41. Evelyn
41
Evelyn
“ I need more time,” I say. The remains of a crumbling log crunch under my sneaker as I walk through it and further up the trail. The ground is littered with fallen leaves, softening the sound of my footsteps. Overhead the clouds have completely claimed the sky and rain has started to fall and darken the earth.
“I—” Vincent sighs and a lump forms in my throat.
“Please.”
“Evelyn, I want to give it to you, but you know I’m not the one making the calls. Reverb has been breathing down my neck as is, waiting for the album and for you to agree to take Lyla public.” He sounds exhausted. He’s done so much for me already, still I’m desperate for this.
“I just need a few months. That’s it. I need to be able to get some things figured out first.” The words come out in a flurry and heat builds behind my eyes. I’m alone on the trail, so at least there’s no one to see me cry over my own stupid decisions.
All I am is pathetic, begging for a chance to do damage control.
“I’ll see what I can do. No promises,” Vincent says, and I know he’ll ask even if we both know the answer.
We’ve reached the point of no return and it’s all my fault.
The first year of being Lyla West was a dream. I was on top of the world, feeling I tricked an industry well known for exploitation. I had my friends, and I had music; neither had to impact the other. God, I was so stupid. So stupid and na?ve. I didn’t trick anyone, except myself into believing that it would work. And ever since I’ve felt like I’ve been trying to win a race, but I’m the only participant. So, even if I win, I’m also destined to lose.
I had so many chances back then to say something. But now, even if my career choice doesn’t change things between me and the people I care about the most, I can’t change that I’ve spent years hiding things from them. What’s worse is I don’t know if I can let music go. Then there’s this part of me that’s desperate for the damage to be worth it, for it all to work out because if it doesn’t, that’s further proof of how stupid I was in the first place.
I just need to—
My phone chimes.
Quinn
Kind of fucked up
Thought you told Garrett already
“Shit.” My toe catches on a rock sending me sprawling. Rough earth digs into my knees, my skin stinging. My phone flies from my hand, tumbling down the trail and thudding against a protruding boulder. A laugh rips from my throat, ugly and feral. Hot tears leak from my eyes, mixing with the cold rain that has started to pick up in intensity.
Of course. If I’m not careful I’ll prove my mom right and get lost out here too. Now, wouldn’t that be the perfect way to end the day? I don’t bother getting up. I just keep letting out my emotions until my throat is scratched raw and my jacket is fully dampened with rain.
The thudding of rapidly approaching footsteps breaks the moment and I go silent as my heart races. This is a popular trail, but with the gloomy weather I haven’t seen anyone else out here. I’m alone out here and whoever is coming my way is moving fast. I scramble on my hands and knees to retrieve my phone. Shit.
“If you are a serial killer, please give me a head start! I just had a shitty phone call, so if you could give me a fighting chance that would be great,” I say, still a bit slap-happy from being battered by the current state of my life.
A shadowy form turns the corner, and my damn body stays in place.
Move Evelyn. Move.
“Evelyn, why the fuck would you say that if you really thought I was a serial killer? Do you have a fucking death wish?” Garrett says. His chest heaves as he gasps for breath. Damp strands of hair are plastered to his forehead. And speckles of rain have collected on the lenses of his glasses.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, then my attention lands on his clothing. “Are you wearing an apron?”
“I came from Butter Half. I ran into—”
“Quinn and Oliver, I heard.” Shit. Shit. Shit.
He closes the distance between us, his hands coming up to cup my cheeks. There’s a frantic, almost feverish, look in his eyes I’ve never seen before.
“I’d get it,” he says then takes a deep inhale. “I need you to know that I’d understand if you chose him. But I really don’t want you to and maybe I’m a terrible person for saying this, but I can’t fucking lose you, Eve.” The words rush out of him in a torrent like now that he has his hands on me he can no longer contain them. And he’s saying my name in that way that makes me feel like the center of his universe. “Not now that I have you after so long. I can’t. Give me a chance.”
My hand falls over his. “I don’t understand?”
“Oliver’s single and you’re out here in the woods by yourself? Of course you’re considering it.”
