STONED (Wrecked Book 1) (25 page)

I hear Joaquin let loose a string of curses. And then softly, “Hey there, Lyric, come here to JD, your mama is okay, little songbird,” he soothes. I watch through my tears as he takes my daughter from Perry’s arms and goes back into the house with her. My friend looks worried and torn but finally follows.

On unsteady legs I turn, embarrassed, hurt, and exhausted, both mentally and physically, to face Stone only to find him staring at the house, to where Lyric just disappeared. Horrified, he just gapes after her, the look in his eyes pushing me over the edge as he shakes his head in denial. I slap him hard across the face. He reels back, palm to the red imprint of my hand, looking at me in shock. Pain, despair, disbelief . . . guilt flash across his face.

“Don't! Don't you dare look at her like that!” I seethe, rearing back to hit him again. He catches my wrist, restraining me so that I can’t slap him. “She's mine, not his! Mine! She is pure and innocent, every beautiful and decent thing inside me,” I insist, my voice breaking on yet another sob. “You don't get to look at her like that! Ever, Stone. Ever,” I wail as I pound a fist against his chest and he lets me. Over and over until we’re both on the ground and he’s pulling me into his lap. His tears coming as fast as my own. Arms bound around me as I fist his shirt in my hands. “She's mine. My heart’s
rhythm
. Don't you look at her like she's not,” I cry. My words coming out on hiccupping, body-wracking sobs as I repeat over and over, “She’s mine. She’s mine.”

Stone methodically rocks and soothes a hand over my hair to my back and then up again, over and over, working to calm us both. Him knowing is almost a cleansing for me. I feel free of the burden that the secret was, even if I hate how he had to hear it. The pain is always there, always lingering. The fear, the blame, the sadness. Then I look at Lyric, and I’m . . . grateful. That’s not a word anyone should ever use after being raped. But from that ugly, disgusting, and vile darkness came the most beautiful, rewarding light. That’s what I have to hold on to. My daughter and music have helped to heal me when nothing else could. My Lyric, who should be a daily reminder of the horror that I went through, is my saving grace.

I tried so hard to shield Stone from the truth, partly because there’s something inside me that blames him, and another larger part of me that wanted to protect him from the ugly because he’s had so much of it in his life. I’ve wanted to tell him so many times, all for different reasons. To hurt him, to scare him away, and sometimes because I needed him. In my weakest moments I wanted to tell him so that he would hold me and make it all okay because he’s always had that power. But once he came back, I couldn’t. I was so afraid that telling him would force him back into a world of drugs, alcohol, and despair, and I couldn’t bear to take that chance when he’s come so damn far. Him knowing now though, is healing in itself. I feel like I’ve taken a giant step out of the darkness that I’m not always aware is shadowing me. I just have to hope that it won’t drown him in his own feelings.

I’m not sure how long we sit there in the grass, rocking and crying, sniffling and soothing. Minutes, hours, days. But we’re still there when Cora and Bear pull up, and we must look as horrid as we feel because before the truck rocks to a complete stop, Bear is out and dashing toward us.

“What did you do to her, you motherfucker?” he bellows. Lifting me from Stone’s grasp like I’m nothing more than a doll and placing me behind him. When Stone reaches to bring me back into his arms, Bear grabs him by the shirt, winding back to punch him.

“Bear, no. Stop. He didn’t do anything,” I shout as I push back on his chest, trying my best to get through to him.

Cora flies out of the passenger side to intervene, pulling on his massive arm.

“That’s enough. She’s okay, Bear. Listen to Willow,” she soothes. All the time he’s got a hold of Stone who’s not even trying to fight back or protect himself. Looking at him over my shoulder as I strain against Bear’s weight, Stone looks completely void. His face ashen, his eyes blank, bereft.

“Bear, please. Joaquin told him. He knows. He knows,” I choke out.

