Wasted Heart (22 page)

“You look like hell,” Josh says, lounging back against the couch while watching a movie. Making my way to him, I sit down, letting the cushions break my fall.

“Pass me the popcorn. I’m starving,” I say, realizing I haven’t eaten all day.

“Where’s Rhye?” he asks, handing me the bowl of buttery goodness.

Shrugging, I grab a fistful and stick it all in my mouth, chowing down like a cow and not caring how un-lady like it looks.

“Should I be concerned?”

Again I shrug, not wanting to speak quite yet. We sit in silence, watching some movie about a girl trying to lose a guy in so many days. When the main actor walks on screen, and I see who it is, I look from Josh to him and back again. “You know that you look…,” I start to say, only to have him hold his hand in my face.

“If you value our friendship, don’t even say it,” he threatens, glaring at me the entire time.

I smile and feel a little more myself. Laying my head on his shoulder, I close my eyes and try not to give into this overwhelming grief. After an hour, I realize it’s a futile attempt. I’m no closer to a resolution than I was an hour ago.

Josh went outside to check on Rhye, and I haven’t seen either one of them. Looking at the clock, I see that dinner time has passed, but I get up to go fix something in the kitchen anyway. Turning the stove grill on, I get ready to grill a couple of steaks and microwave some baked potatoes. It’s pretty much the only thing I can really cook and not burn.

Thirty minutes later, I hear the front door open and close. Both of the guys’ voices seem to rise and fall as they speak. They must follow their noses because it only takes minutes before they both arrive in the kitchen.

“Food,” Josh says, smelling the air. “Steak and a potato? You’ve officially hit goddess status.”

I roll my eyes at him, but I’m entirely focused on Rhye. He looks like I feel, tired and beaten down. Rhye walks over to sit at the kitchen table. Sprawling in the chair, he stretches those long legs out. What did he say to me earlier about his addiction? It’s been nagging me to put it all together. So, he feels completely guilty about this Jay chick, who sounds like she never even cared about him in the first place, and her boyfriend JT. Maybe he needs to come full circle, regarding that situation, before he can put it behind him. I look down, realizing that, while I’m lost in thought, the steaks are charring on one side.

“Josh, hand me that large serving plate please,” I ask, and he passes it to me. Placing them all on there, I set it down on the table along with the baked potatoes and large salad I fixed earlier. Making sure all the condiments are out and that they both have something to drink, I excuse myself, telling them to choose a room to sleep in. Let Rhye think what he wants.

When I reach my room, I head straight for my iPad to Google her. How many females named “James” could there be from Rhye’s old hometown? I’m actually surprised that tons of information immediately pulls up on her. Every gritty detail about what happened is spelled out before me. It garnished a lot of national attention. I have to admit, she is very beautiful, completely opposite from me with dark hair and grey eyes. She’s quite lovely in fact, and her story is one of immense sadness. I find myself shedding several more tears for this poor girl.

Reading on, I see that she married four years ago, right after Rhye went to California. Well, that was fast. Her last name is David now. Kane and Jay David. Now that I have her name, it only takes minutes to Google the address to her front door, which is only five hours away.

I lay the iPad down and lean against my headboard. I know what has to happen, but am I willing, again, to sacrifice my future relationship with him? The truth that I have to see is there can be no happy future for us if he can’t come to terms with his past.

Closing my eyes, I pray that I make the right decisions regarding Rhye. I need some outside help tonight.

“Rhye, wake up.”

Someone is shaking the shit out of my arm. “Goddamn it, leave me alone,” I drowsily mutter, turning over in my bed.

“No can do. Get up lazy bones. I have another field trip planned,” Syn’s voice calls to me.

Blinking my eyes open, I turn my head and see her standing over me, once again smiling. “Damn, Smiley. Let me sleep,” I mutter, laying my head back on the pillow.

“Smiley?” I hear her ask. “I’ll take it. I’m sure you could have come up with a much worse nickname. Now, please get up. We have to get moving. Josh and I will be outside.”

