Sidewalk Flower (40 page)

“I just thought…
”
 
he
started but again, she stopped him.

“You thought what?
 
That you’d come and sing me a song and that
everything would be okay again?
 
That I’d
what?
 
Hop into bed with you?
 
Fine, let’s go.”

Lucky didn’t hide the stab quickly
enough.
 
Yes, she knew how crude she
sounded but confusion was knocking her ass around the ring so hard right now,
she couldn’t help herself.
 
Then in the
next instant, she remembered something that sliced straight through everything
else.
 
How hard had it been for him to
pick up that instrument after all these years?
 
It was her intention to drive him away but not like that.

“No, I just wanted to tell you, face to
face, that I’m sorry for the way I left you without any word.
 
I hoped it wasn’t too late to talk about that
night.
 
I didn’t understand what was
happening…”
 

How could he stand there so still?
 
She ached to grab his sturdy shoulders and
shake him until she felt better.
 
Until
she crumbled into pieces and he knelt down to gather her back up.
 
But she couldn’t do that.
 
She knew better.

“You didn’t understand?
 
And now what?
 
Now you do?
 
How is that possible?” she asked, fortifying her will with hands dug
into her hips.

 
“I
spoke with Jaxon a couple days ago; he explained to me what happened.
 
He didn’t tell you, did he?”

“No, he didn’t.
 
I guess the joke is on me.”

“What?
 
Don’t say that.
 
It’s not what I
meant.”

“I’ve been worried out of my head about
you.
 
I’ve been lugging your stupid bag
around with me, everywhere I go.
 
And
you’ve been talking to everyone but me.
 
Lucky, do you have any idea of how hard that is for me to understand?”

“I do and I know you don’t want to hear
it, but I’m sorry.”
 
Lucky fell to his
knees and before she could turn away, he whispered, “Trista, that night I left
you at Jaxon’s house…when I got back to Nashville, I almost slept with a
woman.
 
I didn’t, but I was angry and I
thought I’d lost you.”

From the corner of the bed, she stared
down at him.
 
His head was bowed and his
shoulders began to shake.
 
She didn’t
have to see his face to know he was crying and in pain.
  

So she’d been right, sort of.
  
And could she blame him after what he
thought he’d seen that night with Jaxon?
 
Nope.
 
As it was, he hadn’t even
done anything, not really.
 
It wasn’t
like they were committed to each other in any official way, although she knew
that was a lame excuse.
  
If it was any
other man besides Lucky, she wouldn’t have believed that nothing had
happened.
 
Sadly, that’s what her world
was like.
 
She’d never been as aware of
it as she was now.

“Lucky,” she whispered.
 
She leaned a hand out and let it fall on his
crumpled shoulder then rubbed back and forth a couple of times.
 
He came forward as if unafraid to touch her
now that she’d been the one to make first contact.
 
Gently, he rested his face in her lap, and
for a few minutes, she savored the comfort too.
 
Her hands, however, returned to her sides.
 
She fought against the urge to run them over
his head like she’d done so many times before, to feel the silky blond waves of
his hair steadying her shaky fingers and softening her hard hands.
 
But she knew how much he loved it too and how
hard it would be to pull away.
 
She won
the fight.

It was late.
 
What she knew at this very moment was that
Lucky was sorry for the way he had left, that he knew the truth behind the
kissing he had witnessed between her and Jaxon, and that he regretted coming
close to sleeping with someone.
 
He
wanted her to forgive him, which in truth she had already done, taking most of
the blame onto herself.
 
He was forgiven,
but could he be trusted?
 
Could she?
 
But most importantly, could he handle the
chaos of her world?

It was late and unfortunately, her world
was only just beginning to turn.
 
Tomorrow was a travel day but there’d be no time to enjoy the scenery as
they passed through the skies from one big city to the next.
 
Travel day, show day—her responsibilities
didn’t know the difference.

Lucky finally raised his head and spoke
again.
 
“Do you forgive me, Trista?”

“Yes, okay?
 
I do.”
 
She hated stinging him with her curtness.
 
“I’m sorry, too.
 
Your song… was beautiful.
 
I appreciate you coming here, but the truth
is that I think you’re better off back in Tennessee.
 
You and me, we’re too different.
 
You just don’t belong in this world, Lucky.”

“Neither
do
you,
Trista.”

She hadn’t moved an inch since she’d let
Lucky in the room except for to rub his back, which had been a huge mistake,
and he hadn’t budged since dropping to his knees in front of her.
 
The scared look on her face must have been
what he was trying so intently to figure out.
 
She couldn’t believe what he’d just said.
 
The truth of it sounded so easy coming out of
his mouth.
 
But what was she supposed to
do?
 

“Trista, are you okay?”

She wished she had a tissue or a long
sleeve to hide her face.
 
“If I don’t
belong here, then where exactly am I supposed to be?”
 
The question was full of chilling truth.
 
She set her jaw, trying to hold onto a shred
of dignity.
 
What was he trying to do to
her?
 
Strip everything away with a song
and a few words?
 
His
tears?
 

Her knee caps warmed under his two large
hands as he pressed them together from his place before her on the floor.
 
