Chapter 4
four
A few hours later, I registered movement in the hallway. Singing softly, I picked and strummed my guitar in a slower rhythm, my laptop open on the coffee table in front of me. I’d connected it through an audio interface to the guitar and a microphone, so I could record a rough demo. I looked up.
Micah stepped out from the hallway into the main room, his black hooded sweatshirt folded in his hand, a black t-shirt now covering his chest.
I stopped the song and gazed at him. An ache built inside me. Even when just waking up, he was gorgeous. “Feeling better?”
He raked a hand through his straight, dark bangs, his mouth twitching. “Yes.” He stepped over to stand in front of me. “What were you playing? It sounded sad.”
I straightened, letting the hint of a grin rest on my lips. “Yeah, I guess it did.” It’s a song about you . “I’m just, you know, getting some stuff down before heading into the studio.”
He sat on the end of the couch. “When are you doing that?”
“In another ten days.” I took in his large, brown eyes, the disheveled hair. He looked like a child sitting there. God, it hurt to look at him right now.
He rubbed his eyes, a slow smile creeping over his face. “You have a really pretty singing voice.”
“Pretty?” I huffed. “It’s not supposed to be pretty. I’m in a rock band.” I snickered. Though, with all the singing lessons and time onstage, my voice was well trained. “I’ve been told I sound like the reincarnation of Michael Hutchence.”
“Who?” He furrowed his brows.
“The singer from INXS. You know, they did that song, Need You Tonight ?” I strummed fast, rhythmic chords and sang a perfect rendition of the chorus, swapping the word girl in the lyrics for boy . If he didn’t realize he was being hit on, then he had to be dense. Or straight.
He parted his lips, raising his brows. “Oh, yeah. Well, before it sounded pretty. Now it sounds, well, sexy.” A blush crept over his cheeks.
I chuckled. Apparently, he got the hint.
He scanned the apartment. “You have nice taste.”
“It’s not really my taste. The place came furnished.” It wasn’t like I was staying long.
“Oh.” He knitted his brows. “I’m sorry.”
“For?” I studied him.
He stared toward the patio doors.
“For?” I placed my hand on his, resting on his thigh. Should I make him apologize for taking too much Xanax? But he was finally being civil. “You don’t have to apologize, really. I just hope you don’t make a habit out of taking more meds than you’re supposed to, okay?”
He clenched his jaw. “Yeah. That’s not something I normally do.” His gaze found mine. “I don’t want you to think...” He glanced at the fireplace, then back at me. “To think I’m a drug addict, like your brother probably was.” He widened his eyes. “I mean, I’m assuming he was, based on what you told me.” He studied me.
I swallowed hard. “Yeah.” Funny, that was exactly what I was thinking. I gazed at my hand, still resting on his.
“Can you tell me what happened?” The fading afternoon sun draped his face almost in total shadow.
I leaned back into the couch and moved the guitar to the floor, letting it rest against the couch. If I opened up to him, maybe he would open up to me. “Well, you were right. My brother got into drugs pretty heavily. I guess we both did. We were doing music together before everything took off. He played lead guitar.” I exhaled a rush of breath. “He got into heroin. I never did. I found him one morning. At first, I thought he was sleeping. But his face was so...blue. He was dead. With a needle in his arm.” My vision clouded. God, I hated talking about this. Taking a ragged inhale, I scraped a hand over my hair. “I haven’t shared this story in a long time.” I blinked, and a tear escaped, trailing down my cheek. My voice broke. “I haven’t shared it with many people either.”
Micah rushed to me, winding his arms around my shoulders and pulling me into his chest. “I’m so sorry.”
I held him above the waist and buried my face in his shoulder. Finding Lane like that had almost ripped me to shreds. Getting it off my chest felt good. Being in Micah’s arms felt even better. I savored the gentle but firm embrace and freed a long exhale. How had this situation changed so quickly? Wasn’t he the one needing comfort? I sniffled and tightened my hold on him, then let him go. “Thanks.” I swiped at my eyes. Would he finally open up to me? “Micah.”
He stood from the couch and walked to the patio doors. “I can’t.”
“You can’t what?” I needed answers. I rose and stepped toward him.
“I can’t talk about it.” He twisted to face me. “I know that’s what you’re going to ask me.”
I huffed. “Why not? Why can’t you talk to me?” Didn’t he trust me by now? What the hell did I have to do? I stared at the floor, my mouth hanging open.
“I’m not ready.” He shook his head once.
“So, but that means that maybe at some point, you would be ready? You and I could...” Could what? What did I want us to be? Friends? Not really. More like lovers.
