51
Alina
Shame.
Guilt.
Devastation.
Embarrassment.
Failure.
Pain.
Dehydration.
Headache.
Overwhelmed.
All of these are the things I’m feeling as I open my eyes, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. The bed, comfortable; that modern hotel décor of light walls with crisp white sheets and a bulky white duvet; large windows overlooking the city centre; sleek, dark furniture. Sitting up in the king-sized bed, I realize immediately that I’m not in my own room, and I can’t quite remember which city I’m in. Rubbing Cygnus on my inner wrist as a touchstone, awareness and memories from last night suddenly come barrelling back. I feel a sick twinge in the pit of my stomach, remembering how I let myself get so lost in Her. Scanning the room, I spot a large black duffel bag and big suitcase, the lingering scent in the room distinctly masculine, and it’s then I know I’m in Slater’s bed. I would recognize that mix of Irish Spring and leather anywhere. My heart sinks with the realization that it’s not because we’ve taken our relationship to the next level intimately—just personally.
Slater.
Images of me in the hotel bathroom flood my mind, and my stomach goes into knots, remembering how Slater saw everything. He not only witnessed me at my weakest, but he held me, forced me to stop, cleaned me up, and he didn’t bolt when he could have. Instead, he cared for me when I was at my ugliest, and made me feel something I’ve really only ever felt with Lucky…safe.
“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” his words from last night pop into my mind. The way he cared for me, not once judging or belittling me, even though I said some truly horrible things…
“How long should we let her sleep, man?” I hear Slater’s gruff voice ask from the other side of the French doors, pulling me from my sleepy thoughts.
“Until she wakes up. Her body will be sore, she’ll be dehydrated. When are the girls due back?”
Lucky?
“They’ve gone to talk to Tommy. We’re replacing their slot with another band tonight. I don’t want Ali feeling like she needs to play.”
“Good call. She’s gonna be pissed, but—
“You’re right. I am,” I let slip from where I’ve managed to creep quietly into the room, unnoticed. Seeing Lucky sitting comfortably, his feet up on the small ottoman, while talking to Slater about me and my illness isn’t exactly how I’d envisioned these two men meeting. But it’s done, and I’ll have to learn to deal with it.
“Squirt!” Lucky says, standing and taking me in, a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes crossing his face as he walks toward me, arms open, ready to hug me.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper into his tight embrace.
“Came here ’cause you needed me. Paisley called. And Slater here finally answered your phone, so here I am. Been here for a few hours. I like this guy, Ali, he’s one of the good ones, I can tell,” he whispers, squeezing me tighter, and my eyes latch onto Slater’s over his shoulder.
“That he is,” I tell Lucky quietly, never taking my eyes off of Slater’s. “I just hope I haven’t ruined it,” I say, fighting the croak in my still-sore throat.
“From the sounds of it, I’d say it’s the opposite. Dude cares. A lot,” Lucky says, pulling away and giving me a swift kiss to my temple. My eyes still glued on Slater, I smile nervously, unsure what to say or do. Never has Slater looked more beautifully conflicted, as unsure as I feel in this moment. Do I walk over and thank him? Run into his arms like I so want to do? Will he hold me, and tell me we’re okay, like Lucky seems to think, or will he push me away and send me packing now that I’m awake and Lucky is here to deal with me?
“Morning,” Slater says, when Lucky lets me go. Tentatively, I step in his direction, and just as quickly my questions are answered. Slater pulls me into his arms, his face taking comfort in that sweet spot between my neck and collarbone, the spot I’ve come to think of as his. “I’m glad you’re awake. So fucking happy you’re here, baby, I’ve been going out of my mind waiting for you to wake up,” he says, and I hate the worry I hear in his voice, the uncertainty I see on his face. Thankfully, what I don’t see reflected on this beautiful man’s face is the look of pity I expected to find there after last night. Rather, in its place I see understanding and patience, and I can tell Slater is allowing me to lead how this morning will play out. Instead of pushing and bombarding me with all the questions he must have, or yelling at me for doing what I did, he’s hesitant, kind.
“Me too,” is all I can manage as my heart riots in my chest. I’m so nervous and ashamed, yet I move in to hug him tighter, craving the comfort he’s willing to offer after everything. “Thank you for last night. I’m so sorry,” I say, averting my eyes, feeling totally embarrassed.
“No,” he says, using his thumb and index finger to tilt my head up to meet his gaze, “don’t apologize. I’m just glad I found you, and that you’re okay. I want your explanation, I do, but you’re more important than anything right now, so I’ll wait and be here until you’re ready to give it to me. Because I want it all, I want everything, and from the beginning. The good, the bad, and the in-between. Got me?” He rubs the side of my cheek, and it takes all of my strength not to sink to my knees and just blurt out everything right now. How can this man still want me after seeing me at my lowest point? After discovering my history? And knowing all the negative press my family’s past could bring to him, the tour, and his band? He’s right, however. I need more time: time to process, to do a bit of self-care, and some time to find the right starting point so I can give him what he deserves—my story.
Leave it to my brother to know what I need.
“Tea?” Lucky asks, motioning to the room service cart holding an array of drinks, along with cereal and fruit. How sad is that? Poor Lucky has seen this side of me often enough to know exactly what I need right now.