Unwavering, he made his request, “Come home
with me, Trista.
 
Be with me.”
 

Without more than a few words
explanation, she got up, narrowly clipping him in the chin with her knee, and
walked like a possessed person to the door.

“I have to go.
 
Please, if you really mean that, please don’t
be mad at me.
 
I have to go, Lucky.
 
I have to go.”
 

Downstairs, she stood on the hotel’s
immaculately clean valet curb and called Jaxon.
 
She barely remembered riding the elevator or maybe she’d taken the
stairs.
 
Shit, her head was
spinning.
 
As the phone rang, the last
thing she’d heard Lucky mutter before walking out on him strangled her guilty
heart.

“You’re killing me, darlin’.”

Chapter
Twenty-Six

Girls weren’t supposed to walk out on
serenades.
 
But his had.
 
Trista’d left him in her room without a
single clue—not a no, not a yes, not even a maybe.
 
His heart didn’t feel like it beat inside his
chest.
 
His thoughts wouldn’t make sense
no matter how hard he tried to put them in order.
 
Finally it hit him that this must be how
she’d felt the night he took off.
 

He’d left her that night with nothing and
now she’d repaid him the favor.
  

Trista had at least faced him before
walking out, giving him a quick view to the confusion setting in her blue-green
eyes.
 
He supposed she’d given him as
much as her mind could handle in that instant.
 
She doesn’t want me to be mad at
her
, he remembered her saying.
 
So
where
was
she going and what was she doing that would
make him angry?
 
Not knowing left him
unsettled but there was no way he had come this far to give up now.
 

He spied her extra room key on the
nightstand, grabbed it in a moment of clarity and then walked calmly as he
could down the hallway.
 
It’d do him no
good to go running after her like a madman.
 

* * * *

Trista kicked repeatedly at the curb and
licked her dry lips.
 
Calling her best
friend shouldn’t be this damned nerve-racking.
 

She debated hanging up and calling a cab
just as he answered.
 
“Jaxon, I need a
ride.”

 
“Hey Trissy, I’m kind of busy right now so
what’s up?”
 
A guitar chord strumming in
the otherwise quiet background screeched to an end.
 
He must be alone and she knew better than to
interrupt one of these sacred midnight writing sessions of his but she was
desperate.
   

She forced more emotion into her
plea.
 
“I need you to come down and get
me away from this hotel.
 
We need to
talk.”
 
Please don’t make me beg, Jaxon, you little shit
.
 
He knew how central he was to her debacle
with Lucky.
 
How could he be blowing her
off after spending the last week telling her he’d drag his cousin back by the
balls if she wanted him to?
 
Lucky had
just asked her to drop everything, tour be damned, and be his woman in
Tennessee.
 
She should tell Jaxon
that.
 
That would get his attention.

She pressed the small white cell phone
hard against her cheek, anxious for his reply.
 
Jaxon could be non-committal and selfish with her some other time.
 
“Look, I can’t talk about it now, but I need
you to come down and get me.
 
I’ll be waiting
outside by the curb.
 
So please just get
a car and hurry,” she pleaded, keeping her eyes trained on the front entrance
of the hotel lobby.

It was a long six minutes she stood on
the Ritz’s curb, waiting for Jaxon to pull up in whatever car he would manage
to borrow.
 
Hotel guests came and
went.
 
A valet plunked trash into a can,
which caught her eye.
 
He was just a kid
but age didn’t make a man.
 
Actions did.

She shook her head in exasperation.
 
Thoughts flashed to the two men in her life
whose actions had turned her into the rope in a human tug-o-war.
 
Lucky, who could be making his way through
the lobby any minute now, wanting an answer to his offer, and Jaxon, who was
about to endure a very long, aimless ride with her.
 
Who knew where they’d end up?

She shaded her eyes from the young valet
to a seam in the sidewalk and a bent dandelion close to the sole of her cloth
Mary Jane shoe.
 
She avoided crushing it
as she hoped against hope that Lucky would not come out those doors before she
had the chance to get away and think.

* * * *

Lucky had no idea of where she was headed
so he rode the elevator down to the lobby.
 
At this hour, most likely everything would be closed but he checked
nonetheless.
 
There was a smattering of
people in the lounge, including Stefan’s familiar face, sitting amongst a few
of the crew he’d seen earlier that night and some pretty young ladies he
hadn’t.
 

But the only person who mattered to him
was Trista.
 
Around the corner and down a
ways was a darkened spa with a sign hanging in the window that said By
Appointment Only.
 
They were closed for
the evening and beyond that, he didn’t think she was the type to let someone
fuss over her sexy, messy hair.
 
Aside
from a few banquet halls and the fine men and women of the hotel staff, he’d
come up empty handed.
 

Fresh air.
 

It had been one of the first things he’d
sought out after seeing his woman kissing the lips of his lecherous
cousin.
 
Those were the edited thoughts
he’d had that night about Jaxon.
 
The air
that consumed him standing at that godforsaken window hadn’t felt fresh at
all.
 
He’d needed physical distance
between himself and the object that had turned him crazy and thoughtless.
 
Maybe Trista had done the same now.