“Yeah.” He peered at the wall, gnawing his lower lip. “I should probably go now.” He stepped toward the front door.
I snatched his wrist. “No.” What excuse could I use to spend more time with him?
He glared at me. “What?”
“Y-your car. It’s still at the beach. Shouldn’t we get it?”
With a loud huff, he shifted his weight. “Yes, we should.”
“Let me grab my sweatshirt, and we’ll go.” I needed to hurry before he changed his mind. Jogging into my bedroom, I grabbed my gray sweatshirt from the chair in the corner and slid it over my head. As I strode back out into the main room, I slid it down over my stomach.
He stood by the door, waiting, his black hooded sweatshirt now on.
I grabbed my keys from the table by the door and opened it. “Let’s go.”
We strolled to my Jeep and climbed in. Backing out, I drove onto Esplanade Avenue, then merged onto Highway One. I glanced at Micah, who was staring out the window. Now that I had him in the Jeep, how do I continue this? “Hey, you hungry yet?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to grab a bite at the taproom?” Would angry Micah come back? I hoped not. I just wanted to spend time with him, plain and simple. I gripped the steering wheel like it might slip away from me.
“Sure.” His gaze fell to the dash.
I freed a long breath, my shoulders relaxing. Driving to the beach parking lot, I pulled in next to his Mercedes. “I’ll meet you there?”
“Yeah.” He climbed out of the Jeep and shut the door.
I drove through the side streets and parked in front of the Devil’s Slide Taproom. As I sat inside my car waiting, I took in the building’s large rows of windows, tucked between slabs of concrete with wood siding above them. I should probably keep the conversation light. That way, Micah wouldn’t want to bolt.
His SUV pulled in and parked next to me.
I got out and met him at his car, sliding my hands into my front pockets. “Ready?”
“Yeah.”
We walked to the glass front doors, and I opened one for him, letting him step inside.
He stopped at the entrance. “Bar or table?”
“How about the bar?” The last thing I needed was someone noticing me again. I flipped my hood over my head as we walked through the restaurant and sat down in the far corner.
Micah took the slatted bar chair next to me, raising a brow. “Why is your hood on your head?”
I leaned in. “I don’t want to be spotted.”
“Why? Because you’re with me?” He bit the side of his lower lip.
“No.” I laughed. “Jesus, because I don’t want to be bothered with people recognizing me.” I gave him a careful smile. “I just want to spend some time with you. Is that so bad?”
He stared at the bar. “I guess not.”
We ordered beers from the same bartender as yesterday, wheat for him and an IPA for me.
I watched him. There were so many questions I wanted to ask, but I had to be careful. “So, you have family in the area. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“Yes, I have a younger sister and an older brother.” His gaze crept to mine.
“Are your parents still together?”
He shifted in his seat. “No, they divorced a few years ago.”
The bartender came by and dropped off our beers. “Ready to order?”
I ordered fish tacos, and he ordered a pulled pork sandwich.
I took a sip of beer. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.” He gulped his beer.
“Wow, I wouldn’t have pegged you to be older than me.” I looked him over. He was even older than Lane would have been.
He raised his brows. “Why? How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Where are you from, originally?”
“Minnesota.” I sipped my beer.
“So, tell me how you ended up being a famous rock star?” He snickered.
I shifted in my seat, fingering the silver chain around my neck. Visions of the last tour filled my head, a whirlwind of stadiums, hotels, quick hook-ups, and parties. At least I didn’t have to deal with dingy bars and cramped vans anymore. “Well, I’m not very famous yet. I mean, we still just open in the larger stadiums for the real rock stars. The last album did well, but we’re hoping the next one will really take off.” I leaned forward, rimming the edge of my beer glass with a finger. “The label is banking on that, too.”
He turned to me, his brows furrowing. “How did you go from being in Minnesota to an almost famous band to here?”
“I’ve always been a singer. I used to sing in choir back in high school, and I was in theater. Then I started my first band with my older brother and my best friend, Wells, and ended up going to school for music. It all sort of fell together at school. I met Dilan and Justin in college, and we formed The Swarm. We got pretty popular in the clubs in Minneapolis and Chicago, then went on to New York, and, well, got noticed and ended up here to record our next album.” I took a deep breath. It was a lot to say.
“You’re out here by yourself, right? I mean, I haven’t seen you with anyone else.” He looked me over with those stunning, vulnerable eyes.
