“My grandpa is in the hospital. He had a heart attack tonight.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Brian. What can I do?”
“Get to Chicago. Can you do that?”
A million thoughts run through my head. I lied earlier, said I couldn’t come to Germany because I had to teach summer school. Wouldn’t that prevent me from going to Chicago, too? Or would a family emergency constitute a good excuse?
And then there’s Mark, who still won’t look at me. His eyes are fixed out the window. He’s clearly hurting, but he’s pushing me away instead of allowing me to comfort him.
My heart aches.
“Yeah. I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m at the airport now. I’m getting on the next flight to Chicago. I’ll be in touch with my details.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
“Thank you for doing this, for dropping everything to be with me. I love you.”
“You, too. Just be safe, okay?”
“Yeah.”
I feel like I should tell him I’m here for him, for whatever he needs, but I don’t know if I am and I can’t bring myself to say it in front of his brother. We hang up.
“You okay?” I ask Mark softly.
His head bobs once in an unconvincing nod. I reach over for his hand, but he pulls it away.
“Stop. I won’t be able to hold your hand when we’re there, so we need to get used to that now.”
I swipe at the tears that spill over onto my cheek. His words are harsh but forgivable. He’s scared for his grandfather, for his family, and I get that. I hate that he won’t let me in after everything we’ve shared over the last twenty-four hours—but he’s right. Even if I’d been able to end it with Brian before this all happened, Mark already made it clear that we need to keep what we have under wraps in front of him at least for a little while.
I grab his hand in mine anyway, and I don’t allow him to pull it away this time. I grip it to my heart. “We can get used to it when we’re in Chicago, okay? It’s just us now, and we don’t need to worry about it until then.”
He finally rips his eyes from the window and looks at me. I’ve never seen him stripped so raw, and his vulnerability and the anxiety written in his eyes claws at my heart. I’ve never felt such a base need to protect and comfort another person before. It’s a deep part of my heart that’s never been tapped, and the pure emotion terrifies me as much as it exhilarates me.
“I’m scared, Reese.” His voice is a soft plea.
I pull his head to my shoulder. “I know. And that’s okay.”
I feel the weight of his head as he relaxes into me. It only lasts a few seconds, but he pulls strength from our connection.
He blows out a breath before he sits up. He opens the glass separating us from Vinny and Stanley.
“Stan, reroute to the private jetway at LAX. Vinny, I need you to file a flight plan.”
“Where are we headed?” Vinny calls back.
“Chicago. As soon as we can.”
“You or your girl need any bags?”
Mark looks at me and answers before I have the chance. I don’t miss Vinny’s description of me, words that send a ripple of gratification down my spine despite the dire situation we suddenly find ourselves in. “We can get whatever we need when we land.”
“I should take a regular flight,” I say.
Mark shakes his head. “You’ll come with me. It makes the most sense. I’d have asked you to come with me either way.”
“Either way?”
He looks out the window. “If you were just my brother’s girlfriend,” he clarifies.
“And instead, what am I?”
He gives me a long, hard look, and then he lifts a shoulder. “More than that.” His voice is quiet and confused, and I leave it at that even though I’m desperate for more going into what’s sure to be a turbulent few days ahead.
* * *
“Text me a list of what you need,” Mark says to me once we’ve boarded his plane.
“Like what?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Makeup and hair shit. Whatever you use.”
“I can just use whatever hair stuff you have.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “You think I’m sharing my secrets?”
I giggle. “Okay, fine. But, like, everything?”
He nods. “Be specific, too, because Vick doesn’t always choose a woman to go buy makeup and a man won’t know what the hell you’re talking about unless you give everything down to the color.”
I start typing out my list. I have my purse, so I happen to have most of my make-up with me. But I don’t have things like deodorant or even a toothbrush. I type out everything I can think of, including underwear and clothes in my size, and then fire off the text to Mark.
He copies my list and sends it along to Vick. “Most of it should be waiting at my place when we get there.”
“How?”
“I make shit happen, babe.”
I can’t help my laugh. I hate why we’re here. I hate that I’m about to meet the parents of my boyfriend who also happen to be the parents of the man I love, and I hate that we’re meeting under these circumstances.
Despite all that, though, I find myself falling deeper for the rock star sitting beside me. He settles into me, my arms around him as he rests his head against my chest. I still wonder what’s behind the door at the back of the plane, but I haven’t gotten up the nerve to ask.
“I can’t stop thinking about the Legos,” Mark says quietly.
Of all the things I thought might come out of his mouth as the wheels pull up from the ground and we’re on our way to Chicago, interlocking blocks probably falls somewhere toward the bottom of the list.
“The Legos?” I ask.
“He gave me Legos every year for my birthday. Even when I stopped playing with them, he still gave them to me. Even now, he still sends a set every year on September twenty-sixth, whatever’s popular that year. I’ve got Pirates of the Caribbean, Star Wars, Toy Story...even Harry Potter. The boxes are stacked in a closet at my place in LA. I wish I would’ve put them all together, wish I would’ve taken a picture of the completed sets to send to him. Why didn’t I do that?”