“Garrett, look at me,” I say. “You said you wanted to be with me. Did that change?”
“I do, but that doesn’t mean you owe me anything. I want you to be happy and I want you to stay, but I won’t assume those are the same thing.” He shakes his head and squints his eyes shut as he spirals, that logical mind of his battling his desires.
“This is me telling you that me being with you and me being happy are the same thing,” I say calmly.
This man, who is so used to being left behind, thought it was happening again and ran to me in the pouring rain to tell me this. He thought he wasn’t enough, even though he’s the only thing keeping me intact. I make a silent promise to myself that even if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make him see that he is worth staying for. Worth keeping.
My heart melts in my chest. I wish I could carve it out and hand it to him so he could see how completely it belongs to him.
“And I want to believe that. But he’s a guy you’ve literally written love songs about. He’s stable and good. Fuck,” he says, pressing his forehead against mine. “I hate that I like the guy, but I do. And the only reason I have to hate him is because he has a shot with you.”
“He doesn’t have a shot with me. That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” I insist. “And you’re right. I came here for something like that. But I was wrong, I was chasing disaster. Despite that, I found you. Maybe you’re not used to it, maybe I need to say it more, but Garrett, you’re the only person on my mind. Maybe you’re used to people walking away. But I’ve told you a time or two that I’m a bit obsessive, and I’m completely and utterly consumed by you.” I reach up and swipe at a damp strand of his hair. “I’m pretty damn sure you’re my happiest possible ending.”
“You really think I can give you that? Your happiest possible ending?”
“Yes. There is no one better for me than you.” I barely utter the word before his lips crush against mine. His tongue coaxes my mouth open then glides against mine.
I pull back for a moment and slip off his glasses then tuck them into the collar of his shirt. His eyes are blown with lust and something softer. That part of him that is all mine. And I’m not sure I can grasp the reality of how precious that truly is.
My hands slide up his arms to land in his hair. I pull, and he grunts then nips at my lower lip before pressing a hot kiss behind my ear. He guides me backward until tree bark digs into my back as I thud against the tree. The bite of the uneven surface pressing through my clothes is a good type of pain, the type that keeps you in the moment.
I grind against him, and he hoists me up so my legs are wrapped around his waist and his hands are cupping my ass. Each time I circle my hips, he lets loose a new delicious sound.
“Eve. You’re everything. The best damn thing that’s ever fucking happened to me.” Garrett pants against the side of my neck. “I waited for so long. I used to think about that party all the time. And it nearly killed me when you showed up here, but I’m so glad you did.”
“The party?” I ask, still swept up in the press of him between my thighs. It takes a moment to register what party he’s talking about, then it shifts into place—the album release.
“Seeing you on that rooftop. I meant every single word I said at the farm. You were the most spectacular thing I’d ever seen. I was gone then, maybe even before.” His eyes search mine and he grows impossibly still beneath me as he waits for my reaction.
“I thought I annoyed the shit out of you,” I admit.
“You have always been the only person who’s terrified me to get close to because I knew the moment we did, I’d either have you or lose you forever. You’re not someone I could risk losing.” He reaches out and twirls a loose hair around his finger then slips it behind my ear.
I’m glad he’s holding me because if he wasn’t, I’m sure I’d have to sit down. That long? He’s wanted me for years. I can’t fathom it. I’ve always felt so temporary in all my relationships, like I was always on the verge of messing up and disappointing whoever I was with if I showed too much of myself. But for Garrett, who has known me through nearly two decades, to want me? It overwhelms me with relief.
“You have me. You won’t lose me,” I promise with a steady assurance that I’ve been longing to feel.
“Thank God.” His face nestles into the crook of my neck, and he takes in a heaving breath that reverberates through me.
I shift and the friction of the seam reignites the building ache to be touched by him. “Garrett. I want you here. I don’t want to wait until we get back.”
“Evelyn, are you saying…” Garrett starts to ask then trails off. His hand trails around my thigh to pull at the waistband of my pants.
“Yes,” I moan. I want all of him right now. I need to feel him too. I writhe against his erection to provide further confirmation.
