Hell Bent (Rock Bottom #1) (17 page)

After a moment, she squares her shoulders and pulls another screen up on the computer. “I’m going to release all the songs except for two. They’ll be available after Rock for a Cure and all the money they brings in will go toward the charity. The other two I’m giving to you. One you already have.”

“You’re gonna give all that money away?” I ask, ignoring the last part of what she said for now.

“They need it, I don’t,” she says with a raised eyebrow, challenging me to fight her on her choice. I’m not going to; obviously she doesn’t need it.

“I get it, but I feel like you have a reason behind your choice to donate it.”

“I do.” She smiles but it barely touches her eyes. “She left me behind because she didn’t think my dad was going anywhere, which meant she wasn’t going to get any money out of him. So I’m using the songs he wrote about her, and the ones he wrote about me, to give money to people that don’t want it but need it.”

“OK.”

“You think it’s petty and vindictive, don’t you?”

“No,” I tell her honestly. “I think you’re doing a lot of good for a lot of people. Your reasons behind doing it are your own and no one should judge you for them.”

“This is why I love you.”

She freezes again the second the words leave her mouth. It’s the same thing she did in the truck when she slipped up and said that
we
were having a son. I won’t lie, my heart fucking swelled. I knew I wanted kids at some point in my life, but I never thought that would be now, and I never thought it would be with a girl that was already pregnant when I fell for her. It doesn’t change the way I feel. I’ll still love and protect this kid like it’s my own. The fact that our DNA doesn’t match doesn’t matter to me.

Setting the laptop down, I pull Izzy into my lap and kiss her. I pour every ounce of feeling I can into that kiss because actions speak louder than words. You can tell someone that you love them and not mean it, but showing them isn’t something that’s easy to truly fake.

When I finally pull back, both of us are breathing heavy, and I’m regretting the fact that I have to take a plane back to Seattle in a few hours.

“Why are you so scared to tell me things like that? That makes twice today that you’ve said something and then froze, like you’re waiting for me to freak out on you.”

“I am. I’m eighteen years old with a baby on the way and so much drama that I feel like I live in a soap opera sometimes. You don’t have to be here. You don’t have to love this baby. And I’m waiting for you to realize that and run away screaming like your ass is on fire.”

I ignore her age comment because I’m tired of everyone thinking that I have an issue with it. It’s ten years, she’s legal; it doesn’t matter. She acts older than me on any given day anyway.

“You’re right, I don’t have to be here, I don’t have to love the baby, and I don’t have to love you, but I do. And I promise you, Izzy, that’s not going to change.”

“You can’t promise me that.”

“Why? Because everyone leaves?”

“
Yes
.”

“No, not everyone leaves. Some people leave, but some people come back. I’m
always
going to come back.” Shaking her head, she clearly doesn’t believe what I’m saying.

“You don’t know that.”

“I’d walk away from everything
right now
if it meant I got to come home to you every night for the rest of my life. It doesn’t matter how many times I leave to go on tour, I’m always going to come back.”

In silence, she stares at me, mulling over my words. With a nod, she accepts what I said and slouches back against me, tucking her head under my chin. “You told me you loved me.”

“Mhm, I do. I think I started falling for you the first night I met you.”

“Let’s not talk about that night.” She cuts me off with a laugh. Checking the time, she sits up on her knees and smiles, the evidence of everything we’ve been talking about since I got here are gone. “Can we grab some food and head home so I can spend a few
enjoyable
hours with you before you leave?”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” 

Standing, I help her the rest of the way to her feet and open the door for her. Meg looks up as we pass her desk with an excited smile, and Izzy pulls me to a stop. Rounding the desk, she wraps her arms around Meg, whispering in her ear before stepping back up to my side.

“You didn’t see us, and you know nothing.”

“Have you seen this?” Willow asks, slapping the tabloid against the shopping cart handle. 

My hand lingers on the gallon of milk as I scan the cover. The photo, one obviously taken by a cell phone, is of me and Bennett coming out of the doctor’s office the other day hand-in-hand. I can’t breathe as the thoughts of everything that this could do to his career flood my mind. The only thing I can be thankful for as I skim the story, and I’m not even sure I should be thankful for it, is the fact that they think the baby is Bennett’s. It would be so much worse if they knew it was his former best friend’s kid. Like I told him—single-baby-momma-drama doesn’t fit into his schedule. The lingering feeling that I’m hauling him down with me seeps back into my brain. Despite his efforts, the thought has never really left at all. Taking a deep breath, I force all the negative thoughts away the best I can.

Tossing the milk into the cart, I meet Willow’s eyes. “Fuck.”

“You didn’t think you could keep it quiet forever, did you?”

Rolling my eyes, I push the cart toward the front of the store. “Obviously not; it’s not like I’m hiding the fact that I’m pregnant.” I wave my hand around my stomach that is only covered in a thin t-shirt. “I was just hoping that they wouldn’t connect Bennett to it yet. He was just starting to make headway.”

