Mended
Page 18
I try to direct my attention elsewhere for as long as I can. I watch the band, the people in the club, talk to Nix and Phoebe, compare notes with Garrett on the sound in the room, but my eyes keep landing on Ivy. Running my hand over the stubble on my jaw, I look at her with unrestrained longing, and she catches me. My heart skips in my chest when she sings along with the band and smiles at me. Watching her makes me weak in the knees. We stare at each other and I rock on my heels. She averts her eyes to pull her phone out of her purse. She glances at it and her smile fades quickly. When she shows the message to Leif, I can’t take it anymore. I’m going to drive myself crazy unless I talk to her.
Walking up to both of them, I address her. “Tell me what happened. I can tell you’re upset.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend.
“Everything’s fine,” Leif says, squeezing my shoulder.
I turn to him and with a scowl on my face, I hiss, “I was talking to Ivy.”
He puts his hands up in surrender and my gaze goes back to her. Her steely eyes stare into mine for the longest time, like she’s searching for something. Then finally she leans into me and on her tiptoes she whispers against my cheek, “It’s nothing, really. Damon just wants me back or he’s going to start legal action against me.”
Every muscle in my body freezes. How dare he threaten her! “Did you tell him to go f**k himself?”
“Xander, no, I didn’t. He’s serious. He doesn’t screw around. He says regardless of what my attorney says I’m in breach of contract—that I can’t just go out on my own without having the financial agreements prearranged. He’s going to sue me for everything I’ve earned on this tour.”
“I’m serious too, Ivy. You can do whatever you want. He doesn’t give a shit about the money—he just wants to control you. I hope you told him to take it all.”
Any softness in her gaze instantly drains from her eyes. “No, I didn’t. It’s none of your business anyway. I shouldn’t have told you.” She turns back toward Leif, who grasps her h*ps again as she runs her hand up his chest, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.
The front man’s voice booms through the room. “I am so relieved to finally be back,” he says. He’s dressed like the other three members of the band, in a vest and skinny tie. Personally I’m not one for band costumes, but from the cheers and screams the crowd seems to disagree with me. Applause drowns out his voice. He hits the floor with a bevy of dancers costumed in black and gold lamé, brocade with leather and feathers. The place turns into mayhem.
He starts his first song in the set and everyone sings and dances along, including Ivy. My eyes sharpen as I continue to watch her. She’s moving to the beat. When she raises her arms over her head and I see Leif’s eyes flow down her body—I’m done. I can’t take her flirting with other men, I can’t take the back-and-forth between us, I can’t take skirting the issues. I’m pissed as hell and I need to get out of here. I turn to Garrett. “I’ve had enough. Just make sure Ivy gets back safely and don’t forget to stop by my room. I have changes to the playlist for tomorrow’s gig.”
“Sure, no problem. But you’re not coming to the festival?”
“I’m not sure what I’m doing,” I tell him and turn without a second glance her way. I know it’s time again—time to let her go. But I can’t stop thinking about the choice I made so long ago—the one to set her free. As I push through the crowd of people, I don’t see any of their faces. Rather, I’m swept back to the first time I let her go.
It was nine forty-five p.m. I couldn’t find my f**king car keys. I was supposed to be at my grandparents’ at ten. We hadn’t talked much and definitely hadn’t had phone sex. I just couldn’t bring myself to talk to her, so I told her my mother said the phone calls were too expensive and that my aunt wouldn’t appreciate the bill. That may have been a small lie—my aunt would never have cared about the money.
Anyway, I soon figured out that River had taken my car without asking. Again. My mother was sleeping and it took me forever to find her keys. The whole trip to my grandparents’ I was still trying to figure out how I was going to tell her I wasn’t going to Chicago, that she had to go without me. She couldn’t stay in LA and let her mother continue to guide her career—she needed to get away from her. At one point I even considered begging her to stay in LA with me, telling her how much I needed her, but I knew that was selfish. No, I had to tell her she had to go without me. I knew I had to do right by her.
Just as I was signaling to pull into the driveway, she went speeding by me in her mother’s car. At first I thought she had to get home because her mother never let her take the car, but when I pulled on into the driveway, I saw my car parked there. I walked around back and through the window I’m sure I saw what Ivy had seen—River with Tessa. I sat there forever, contemplating going after her, figuring out what I’d say. Wondering why she’d left in such a huff. In the end, I decided not to. If her mother was home, she’d be pissed as hell at me for showing up that late, and she’d take it out on Ivy. No, I would go home and call her. But when I got home and tried to call her, no one answered. Just as I was hanging up the phone, Bell came rushing into the kitchen.
