I pushed him away. I had to do it to avoid becoming someone I promised myself I wouldn’t. Because I need to be stronger than she was. And I am. I pushed. And yet . . .
I can’t believe he left.
I always knew he would, but it stings more than it should.
No one ever stays when the shit hits the fan. It’s better this way, before things got too complicated. Before our lives were endlessly intertwined. I made the right choice. But fuck . . .
Why does it hurt so badly? I can hardly catch my breath.
The boys are gone and won’t be back anytime soon. The minute Trent walked off the bus I grabbed my guitar and notebook, barely able to stumble back to my bedroom and lock the door without losing myself in a fit of tears. Only then did I let myself cry. I had my pity party for one, and when I couldn’t find peace in that, I turned off the light and tried to find sleep. But snuggling into the bedding only increased my thoughts of Trent. How only hours ago his body, strong and capable, made me feel every inch of arousal, with every touch of his hands on my skin, every kiss, and that glorious tongue. He marked me, owned me, and I’ll probably never be able to sleep in this bed without remembering.
The seconds turn to minutes, and minutes to hours. Without a glance at my phone I know it’s almost time to roll out of this city and head to our next stop. The bus engines roar to life. The rumble is soothing, familiar, and the exhaustion of the day presses down. My eyelids flutter shut and I’m close to giving in to sleep when I hear the guys board the bus. Their drunken banter, faint enough I can’t make out the words, heightens my awareness. As much as I don’t want to, I strain to listen for his voice.
I shouldn’t have. His singing is loud enough to greet me. “In the jungle, the mighty jungle . . . Fuck! Pick up your shoes, jackass. I ’most killed myself.”
There’s a scuffle and more words I can’t make out. I consider stuffing a pillow over my ears but instead sit up so I can eavesdrop better.
Bang, bang, bang! The beating at my door startles me, and my pulse races at an unhealthy pace. The knocking continues even louder.
“I know you’re in there. Mmm sorry, Lex. Sexy Lexi with the fucking sexy legs. Please open the door.”
I don’t, though. I don’t answer in hopes he’ll stumble back to his bed and sleep it off. I wonder how much he drank. If he hooked up with any girls. Damn it, Lexi. Of course he did. He’s Trent Donavan.
“Open the fucking door!” he shouts. The bus thrusts forward, and there’s another thud against the door. It may have been his body.
“Go to bed, Donavan! She’s not opening the door.” Sean. He’s always looking out for me.
“I can’t! I need to talk to her! Lexi! Lexi please. Please, please, please, baby. Open this goddamn door. I’ll shout all night until you do.”
“Someone shut him up!” Austin.
“Lexi, come out and talk to me, baby.”
When he calls me baby my anger from before resurfaces like a tidal wave. Baby. I’m not his baby. I have a name, and I refuse to be grouped along with all his other babies. Shoving off the covers, I pad to the locked door and bang my fist at the thin panel. “What? You want me to come out? What then, Trent?”
“We can work this out,” he says, sounding so pained and so close it’s as if he’s leaning against the door.
My body battles with my mind, hand already on the knob, but I can’t give in. “We can’t work this out. I don’t want to be with you.” I whisper it so low I’m not sure he’ll hear.
“You do! I fucking know you do!” he screams and the doorknob rattles. He swears and hits the door again. “Like all the other women tonight. Everyone wants something from me. You want me.”
I draw my hand back. His words burn. “You’re an ass!”
“Open the door, Lexi.”
“No. No! You don’t get to come here and demand shit from me. And I refuse to come out and smell the stench of some skank all over you!”
“I don’t smell like anyone else, Lexi. I swear I didn’t fuck anyone tonight.” His words slur with his begging, but they don’t make me come closer.
“How can I believe you?”
“You just can. Fuck.”
But I can’t. I can’t believe and I can’t trust. Maybe that’s not his fault. Maybe it’s just me and how broken I am. Either way, I step back and climb into bed, and drag the covers around my body like a shield.
When I don’t respond he laughs, an intoxicated overzealous sound. “Open the door and inspect my dick. I didn’t fuck anyone, Lex.” He laughs again, almost a giggle as if he’s high. “How could I when Mr. Trent only wants you. I only . . . Please let me in. Let your jungle lion come back to his queen.”
“Go to bed, Trent.” I grab my phone, click the do not disturb, and affix my headphones to play my go-to list. I can no longer hear him. I wonder from the occasional rumble of the bus if he’s given up on banging at the door.
I don’t sleep well, my mind full of unrest, but I manage to catch a few hours. Early in the morning, when sunlight cascades through the cracks in the window shades, I ditch the headphones and cocoon myself beneath the blankets. The only sound that enters is the steady rhythm of the bus chugging down another US highway.
A nagging feeling keeps me from falling back asleep, though. Regret. It’s something I don’t have much experience with. It pounds alongside my headache and burning eyelids, the aftermath of too many tears.
The new day brings perspective, and I realize I need to talk to Trent. We can’t just leave things the way they are. Not with another two months of this tour on the horizon. I won’t be responsible for hurting him, for fucking things up with the band. The more I consider last night and the words he said, the more I come to understand how upset he was. Something I didn’t expect when I demanded he leave.
I toss the covers off and step to the door, needing to use the restroom before I find caffeine and aspirin to kill the throbbing in my temple. Unlocking the doorknob, I twist the handle to open the door, and almost scream when I practically trip on the big body blocking my path.
Trent.
He groans, lifts his head, and rubs the sleep from his face. “Lexi.” There’s so much depth in the way he murmurs my name that my eyes begin to water. He scrambles off the ground, still blocking my path, but now I have to look up to meet his gaze.
The other guys must still be sleeping because the only sound that stretches between us is the groan of the bus motor. “What are you doing on the floor?” I say just above a whisper.
“I wanted to be close to you.” His gaze lowers and he reaches out until his fingers thread through mine. He squeezes, a simple touch, but it’s what I needed. “I’m sorry, Lexi. I’m sorry I left you last night. I should have never done that.”
“I pushed you.”
“But I know better than to fall for that. It won’t happen again. You can’t keep me away.” His lips kick up with a smile. “I’ll wait at your door until you open up.”
“I’m not good at letting people in.”
“We’ll figure it out together.”
“How can you be sure? What happens when you get tired of waiting? Or dealing with my shit. What happens after this tour is over?”
He steps closer still. Only a fraction of space exists between us, and even though I ache for his touch, to lean into him, I have to know these answers. I can’t go in blindly. I can’t get lost in him. The risk of losing myself is too high.
“You’re still wearing my necklace,” he whispers, his eyes focused at my throat.
“Well, it’s my necklace.”
He grins, lifting my hand with his until he holds them both against his heart. The rock steady beat slows my nerves. “I’m glad you didn’t take it off.”
“I’m scared,” I whisper. My eyelids lower because his stare is too much. Too knowing. Too full of love and promises and things I never expected.
“We figure this out. Together.” His lips ghost over mine in a gentle kiss, one that’s careful because any more and I might break. “Together.” He says again and releases my hand. Both of his arms wrap me in an embrace that brings my body flush with his.
“I’m sorry I pushed you away,” I whisper into his chest.
His lips rest atop my head as he hugs me tighter. “I’ve got you, Lex. If you push, I’ll pull. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Promise?” The question leaves before I can reel it back.
He answers before I even try. “Always.”