“Please. And a banana,” I say, but he already has one in hand. Both of us know all too well that the potassium will help restore my strength. Taking the offered tea and banana, I sit at the small table. My hands a little shaky, I start to take small sips of the hot tea. After a few moments of silence, Slater breaks it.
“So, where do we go from here? What do you need from us, Ali?” he asks, taking the spot across from me, pouring two cups of coffee as Lucky joins us.
“I need to get back on track,” I shrug, taking a bite of banana.
What that means at this point, I’m not sure. Yesterday was the worst episode I think I’ve ever had. They say recovery is a journey and not a destination, so I’m trying to forgive myself, to not be too hard on myself for giving in. There’s been a lot of pressure and stress, and if I’m being honest, I’d been doing really well.
But I can admit, yesterday broke me. That reporter blindsided me, and it’s not just that she discovered and shared my past, it’s the let down I feel within myself for not getting to be the one to tell my bandmates or Slater about my parents. After everything they’ve done for me, I should have given them that story, proved to them and to myself that I trust them. Completely. That I’m ready to let them all the way in, and not just keep them on the sidelines. Now though? I worry they’ll hate me for being so sketchy all the time, for not sharing something so huge with them. And I have my bully to blame for that. She convinced me that I once again destroyed my chance at any happiness, reminding me through that reporter that happiness is the one thing I don’t deserve even a slice of. As a result, I lashed out at myself the best way I knew how last night. Well, until Slater interrupted me, that is.
“I want to find a group that I can attend today. I have to talk, get shit out,” I say, and already Slater’s reaching for his phone. The gesture makes me smile. He knows how important it is to me.
“We can do that,” Lucky says, and Slater agrees, saying he’s on it. “I don’t think you should try to perform tonight. The girls agree, and everyone’s fine with it. Even if you try to argue, it’s already been arranged, so save that energy.” Seeing the panic that must have passed across my face, Lucky adds, “And no, no one knows a thing. We told the other bands and the media that you got the flu or food poisoning, told them you were sick as a dog and need to rest so Happenstance was being replaced on the roster, just for tonight.”
I nod.
“And the girls?” I look to Slater.
“Told ’em we spent the night talking once I convinced you to let me in. Told them you were upset, and were being hard on yourself for not telling them about your parents. Said you thought they’d hate you. I left it at that. I’d never say a word, Alina. What happened last night stays between us. They knew, I’m sure they knew, but they let it go. They care too much about you, and want you well,” Slater says, giving me a sweet smile that hits me right in the chest along with his promise. I know both are sincere. I know in my heart he’ll never tell anyone about last night, and if Slater Jenkins isn’t careful he just might make me fall in love with him, if I haven’t already.
“Thank you.” I feel the familiar nose-stinging sensation as I fight off the onset of the tears I know are trying to escape. How the hell could I do this to myself when I’m lucky enough to be surrounded by people like these two incredible men and a group of such selfless girls? It’s more than apparent they all care a great deal about me.
“Do you think you should go home? Is the tour too much?” Lucky asks, and I feel my palms start to sweat. I can’t lose this.
“No. Please, that’s the last thing I want. I’ll agree to tonight, but that’s it. I’m not throwing in the towel here, I’m going to fight this, Lucky. I can do it,” I tell him with conviction, and I can feel myself getting riled. “Slater, don’t send me home. Don’t end Happenstance’s tour because of me. I’m so sorry I did this—”
The next thing I know, Slater is crouched down in front of me, pulling me off the edge of the chair so my body’s resting on his.
“That’s the last thing I was thinking, Shadow. Just tell me what you need and we’ll make it happen. You and me,” he says, and I nod my head “yes” repeatedly, because he gets it. I need this, need him, the girls, Lucky, all of them, and this.
“You and me,” I repeat.
Lucky clears his throat, and I turn, noting his smile at seeing Slater taking me into his arms once again. “I’m going to let you two talk. I’ll come by later. I’m gonna go nap now, I’m fucking beat. Maybe we can do something if you’re up to it tonight. Watch a movie?” I nod to Lucky, silently agreeing. “Text if you need anything. I’m down the hall. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll be back in a few hours with soup, and we can hang out until I take you to your therapy group.”
“Sounds good,” I tell him. “Go get some rest. I’m sorry you had to come. I’m sorry I messed up.”
“Stop it. We all have our moments. What that reporter did was wrong, but you need to know, I couldn’t care less. Our past isn’t a reflection of who we are, Alina, you have to learn to understand that. Sure, it might affect us, but fuck the past. We’re strong, and it won’t ever win. You have to work on that, Squirt. I hate seeing you give in, letting it fuck with you. You’re so much stronger than that.”
“I know. I’ll try, I promise. I have to let it go,” I say, wiping away the errant tears as they fall. “Thank you for being here, Lucky.”
“Of course I’m here, Ali. I’ll always be here to remind you to get the hell up and fight. Now talk, get some more rest, and Slater, take care of her for me.” Lucky claps Slater’s shoulder before giving me a swift kiss on the head as he walks out the door, leaving Slater and me alone.
Lucky’s right. It’s time to fight the final round. And this time, I’m going to win by a TKO.