Something tells me she won’t give up, so I sit up to stretch. She hands me my clothes and turns to walk out. I know it has to be early, but I get dressed, not asking any questions. I’m the biggest bastard ever to walk the planet when it comes to her. Guilt swamps me about yesterday, especially after having another conversation with Josh last night. He came outside after we returned. At first we just rode around in the Polaris, not saying anything. Then, he maxed out the speed, and we tore it up. I didn’t tell him, but yeah, it was fun. Next time, it’s my turn to drive that bad boy. Damn. If there is a next time.

I never spoke to Josh about what happened with Syn, but the fucker is so intuitive that he pretty much put all the pieces together. He talked, and this time, I listened. He kept saying that if I didn’t take advantage of the situation with Syn, then I was more of a standup guy than he thought. No shit. It surprised even me. Josh said exactly what I am feeling, “If I can’t give her what she needs, leave her the fuck alone, but don’t hurt her.” The “don’t hurt her” was Josh’s add on. Hurt is what I do.

Placing my sunglasses on, I walk on the porch to see her and Josh sitting there, laughing. It’s got to be too fucking early in the morning for this shit.

“What time is it?” I ask them, walking down the steps as Syn locks up.

“Time to go,” she says, getting to the truck before me.

I don’t want to sit next to her today. Just the thought of having to smell her sweet scent so close is driving me crazy. I really hope this is a short ride back to Nashville. Knowing that I can’t handle being that close to Syn without doing something incredibly stupid, I walk over to the passenger seat.

“No,” Josh says before I can say anything. “Not no, but hell no. Sit down and slide over.”

“Josh, man. Help me out,” I say quietly. He rolls his eyes, understanding what I’m asking, and gets in first.

“I’m rolling next to you, girl,” Josh says, speaking to Syn.

“He can run, but he can’t hide, Josh,” she replies to him but looks right at me.

I get in, ignoring her comment. What does she think is happening? Does she not understand that I’m doing this for her? Goddamn! You try and do the right thing and this is what happens. Fucking madness. Fucked if you do, and fucked if you don’t. I keep my mouth shut for the first thirty minutes when I realize we are not heading back to Nashville.

“What the fuck, Syn? Where are we going?” I ask, sitting up to look over at her. Josh who is sitting beside me, nudges my arm with his elbow to shut up. “What?” I hiss at him.

“Somewhere you need to go, Rhye,” Syn says, not looking at me as she drives.

“I’m not fucking going back to rehab, so you can stop the goddamn truck right now.” Are they serious? Who does she think she is? Hitting the dashboard, I lean up and stare at her. I’m so fucking angry.

She flicks those yellow eyes over at me and then back to the road. “If I thought you would go, I would take you there in a heartbeat. I would drive you, myself, to the front door knowing you would hate me, knowing that nothing between us would be salvageable, Rhye,” she says, her voice breaking. “I would, but that’s not where we are going.” She reaches to flip the radio on.

This time Josh doesn’t nudge me. He all out hits me with his elbow to my side. Goddamn that hurt. I rub the pain radiating from right under my ribcage and lean against the seat. What was I supposed to think? I cross my arms and close my eyes, laying my head back and keeping my damn mouth shut. I will my brain to shut down, especially to try and ignore the lame ass country music that’s playing.

“Wake up, Rhye,” Syn says, standing at the passenger door, holding it open.

“What? Fuck, my neck hurts,”
I think to myself as I reach up one hand to massage it. With the other, I pull my sunglasses off and look around. It seems like I just had shut my eyes. “Did I sleep?” I ask, sliding out of the truck. Stretching my cramped up muscles, I glance around to see that we are parked in the driveway of somebody’s two-story, brick house, right smack dab in the middle of, what appears to be, suburbia. Trees cover the modest front yard, and you can hear kids playing in the neighborhood.

“Yes, for about five hours, and you snored the entire time,” Josh says, still sitting in the bitch seat.

“Where are we?” I ask, yawning.

“You’re about to find out,” Syn says, reaching for my hand. She gently threads her fingers with mine.