My heart breaks for him. “You grew out of them.”
“But I didn’t grow out of him.”
“Maybe it’s not too late. You can still put them together.”
He doesn’t answer, and I worry I said something wrong. I said maybe it’s not too late. The flipside of that means that maybe it is too late.
He lifts his head and sits up straight. He looks forward as he speaks rather than at me. “He’s one of those people who always knows exactly what to say, you know?”
“Give me an example.”
“I remember Ethan and I wanted to start up a band when I was a freshman in high school. We had two other kids with us, but they didn’t take it seriously. They just wanted to mess around and jam, but I was looking at it as a potential career. Pops—that’s what we all call him—he always told me to lighten up a little and enjoy it.”
I smile at the thought of a grandparent telling an intense teenaged boy to lighten up. “Did you listen?”
“Not until I was in my early twenties.”
“Do you regret that?”
He shrugs. “Yes and no. It’s all experience. He said experience is what you get when you don’t get what you want.”
“When does Mark Ashton ever not get what he wants?” I attempt a light tone despite the gravity of the situation...despite everything at stake.
He presses his lips together but doesn’t answer.
I pull one of his hands into mine. I stare at it, turn it over, stroke it. I pull his other hand into mine, too. I memorize their warmth, the length of his fingers, the short, trim nails, the golden skin tone and the light smattering of hair on the back. I study the veins that rise above the surface. I study the black ink over his golden skin, swirls and designs that have meaning to him.
These are man’s hands, powerful and rough. The fingertips of his right hand are slightly harder than I expect them to be, probably from years of playing guitar. A small scar mars the back of his left hand, and I’m curious to know how it got there.
I think about all the times he’s used these talented hands to entertain crowds of people as he played guitar. I think about the times he’s used these skilled hands to pleasure me. I try not to think of the times he’s used them on other women, but I know those times exist unspoken in his past. I think about the times they’ve held and comforted other hands and the times they’ve provided strength.
I glance up at him, and he’s lost in thought. I pull his hands to my chest and hug them close to my heart.
“We need a plan,” he says, his loud voice cutting into my musings.
“What sort of plan?”
He turns to look at me. “Brian’s going to need you. He’s the youngest and he takes things the hardest.” He pauses, and my heart breaks that he’s protecting his brother through this. “But I’m going to need you, too.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to be there for both of you.”
He shakes his head. “You can’t.”
“So what’s the plan, then?”
“You and Brian will stay with me at my place in the city. I’ve got rooftop access. You can meet me up there. It’ll be a private hideaway for us. We need a code word.”
“Destiny,” I say.
“Destiny,” he echoes then nods. “If I text it, meet me there. Same goes for you.”
“I want to end it with him.”
He closes his eyes briefly as he digests my words. “I know. But you can’t. Not now. Let’s get through these next few days. They’re gonna be hard enough as it is, and just because you end it with him doesn’t mean we can flaunt whatever this is.” He motions between the two of us.
“But what about you?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about me.”
“Of course I’m going to worry about you.”
He nods as if he knew it all along. “I’ll be okay. I’ve got the light at the end of the tunnel. I know where your heart is.”
“I love you.” I blurt out the words, and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He told me he was in love with me at his Vegas penthouse. I told him I was in love with him, too. But being in love and saying I love you are two different things, and my heart races at the weight of my words.
We’ve avoided the word, skirted the issue. There’s so much going on around us, so much heavy weight between us that we’ve avoided the word. But right now, he needs to know. He needs to understand the intensity of my feelings for him, and I don’t even need him to say it back.
And that’s how I know that he’s my choice. I knew it from the very moment I ran into him after Brian left for Germany, but knowing I love him and I’m willing to risk everything else for him without needing to hear the confirmation that he feels the same—that’s what love means to me.
He leans over and rests his head on my chest again. My heart beats erratically against his ear.
“I love you, too,” he whispers. “I’ve loved you since the second you stepped into the dressing room at Mandalay. I think I’ve loved you my whole life, I just hadn’t met you.”
My heart soars at his words, but the stark reality of what’s about to happen sets in. I have to put aside my love for him to be by his brother’s side. Heat presses behind my eyes, and before I know what’s happening, I feel the burn of a tear as it tracks down my cheek. Mark looks tenderly up at me and swipes away my tear.
My tear. He’s comforting me when he’s the one facing a family emergency.
“Promise me you’ll wait for me,” I say with a shaky voice. “Promise me you won’t run away from me the second Brian’s here.”
“I promise,” he says softly. “You’re it for me. I don’t need anyone else. Only ever you.”
A sense of relief filters through my blood despite everything we’re about to face. I brace myself for impact and pray that love will be enough to overcome the shit storm about to unleash its worst on us.