STONED (Wrecked Book 1) (27 page)

His voice is somber. The question carrying the weight of the world. My world. Can I? Can I look at her and see Wills and not search for him? “Truthfully? I don’t know,” I say ashamed. “I know how that sounds. I mean, if she can do it after all that she’s been through, why can’t I?” I ask him in disgust, head bent over the bar.

Shrugging, he says, “Maybe because you feel what happened to her was your fault.” Leave it to Law not to pull any punches. His words hit me in the gut, robbing me of breath.

“It was my fault, Lawson.” Defeated, I raise my head to look at him. Need to see the blame in his eyes, but I don’t see any of that. Nah, not from Law.

“You can blame yourself, sure. Truth is, you were an asshole to kick her out. But what happened next is on the cocksucker who hurt her. Nobody can take the blame for that. Not you, certainly not Wills.” Lawson stands, a forearm resting on the bar, my shoulder gripped in his other hand. “Wills is one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. I saw it when she came to live with her aunt after her parents died. And again when her aunt died, leaving her with nobody in the world but us. And I saw it again and again when she picked your ass up and dusted you off.” Law shakes his head and cracks a rueful smile. “This is Willow at her best. Most women would have had an abortion. Hell, would’ve taken the morning after pill. And not a single fucking person would blame them. Not Wills though. She owns life, Stone. She faces it head on and takes the hits. You have to be stronger than her though, and that’s what you need to figure out now. Can you be stronger than the strongest woman we’ve ever known?” He shrugs. “Once you figure that shit out, the rest is cake. Well, not really, but it’s one hurdle out of the way.” Chuckling, Law gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s go hit that meeting. I’m feeling all guilty and shit for taking that drink now, and I’m not even the motherfucker in recovery.”

My lips rise in a tight smile as I blow out a short laugh. Pushing up and off the stool, I turn to my oldest friend and search for the words to thank him. This is a man who has never given up on me. Not when I stumbled through life and our shows stoned out of my fucking mind, not when I chased away Willow, his friend. He stood by me when I nearly died from an overdose and fumbled my way through rehab, a total asshole the whole time, and not now either. Any one of those times and I wouldn’t have blamed him. “Thank you, Law. For-for everything. I never would have survived any of this without you,” I tell him sincerely.

“Sure as fuck you wouldn’t have,” he says and just walks out of the bar, knowing I’ll follow. Fucker. I shake my head and chuckle softly.

“Logan!” I call. When he looks in my direction, I slide the thirty-five hundred-dollar bottle across the bar to him. “Have one for me.” Pulling my beanie down further, I hurry to catch up with Law, leaving the stunned manager watching after me, mouth agape. Time to get my shit straight and find my rhythm. And then help Willow find her way back to hers.

Willow

THANKFULLY OVER THE LAST THREE
days I’ve spent all my time in classes. Aside from the few moments here and there that I saw Cora or Bear when they came to pick up or drop off Lyric, I haven’t had to see anyone. Joaquin called and we spoke briefly. He apologized and I forgave. What use was there to punish the two of us anymore over something that can’t be changed? I’m disappointed though, and if I’m honest, just because I’ve chosen to forgive him doesn’t mean I’ll ever forget. I feel differently about him now. I’m trying not to allow myself to go there, but it’s difficult.

Stone is doing his promo tour so I haven’t had to see him, but he’s called or texted every day since he’s been gone. Just this morning he texted me one word,
rhythm
. He didn’t have to say anything more. The voicemails I have yet to listen to. I’m not sure I’m brave enough.

I’m glad that I had these three days away from everyone. I picked up extra sessions for one of the other therapists who had an emergency, and I’ve been able to bury myself in music. I need it as much as they do right now. My voice is raw, my fingers tender, calluses on my calluses, but my soul, my heart, they’re light, and that’s all I care about at this moment. As grateful as I am for the reflection time, I’m even more grateful to be home finally after a long few days.