“Xander, there you are,” she squealed. “Ivy called. She said you and Tessa can have a nice life. What’s she talking about?”
Her words told me everything. I walked out of the kitchen without answering Bell. Why would Ivy assume that was me with Tessa? I would never do that.
But in a moment of both anger and clarity, I decided to seize this chance. To use this to my advantage, that maybe what happened would be for the best—it would get her to Chicago. That stupid poem came to mind. I didn’t know the whole thing, but the part I knew was enough—If you love someone, set them free.
And I did. She ended up going without me—it wasn’t the way I planned or wanted. But once it happened, I let it. I let her go. How was I to know I’d be left feeling like half of me was missing after I did it?
As I exit the club, the smothering night not only suffocates me, but also threatens to steal what I have left of my composure. I’m tired, worn, and seething with anger. I’ve had enough. I’m pushing my guilt aside and letting all of this go. As of right now, I don’t give a flying f**k what any of them do—Ivy included. I move from the shelter of the awning above me. It’s still pouring, but I decide to walk back—letting the rain cool me off.
CHAPTER 10
All I Want
Ivy
Everything is closing in on me—my mother’s constant calls for more money, Damon’s harassing texts about my career, Xander’s unyielding scrutiny. It’s all too much. Tossing back drink after drink, I let myself go. I surge into the crowd and sway my hips. And as the music starts to breathe life back into me, all I want to do is forget the world. I think about the outdoors—the sound of the never-ending rain, the strength of the wind, the ominous color of the sky—I focus on those calming things. But Xander’s features that draw together in a dark triangle whenever he looks at me tonight, that’s all I see and I want so much to be the one to smooth them out.
Leif moves close and together we find the beat. We dance to forget—two friends who need each other. We’ve been companions for so long, he’s really the only person besides Xander who I’ve ever really confided in. I’d have been lost without him to talk to these last few years among the stresses of album production, demands on my career, and the need my family has for more and more money.
I try to push all my stresses and worries away, but I can’t push Xander from my mind. I don’t want to. Spending this time with him has me questioning everything. I feel like we’ve grown close, reestablished that friendship we once shared, but I’ve kept it on the surface. I’m afraid to let it go any deeper. He’s tried to talk to me, but I can’t handle talking about him with another girl. I know he wants me and I want him so badly, but I can’t let go of the past. Whenever he gets close, I see him with her. And I also can’t handle a casual relationship with him. He seems to have that with Amy, and who knows who else— That’s not what I want from him.
Everything is hazy, the room is hot, and I’m sweaty, so I excuse myself to use the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face and try to wipe him from my brain. I found the strength to forget him before and I have to find it again. I have to fight these feelings I have for him that just won’t go away. But when I follow the crowd back into the room, I can’t help but look for him. I scan the area. I see people drinking, dancing, groping. I spot the band. But I don’t see him anywhere. My gaze flickers around and finally settles on Leif, who’s talking to Nix and Phoebe. Popping over to him, I stand in the circle, but don’t really listen to the conversation. Instead, I continue to search for Xander.
When a sweat-clad Garrett taps me on the shoulder, he interrupts the conversation. “Hey, there you are. I think it’s a good idea for us to get out of the club before everyone else starts to leave. To avoid the crowds as everyone exits.”
I nod at Garrett, and he motions toward the door with his chin and takes my elbow. “Come on, this way,” he shouts over the music.
I’m not really ready to leave, but since he seems to have decided it’s time, I follow him to the car. When we start to drive away, I become alarmed. Turning around toward Nix, I ask, “Where’s Xander?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since the band started playing.” His lack of concern just pisses me off.
But Garrett seems to know. He mutters something about him being in a shitass mood and leaving, telling him to stop by and pick up the materials for tomorrow’s show when we got back.
“Why? Is he not coming?”
Garrett seems annoyed and just throws his head back. “Who the f**k knows?”
Since I’m pretty sure Xander’s foul mood has something to do with me, I tell him, “I’ll stop by his room. I need to talk to him about something anyway.”
“You’re the one opting to walk into the ring of fire. Just remember, I’m not the one who sent you.”
I give him a halfhearted grin as I think about how Xander hasn’t changed. His temper, his mood swings—they’ve only intensified. I need to apologize to him for snapping when he asked me about Damon. I think I should explain my financial situation and how important it is that I work things out with Damon in an amicable way. And now is probably the best time. I can tell he doesn’t care for Damon or trust him, but that rush I felt over his protectiveness that first morning on the bus has kept me from discussing Damon with him. I don’t want him to make any trouble for the band because just like Xander, Damon can be hotheaded. And since Damon’s demands keep coming and his calls get more frequent, I’m just not sure what he wants from me, but I know he wants something.
