick, Morgan, and I chat while Angelique glares, and eventually all four men end up back in the room, freshly showered. When Mark laces his arms around my waist from behind, the scent of sandalwood and peppermint wafts to my nostrils. It’s comforting amidst this unknown territory.
“You smell good,” I murmur.
He kisses my neck, sending shivers down my legs. “You taste good.”
I close my eyes and lean back into him. He pushes his hips toward me, and I feel his erection digging into my back.
“Enough,” Vick yells, startling me. My eyes pop open. “Stop acting like horny teenagers and get your asses out to the M and G.”
I glance around me, and Morgan and Angelique are both locked in embraces with their spouses. Even Ethan managed to find a woman who’s hanging on him like she never plans to let go.
I spin around and give Mark a quick kiss. “Do you have to go?” I whine.
He chuckles. “I do. And it still blows my mind that I’d rather be with you than go to work.” He looks at me in wonder, and then he leans down to my ear. “But then you’re mine for the night. And probably all day tomorrow unless you need to get back to Vegas.”
“Deal.”
Mark kisses me again, then the four members of Vail follow Vick out to the bar. Just a little while longer, I keep telling myself. Soon I’ll have him all to myself.
The waiting is driving me crazy. It’s not just that I’ve been waiting tonight. I’ve been waiting since the night I met him, and before that even for the last ten years. I dreamed and hoped but never thought it would happen, and tonight...tonight he’s mine. I’m his.
We’ll lie together in his bed, and even though there’s so much looming over us and around us, I won’t let it come between us. It’s something we’ll face—I’ll face it on my own, and he’ll face it on his own...but then we’ll be through it and stronger when we emerge on the other side.
It’s not like we haven’t been together before, but something’s different this time around. This time we’ve made promises to each other. We’ve confessed. It’s all out on the table, my soul laid bare for him, and as much as the pain rips through me when I think of Brian, I can’t stop myself. I want to—I want to control my emotions, my actions, my thoughts, but all that’s governed by another man now, and his wants and needs come before mine.
It seems like decades we’re standing around the green room chatting, but in reality, an hour has passed when all four men come walking back through the door.
Mark’s face lights up with a smile as he strides across the room to me. I set my half-empty glass of wine on the counter. His eyes glow green at me, and I can’t help the tug that tips the corners of my mouth into a smile. My heart races as a tornado of need rushes down my chest and into my stomach, landing square in my core.
“You ready?” he asks. His words are simple, yet they’re laden with promise.
“Yes.” I say goodbye to Morgan and Vick, who both hug me, and Angelique, who doesn’t. I say goodbye to James, Steve, and Ethan, trailing behind Mark as he issues his own farewells.
Vinny hands me the hat and sunglasses again, and I slip them on before he ushers us out to the Yukon parked out back. Flash bulbs shine in our faces, and I quickly duck my head down as I follow Mark to the car. Fear ripples through me. What if someone caught my picture? What if someone identifies who I am? I’m supposed to be at home in Vegas getting ready to teach a week of summer school while my boyfriend works in Germany. I’m not supposed to be in Los Angeles getting in the back of a car with Mark.
Vinny closes us in. I hear the front door open and feel a shift of the car as Vinny presumably gets in front, but Mark’s quick on the trigger to close the glass separating the front seat from us.
“Come here.” His arm comes around my back and he nudges me over until I’m straddling his lap. My eyes land on his, and all those worries fall away from me. His eyes sparkle and his lips tip up in a lazy, sexy smile as he pushes his hips up toward my pelvis. “Finally.” His voice is low and husky.
I want to say something about how I’ve been waiting so long for this, but I can’t because he pulls my head down to his and kisses me.
I’ve never been kissed like this.
His hand is firm on my head, forcing our faces together as his fingertips coil in my hair. His other hand caresses my thigh on the outside of my jeans, but I can hardly focus on where his hands are because I’m so caught up in his mouth and the memory of him up on that stage. His tongue slips into my mouth, slow and erotic. He kisses me with sensuality, with meaning and feeling. This isn’t a quickie, a one-and-done, a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am. This is unhurried, seductive, as we luxuriate in each other—in the simple, carnal connection we share, the connection we’ve denied far too long.
A torrent of lust pulses through my very cells with just his mouth covering mine.
It hasn’t been that long, but it’s been way too long.
I grind my hips down onto him, desperate for some relief. I love kissing him, love wallowing in this passion, but my primal need to have him inside me now begins to take over as the ache that has pressed between my legs all night becomes unbearable.