Sighing contentedly, I toss my keys on the counter and go into the living room where I hear Lyric and Perry, giggling away. Lyric’s not talking yet, but she’s making sounds like crazy. Some of her delays are because she was premature, so I don’t stress. I just keep on working and waiting. She’s so happy and vocal, probably from all of the music therapy she gets to sit in on

“Hey, ladies. What are you two getting up to in here?” I ask, dropping to the floor next to them and the plethora of toys they have surrounding them, including the pink bird from Stone. Perry doesn’t look up. “Bear had to go to The Dirty Bird. Something about a keg line. He called and asked if I was around.” She shrugs and continues playing with Lyric. She’s upset with me and I can’t blame her. She opened her home to me and helped me get on my feet, and I lied to her. Well, I omitted, and that’s just as bad. I let her assume that Lyric was Stone’s since the day I found out I was pregnant. Never coming out and saying it, but not correcting her when she did.

“I hope you didn’t have anything going on.”

“Nothing but the usual edits.” I can’t take the awkwardness between us. Since leaving Texas and Addy behind, Perry has become my closest friend.

“Per, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not that big a deal. I like hanging out with the little songbird,” she coos the last bit making Lyric squeal.

“Not about tonight, though I am sorry you had to stop what you were doing. I’m sorry about everything. About not telling you the truth about Lyric.” Finally, she looks up.

“Why didn’t you, Willow? Didn’t you trust me?” The hurt I hear in her voice makes me feel awful.

“Of course I trust you. It had nothing to do with trust. I just—I didn’t want that stigma to follow Lyric all her life. I didn’t—don’t want people to look at her differently because of how she was conceived. It’s no more her fault than it was mine, and I figured the fewer people that knew the more protected she’d be,” I say softly. Hoping Perry understands.

“Willow, I would never! I love her,” she argues.

“I know you do. But you may not have. I made a decision that a lot of people don’t agree with and that’s fine. I made the only decision that I could for me.” Taking her hand, I glance over at Lyric playing, oblivious to our very serious conversation. “You’re a good person. One of the best I’ve ever met, and I see how much you love Lyric, but I wanted you to be able to love her without ever having that love tainted. It’s easy to say how we think we’ll react after the fact, but the truth is we don’t ever know until it happens. Hell, I loved her instantly. The moment I heard that little heartbeat, I was sure, but I was still terrified to hold her. To look into her face and maybe see
him.
I just wanted her to have a fair start in life, ya know?” Perry looks from me to Lyric and back again.

“Do you—do you see
him
? I mean, do you know what he looks like?” she questions hesitantly.

I blanche a little at the question; I wasn’t expecting it. Glancing once again at a now sleepy Lyric lying on her back and playing with my toes, I smile softly at her chocolate brown hair and her almond-colored eyes. The flash of her dimple when she yawns. “Not in her. In her I only see love. I only see her and me.” I turn back to Perry. “But yes, I know what he looks like. I’ll never forget his face as long as I live. I look for it in a crowded supermarket, in quiet restaurants, the mall. Even The Dirty Bird even though I’m in a different country.” Taking a deep breath for strength, “I told the police all there was to know that night and it wasn’t much. He wasn’t in the system, so there was no way to identify him, and the bartender said he paid with cash so just a bunch of dead leads. I keep in contact through email with the detective who found me that day. He randomly runs the DNA they have against the system to see if there’s a match. He’s promised to call me if he ever gets one.” Nerves frayed I pick at my already peeling red nail polish. I haven’t spoken about any of this, other than confiding in JD, since I sat down with Cora and Bear all those months ago.

“Why? Why would you want to know, Willow?” Perry asks, confused.

“If they find a match, I’ll go back and testify so that he goes to prison and can never do this to anyone ever again.” With a hand to my chest, over my rapidly beating heart, I lean in, trying to shield Lyric from the words although she’s too young to understand. “I consider myself lucky in the sense that I can’t remember any of the horrible things he did to me. To my body. I woke up damaged but have no memory of what happened to make me that way. It’s tragic and life changing, even without becoming pregnant. But to think that he’s out there raping women . . . I feel sick.” The anger and bile both rising, I stand and gently lift a nearly asleep Lyric into my arms, cradling her small frame against mine. “I’m lucky that I can’t remember. But just as unlucky because I can never forget,” I whisper.

