Rock the City: A Midnight Fate Novel (19 page)

“Is she in trouble?” I ask him, not expecting a truthful answer when I still know very little about his sister.

He shrugs, not giving much away either way. “Probably, and that’s what pisses me off the most. I told her she could stay here as long as she needed to. I practically begged her. If she would have stayed here like I asked, we could be on our way to the store to get her all the things she needed. Instead, she stole them and left.”

“Why didn’t she stay?”

“She’s in so deep she doesn’t believe she can get out—or that she deserves better. Kind of hard to want more or believe that a better life exists when you’ve never had one to begin with.”

“Maybe she’ll come back when she’s ready.”

“If I’d had more time, maybe.”

Guilt presses on my shoulders, the weight of the truth yanking me deeper and deeper into its harsh reality. No matter how hard I kick my legs and tell it to leave me alone, that what happened was completely justified, it doesn’t make it consume me any less. Had I not gone back home, forcing Lane to choose one of us over the other, Lemon might be here where she’s safe. Instead, she’s back in the world all alone, doing God knows what with God knows who. I put her in danger this time and, whatever happens to her, it’ll be my fault.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I leave the bathroom and hurry to the kitchen for some water before it gets any harder to swallow.

“Noelle,” he says as I walk away. “Baby, I’m not trying to make you feel bad.”

I reach into the fridge for a bottle of water, pressing the cool plastic against my forehead. The condensation leaves a cold splotch on my skin, probably taking my makeup off with it, but I don’t care. All I care about is Lemon’s safety—and that Lane forgives me for screwing up his chance to get his sister out of Sea Port.

“Why are you so tense?” he asks, as he wraps his arms around me from behind.

“Because I was selfish and ruined everything for you.”

He spins me around, taking the water out of my hand and setting it on the counter. Before I know what’s happening, he picks me up and places me on the island. “Look at me, Noelle.”

When I raise my head, his eyes are the color of steel, the blues threatening to mix with the greys like a mood ring that can’t make up its mind if it’s angry or satisfied. “Don’t look at me like that,” I tell him.

“Like what? Like you’re loved?”

“And then you say shit like that and make it worse. I feel so guilty.”

“Baby, when given the choice, I’m always going to choose you.”

“I shouldn’t have made you choose in the first place.”

He exhales, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He doesn’t have to say a word though. I see in his eyes how terrified he is of never seeing his sister again.

Lane’s the kind of brother who would do anything to protect his sister. He’d put his own life on the line to keep her safe—and judging from the scar on his chest, he probably has. That’s a story I still have to find answers to. I need to know how bad it’s been if I ever want to try to help make it better.

Stroking my cheek with his thumb, he says, “I don’t want you to worry about Lemon anymore. You’re here to see me. None of this baggage I carry around has anything to do with you. There’s nothing you have to fix to make me love you more. Got it?”

Even though I nod, telling him I understand, it doesn’t do much of anything to take away the doubts swirling around inside me. Because just like Lane would do for Lemon, I’d do the same for him—and so far, I’m failing miserably.

“Do you want to go to the grocery store with me? Since she took what little food I had. ”

Considering we’re in the heart of the city, I could probably find anything I wanted and then some, but the idea of going right out and buying food, let alone picking out clothes and makeup makes me feel selfish—selfish that I have money at my disposal to bail me out of hard times. And my hard times are nothing like Lemon’s. That’s why I tell him, “If it’s okay, I’ll stay here. I haven’t checked on the salon in days. They’re probably wondering what happened to their control-freak boss.”

He must have been expecting me to go with him, because his face falls as he lets go of me. All I get is a simple “Sure” before he turns around and walks away from me. He read that all wrong.

I massage my temples, hating all this guilt. More than anything, I’m hoping Lemon isn’t the one force strong enough to destroy us. If I knew where to look, I’d go find her myself, begging her to come and see Lane so he could stop hurting. She needs to realize he can save her if she’ll let him. Most importantly, they can save each other and put an end to decades of pain. A pain that’s slowly invading my own heart.

Just as I change my mind and realize I’d rather go with him than talk to anyone from back home, the door to the condo opens and closes. He didn’t even bother to say good-bye.

All those months we spent apart never made me feel as lonely as I’ve felt yesterday and today. Apart, we were always laughing and telling each other how much we wanted to be together. Now that we’re finally in the same place at the same time, it’s just not falling into place the way I thought it would. So far, it’s one disappointment after the next. One tear following another.

I said I was going to call the salon, but my finger hovers over Lane’s name. Even though I want him to come back for me, I let him go. Maybe he needs some time to get his head together because I feel like I do. There are a million things I want to say to him, most of which can wait until he gets back except for one.

Noelle: I’m sorry.