As soon as the car parks in front of the hotel, we make a run for it through the rain, none of us waiting for the doorman or an umbrella. Leif and Garrett decide to hit the hotel bar for one last drink, and Nix and Phoebe head to their room. I ride the elevator with them and exit at Xander’s floor.
Walking down the hall, I notice the slide bar of his dead bolt holding the door ajar. I knock lightly and swing it open. “Xander, it’s me. I don’t want to fight with you. And there are some things I think you should know . . .” I’m stunned into silence. I stop for a heartbeat as my gaze tumbles over him. He’s standing in the hotel room, his long, lean body turned to the side, as he shrugs out of his unbuttoned shirt. My eyes graze his body—he is still the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. My breath catches at the sight of him. Seeing the lines in his muscles makes my heart beat so fast, and watching the flexing of his biceps has me biting down on my lower lip. The way his abs ripple down into the waistband of his jeans causes my body to clench with need. My memory of him isn’t nearly as powerful as the real thing.
I savor the sight, trying not to pant. I make sure not to deflect my stare, but rather I make it clear that I’m studying every single inch of him. I even notice the fraying of his shirt, which on most men would make me think they should mend it or buy a new one, but on him the imperfection only makes him all the more appealing. When that shirt drops to the floor, I watch it intently, and as the hem skims the ground, a small noise escapes my throat.
His eyes sweep to mine and our gazes lock. He turns, leans slightly forward as if considering picking up the shirt, then decides differently. “Ivy.” He says my name not as a question, not as a statement, not in surprise. It’s sensual, full of longing; it’s a sound I remember from him, from before, and one I could never forget.
I feel pummeled by his rugged good looks—God, he has a face that would melt any woman’s heart. His pale but intense hazel eyes, the sprinkling of stubble across his chin, the lushness of his lips, and the wave of his thick brown hair that always had me itching to run my fingers through it—all features any woman would pine for. I take a step in, letting the door slam against the slide bar behind me. Neither of us says a word. The burn of his stare has me longing to escape the intensity of the moment. I let my gaze slip but feel my lips part—and his do the same. I lower my lids and immediately notice the way his jeans sit so low on his hips, and a shiver runs down my spine. Then something more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen catches my attention. At first it looks like a tribal design running vertically down his right side, but as I narrow my eyes on it I can see it’s a straight line of black inked letters.
Walking up to both of them, I address her. “Tell me what happened. I can tell you’re upset.” My voice comes out harsher than I intend.
“Everything’s fine,” Leif says, squeezing my shoulder.
I turn to him and with a scowl on my face, I hiss, “I was talking to Ivy.”
He puts his hands up in surrender and my gaze goes back to her. Her steely eyes stare into mine for the longest time, like she’s searching for something. Then finally she leans into me and on her tiptoes she whispers against my cheek, “It’s nothing, really. Damon just wants me back or he’s going to start legal action against me.”
Every muscle in my body freezes. How dare he threaten her! “Did you tell him to go f**k himself?”
“Xander, no, I didn’t. He’s serious. He doesn’t screw around. He says regardless of what my attorney says I’m in breach of contract—that I can’t just go out on my own without having the financial agreements prearranged. He’s going to sue me for everything I’ve earned on this tour.”
“I’m serious too, Ivy. You can do whatever you want. He doesn’t give a shit about the money—he just wants to control you. I hope you told him to take it all.”
Any softness in her gaze instantly drains from her eyes. “No, I didn’t. It’s none of your business anyway. I shouldn’t have told you.” She turns back toward Leif, who grasps her h*ps again as she runs her hand up his chest, leaning forward to whisper in his ear.
The front man’s voice booms through the room. “I am so relieved to finally be back,” he says. He’s dressed like the other three members of the band, in a vest and skinny tie. Personally I’m not one for band costumes, but from the cheers and screams the crowd seems to disagree with me. Applause drowns out his voice. He hits the floor with a bevy of dancers costumed in black and gold lamé, brocade with leather and feathers. The place turns into mayhem.
He starts his first song in the set and everyone sings and dances along, including Ivy. My eyes sharpen as I continue to watch her. She’s moving to the beat. When she raises her arms over her head and I see Leif’s eyes flow down her body—I’m done. I can’t take her flirting with other men, I can’t take the back-and-forth between us, I can’t take skirting the issues. I’m pissed as hell and I need to get out of here. I turn to Garrett. “I’ve had enough. Just make sure Ivy gets back safely and don’t forget to stop by my room. I have changes to the playlist for tomorrow’s gig.”