Perry nods. “Let’s eat some fucking cake,” she says brightly, changing the topic and putting an end to the dark and deeply depressing conversation.

Thankful, I grin. “Let me get her settled. We can have movie night in my room if you want,” I offer hopefully.

She bounces up off the floor, red hair falling into her eyes. “Yes! I just bought a bunch of chick flicks that will either make us piss our pants or cry. Oh, and some gangster shit. I’m running home to grab them and my overnight bag. I’m sleeping over, so go shave your legs or put sweats on. I don’t want to get poked to death while I try to cuddle you,” she calls as she makes her way to the front door. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Be ready.” The door slams and just like that, she’s gone in a whirlwind of glossy red hair, the scent of vanilla, and outrageous demands.

Chuckling at her crazy, I place a kiss to Lyric’s head and start up the stairs. “Auntie Perry is cray cray, baby,” I whisper. Once we get to the nursery I get Lyric all cleaned up and into her jammies. Tucked in and asleep again, I kiss her lightly so she doesn’t wake. Before I go, I remove the little stamped heart necklace for the night, brushing my thumb over it before putting it on her dresser. Stone can be so thoughtful. I had forgotten since the last year we were together he went from being the man I loved to a stranger I didn’t like at all. Now that he knows the truth about Lyric, I’m not sure what Stone will be present next. Shaking the thought off, I tiptoe out, flicking the switch that turns on her lullabies and the mobile and go to my room.

The minute my feet cross the threshold, I’m flopping onto the four-poster bed, moaning at the relief I feel to finally be home and in my room. Scrambling to a sitting position, I run a hand down my calf self-consciously. “Smooth as a baby’s ass, you bitch,” I mumble, grinning. Pulling the bright white down comforter back I climb under and sit back against the pillows. With my jumbo remote in hand, I power up the ridiculously large Smart TV that Bear hung on my wall and pull up the internet browser so that I can check my email while I wait for Perry. The moment the browser opens, there’s Stone and the boys on stage at some outdoor event. A still shot that catches Stone with his head bent over his Fender, hair hanging in his eyes, the leather cuff I gave him calling my attention to his hands and the way they hold the guitar. God, he’s beautiful. Without thinking, I click on the play button and his voice fills my room. Fills all my empty places. Fills the cracks that he left behind. If only for a moment. How something could cause so much pain even while it heals is beyond me. But it does.

“This one’s for a special woman who makes me want to be a better man. I wrote it after she left me, not knowing if she’d ever even hear it. Hell, I still don’t know if she’s heard it.” He laughs a little and gives them that sexy as hell rock star grin. “Let’s hope she’s watching now.” Stone winks into the camera before pressing his lips to the mic. My name falls from his lips like a plea, a prayer, a curse. All at once. He closes his eyes and continues to sing of a love that he pushed away, a love that is the only thing that gives him purpose, a love that is me. It’s the first time I’ve seen him play on a stage like this in so long. This time, so much different than the last. It was not long after I got to Toronto. He was playing at the Much Music Video Awards, and I stood hidden in the crowd on Queen Street and just watched him. He had looked so awful. Empty and lost. Like me. It had just added to my sadness. Another layer on top of the already too-heavy stack. My heart hurt looking at Stone. I ached for him even while I hated him. It’s a tone I’ve come to recognize with him since he’s been back as well. Always a contradiction in my feelings. My heart pulling while the rest of me pushes. It’s exhausting.

He sang our song that night; I could tell that he didn’t want to. He was just going through the motions. It was all more than I could take. I remember walking away, glancing back at him over my shoulder as the crowd swallowed me up thinking that it may be the last time I ever saw him in person again. The man I had loved since I was seventeen.