That gets Bear’s attention. He instantly straightens, releasing Stone and gathering me as well as Cora in an embrace as she and I cry softly. They’re the only two people aside from my therapists who know what happened that night and that Lyric is the result. They went to doctor’s appointments with me, discussed options, supported me when I refused those other options vehemently. They know that this is bigger than all of us. My pain is their pain. They’re the family I’ve been missing since I walked away from Stone and the guys. They’re the family I needed even before that.

Breaking away when I hear the door open, I look up to see JD on the porch, see the apology on his face, but can’t find it in me to care. His betrayal still raw, cutting too deep. I turn then to Stone whose pain is palpable. I can feel it reaching for me. Calling to me. But again, I’m too raw, too exposed to deal with his when mine is suffocating me. He’s staring at nothing, his hands trembling, shoulders slumped. “Stone.” My voice is little more than a croaked whisper. Slowly he brings his gaze up to mine, but it falls away. Like he can’t look at me. It hurts, but I understand. I’m broken to him now. Tainted. I saw the same thing for months every time I looked in the mirror. I’d rather he not look at me. I don’t want to see the love that always shines in his eyes for me dimmed and replaced with something ugly. I selfishly look for it, every time I see him.

“Willow, I—” He scrubs a hand over his face, rubbing the trembling tips of his fingers over his lips again and again. I watch silently as he falls back into the fog my voice snapped him out of. Then quietly, as if an afterthought, “I have to go. I have to—go.” And I let him.

Pulling myself together, I walk up to my home, flanked by Cora and Bear, right past JD. Stopping only to pick up the stuffed bird and wrapped present that Stone had left behind. With my back to Joaquin, I tell him in a defeated, yet steady voice, “You should go.”

“Willow, please. I’m so very sorry.”

“I don’t accept your apology right now. Maybe later, but now I just want you to go,” the closing of the door punctuation to my words.

I keep it together as best as I can as I take Lyric from a sad-faced Perry and turn to the room, “I just need to be alone for a bit.” My tone is becoming more and more fragile by the moment.

Cora nods. “Of course. We’re going to clean up down here and make some phone calls. You go be with your sweet girl. We’ll be here if you need us,” she assures me gently.

Slowly climbing the stairs with Lyric who is clutching the gifts from Stone, I shut us into the nursery and sit with her in the rocker, allowing the room and my daughter to work their magic. Waiting for the peace that I find here to wash over me, but it doesn’t. I’m worried about Stone. What the news will do to him. I’ve had almost two years to try and find a way to live with it, and some days I still struggle. The guilt I saw written all over him is what scares me the most. At his best, Stone is a wild card. When he’s low, there’s no telling what kind of trouble he’ll find or he’ll allow to find him. Looking down at Lyric, I smile sadly as I see her fiddling with the paper and pretty ribbons on the gift box.

“I’m sorry that your party was ruined. Should we at least open this present since it’s here?” I ask my precious girl. When she claps and gives me a toothy grin, dimple and all, I feel some of the weight of the afternoon being lifted. Shifting so that I can help her since she refuses to relinquish the bird she has in a choke hold, we work together to tear open the wrappings. Underneath we find a black velvety box and lift the lid. Overcome by a riot of emotions, a shaky breath slips past my lips when I see what’s nestled on the inside. There are two gold necklaces. One a slender bar with a heart punched out of it with what looks like coordinates stamped into the shiny metal, and the other is the small heart with a tiny half note engraved in the center, dangling from a child-sized chain. Along with them is a lovely poem about mothers and daughters and a card with what I instantly recognize as Stone’s handwriting.

Birdie & Lyric,

For my two girls. I’ll always be where you are and you’ll forever be the rhythm in my heart.

I love you always,

Stone

With tears in my eyes, I clasp first Lyric’s and then my necklace and reach for my phone and dial. Law picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, Willow! What’s going on, pretty mama?” I can hear the smile in his voice which confirms my fears.

“Stone isn’t with you, is he?”

“Isn’t he with you?” he asks, confused. “We’re supposed to meet him over there.”

“No. You need to go find him. He shouldn’t be alone. I would start at the bars,” I say, regretfully.