I stare at the screen, waiting for him to reply. It takes him six whole minutes to type three little words. But they’re the three that mean the most when they come from him.

Lane: I love you.

I read it twice more, the words so powerful I can still hear the tenderness in his voice when he said them to me for the very first time. It’ll never get old, that’s how much he means to me. Before I can say it back, Lark messages me.

Lark: Where are you? I called your house and you didn’t answer.

Noelle: I’m back in NY.

Lark: You’re upstairs?

Noelle: Yeah, but this shit is hard. I’m fucking it up left and right.

Just as I press Send, there’s a knock at the door. I stare at the wall, wondering how the hell Lark managed to get up here so fast. Only when I open the door, it’s not her on the other side. Actually, I have no idea who’s pushing past me, desperate to get into a place she seems to know so well.

Right away, I panic. My fingers scroll through my contacts for Lane’s number—a number I wish I had memorized and didn’t rely on technology to remember for me.

“Where’s my brother?”

“Lemon?” I question. She’s a much different version than the girl in the pictures on the mantle. If she hadn’t told me she was his sister, I never would have put two and two together. If anything, I’d think she was an ex or a crazed fan.

“He told you about me?” she asks in disbelief, turning to face me as she says the words. When she does, the light hits the other side of her face, revealing a blackened eye with a nasty cut beneath it.

“I’m Noelle, his girlfriend. Are you okay?”

She tucks a strand of her straw hair behind her ear, the ends dead and in desperate need of a trim. “I can’t believe you’d even care after I took all your stuff.”

“You shouldn’t have taken anything from this condo, but right now, I’m more worried about what happened to your face and what you need.”

She dabs her sleeve against the cut, checking to see how much it’s bleeding. “It’s not that bad.”

“Do you want me to call the police?”

At the mention of the cops, she scrambles toward the door, losing her footing on the kitchen tile and falling to her hands and knees. She hangs her head in defeat, and probably a little bit of pain, too.

I move closer, kneeling beside her. I’m hesitant to scare her, because the last thing I want is for her to run out that door again because of me. “Please, don’t,” she begs. “I shouldn’t have come here. Leave the trash in the trailer, right?”

My heart breaks hearing her talk about herself like she’s not worthy of being in Lane’s home. She’s so much more than the address on her mailbox or the people she surrounds herself with. She’s a human being who deserves compassion. I may not know her whole story or any of her truths, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out Lemon has been beat down her whole life and made to believe she’s not worth being loved.

“Whoever did this to you needs to be stopped, Lemon. I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

“Why would you help me? You don’t even know me.”

“I love your brother. That means I care about you, too.”

“It does?”

“Yes, it does. If you’ll let me, I’d like a chance to get to know you.

“Like a friend? You don’t really look like the Lola’s type.”

“I don’t care where you work or what you do, Lemon. Lola’s doesn’t define you.”

Turning her head, she looks at me to see if I’m telling the truth. I pray she can see the hope in my eyes. I want nothing more than to help her, but I can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.

Like a scared little girl who needs her big brother, Lemon ignores my offer, only asking, “Where’s Lane?”

“He’s at the grocery store. He’ll be back any minute. Please, stay.”

Again, I don’t get an answer, but she does try to stand up, even letting me help her. Her clothes are dirty and her hair needs washed. The polish on her fingernails has to be a couple weeks old, and she looks like she hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in months, maybe even years.

Leading her to the living room, I show her how a guest should be treated. She lies down on the couch, her head nestling against the throw pillow at the end. I open a blanket and cover her with it. Her fingers run over the cashmere like she’s never felt something so rich on her body before—and she probably hasn’t.

“Are you warm enough?” I ask her.

“Yes,” she whispers as she fights to keep her eyes from closing. “Do you have something to make my eye hurt a little less?”

“Of course.” I go into the kitchen and bring her a glass of water then grab two headache pills out of my purse, hoping she’s not on anything else that will mix with it.

While she’s taking them, I root around in Lane’s cabinets, searching for something to clean the cut with. Eventually, I find some antiseptic cream and a bandage. It may need a stitch or two, but this is the best I can do right now. I’m lucky she’s staying put, so I’m not about to press my luck with a trip to the hospital.

“Noelle?”

My name, a simple acknowledgement I’ve heard thousands of times, sounds sweeter coming from her. So she doesn’t think I left her, I practically run back into the living room.

This is the first step in changing her life. And the second in easing Lane’s pain.

This time, when I come home, I’m praying Noelle’s still here. When I left, I could tell she was struggling. Just like I didn’t want, she’s been sucked right into the drama I’ve been trying to shield her from.

By never talking about my past, it wasn’t my intention to keep it from her; it was my plan to try to blend in and be like everyone else. Sure, we all have a story, but mine’s been littered with one shit storm after another.