“And if 
this
brings him down, his career wasn’t meant to be. But do you actually think he’d care?”

“No, but that’s the problem. He’s already told me he’d give it up for me, and I don’t want that.”

“Well,” she tells me, linking her arm through mine as we wait to be checked out. “I guess all you can really do is let shit take its course and see what happens.”

She’s right; I know she is. Willow has always been the one I could turn to because she looks at everything different. She has for a few years now. Almost dying in a car crash and coming close to killing your younger sister at the same time changes your perspective on things in life.

Pulling into the driveway, my body tenses. I’m not sure why, but I know something is wrong. It’s a ridiculous thought, but I can’t shake it as we unload the bags from the bed of the truck. On top of the weird feeling, I’m hit with the realization that I’m going to need something more child-friendly here soon. 

“You look overwhelmed, get out of your head.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Don’t I know it.” Kicking open the gate, she looks over her shoulder at me. “You gonna be OK tonight? I have…things to do.”

“Things?” I ask, trying to get more information. She’s been doing
things
for weeks now and won’t tell me what they are. She’s never really kept anything from me so I don’t tend to push her when she does—even if I’m concerned.

In front of me, Willow comes to a dead stop, causing me to run into her back. 

“What the hel—” 

My words get stuck in my throat when I see the reason she stopped in her tracks. Our door is wide open and from where we stand, we can see that everything in our living room is destroyed. Dropping the bags to the ground, Willow grabs my hand and dials 911. As the police begin to show up, my eyes stay glued to the word
whore
that is now covering the wall above our couch even though I can’t breathe.

Willow forces me to sit down in the grass and follows me, scooting until she’s close enough to wrap her arm around my shoulder. She’s talking to me, I know she is, but I don’t hear anything she says. I jump when my phone rings. When I see that it’s Bennett, I answer as quickly as I can but I don’t greet him.

“Izzy? Izzy, answer me.” After a few more tries he yells at me, “Damn it, Izzy! I’m coming home.”

“No,” I finally say. Taking a breath, I find my voice. “You are not coming home. You have three shows left then you’re done for a bit. You’re going to finish the tour and then you can come home to me.”

“I don’t want you alone.”

“I’m not,” I promise him. “I have Willow and everyone else. I’ll be lucky if anyone lets me out of their sight at all now.”

“Still don’t like it,” he grumbles.

I know he’s close to saying fuck it and coming home anyway—I can hear it in his voice—but I can’t let that happen. As much as I want him here, him leaving the tour early on top of the tabloid catastrophe today, he’d be done for sure.

“Please don’t make me go into bitchy, boss mode. I’m rather fond of the loving girlfriend side of me, so please don’t make me do it.” 

Bennett huffs and that’s when I realize that I have no clue how he knows what happened or why to call me at this very moment. Turning to look at Willow, she won’t meet my eyes. I know she’s only trying to help, but trying to keep him from jumping on a plane and rushing to my side is only adding to the stress that I don’t need.

“Fine,” he concedes. “I don’t like it, but you’re the boss.”

After a few more minutes and a quick "I love you", I hang up the phone and turn my attention back to the police. The conversation may have started out by stressing me out, but by the end of it, as always, Bennett somehow managed to calm my nerves. At some point, Abby and Payton, Willow’s mother, showed up and took over everything with the police. By the time they finish speaking with the officers that showed up, they demand we come home with them. Being exhausted from the stress, neither one of us fight them, but I do make sure to text Bennett to let him know what is going on. The last thing I need is him surprising me again.

The closer I get to Izzy, the more the exhaustion sets in. I didn’t think I was going to make it, but somehow I manage to keep my eyes open as I pull into Abby and Jameson’s driveway. Taking the stairs two at a time, I head down the hall to the apartment that Izzy said her and Willow were staying in above the barn.

I knock once but don’t bother waiting for an answer. It was hard enough not climbing on the first plane I could get on when I knew that shit was going on here—waiting any longer to get to her isn’t an option. After quietly shutting the door behind me, I step into the living room, finding the girls curled together in the middle of the couch. Izzy’s asleep with her head resting on Willow’s shoulder, and Willow looks like she is almost right there with her.

Easing myself down on the end of the couch, Willow gently nudges Izzy to wake her up, and without any prompting, Izzy shifts toward me and curls into my chest. I pull her closer, whisper that I missed her, and when I notice the nervous look on Willow’s face, I pull her into us as well. She snuggles in, and it isn’t long before I’m zoning out on whatever show they’re watching and falling asleep. Since the first night I met her, I knew something was different about Willow. Izzy hasn’t told me much, telling me that it’s Willow’s hell to share, but from what I gather, her life over the past few years hasn’t been the best.

“Bennett.” My shoulders shake a while later, and when I crack my eyes, Izzy is sitting on the arm of the couch watching for me. Her hand comes up, caressing my cheek, and she smiles. It’s a nervous, sleepy smile, but it’s still sexy as hell.