“Wells was supposed to be here on Monday, but he got delayed. Justin and Dilan are down in LA. They don’t mind dealing with the business and the politics. I just needed some time to myself after touring.” I took a gulp of beer and twisted the hoop earring on my left ear. This was weird, having a normal conversation with him. What did he think about all this? It better not scare him off.
The bartender set our plates of food in front of us. “Enjoy.”
“That looks good.” I picked up a taco and took a bite.
“Why did you need time for yourself?” He bit into his sandwich.
I glanced at the fog rolling by the windows overlooking the patio area and the sets of people eating and drinking. No one noticed me this time. Good. “Don’t get me wrong, I love what I do, but it wears me down. Having to be on all the time is draining for me. I need downtime. Time to shut off. Know what I mean?”
He nodded, a soft smile growing on his lips. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
I drank in the way his face lit up, even with the limited smile. He was so...stunning. Did he have any idea what he was doing to me? “Micah.”
“What?” He ate a French fry.
“You look amazing when you smile.” Heat flooded my face.
He dropped his mouth open. “I do?” The pink of his cheeks deepened.
“Yeah.” I glanced at my plate and cocked my head. In a soft voice, I said, “Though you look pretty good even when you don’t smile.” He had to know I was hitting on him. I offered a coy grin.
He drew his brows together. “Thanks.” He searched the room, then under his breath said, “I think you look good, too.” His cheeks flushed an even deeper red.
My heart fluttered. Did that mean he was interested? I extended a cautious hand across the bar and rested it on his, next to his plate. I gave it a gentle squeeze, studying his face for a reaction.
His gaze flicked to mine.
Will he let me hold his hand?
Yanking his hand away, he set it on his thigh and rubbed it across his jeans. He inhaled sharply, then downed the rest of his beer before flagging the bartender. “Ally, can I get another?”
What did that mean? How could he not be interested after everything that had happened between us? My chest tightened as I pulled my brows together and stared down at my plate. Maybe I’d said something wrong. Maybe I’d moved too fast. A twinge of pain pricked my heart.
Ally turned from behind the bar. “Sure thing.” She poured him another beer and set it in front of him. “Here you go.” She focused on me. “You ready for another one?”
“Sure,” I said, keeping my gaze on my plate and the lone taco still sitting there.
Ally set a new beer in front of me before moving on.
He sipped his beer, his gaze darting back to me, then set the glass on the bar. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He rested his hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Hey, I wanted to thank you for taking care of me today.”
I peered at him. “Of course.” I pressed my lips together, hesitating. “Why did you do that, anyway?”
His hand dropped to rest next to his plate. “Sometimes, I just can’t deal. Today was one of those days.”
Was it because I didn’t show up this morning? “But why today?” I asked, grabbing the last taco even though my earlier hunger had vanished.
Micah took a bite of his sandwich, chewed, and swallowed. “I don’t know. Some days are just worse than others.”
I nodded. I shouldn’t to press him on it. “Yeah, I know how that is. When my brother died, it was like that. Some days I could get through it, and others...I just couldn’t.” I took a long swallow of beer. “It is grief you’re going through, right?”
He hung his head. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath, then finished the last bite of his sandwich. “Let’s finish up and go home.”
“Okay.” I forced myself to eat the last of my taco and then turned to him. “Hey, want to surf with me tomorrow? You said you knew how.”
He looked at me, his expression softening. “I suppose. I don’t have my board here, though.”
“Get another one. There’s a surf shop?—”
“I know where the surf shop is.” He let out a smooth chuckle. “Guess I can show you how it’s done.”
“We’ll see about that. I have a feeling you’re all talk.” I couldn’t help but smile at him, already imagining how amazing being out on the water with him would be.
He snickered, his lips curling into a smirk. “Just don’t follow me out too far. I don’t want to save your ass.”
* * *
Later, we parked, turned off the ignition, and exited the vehicles. Micah stepped toward me.
“Dinner was nice,” he said as we strolled toward our apartments together.
“Yeah, I like that place. It’s my favorite in town.” I tucked my hands into my front pockets.
What could we do now? It couldn’t be over. As we arrived at the doors to our apartment, I asked, “So, you want to?—”
“No.” He shook his head. “I think I need to be alone.” He gave me a sideways look.
Fuck. I winced. “Okay.”
He shook the bangs from his eyes, moving them to frame his face, grabbed my arm, and squeezed. “We’ll have fun tomorrow, okay? I’m looking forward to surfing with you.” A quick smile flashed across his mouth. “Even if I’ll have to ride the easy waves.”
I released a weak chuckle and gazed deeply into his eyes, then down to his lips. Could I kiss him?