The hand caressing my thigh moves up and under my shirt. His hand feels warm on the naked skin of my back. He thrusts his hips toward me again, and I moan at the glorious sensation of friction between us. His hand moves down the back of my jeans and rests on my ass for a beat before he moves back up toward my bra. After all the waiting, after what’s felt like an entire day of foreplay, I just want sex now. But he continues his slow ascent, tracing and caressing, kissing me slowly, pouring his feelings into our kiss.
He fingers my bra strap and moves his hand away before he pulls back from our kiss. “We’re getting close to my place.”
I glare at him. “So?”
He chuckles. “So if we don’t stop, Vinny’s gonna open that door and we’re gonna be naked. And I don’t want his eyes on you.”
I wonder if Vinny’s seen him naked with other girls as I huff out an annoyed breath and start my dismount from his lap. He doesn’t let me, instead pulling me up against him and rocking his hips under me.
Our eyes are inches apart. “You’re not like the others,” he says softly. “I never cared before if Vinny caught us. I care with you.” He pushes his hips up again.
“You can’t do that in the same breath you tell me I have to wait.”
He laughs and lets me off his lap.
We pull into his driveway a few minutes later, and we both tumble out of the backseat. He barely says a word to Vinny or Stanley as he leads me into his place. Just before the door clicks shut behind him, Vinny says, “What time tomorrow?”
“Ten.”
Vinny nods, then Mark slams the door shut.
“What’s tomorrow?” I ask.
“Who gives a fuck?” Mark says, and before I have a chance to react with a laugh, his mouth is on me and his hands are everywhere—on my breasts, gripping my hips, squeezing my ass, tangling in my hair.
His usually slow and sensual kiss picks up speed as his tongue glides against mine. His hips push toward me, slamming me against his front door. We haven’t even made it into the foyer yet; instead, we claw at each other as we try to get these damn clothes out of the way.
My shirt is thrown into the front hall and his shoes land somewhere next to it as he takes one of my breasts in his hand. He kisses me as he grabs me by my hips and leads me through the house. Our mouths are still attached when I kick off my shoes somewhere near the kitchen. I cup him through his jeans as I lose my own along with my panties somewhere in the hallway leading toward his bedroom. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth as his jeans are tossed aside at the foot of his bed, his black boxer briefs going with them. He unhooks my bra and throws it across the room, and somehow we’re both naked and still kissing.
The searing ache between my legs that’s been present all day is its own creature now. It’s about to be fed, to be satisfied, but it blisters through me, forcing an unrelenting throb in its wake.
Mark was slow and tender the first two times we were together, but this time is different. We’re both desperate for each other, desperate to be satisfied, wanting each other with such a longing need that it feels like we could explode and the tiny bits of us would still manage to find the other and click into place like a puzzle piece.
He reaches down and plunges a finger into me. My back arches automatically, and he uses the arch to break our kiss. He angles his neck and pulls my breast into his mouth.
I cry out with pleasure as he adds another finger inside me then grabs the breast he’s sucking. My nipple hardens against his tongue, his lips, his teeth. I know I’m drenched for him. I have been all day. I’ve been waiting for this moment, an entire day of need and want building toward this.
His fingers work me roughly, gliding in and out with ease, pushing me toward an orgasm. I feel the edges of pleasure start to curl around me as the ache dissipates into a thirst to have him inside me. I want to let go, want to let his fingers do the work to send me over the edge, but a bigger part of me wants to squeeze him inside me as the two of us fall over the edge together.
I reach down for him and grip his erection in my fist. He groans with need, and then he finally pulls back abruptly, yanking his wet fingers from my flesh, and walks over to his nightstand for a condom.
I don’t think of the many times he’s surely done this with other women in this same spot because it’s in the past. I don’t think about the people who wouldn’t want this to happen, who would be hurt by what we’re about to do.
Those other thoughts can trespass their way into my mind tomorrow. Tonight, the only thing I can think about is Mark and me and this connection. Nothing else matters.
“Get on your back,” he says. I follow his directions, loving this commanding side to him. He tears the foil and rolls on the condom.
He stalks over to me, standing in front of me at the foot of his bed. His erection points straight up at his perfectly cut abdomen, and I feel like I’m staring at a painting of a celebrity instead of the man in the flesh.
He skewers that image when he steps toward me, his animal eyes on me showing me he wants this as much as I do. He kisses my ankle, then my knee. He runs his hand along my thigh, then settles himself between my legs. After what seems like decades of waiting, he finally grips himself in his hand and drags his erection through me. His eyes land on mine, then he pushes the tip in. I gasp at his entry and he leans his head down to nuzzle my neck. He kisses the space between my neck and my shoulder then trails tiny kisses to my mouth as he pushes himself all the way in.