“The bars? Wills, what the fuck is going on?” Law demands.

“I can’t get into it, I’m sorry. Just please message me when you find him.”

I hang up before he can answer, not willing to give him more than I did.

Lawson will find him. He always does.

Sliding from the chair with Lyric wrapped in my arms I lay on the floor and lift her in the air to look down on me. She giggles and kicks her tiny little legs, the necklace from Stone swaying back and forth in a hypnotic beat. The tears once again start falling all on their own, pooling into my hair spread out on the carpet. I could allow myself to wallow in this self-pity, but I refuse. Not today, not when I have so much to be happy about inside this little mommy and Lyric bubble where the outside world can’t touch us. I won’t wonder if Cora and Bear are still downstairs or if Perry is worried. I won’t think about Stone and how he’s feeling or Joaquin who I’m not ready to forgive. I only want to focus on Lyric and how lucky I am to have her. Looking at my daughter, so happy and oblivious, I can’t help but smile. And briefly let my thoughts wander to Stone.

“I need you, to be me,” I whisper to my daughter. My heart’s new rhythm.

Stone

I WALK AIMLESSLY DOWN KING
Street not knowing where to go, what I’m looking for, just knowing that my skin feels too fucking tight, my heart too fucking broken, my bones don’t even feel right.

Before I realize where I am or what I’m doing, I slide a stool out and sit at the dimly lit, scarred up bar. “Glen Grant, if you have it. Bring the bottle,” I tell the bartender when she glides over, stopping in front of me.

“Oooh, a big spender. I’m gonna need to charge you before I have my manager unlock the cabinet for that one,” she says in what I’m assuming is her “sexy” voice.

My head is down, eyes never meeting hers because I’m afraid to look anyone in the eye right now. How could they not see what I’ve done? What happened to my beautiful Birdie because I was high and drunk and stupid. So fucking stupid. I remember nothing from that night. Not a single fucking thing. Only waking up on the floor, clothes still on from the night before, a strange woman in the bed and no Willow. I had no clue what time it was or what day. Just that Willow was gone, and some fucking chick I didn’t know was in my room. Our room. Mine and Willow’s. And that even with a pounding head and cotton mouth, I needed something to take the edge of panic off. Much as I do now. Three months of in-house rehab, another few months with Koa, and almost a year’s worth of meetings and I can’t find a single fuck to give. I’m just lucky I can’t score anything more than a drink right now because I wouldn’t be able to find my fucks to talk me out of that either.

Pulling out my wallet, I snatch the Black Amex out and toss it at her with my ID. So much for staying off the radar. From my pocket I pull out my cigarettes and go to light one when I remember you can’t smoke any-fucking-where any more. Throwing the pack onto the bar, I bury my fingers in my hair. Over and over. The need to just yank it all out so fucking strong. From my pocket, my phone starts vibrating. Fumbling with shaky hands I pull it out both wishing that it’s Willow calling and terrified that it might be. It isn’t; it’s Law. Denying the call, I toss the phone next to the discarded smokes and watch as it immediately starts dancing across the surface. Again and again I silence it. Not taking any chances, I power it off. I don’t want to be found. I want to be lost. I want to drown my miserable fucking ass in the three-thousand-dollar bottle of whiskey I’m sitting here waiting on. I would give anything to find that numb nirvana a few lines of coke could bring me or a handful of pretty pills. More than all of that though, I wish I could get lost in Willow. In her smell, her breathing, the rhythm of her heartbeat. Synch the two of our pulses and just be. Just be, like we were before all the stupid shit. But I can’t do that because I fucked up. I fucked her life all the hell up, and there’s no way to even begin apologizing for that. How? How does a person apologize for what I did? No wonder she disappeared on me. I don’t fucking blame her. I want to disappear on myself.

“Mr. Lockhart?” Releasing the hold on my hair, I raise my head to the young guy talking to me. The manager, I’m assuming.

“Yeah?” I ask warily, pushing the loose strands back off of my face.