Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
S ilence stretches between us.
I want nothing more than to spend the evening with her. Hold her. Make her feel safe after the paps ruined her birthday. “Jenna,” I begin. “Do you want me to stay?”
She doesn’t answer for a long time. My stomach churns to the beat of my throbbing thigh. At least not driving has alleviated some of its anger.
Her finger points toward the garage. “You can park in the driveway.”
“You got it.” I put the car into drive and complete the task with only minor additional pain. Must be the buzz running through my body. I refuse to jump to conclusions about what staying at her home means, but I seem to be making progress on something I only recently realized I wanted.
When I shut off the car, she opens her door and springs out. I open my door but my exit is neither fast nor graceful. When I’m upright, little pants escape.
“Oh no.” She shakes her head. “Are you all right? No, of course you’re not. You shouldn’t have been driving. It taxes your groin muscle too much. What was I thinking?”
She continues rambling until I raise my hand. “Stop. We made it here without being followed. That’s a win.” Cutting into the dead end was a gifted choice. I take one step away from the car and wince.
Her hand comes around my waist. “It’s my fault you’re hurting. Come on, let’s get you into the house.”
The time from her driveway to her front door takes at least ten hours—really minutes, but who’s counting?—since I need to stop several times. When we’re finally inside, she shuts the door, turns on the lights, and hangs up her coat, all before I can do anything more than lean against the wall and catch my breath.
Jenna places her hands on my arms. “Bennett.”
I force my gaze to hers.
“It’s my turn to take care of you. Think you can walk to the kitchen?” She points to a room about a million miles away.
My head shakes. “No, I?—”
“I get it. How about you sit down right here?” She indicates the chair in the foyer. Only a couple of steps away.
“Better,” I rasp.
She assists me down to the chair. It’s wooden, but it gets my weight off my thigh, which is all that matters.
“I’ll be right back.” She disappears into the kitchen, presumably to get another ice pack. I don’t think I’ll ever order another drink on the rocks for as long as I live.
Sure enough, she emerges with another one in her hands. She hesitates before handing it to me.
“You need to take off your coat.”
My fingers reach the buttons, but it seems like my fine motor skills were left in the car. I drop my hands. She takes over, making quick work of opening it and helps me slide it down my arms. She stares at my pants, then glances deeper into her house.
“I hate to say this, but you’d be more comfortable with your leg elevated. Do you think you could make it to the living room? I promise you’ll appreciate it.”
I’m so tired. I want this pain to stop. If she thinks this is a better idea, though, I suppose I can manage it. “My last move.”
Smiling, she replies, “You got it.”
Jenna helps me get to my feet. I leave my coat on the chair, and with unsteady strides, we walk into the living room. She has an upholstered sectional against a window facing a large-screen television. The walls are painted grey with orange and yellow pillows. “I like it in here.”
“Thanks. I do too.” Before I collapse, she instructs, “Take off your pants.”
I smirk. “While I’d love to, I have it on good authority I’m not allowed to have sex until I’m healed. With the way I’m feeling?—”
“What’s your pain level now?”
“About a nine.”
“Meaning a twelve.” She bites the inside of her cheek. “We have to get these pants off you so the ice will be directly on your thigh.” Her fingers open my buckle.
While I want to tease her, I don’t have the energy. Dealing with the fucking paps and driving zapped all of my reserves. I help her roll my pants down my legs, then lower my boxer-brief-covered ass onto the sofa. With efficiency, she removes my shoes and socks as well as my pants from around my ankles. An instant later, the ice pack lands on my thigh. Followed by a throw blanket, I presume for my modesty.
Coldness seeps into my bones. “Fuck!”
“Ice is good for you.” She pauses. “Unlike me. I’m sorry, again, for how I froze back there. And for making you drive me home.” She hangs her head.
With my leg outstretched, and the bloody ice pack on it, I feel better already. If we were close enough, I’d tilt her chin up toward me. Maybe more. “Just a temporary setback.”