“Sure, no problem. But you’re not coming to the festival?”
“I’m not sure what I’m doing,” I tell him and turn without a second glance her way. I know it’s time again—time to let her go. But I can’t stop thinking about the choice I made so long ago—the one to set her free. As I push through the crowd of people, I don’t see any of their faces. Rather, I’m swept back to the first time I let her go.
It was nine forty-five p.m. I couldn’t find my f**king car keys. I was supposed to be at my grandparents’ at ten. We hadn’t talked much and definitely hadn’t had phone sex. I just couldn’t bring myself to talk to her, so I told her my mother said the phone calls were too expensive and that my aunt wouldn’t appreciate the bill. That may have been a small lie—my aunt would never have cared about the money.
Anyway, I soon figured out that River had taken my car without asking. Again. My mother was sleeping and it took me forever to find her keys. The whole trip to my grandparents’ I was still trying to figure out how I was going to tell her I wasn’t going to Chicago, that she had to go without me. She couldn’t stay in LA and let her mother continue to guide her career—she needed to get away from her. At one point I even considered begging her to stay in LA with me, telling her how much I needed her, but I knew that was selfish. No, I had to tell her she had to go without me. I knew I had to do right by her.
Just as I was signaling to pull into the driveway, she went speeding by me in her mother’s car. At first I thought she had to get home because her mother never let her take the car, but when I pulled on into the driveway, I saw my car parked there. I walked around back and through the window I’m sure I saw what Ivy had seen—River with Tessa. I sat there forever, contemplating going after her, figuring out what I’d say. Wondering why she’d left in such a huff. In the end, I decided not to. If her mother was home, she’d be pissed as hell at me for showing up that late, and she’d take it out on Ivy. No, I would go home and call her. But when I got home and tried to call her, no one answered. Just as I was hanging up the phone, Bell came rushing into the kitchen.
“Xander, there you are,” she squealed. “Ivy called. She said you and Tessa can have a nice life. What’s she talking about?”
Her words told me everything. I walked out of the kitchen without answering Bell. Why would Ivy assume that was me with Tessa? I would never do that.
But in a moment of both anger and clarity, I decided to seize this chance. To use this to my advantage, that maybe what happened would be for the best—it would get her to Chicago. That stupid poem came to mind. I didn’t know the whole thing, but the part I knew was enough—If you love someone, set them free.
And I did. She ended up going without me—it wasn’t the way I planned or wanted. But once it happened, I let it. I let her go. How was I to know I’d be left feeling like half of me was missing after I did it?
As I exit the club, the smothering night not only suffocates me, but also threatens to steal what I have left of my composure. I’m tired, worn, and seething with anger. I’ve had enough. I’m pushing my guilt aside and letting all of this go. As of right now, I don’t give a flying f**k what any of them do—Ivy included. I move from the shelter of the awning above me. It’s still pouring, but I decide to walk back—letting the rain cool me off.
CHAPTER 10
All I Want
Ivy
Everything is closing in on me—my mother’s constant calls for more money, Damon’s harassing texts about my career, Xander’s unyielding scrutiny. It’s all too much. Tossing back drink after drink, I let myself go. I surge into the crowd and sway my hips. And as the music starts to breathe life back into me, all I want to do is forget the world. I think about the outdoors—the sound of the never-ending rain, the strength of the wind, the ominous color of the sky—I focus on those calming things. But Xander’s features that draw together in a dark triangle whenever he looks at me tonight, that’s all I see and I want so much to be the one to smooth them out.
Leif moves close and together we find the beat. We dance to forget—two friends who need each other. We’ve been companions for so long, he’s really the only person besides Xander who I’ve ever really confided in. I’d have been lost without him to talk to these last few years among the stresses of album production, demands on my career, and the need my family has for more and more money.
I try to push all my stresses and worries away, but I can’t push Xander from my mind. I don’t want to. Spending this time with him has me questioning everything. I feel like we’ve grown close, reestablished that friendship we once shared, but I’ve kept it on the surface. I’m afraid to let it go any deeper. He’s tried to talk to me, but I can’t handle talking about him with another girl. I know he wants me and I want him so badly, but I can’t let go of the past. Whenever he gets close, I see him with her. And I also can’t handle a casual relationship with him. He seems to have that with Amy, and who knows who else— That’s not what I want from him.
