Chapter 17
17
Silas
I ended the video call with my therapist and took a deep breath. The session had been intense as we dug into my relationships with others, and more specifically, my difficulty trusting people. It was something I’d started to address in rehab, but for some reason, it hit me harder today.
Knowing Cash would be checking on me soon, I got up from the guest bed and walked out to the living room. He was still sitting on the couch, typing on his laptop, just like I’d left him an hour before. My sister was asleep in their room after a long night at the hospital.
I’d been staying in their apartment for almost two weeks, and I’d only managed to see Britt a handful of times. And since Cash and I were leaving for LA soon, I wondered if I’d get a chance to hang out with her the rest of the time I was there.
He glanced up from the screen. “Everything good?”
I dropped onto the other end of the couch. “Therapy was a little rough today.”
He closed his laptop. “That happens. As I’m sure you’ve already experienced, sometimes you’ll feel great and ready to take on the world when you’re done, and other sessions will leave you with a lot of emotions to work through. I’m not a therapist, but I’m here for whatever you need.”
I appreciated him saying that. Until I had started therapy, I’d never spent time discussing my emotions and fears. It had taken me a couple of weeks to start opening up in rehab, so it was all very new to me. But since getting to know Cash, I believed he was someone I could share those types of things with, and he wouldn’t judge or act as though my feelings were ridiculous.
“Thanks. It’s definitely going to take a while to work through everything. Turns out I’ve got some trust issues, and my therapist said I hold people at arm’s length because of it.”
He raised a brow. “I can guess being a celebrity doesn’t help with that.”
“Actually, I think the fame brought it on because I don’t remember having these issues when I was younger. However, in the last couple of years, it has been hard to figure out if people want to be around me because they want a real friendship or because they like the benefits that come with being seen with me. The drugs were an easy way for me to have a good time without worrying about other people’s intentions.”
“I get that. You and your bandmates are close though, right?”
I shifted so I was facing him. “At this point, they’re likely my only real friends. The other friends I had when I lived here in Boston were people who hung out with Donnie Pierce, and as you know, he’s not someone I need in my life. Since then, my lack of trust has kept me from putting any effort into connecting with people; although, I guess I could include you in the friend category now.”
He snorted. “You guess?”
“Well, I’m paying you to stay with me, which blurs the lines a little, but you’re kind of cool to hang out with.” I winked.
“Kind of cool? You sure know how to make a guy feel good.” He smirked. “And regarding your trust issues, I know your therapist will help you work on that, but there are things we can do too.”
“Like what?”
“When you journal, you can reflect on times when you were able to trust someone and other times when people let you down,” he suggested. “From those experiences, we can work on creating healthy boundaries for people you meet so you don’t feel like they are taking advantage of you or your fame.”
Journaling was another new thing that I’d learned in rehab, and I found writing down my thoughts came more naturally to me than talking with others. In fact, I had turned some of the thoughts I had jotted down into song lyrics that I hoped to share with the band eventually.
“That might work,” I agreed.
“Good.” He set his laptop on the coffee table and stood. “Now go get ready. We’re going to hit up the gym.”
Since it was the middle of the day, the gym was relatively empty, which I preferred. Boston was better than LA when it came to getting recognized, but some people would still try to sneak photos of me when I was out, and mid-workout pics were never pretty.
“Where do you want to start?” Cash asked after we checked in at the front desk.
“Squats, probably, since it’s leg day.”
“Okay. Let’s go.” We walked over to the squat rack.
I set down my water bottle and towel before helping Cash add weight to the bar. “You want to go first?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Sure. As long as you don’t think watching me will intimidate you.”
I shook my head and laughed. “Dude, we’ve already worked out together a couple of times. We appear to be evenly matched.”
“True. Although I think you got me in the arms department.”
His comment forced my eyes to travel to his defined biceps. He may have thought I held an edge there, but I wasn’t convinced. The guy was cut .
Realizing I was checking him out, I shook my head and mumbled, “It’s probably the drums.”
He lifted the bar off the rack and began his set. I stepped back enough to give him space but was still close enough to help him if he needed a spot. From there, I had a perfect view of his ass as he lowered his hips.
What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I checking out Cash?
The clanking of the bar being put back in place pulled me from my inner freak-out.
“Your turn,” he said, moving out of my way.
“All right, old man. Let me show you how it’s done,” I teased.
“Old?” he scoffed. “I’m only twenty-eight.”
“That’s four years older than me, so I’m not wrong.”
“Whatever,” he grumbled playfully.
I repeated the motions he’d just completed, but when I looked in the mirror, his crystal blue eyes appeared focused on my ass the same way mine had been on his a minute earlier.
“Are you checking me out?” The words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them.
His eyes widened as if I’d caught him red-handed, but he recovered quickly. “Trust me. If I were checking you out, you’d know it.”
Not wanting to make things uncomfortable, I let the conversation drop and focused on my workout.
What would it matter if he had been looking? It’s not like anything would happen for a variety of reasons. But for some reason, my pulse still raced at the thought.
When we got back to the apartment, Britt was in the kitchen, pulling things out of the refrigerator.
“Hey, Beautiful.” Cash wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “Something smells delicious.”
“Eww, you’re all sweaty.” She pushed him away.
“That’s my fault,” I explained. “Showering in the locker room can be awkward when people ask for autographs.”
She reared back. “Has that happened before?”
I lifted a shoulder. “More than once.”
“I can’t believe people are so bold.” She sighed. “Anyway, I’m making spaghetti and salad to take to work tonight. It should be ready after you both shower.”
“You’re the best.” I ruffled her hair and hurried to the guest room before she could slap me.
Remembering that my phone had pinged a few times while at the gym, I swiped my screen and responded to a couple of texts from Elliott, Malachi, and Jesse. They wanted to get together when I returned to LA and were trying to nail down a time. Once those details were worked out, I plugged my phone into the charger before pulling out a clean T-shirt and shorts and heading to the bathroom.
As I waited for the water to heat up, I realized I didn’t have a clean towel to use. Throwing on my sweaty gym clothes again, I walked to the linen closet in the hallway.
“I’ll try to come see you tonight, but Cash is starting to make little comments about how often I’m gone.”
Was Britt trying to meet up with her friends again? I didn’t have any room to talk about people going out and having fun, but her boyfriend was going to be gone for several weeks soon, and I would have assumed she’d want to spend some time with him before he left.
I pulled a towel down and turned around, but my sister’s next words stopped me in my tracks.
“I know, Kenny. I miss you too, and in a couple of days, we won’t have to sneak around anymore.”
Oh, hell no. I loved my sister and always had her back, but it sounded like she was cheating on Cash. And if that was true, not only was she betraying her boyfriend, someone who I’d come to like and respect, but she was potentially causing problems for an essential part of my recovery process.
Before I accused her of anything, I needed to talk to Britt. I rushed into the bathroom to turn off the water, then walked back to the kitchen.
“I’ve got to go,” she said into the phone when she saw me approach.
“Who were you talking to?” I asked.
“Just a friend.” She started packing her food for work.
“Sounded like more than a friend.”
She whipped her head in my direction. “Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?”
“Not on purpose,” I admitted.
“I don’t know what you heard, but I don’t appreciate you insinuating that I was doing something wrong.”
“Really? Then why are you having to sneak around behind your boyfriend’s back?”
Her eyes narrowed. “My relationship with Cash is none of your business.”
It was possible I’d misread the situation, but if my assumption was correct, Cash deserved to know what was happening. I just didn’t know if I should be the one to tell him.