“If I were a responsible therapist, you wouldn’t have had any setbacks.” She takes a seat across the room. Too far .
I pat the cushion next to me. “I’d feel better if I didn’t have to raise my voice to speak with you.” She slumps, then stands and crosses the great expanse—truly, mere feet. She sits beside me, though not close enough. “Better.”
Jenna plucks at her pants. “I had a wonderful birthday, Bennett, the ending notwithstanding.”
“I’m glad. I did too. Your mother is very nice.”
Her expression lightens. “She’s my best friend. We’ve been through so much together.”
Because I need to touch her, I reach over and slip my hand over hers, entwining our fingers. “I’m happy you have someone so close to you.”
“You have that too, with the band.”
I don’t contradict her. Why bother? While I’m suffering actual pain, she’s the one who dealt with an undeserved onslaught this evening, one for which she had no preparation. “At least your mother didn’t witness it back there.”
She nods. “You’re right. I don’t think she would’ve handled it as well as I did.”
I can’t stop myself. “Like the professional therapist you are?” I squeeze her hand, letting her know I’m teasing.
Her head tilts toward mine. “Not everyone is used to people chronicling their every movement, from where they buy coffee to when they go to the gym.”
I hate to bring this up, but it’s the truth. “They used to follow Darren.”
“Well, true. But they weren’t as rabid over him as they are over you. We did get questions lobbed at us in the airport once, but generally, he wasn’t their focus.”
Her explanation rings true. For whatever reason, I’m usually the lightning rod the media pursues. “I hear you. But all the guys get their time in the burning sun.”
She doesn’t continue this conversation. “How’s the pain level now? ”
“It’s dropped down to maybe a high six.”
She chuckles. “Your descriptions are hysterical. Most people would call it a seven.” She comes to a temporary halt. “Or a nine.”
I lift our joined hands to my mouth. “I’m not like most people.”
Beneath mine, her fingers open and she slips from my hand. Rubbing her newly freed palms against her uninjured thighs, she stands. “Yeah, well, what are we going to do with you tonight? My guest room is upstairs.”
I glance at the staircase and resist the urge to cry like a baby. “I can stay right here. Do you have an extra pillow or something?”
“I do.” She rushes up the stairs like a gazelle and returns with linens and a pillow. “Here you go.”
“Wow. All I need is a blanket.”
“Use them all.” She removes the ice pack and checks my thigh. “I think it’s calming down. Leave it on for another ten minutes then toss it here.” She points to an empty plate on the coffee table, which she moves closer to me.
“Thanks.”
“No problem. I’ll see you in the morning.” She races away from me.
Or from what she’s feeling for me?
Alone, I finish with the ice pack and drop it where she indicated. Because nature calls, I force myself to wander down a hallway where I find a half bath. It’s cheery, like her, with a unique, contemporary light fixture. When I return to the living room, I unbutton my shirt and toss it onto my other clothes laying across a chair, taking my cellphone back to my makeshift bed.
I set up the pillow and comforter and snuggle under them. Be nicer if I were snuggling with the home’s owner.
My fingers play with the UC pendant around my neck, which has gained even more significance after tonight. In addition to being sexy and smart and thoughtful, Jenna is an accomplished therapist, and she’s caring. She almost made me believe better things can happen. Unlike the awful end to her birthday .
Stop it right there. Do Not Fuck list, remember?
I check the time. Since it’s only eleven, I know Luke will still be up, and he needs to hear about what happened for a variety of reasons. I pull his contact information and press send.
“Hey there, B. How’s physical therapy coming along?”
“I was making progress until tonight. Jenna, her mother, and I went out to dinner to celebrate Jenna’s birthday. When we left, a pack of paps got to us.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah.”
I can picture him pacing around a hotel room, processing what I told him. “How many are we talking?”
“I’d say there were at least fifteen or twenty.” I wait a beat. “All of them are stationed here in the Hamptons. My guess is they were looking for a new story to tide them over until summer.”
