Encore Worthy: a Mountains & Men prequel novella (14 page)

MY EYELIDS FEEL
unbelievably heavy. It takes me a great deal of effort and concentration to get them open. My head is pounding and my neck is stiff. I feel like I can’t move, which makes me panic, but all I can manage is a pathetic whimper. As soon as the sound escapes my lips, I hear a jingling noise before I feel a wet nose sniffing at my face. It startles me and I gasp, closing my eyes once more. When the dog barks, my fear escalates.

I have no idea where I am. Furthermore, I can barely remember last night. I feel unbearably sluggish, like I’m suffering from the worst hangover known to man. I try and recollect any clue that might tell me where I am, but the only thing I see is the blackness behind my eyelids.

I feel the weight of the dog as two paws press against my side and another bark fills the room. Then I hear a door open and a small ounce of relief washes over me at the sound of his hushed voice.

“Maestro, stop it!” He lifts the dog off of me and sets him on the floor. Maestro whines but Sage ignores him and the bed dips when he sits beside me.

His fingers gently tuck a few strands of hair behind my ear and his touch encourages a second attempt to open my eyes. I can only see a part of him, enough to notice that he’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and nothing else. It’s then that I realize, underneath the sheets that cover me, I’m not wearing the dress I picked out last night. Instead, the worn, soft cotton of a t-shirt has been pulled over me.

When did I take my dress off? Or did Sage take it off? Did we . . . ?

“Sage?” I croak.

“
Jesus,
” he murmurs, cupping his hand around the back of my head. “I’m so relieved that you’re awake.”

“Where am I? What happened?” I wonder aloud. I don’t recall even
speaking
to Sage last night; the fact that he’s here has me completely confused. The only reason I’m not totally freaking out is because it’s Sage. Somehow I know that he would never hurt me. Still, I feel worse than shit, and the fact that I can’t explain why makes me nervous.

“You’re at my house, doll face,” he murmurs, running his hand over my hair. “I brought you home with me from The Wash Bar.”

The Wash Bar—that’s something I remember. I remember changing three times before I left; I remember Sage and the band and then . . . nothing.

I want to see his face so I try to sit up. My muscles feel almost nonexistent.

“Baby, don’t try to move. Just rest, okay?”

The concern in his voice heightens my confusion and I manage to tilt my head back so that I can look up at him. He looks like he hasn’t slept at all. Suddenly, lying down makes me feel entirely too vulnerable. I try sitting up again. This time, instead of encouraging me to lie still, he helps prop me up against the headboard.

“You’re one hardhead woman, did you know that?” he teases with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

My head.
Now that I’m up, it hurts even more. Sage was right; sitting up was a bad idea. Nevertheless, I can’t relax when there are so many unanswered questions whirling around up there.

“What happened? Did I—? Did we—?” None of the possibilities that come to mind right now make sense.

“You don’t remember anything? Keith? The bar? Nothing?”

Try as I might, I can’t recall a single moment after Mountains & Men finished their set. I back track, in a desperate attempt to retrace my steps, and then I remember the blonde—
Hercules.
Keith. “I—I talked to Keith before. I met him at the gym,” I ramble, reaching up to press my fingers against my aching temple. “I didn’t know . . . I didn’t know that he was one of your guys. But—what does he have to do with anything?”

I watch as his eyebrows tug together and his jaw tenses. Then he relaxes, drawing in a deep breath and shaking off the anger that darkened his features just a second ago. “I’m so sorry, Millicent. I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. I was with my sister and—”

“Your sister?” The words fall out of my mouth just as a memory flashes before my eyes.
Sage. In the crowd. Surrounded by a flock of girls.

“She wanted to introduce me to some of her friends. This all could have been avoided if I just came looking for you right away. I’m so fucking sorry, baby doll.”

“I was . . . I was leaving.” I look
through
him, bits and pieces of the night coming back to me. The details are hazy at best, but they’re something. “Keith—he wouldn’t leave me alone. He insisted on buying me a drink. How much did I have? How did I end up here with you? Shit—why can’t I remember?”

“Millicent, he slipped you something. You had
one
drink. When I found you, you were almost unconscious.”

“He . . . he
what?”
My heartbeat speeds up as my panic returns. I try one more time to remember more,
anything
more, but there’s nothing there! And my head—it feels like it’s going to explode! “Fuck!” I cry, annoyed when my eyes fill with tears of complete and utter frustration. I know crying won’t help me remember shit, but I can’t stop. “Who the fuck roofies anyone anymore?”

“Christ, I’m so sorry, baby,” he mutters, pulling me into his arms. My head tucks perfectly between his neck and his shoulder and my body leans into him without my permission. He feels too good. “I always knew Keith was a dick, but I had no idea . . . I’m so sorry.”

My frustration over my memory loss soon morphs into a terrifying realization of what
could
have happened. Where would I be waking up this morning if not for Sage? What would Keith have done to me before I woke? Just thinking about how close I was to being abused and then abandoned makes it hard for me to breathe.

“Hey, it’s okay, Millie. I’ve got you.”

I slip my arms around his neck and hold him as tight as I can. I feel like I can’t get close enough. “What if—what if you hadn’t found me? What if—?”

“I’d never let anything happen to you, doll face.” He scoops his arm under my legs and pulls me into his lap. “I would have beat the living shit out of that fucker if Knox hadn’t pulled me off of him.”

“You—you hit him?” I hiccup, pulling away just enough to look through his glasses and into his eyes.

“You bet your sweet, little ass, I did.” When he reaches up to dry my cheeks with the backs of his fingers, I see his bruised knuckles and pull away a little more, taking his hand in mine.

“Sage . . .”

“That piece of shit better hope we don’t cross paths again any time soon,” he says in reply.

