Chapter Fifteen #3
After another few moments of conspicuous silence, she jumped off him and dashed into the bathroom. The door was closed before he could manage to call after her. With a sigh, he went to tap on the smooth wood. “I’m sorry. It’s not you.” He waited. “Savannah?”
Through sobs, she called, “Just give me a few minutes, okay?”
“Sure.”
Sitting on the end of the bed closest to the door again, he miserably listened to her cry.
Then the tap ran for a while, and finally the door opened.
Her eyes were red and puffy and her makeup gone, hair hanging lank around her face.
Water had splashed the front of her sweater.
She sniffed. “I’ll call the desk about another room. ”
“Don’t be silly. It’s the middle of the night. There are two beds.”
She stood with arms crossed, her gaze on her bare feet. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
She sat on the end of the other bed, not looking at him. “I guess we should get some sleep.”
“It’s not you, Savannah. It really isn’t.”
Her chin wobbled, and she looked at the ceiling, pressing her lips together. When she had control, she said, “It’s fine. You want to see other girls. I’m sure the line has already started in the lobby. I guess I can’t blame you.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what’s it like?”
He thought of Brian’s low laugh, and the feel of his stubble, and the way he listened when Troy sang, smiling as if Troy was an angel. He heard snatches of the new songs running through his mind, waiting to take form. “I’m not the same person. I can’t just go back to the way things were.”
She ran a hand through her long hair, twisting it into a knot and releasing it.
“It’s my fault for thinking things would be different.
You told me you didn’t love me. But I guess I wanted to believe you didn’t mean it.
That we didn’t really break up—we just had a fight, like all couples do sometimes.
That you realized how much I meant to you when your life flashed before your eyes.
” She raised a hand when Troy opened his mouth.
“I get it. You can’t help the way you feel. Let’s go to sleep.”
“Okay. I’m going to have another shower.” He smiled weakly. “Can’t get enough of hot water.”
Savannah’s smile was equally lackluster. “I bet. Good night, Troy. Enjoy the shower.” She hesitated as she unzipped her suitcase. “And no matter what, I’m so glad you’re okay. I hope you know that.”
He swallowed hard. “I do. And I hope you know I really care about you. I want to be friends. I mean it.”
She nodded and busied herself with her suitcase, not meeting his gaze.
Troy escaped to the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The hot shower beckoned, and he avoided looking in the mirror. He knew what he’d see—too many ribs sticking out, skin tanned and peeling, his hair too long and curling. He’d see stubble on his face, and he’d have to shave it off himself.
Be in the now. There is only now.
Eyes closed, Troy stood under the thunder of water for a long time.
When he finally emerged, the room was dark aside from the little lamp by the minibar. He tiptoed to the bed by the door, his skin damp and a towel around his waist.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to be quiet,” Savannah said. “Tired as hell, but of course can’t sleep to save my life.” She was curled onto her side facing the window, and he could only see her back, the straps of her white nightie pale against her tan.
“Sorry.”
“Oh, he came by while you were in there. Guess he couldn’t sleep either.”
Troy’s heart stuttered. “Who?”
“Brian Sinclair.”
“What did he say?” Troy realized his voice had shot up in volume and also a few octaves. He lowered it. “Did he leave his room number?”
“Uh-uh. Said not to bother you.”
Blood rushed in Troy’s ears. “What else did he say? What did you say?”
Savannah looked over her shoulder with a frown. “Why are you spazzing out? I told him you were in the shower. Asked if he had a message, and he said no.”
Heart in his throat, Troy forced a casual tone. “Oh, okay. Cool.” He tugged on his jeans and pawed through the suitcase of clothes his mom had brought, yanking out a blue hoodie. He pulled the soft material over his head.
“I’ll just go find him,” he said. “Can’t sleep.”
“Troy, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Barely remembering to grab his key card, he slipped on his favorite Rainbow brand sandals, so familiar and molded to his feet after the years he’d worn them. “Get some rest.”
“You’re going now? It’s the middle of the night.”
“My clock’s all messed up. We’ll have breakfast in a few hours. I’ll be back.”
The door shut behind him with a quiet whoosh and click. He stood in the silent hallway. Now what? He barely resisted the urge to start banging on doors to find Brian. Was he on this floor? He could have been anywhere.
Troy strode to the elevator, his sandals silent on the plush carpet. The front desk would know.
“He’s in the shower.”
The girl’s voice echoed in every step Brian took.
He distantly recalled that Savannah was her name.
She’d looked young and beautiful, wearing a silky little white nightgown that barely grazed her thighs.
It hadn’t seemed to bother her to answer the door practically naked, but he supposed with a body like that, why should it?
He’d glimpsed past her narrow shoulders into the room. The covers pushed down on one of the beds, a pink suitcase open on the other, articles of clothing abandoned on the floor.
“He’s in the shower.”
It shouldn’t have hurt. Shouldn’t have reached into Brian’s chest and squeezed his heart so hard he was afraid it was irreparable. They were back in the real world. Troy’s family was here, his girlfriend. His old life. His real life.
Walking into that hospital room, Brian had felt like an intruder, and he’d certainly felt it even more acutely when Savannah had opened the door to Troy’s room. God, Brian had hoped…
What? What did I hope for? What did I expect?
“Sir?”
Blinking, he focused on the young woman behind the counter. “Yes. What was that?”
“Are you sure you want to go to the airport now? It’s only three o’clock. Nothing will be open for a couple hours.”
“I’m sure. Thank you.” The thong of the plastic flip-flops he’d been given rubbed uncomfortably between his toes, and Brian lifted his foot to fiddle with it briefly. “There’s a plane arriving for me in a few hours.”