Everything is hazy, the room is hot, and I’m sweaty, so I excuse myself to use the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face and try to wipe him from my brain. I found the strength to forget him before and I have to find it again. I have to fight these feelings I have for him that just won’t go away. But when I follow the crowd back into the room, I can’t help but look for him. I scan the area. I see people drinking, dancing, groping. I spot the band. But I don’t see him anywhere. My gaze flickers around and finally settles on Leif, who’s talking to Nix and Phoebe. Popping over to him, I stand in the circle, but don’t really listen to the conversation. Instead, I continue to search for Xander.
When a sweat-clad Garrett taps me on the shoulder, he interrupts the conversation. “Hey, there you are. I think it’s a good idea for us to get out of the club before everyone else starts to leave. To avoid the crowds as everyone exits.”
I nod at Garrett, and he motions toward the door with his chin and takes my elbow. “Come on, this way,” he shouts over the music.
I’m not really ready to leave, but since he seems to have decided it’s time, I follow him to the car. When we start to drive away, I become alarmed. Turning around toward Nix, I ask, “Where’s Xander?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since the band started playing.” His lack of concern just pisses me off.
But Garrett seems to know. He mutters something about him being in a shitass mood and leaving, telling him to stop by and pick up the materials for tomorrow’s show when we got back.
“Why? Is he not coming?”
Garrett seems annoyed and just throws his head back. “Who the f**k knows?”
Since I’m pretty sure Xander’s foul mood has something to do with me, I tell him, “I’ll stop by his room. I need to talk to him about something anyway.”
“You’re the one opting to walk into the ring of fire. Just remember, I’m not the one who sent you.”
I give him a halfhearted grin as I think about how Xander hasn’t changed. His temper, his mood swings—they’ve only intensified. I need to apologize to him for snapping when he asked me about Damon. I think I should explain my financial situation and how important it is that I work things out with Damon in an amicable way. And now is probably the best time. I can tell he doesn’t care for Damon or trust him, but that rush I felt over his protectiveness that first morning on the bus has kept me from discussing Damon with him. I don’t want him to make any trouble for the band because just like Xander, Damon can be hotheaded. And since Damon’s demands keep coming and his calls get more frequent, I’m just not sure what he wants from me, but I know he wants something.
As soon as the car parks in front of the hotel, we make a run for it through the rain, none of us waiting for the doorman or an umbrella. Leif and Garrett decide to hit the hotel bar for one last drink, and Nix and Phoebe head to their room. I ride the elevator with them and exit at Xander’s floor.
Walking down the hall, I notice the slide bar of his dead bolt holding the door ajar. I knock lightly and swing it open. “Xander, it’s me. I don’t want to fight with you. And there are some things I think you should know . . .” I’m stunned into silence. I stop for a heartbeat as my gaze tumbles over him. He’s standing in the hotel room, his long, lean body turned to the side, as he shrugs out of his unbuttoned shirt. My eyes graze his body—he is still the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. My breath catches at the sight of him. Seeing the lines in his muscles makes my heart beat so fast, and watching the flexing of his biceps has me biting down on my lower lip. The way his abs ripple down into the waistband of his jeans causes my body to clench with need. My memory of him isn’t nearly as powerful as the real thing.
I savor the sight, trying not to pant. I make sure not to deflect my stare, but rather I make it clear that I’m studying every single inch of him. I even notice the fraying of his shirt, which on most men would make me think they should mend it or buy a new one, but on him the imperfection only makes him all the more appealing. When that shirt drops to the floor, I watch it intently, and as the hem skims the ground, a small noise escapes my throat.
His eyes sweep to mine and our gazes lock. He turns, leans slightly forward as if considering picking up the shirt, then decides differently. “Ivy.” He says my name not as a question, not as a statement, not in surprise. It’s sensual, full of longing; it’s a sound I remember from him, from before, and one I could never forget.
I feel pummeled by his rugged good looks—God, he has a face that would melt any woman’s heart. His pale but intense hazel eyes, the sprinkling of stubble across his chin, the lushness of his lips, and the wave of his thick brown hair that always had me itching to run my fingers through it—all features any woman would pine for. I take a step in, letting the door slam against the slide bar behind me. Neither of us says a word. The burn of his stare has me longing to escape the intensity of the moment. I let my gaze slip but feel my lips part—and his do the same. I lower my lids and immediately notice the way his jeans sit so low on his hips, and a shiver runs down my spine. Then something more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen catches my attention. At first it looks like a tribal design running vertically down his right side, but as I narrow my eyes on it I can see it’s a straight line of black inked letters.