I study his hand for another moment before I bring my eyes back up to meet his. The words
thank you
are perched on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to say them. Those two little words don’t even come close to the gratitude I feel towards him right now.

“I don’t know what to say,” I finally manage.

He leans forward and touches his forehead to mine. “Say you’ll go out with me.”

I hesitate for just a moment, a memory from the night before reminding me of a doubt I can’t quite wrap my head around anymore. He groans and I giggle and it feels out of this world amazing to be in his arms, giggling after everything that we’ve been through in the last twelve hours. When I nod, he pulls away from me, his tired eyes brighter than they were just seconds ago.

“Was that a yes?”

“Sarah invited us to The Brew Cycle next Saturday night.”

“
Us?
” he asks with a smirk.

“Yeah. A triple date.”

“
Thank you, Sarah,
” he sighs as he gently takes my face between his hands. “Your ass is mine, baby doll. You just wait.” He presses his lips to mine in a kiss so soft, so sweet, and so tender, I almost swoon. “I hope you know I’m not waiting until Saturday to spend some time with you. Today, it’s you and me, in this bed, no exceptions. You need some serious rest and I’m going to make sure you get it.”

“Okay,” I agree without argument.

“Good. Now, how’s your head?”

“Killing me,” I answer honestly.

“Stay put. I’ll get you some water and a couple pain killers.”

He lifts me from his lap and sets me back down on the bed before he gets up and heads for the door. I watch him go before slipping down between the sheets. I woke up confused and afraid, this bed unfamiliar; now, as sleep begins to pull me under once more, I know that I don’t want to be anywhere else.

WHEN I WAKE FOR
the second time today, I feel completely different. My head still aches a bit, my mouth is dry, and my stomach is empty, but I feel more like myself. I look around in search of a clock and I see that Sage has one hanging on the wall. It’s after two in the afternoon, but I barely register the time. His room is not what I expected. As I sit up, I take in my surroundings.

The walls are surprisingly bare. There are no half naked women hung or anything like that. Instead, just beside me, above his desk, there’s a bulletin board filled with scraps of paper and sheets of music. On either side, the only two posters in the room are of two different bands, which I assume are his favorite.

He has a big window that takes up most of one wall, but the curtains are drawn, hiding the sun and his view. On the wall directly in front of us, he’s got a TV mounted above his dresser beside his closet. The closet door is open and I can see that he’s got clothes and Converse shoes strewn all over the floor, but the rest of his room is surprisingly neat.

The nightstand on the other side of Sage holds a glass of water, a bottle of pain meds, and a new toothbrush. I look down at Sage, his face relaxed as he sleeps, and I wonder when he thought to bring me a toothbrush. Grateful for the chance of a fresh mouth, I quietly slip out of bed and walk around to retrieve all three items.

Maestro snores softly from his doggy bed in the corner and I do my best not to make a sound as I slip out of the room in search of the bathroom. There are three more doors in the hallway, two of which are closed, and I wonder who occupies them. With a flip of a light switch, my desired destination is confirmed and I close myself inside. After I use the bathroom, I wash my hands, wipe away the mascara that has accumulated underneath my eyes, and then brush my teeth. Almost all of my hair has fallen out of my bun from the night before. I’m surprised the hair-tie is still holding onto anything at all. I shake it out, slip it around my wrist, and finger comb my hair, opting to just leave it down.

I swallow a couple ibuprofens, sucking the water from the glass until it is gone. Thirsty for more, I decide to venture out in search of the kitchen. I slowly wander my way down the hall and find the stairs. I hear voices down below, but my thirst far outweighs my hesitancy to meet Sage’s housemates. At the foot of the stairs, I find myself in the entryway of the house, the front door to my left. Just beyond that is the living room. I spot all of them before they notice me.

On one couch, his legs stretched out with his feet hanging over the side, I recognize one of the guitar players. His dark hair is cropped short, his face sporting the evidence of a morning without a shave, and he’s wearing only a pair of gym shorts. He laughs and his whole face lights up, making him even more handsome.

On the adjacent couch, there are three more people—two guys and a girl. The guy on the far end I recognize as the second guitar player. He looks like the other one, only with a little less muscle mass and shaggy hair. There’s no question that they are brothers. The man beside him is their keyboard player. His head full of spiral curls, grown out over his forehead, is unquestionably recognizable; his light brown skin on display, as he sits shirtless like his friends, making his smile stand out as he laughs with the others. They’re attention is glued to the TV as they play a video game of some sort.

The girl, who has short dirty blonde hair, her bangs swept elegantly across her forehead, is the only one who is fully dressed, wearing jeans and a tank top. I don’t know why, considering her company, but she makes me feel severely underdressed. I feel the heat of a blush creep up my neck when she looks over and sees me. She smiles kindly, making me feel slightly less embarrassed before she speaks.

“Hey,” she says softly. “It’s really good to see you up. How are you feeling?”

“Um, I’m okay. Thanks,” I murmur, tugging at the hem of Sage’s t-shirt.

“Did you want some water?” says the guitar player with the short hair, pointing at my empty glass. “Here, I’ll get you some.” He jumps up off the couch, abandoning his game control as he makes his way toward me. “I’m Knox, by the way,” he says, offering me his hand as he takes my glass.

“Millie,” I reply with a small smile. It’s not every day that I meet people in little more than my underwear, and they theirs.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, looking down at himself and then back into the other room. “We usually wear clothes when people are over.” My eyes flicker to the blonde and she laughs.

“I don’t count. I’m with JJ. I’m Violet, by the way. And that’s Maddox,” she tells me.

It takes me just a second longer to realize that over half of the band
lives
in this house. I fold my arms across my chest, suddenly feeling even more uncomfortable. “Do—do all of you live here?”