“My thoughts exactly. I’ll get our PR team on it. You’ll have a plan in your inbox by morning. I wonder how they found out you were out there?”
“I don’t know. I’ve been keeping a low profile, basically only going to PT. I did go out to dinner with King and Angie, and I found an arcade that helps me while away the hours.” Michelle pops into my mind and I stare at my phone for a moment. “I did meet a woman?—”
“Of course you did.” Luke’s chuckle floats through the air.
“Ha, ha. No, this one tried to get me to take her home, but I passed for various reasons. If I had to guess, I’d say she was the one who tipped off the press.”
“It doesn’t matter who did it, you know. Fact is, your whereabouts are now out to the public. Do you want me to send Elias?”
Security. I sigh. “No. I enjoy being able to move around without having someone tagging along two feet behind me. I don’t want to have to deal with that here.”
“All right. But if there are any more issues, we’ll revisit.”
“Sounds good.” An inexplicable need to spill the beans about how I’m feeling about Jenna rises, which I squash. Luke’s become my “good acquaintance,” but he’s not my friend. Ever since Curtiss fucked me over with Lissa in high school, no “friends” are needed in my world.
Luke intrudes on my thoughts. “While I have you on the phone, I do have some band business we need to discuss.”
“Sure. Shoot.” Perhaps this will take my mind off the woman upstairs.
“You know Chico, our guitar tech?”
“Of course I do. He’s fucking brilliant.”
“And leaving.” Luke lets this sink in for a moment. “He just gave his two weeks’ notice.”
We’ve always treated him well—what on earth made him want to leave? “I can’t believe it. Did he say why?”
“His girlfriend’s pregnant.”
Good Lord . “Better him than me.” Truer words were never spoken. “Do you think he can transition the position to a new tech before he leaves?”
“Yeah, that’s the upside. If I arrange for some interviews, do you think you could do them with me when you get back? I’ll be sure to let the candidates know this position starts immediately.”
My mind replays Jenna complaining about hiring new physical therapists. How she hates the process. Once again, I’m grateful I don’t have to deal with any preliminary shit. “Sounds good to me.”
“Will you be ready to perform for the tour? When are you planning on getting here?”
I run my fingers through my hair. “If I had to go onstage tonight, I’d fall flat on my face. It was a long, fucking day, thanks to the press. However, before tonight, I would have said I was making progress. I’m starting to be able to move laterally.” I smirk, remembering how Jenna described the exercises.
“That’s something. I guess we can be happy this isn’t a boy band of the nineties with choreography. You only have to stand and walk across the stage.” He chuckles. “I’m sure your fans wouldn’t mind keeping you in one place for a bit.”
“I hope you’re right. I still have a limp sometimes, but I’m sure I can play it off. It’s the sudden moves that get me.”
“Well, you still have a few days left to rehab. Use the time wisely.”
So long as I’m ready to hit the stage on day one. “I will.”
“Hey,” he interrupts me as I’m about to end the call. “Know I’m on your side, B. If I could change the dates, I would. We can make sure you ice it—or whatever you do—all the time except for when you have to be onstage. The rest of the guys are ready to help, too. We got your back.”
His words sink into my heart for a moment, then bounce off when my mother asserts herself, mocking me for getting injured in the first place. I’m nothing more than a meal ticket to Luke, who doesn’t want his cash cow to give him curdled milk.
“I hear you. Have a good one.” I kill the call.
I collapse onto the pillow and close my eyes. In the morning, I’ll get the PR team’s plan for how to address the media and will discuss it with Jenna.
My physical therapist .
I only wish I still considered her Darren’s ex. No, Jenna’s so much more—kind, caring, capable, insightful, sweet. She understands me like no one else ever has. She encourages me to try to dip my big toe in the friendship pool. She makes me want to be a better man.
I huff a sigh. Things are about to get messy.