His gaze caught on my lips and his tongue flickered around his mouth, then he gnawed his lower lip.
I tilted forward.
He twisted around and stepped to his door. “See you tomorrow. How about eight?” He fumbled with his keys.
I blinked. “Uh, yeah. That works.” What the hell was going on? Didn’t he have the same feelings I did? I creased my forehead. As I slid my keys out, I took a peek back at him, now stepping inside his apartment.
I really didn’t want to leave him. I desperately wanted him to come inside my place and...and what? I opened my door. And make love. That’s what. I stepped inside and shut the door. As I propped my back against it, I clenched my eyes shut. I didn’t want to fuck Micah. I wanted to make love to him. This wasn’t some after-party conquest. This was real. “Damn it.”
With a sigh, I ambled to my bedroom, flicking on the lamp from the switch inside the door. I peeked at the bed, making out the form in the covers where Micah had slept earlier. Sliding my gray hoody off, I threw it at the chair in the corner, then stepped to the bed and sat down. I ran my palm over the covers where he’d been. “What’s up with you, Micah? What happened to you?” I lay down on the bed, my head covering the pillow he’d used. I breathed in through my nose. His scent was faint, but still there. I clutched at the pillow and sank my face into it. “I’m so fucked.”
* * *
After putting away my guitar, microphone, and laptop, I sat on my couch and turned on the TV. How could I distract myself from Micah for the rest of the night? My cell phone rested on the coffee table. A chat with Wells might help. I grabbed it and called him. The phone rang once.
“Hey, man. How are you?” Voices laughed and talked in the background.
“Doing okay. Where are you?” I gazed through the patio doors at the familiar wisps of fog.
“I’m at a party in Minneapolis. There are some big wigs here, so Jeff asked me to come out and do a meet and greet.”
“Oh.” Wells’ voice sounded so good. I sank into the couch. “So, Jeff is making you do that shit now?” I released a soft laugh. Wells and I were alike and didn’t enjoy the politicking.
“Yeah. Hasn’t he called on you to do anything in San Fran?”
“Nope. I haven’t heard a word from him.” I held up my hand and jangled the beaded bracelets I always wore.
“Well, you told him to leave you the fuck alone for two weeks. Guess he took you seriously this time.” A woman’s voice snaked through the phone.
“You there with someone?”
“I’m getting laid tonight.” A snarky laugh erupted from him. “What about you? You find some hot surfer girl to hook up with yet?”
I smiled. “Yeah. I never found out if she surfs, but she suggested a great idea about having a gig at a smaller venue out here. Might be fun.”
“Sure. We’ll have to inform Jeff and see what he can work out.” Wells gave a quick chuckle. “So, how’s the weird neighbor?”
I snapped my brows together. Shit. I was trying to forget about Micah. “I don’t know, Wells. I’ve started talking to him.”
“Yeah?”
“I guess we’re friends. We’re going to surf tomorrow.”
“Ash?” Wells took an audible breath. “Is he hot?”
I drew a circle on the couch with my finger, a grin creeping over my lips. “He’s really hot. He’s...” My chest ached with warmth. “I’ve seen nothing like it. I don’t think he has any idea how fucking gorgeous he is.”
“Really. So, you’ve got a crush on him already,” he said with a snicker.
“Stop it.” I scowled.
“I’m assuming this friendship will go somewhere?”
“I hope so. He’s also really fucked up.” I gazed at the ceiling.
“Fucked up how?” His tone raised.
“Something happened to him. I don’t know what. He won’t tell me. But he’s on meds, Xanax, and he’s just so sad all the time,” I said. “Sad or angry.”
In a low voice, he said, “Don’t be the hero, Ash. I know you. You think you can fix everyone. You can’t. We went through this with Lane.”
“I know.” Did he really understand? Or was I setting myself up for a hell of a fall? I pursed my lips. “Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.”
“Do you?” Scuffling came through on the phone. In a muffled voice, Wells said, “Just a minute. Damn.” His voice returned, clearer now. “Maybe I’ll come out early. Fuck the guitar.”
“No, you don’t have to.” Though Wells would at least keep me grounded. I sighed.
“I thought you wanted to fuck me before we hit the studio?” He sniggered.
A slow grin played over my mouth. “I did.” I caught myself. “I do.” At least, I’d tell myself that. No point in making him think otherwise.
“Let me see if Bobby can expedite things.” More rustling came through the phone and a woman’s voice whined. “I’m sorry, Ash. I have to go.”
“Sure. See you soon.”
“Yeah, bye.”
I hung up the phone and set it on the coffee table.