She smiled, but it was uneasy. “All right. If you head outside, the doorman will hail a taxi right away.”
“Thank you. My airline company took care of the room, yes?”
“They did. Is there any luggage?”
Brian held up his shaving kit. “Nope.” He’d taken the kit when they’d insisted on putting him into an ambulance, not willing to part with it. He’d lost his grandfather’s hat, but he wouldn’t lose this. He didn’t know what had become of his suitcase or backpack and didn’t give a shit.
“Have a safe trip home, Mr. Sinclair.” She smiled kindly, and the other night clerk, a young man nearby tapping a computer and clearly eavesdropping, wished him well.
Home.
As Brian pushed open the first set of glass doors, thinking he might puke, Troy’s voice rang out.
“Brian!”
Relief, happiness, and dread combined, zapping him with nervous energy. Brian gripped the leather shaving kit, waiting in the vestibule. The door closed behind Troy, shutting out the ambient sounds of the lobby. There was only silence now in the glass rectangle as they stared at each other.
“Are you seriously leaving without saying goodbye?” Troy’s curls were wet, his tanned skin somehow pallid in the too-bright lighting.
“You were busy. I didn’t want to bother you.” It was hollow and inadequate to Brian’s own ears, and Troy stared at him incredulously.
“You didn’t want to bother me? Are you serious right now? After…after everything? That’s it?”
“I have to get back.”
“To what?”
Brian hesitated. “My job. Interviews with the company, the safety board.”
“You don’t have to run away in the middle of the night!”
Brian was very aware of the desk clerks and the doorman watching them from both sides. He didn’t think they could hear them talking, but if Troy kept shouting, they would. “Lower your voice.”
“No!”
“We’re not alone.”
“I—” Troy’s nostrils flared, and he glanced left and right.
The clerks jerked their heads back to their computers, and the doorman moved to the far end of the front entry, standing near a waiting taxi.
Clenching his jaw, Troy spoke quietly. “You don’t have to go.
You sure as hell don’t have to go right now. ”
“I need to get to Auckland.”
His brows drew together. “Auckland?”
“Paula’s parents live there. George and Maia.” His smile was brittle, about to shatter. “I finally know their names.”
Softening, Troy sighed. “It doesn’t have to be right this second, does it?
“The company’s sent a jet for me. I have to see them right away. I have to tell them…” He shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell them, but I owe them an explanation.”
“Okay. Then what?”
All Brian could do was force his shoulders into a shrug.
“We just got back. I thought we’d…”
Aching all over, Brian swallowed thickly. “What? Troy, it’s like you said. We’re back. This is all real again. Real lives, waiting to pick up where they left off. Your family and your band. Your girlfriend.”
Troy’s voice rose. “She’s not my girlfriend. I told you, I broke up with her before I left Sydney. I’m not—” He exhaled and whispered, “I didn’t sleep with her tonight.” He took a step closer. “Is that what you think? Is that why you’re doing this? It’s over with Savannah.”
Brian shouldn’t have felt the rush of relief, but it flowed through him sweetly. It doesn’t change anything. One of us has to be realistic. “No. That’s not why. I told you, I have to see Paula’s parents.”
“Don’t use that as an excuse.” Troy’s eyes glistened. “There’s still so much we need to talk about.”
Brian yearned to take Troy in his arms and banish his tears. But he remained rooted to the spot, the gleaming marble tiles under his new flip-flops. “What is there to say? We’re back. It’s over. You have your life, and I have mine.”
“And that’s it? Separate ways, like it was all…nothing?”
Brian managed to keep his voice even. “I live in Sydney. You live in LA.”
“You don’t have to live there! I don’t have to live in LA! We can do anything we want.”
“Troy, you have so much to go back to. What did you expect would change?”
“Everything’s changed! And I expected you to still be my friend!” He took a shuddering breath. “If nothing else, I expected that.”
Brian knew his protest was feeble. “I am. I’ll always care—”
“Stop. Just don’t.” Troy crossed his arms over his stomach protectively. “I get it. You don’t want…this. Me.”
Brian’s feet moved closer, but he stopped just out of reach.
“Listen to yourself,” he murmured. “Think about your family and your career. Why would you want to be stuck with a washed-up, screwed-up pilot pushing forty? You’re a rock star, remember?
Even if you don’t like that label, it doesn’t make it less true.
And now that we’re rescued, we’re not stuck together.
We were the only two people there. Of course we bonded.
It was a remarkable, extreme circumstance, and it’s over.
We have to be realistic about who we are.
” He lowered his voice even more. “It’s not like we’re gay now.
” He tried to laugh dismissively. “We were horny.”
It’s what’s best for him. I owe him this. I owe him his life back.
Troy only stared, hurt emanating from his dark eyes.
Before he could respond, camera flashes exploded to life outside, and they blinked in the glare as the doorman attempted to wrangle the paparazzi, who must have been tipped off.
Troy closed his eyes, his shoulders lifting and lowering as he breathed deeply.
When he opened his eyes, he plastered a smile on his face, so bright and fake it was painful. He stuck out his hand. “Well, thanks for everything. Have a good life.”
The flashes were still popping in the night, and Brian had no choice but to take Troy’s hand, squeezing his palm. The lump in his throat was choking him, and he couldn’t speak. He managed a nod, and then Troy was gone, disappearing toward the elevator bank, his stride forceful.
Tearing his gaze away, Brian escaped into the humid night and a waiting taxi, nodding at the doorman’s profuse apologies, flashes still blinding him.
At least he had an excuse for blinking away tears as he thought of the last time they’d kissed with hot sand between their toes, not knowing it was the end.