I see the questioning look in her eyes, silently asking if it’s okay to touch me. I’m used to fans touching me without my permission, wanting a part of me just to say they had it. And whores touch me because I let them, but they always want something I can give them. Syn has her own fame, her own money, and knows her own damn self. She doesn’t want me for personal gain, for the contacts I can give, for the lifestyle, for the drugs, or for the glory. Why does it seem like she only wants me for me when that man doesn’t have a damn thing to offer her in return? A pain shoots through the left side of the top of my chest, the place where my heart is. I can’t deny her this. Wherever she is leading, I’ll follow.

Staring at her, I squeeze her hand in mine, giving her the answer she needs. She gently pulls me as we walk up the driveway, onto the walkway, and up to the front door. Before she knocks, she turns towards me, and licks her lips.

She starts to talk then stops, starting again minutes later. “You have to make peace with your past to ever have a future. Whether that’s with me or not,” she says through shaky breaths. Tears form in her eyes, and I watch her reach up to swipe them away. Taking a deep breath, she continues, “Jay seems like the right place to start.”

I look away from her to the front door. Did she just say “Jay”? I’m at fucking Jay’s house? Is she shitting me? This time, I do pull my hand away from hers, only to rub both of them through my hair. What the fuck am I supposed to do?

“Hell no,” I tell her, turning to walk back to the truck.

“Please, Rhye,” she pleads, her words holding me in place.

Turning around, I can feel my anger rising towards Syn. She doesn’t have a clue what she has done. I can’t just show up and lay my shit down to Jay. She could still be that fucked up girl that might blow her brains out once I leave. Who the fuck knows? Plus, I don’t want to see her. She left me. End of story. She chose someone else, and I fucking walked away. I haven’t heard from the girl, except when I called to check on her in the hospital. Shit, it was when we were first gaining momentum with our music, and I never called back, hurting more and more every time I thought about her, finally realizing that she would never choose me, and even if she did, I couldn’t live with telling her what I did to fuck up her life for good.

I watch her turn to ring the doorbell. “Don’t do it, Syn. I have nothing to say to her.” She pauses, then pushes it anyway. Goddamn it to hell.

Minutes seem like hours until the front door is opened. I hold my breath as the sad and broken girl, that I remember and love, doesn’t answer. Instead, standing in front of me, is that beautiful, happy girl that captured so many hearts, looking slightly older if not more gorgeous. Her long brown hair is pulled up into a ponytail, and those grey eyes that still haunt my dreams, shine with happiness. Damn, she still takes my breath away.

“Oh my God! Rhye!?!” she screams, running straight at me and barreling into my chest, hugging my waist tight.

I stand frozen and shocked at the events happening.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, pulling back, but still holding onto me.

Not knowing what to do with my arms, I reach out to gently grasp each of her shoulders. “To see you,” I reply, not exactly knowing what the hell I’m doing here.

“I’m so glad that you did. I’ve missed you,” she says, squeezing me tight once more before pulling away. “Let me get a good look at you. Wow. Famous rock star, Rhye Clark.” Her smile is about as big as Syn’s, but not quite as pretty.

Syn. I look up to see her crying again. Damn, everything that concerns me makes her cry. I watch her wipe her face clear. Glancing down, I see Jay finally noticing that we are not alone.

“Syn, meet Jay Stevenson,” I say, suddenly nervous for these two to meet. What the fuck am I anxious about?

“Actually, Jay David. Nice to meet you. I’m sorry. I’m a little excited to see Rhye,” she says to Syn, offering her hand.

David? Who the hell is that?

“It’s fine. Nice to meet you also,” Syn says, smiling while shaking her hand.

“Wait. You’re Syn Landry, the country singer, right?” Jay asks, pointing at her.

“Yes, that would be me.”

“Good God, Eli would have a hissy fit. My best friend loves your music. He’s a huge country music buff, and I actually watched you open up for Carrie when he drug me to her concert. No offense, country music just isn’t my thing,” she says, laughing. “But you were wonderful.”