I moan at the perfectly full feeling, and he pulls his mouth from mine and looks down at me.
“I’m trying to go slow, Reese, but I can’t. Not tonight. Not with you.”
“Don’t.” My voice doesn’t even sound like my own. It’s low and breathy and sensual.
He rears back and lets out a growl before he lets go. He hammers into me, pushing my body to heights it’s never been before. I pulse around him with desire. My nails scratch down his back, and he groans at the pleasure edged with pain. He drives harder into me, his athleticism and his rhythm on full display as he holds himself up with one arm and caresses my skin with his other hand.
I’m there, seconds from tipping over the edge. He surrounds me, fills me up inside and out, takes over every sense with his sandalwood scent, his peppermint taste, his groans of pleasure.
I want to wait for him, want to go with him, but my body breaks as it betrays me. The contractions roll through me as my body tightens around his. A bestial growl rips out of his chest as he pushes somehow harder into me then stills as his own orgasm rips through him.
He collapses on top of me as my body throbs in time with my accelerated heartrate. He’s still inside me and both of us are panting. I try to catch my breath after the intense orgasm. He still surrounds me, still fills me, and in that moment, I’m filled with a love for him the depths of which I’ve never experienced before.
* * *
We spend the next day in bed. He asks me over coffee if it would be okay if we stayed in Los Angeles for the day rather than heading right back to Vegas. I have no reason why I need to go right back, especially when he explains it’s so we don’t have to leave his house.
And we don’t. We explore each other, touching and kissing, licking and sucking, learning about each other and growing closer, creating a bond that exists only between the two of us. I trace his tattoos with my tongue, and he kisses the freckles on my chest.
We talk a little, but mostly we kiss. We’ve talked before. Today is about action—it’s about making up for the time we missed.
We shower together then start over again. We’re clean and we’re filthy, naked and clothed, hungry and sated. He mounts me on his bed, spreads my legs on his kitchen counter, bends me over his couch. I climb on top to ride him on a lounge chair outside, get on my knees to pleasure him while he takes a phone call from Ethan, allow him to fuck my breasts, which he tells me are perfect.
It’s a day just for us. No one else exists for this one day. The guilt stabbing at me is easy to ignore when all my focus and energy goes to Mark—his hands, his fingers, his lips, his tongue, his cock.
When he tells me he has a club appearance to make later that night, I’m filled with a tightness in my chest and heaviness in my limbs even though my body is wrung out, exhausted, and a little sore.
“If it makes you feel any better, I don’t want to go, either,” he says. “But I have a surprise.”
He comes back with a large box in his hands.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Open it.”
I lift the lid off the box, and I find a gorgeous yellow dress inside. “What’s this?”
He chuckles. “It’s a dress.”
“Why do you have a dress?”
“Because you’re going with me tonight.”
“What?”
“You’re my date.”
“I can’t be your date. What if we’re pictured together?”
He shrugs.
“What if Brian sees?” I clarify.
He nods. “Yeah. I didn’t think about that.”
“Not until I get the chance to talk to him.”
“You’re right.” He shakes his head and averts his eyes to the floor as if reality just struck him. “Fuck.”
“Thanks for the dress, though.”
He shrugs. “Don’t thank me. Thank Penny.”
“Your publicist?”
He nods. “She gets free shit for me all the time.”
“And your dates.”
“Yeah. Or non-dates.”
“What if I wear the dress and hang in the car and wait for you?”
He nods slowly. “I think I can get on board with that.” He eyes me, and I already recognize the wicked glance he gives me.
“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.
“Don’t wear panties under it.”
“Why not?”
“That way I can fuck you in the car before I get there.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You think so? I think I might need a break.”
“Can’t keep up?”
I giggle. “You’re the definition of a rock star, and not just when you’re up on stage.”
He grins. “Hmm...then I can finger you and smell you on my hand all night. Or taste your cunt and have you in my mouth.”
I ignore the bloom of desire I feel. There’s no way I should feel that after all we’ve done today. “Instead of peppermint?”
He laughs.
“Why do you always taste like peppermint?”
He pulls a tube out of his pocket and tosses it to me. Peppermint flavored lip balm.
I laugh, shaking my head.
* * *
“How was the appearance?” I ask after he stops kissing me and the car starts moving. He’s back after a little over an hour. I push my phone into the pocket of my jeans—I opted out of wearing the dress since I wasn’t even getting out of the car.
“Boring.” He settles into our regular position as we ride in the back of a car together—his hand spreads out on my thigh and I hold his arm to my chest, my hands clasped around it. “Worse knowing you were waiting for me.”
“What does an appearance entail?”
“A press line, photo ops, and a song or two.”
“What’s a press line?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. I do five or so interviews, then there’s the club’s heavy hitters who paid for a photo op, so I smile and look like I’m having a good time.”
“But you weren’t?”
He shakes his head. “No. I was thinking about you sitting in the back of this car all by yourself. I even thought of some naughty things you might be doing by yourself back here.”
Heat nips at my cheeks, and I’m glad for the darkness. He moves his hand and nudges me over onto his lap much like he did last night so I’m straddling him. “That’s better,” he mutters.
“What songs did you sing?”
“‘One for the Road’ and then sort of a mashup of ‘Before You’re Gone,’ ‘Never Before,’ and ‘Better Get Out’.”
I link my arms around his neck and he leans in to kiss my neck. “Were you by yourself?”
“Ethan met me.” His words are soft against my skin.
“You didn’t go together?”
“Sometimes we do, depending on what we’re doing.”
“And you were doing me?”
He laughs and answers by burying his face in my cleavage. I arch my back, pushing my breasts into him. His hands start to trail up my back, and his fingertips are inches from my bra strap when a phone starts ringing.
It takes me a second to place the sound, but it’s not mine. He doesn’t stop kissing me, doesn’t stop the connection between us, though his fingers pause for a split second on my back. He continues his ascent then pulls at the strap, skillfully unhooking it with one flick of his hand.
My breasts feel heavy without the support, but my nipples brush inside the cups and harden at the sweet sensation.
His phone stops ringing, and his hand starts to move toward the front, toward my breast, all while he continues to kiss me.
His phone starts up again, and this time it’s joined in chorus by my own phone.
He closes his mouth and brushes his lips across mine one last time before he leans his head back on the seat. “Fuck,” he whispers, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.
“You should get that,” I say. “It could be important.”
He blows out a heavy breath and pushes his hips up to get his phone out of his pocket. I move to slide off his lap onto the seat beside him. He gives me a look that clearly says I should stay put then pushes me back into place on his lap as he glances at his screen.
“It’s my mom,” he says. “At eleven forty-seven.” He flicks his phone screen. “Mom?”
I pull my phone out of my pocket as he answers his phone. Missed Call from Brian Fox.
If it’s 11:47 here, it’s 8:47 tomorrow morning in Germany. Shouldn’t Brian be in meetings? My phone lights up with a text.
Brian: Call me as soon as you can.
“Oh, shit.” Mark says to his mom. He looks at me with wide eyes. I see a flash of vulnerability there, and a tingle of fear shoots down my spine. I slide off his lap, and this time he lets me. I can’t call Brian, not here in the back of Mark’s car, not when Mark is on the phone with their mom. He turns his gaze away from me, fixing his eyes out the window. My heart aches that something bad is happening, that I don’t know what it is, that he turned to face out the window instead of showing me his pain. I might not be what he needs, but I want to be what he needs.
“But he’s going to be okay, right?”
He? Who?
Another text comes through on my phone.
Brian: Where are you? I need to talk to you.
“God. When?”
Fear grips my chest. I don’t know what to do. Brian needs me—his texts sound pretty desperate, but if Brian needs me because of whatever Mark’s talking about with his mom, Mark might need me, too.
He returns his gaze to me. He’s scared. Whatever his mother told him...it’s bad. “No, I’m in LA, but I can be there in less than six hours.” He’s quiet as he listens. “I’ll have to check with Vick, but this is more important anyway.” He glances away from me and lowers his voice, but I still hear. “Have you talked to Brian?”
My heart cracks in half. Part of it is in Germany with Brian, and the other part of it is here in the back of this car with Mark. Two brothers in pain, two brothers who may need me, and I don’t even know what it’s about yet.
“I need to make travel arrangements. I’ll be in touch. Love you, Ma.”
He hangs up and rests his head on the seat again. He stares up at the ceiling of the car. “Fuck,” he mutters, then a little louder, “Fuck!” He rubs his forehead then runs his hand down his face. He turns his gaze out the window again, avoiding eye contact with me. “Call Brian.”
“What’s going on?”
He finally looks at me. His voice is edged with pain when he speaks. “My grandfather had a heart attack. My mom said he isn’t doing well.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” I scoot closer and place a hand on his forearm, but he turns away from me.
“You should call Brian.”
Tears sting my eyes at his bitter dismissal. I want to be here for him, want to hold his hand through this.
But he’s right to push me away. I can’t be there for him, not in front of his family. Not in front of Brian.