“Baby, are you really going to let me fuck you against this tree?”
“Only if you hurry up.”
He eases me to the ground then grips my waist and turns me so I’m facing the tree and my palms land hard, pressing into the bark to brace myself. At the sound of his zipper, a mental image of him quickly comes to mind, and I arch my back, pushing my ass out in anticipation. Now. I need this now.
A hand settles on my stomach, slipping down slowly before landing on the button of my jeans. I shift, ready to lift my hands and tear off the pants myself.
“If either of your hands leave that tree I’ll stop. You’re going to come on my cock, and I’m going to be the one to undress you. Understood?” His rough voice makes my stomach dip with pleasure and anticipation. A weight lands on my back as he leans over me.
“Yes.” My thighs clench and it’s an effort to keep them apart so he can slip my pants and underwear down to catch around my thighs. The cool air and rain kiss my hot sensitive skin, adding a new welcome sensation to the mix.
A thick finger spreads me and teases my entrance before it sinks into me. I rock my hips back and grind my ass against the hard length of his cock as he works me into a frenzy. When I demand more, he adds another finger. His other hand joins rubbing my clit.
It’s all so much. The edges of the bark against my skin. The prospect of getting caught sends my heart racing. The rain. Him.
Him.
“Garrett. Fuck me. I need you right now.” I beg.
I hold my breath, gasping as he presses into me. Slow, achingly slow, ensuring that I’ll always crave the feel of him. One of his hands lands over mine, tangling with my fingers, my callouses scraping against the tree. He thrusts sharply, intentionally.
“You could ask me to do anything, and I would,” he rasps as he drives into me. “Anything.”
“You’re mine,” I promise. “Only you can make me feel so good.”
Teeth skate against the back of my neck as he whimpers. “Fuuuuck.”
His thrusts pick up speed, wild and messy. Fingers dig into the soft dip of my hip then let go to snake up the shirt plastered to my skin. He strips it away, reaching up to palm my breast and squeeze. The act wrings a groan of delight from deep in my throat.
With a final press against my clit, my thighs shake and the orgasm washes through me. I squeeze my eyes shut and sparks of light play against the back of my eyelids as I cry out his name. “Garrett!”
He fucks me through it, then slows as if to draw out this moment. Like no matter how many times we do this, he’ll never get tired of me.
I hold my hands to the heating vents as Garrett drives my car. We left his truck in the parking lot to pick up in the morning because its heating isn’t nearly as good. The rain started coming down in white sheets as we came down the trail and we’re both in desperate need of a hot shower. Both of us have stripped down to our underwear and are wrapped in blankets from my trunk.
“Holy fuck. If we ever do that again, let’s check the weather first.” I shiver.
Garrett’s mouth quirks into a smirk. “As I recall there was very little planning involved with what we just did. Why were you out here anyway?”
“I was calling Vincent,” I say. “I went out there to think and I ended up calling him to see if there was a way to extend my contract.”
I’ve told Garrett about the album, but not the rest. Not on purpose, but I didn’t want to face it, so I pretended it wasn’t going to happen. Very healthy, like the rest of my coping mechanisms.
“Why do you need to do that?” he asks, eyes flicking to me then back to the road.
“Because after this, either the world learns I’m Lyla or I say goodbye to all of it. I think if I can get a little more time, I can figure it out, but I already know that won’t happen. Vincent is great at his job, but the label execs have been subtly hinting at this for a while.”
“That second day here, that’s what the call was about?” he asks.
“Yeah, they want all of me. But I can’t help feeling I’ll disappoint everyone.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I’m a nepo-sibling who talks too much. They like my music, but after five years of waiting there’s no way that I’ll live up to that.”
“Fuck them.”
“What?” My face pinches with confusion.
“You heard me. Fuck them. You’re my favorite person, Eve. And if they don’t like you, they’re wrong. Make music and be happy if that’s what you want,” he says with a firm conviction that sets free a swarm of butterflies in my stomach.
For a moment it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, because he believes in me.
“I don’t know, that sounds great but doesn’t change the rest with all the lies I’ve told.”
“It doesn’t. That’s a risk you’ll have to take if you want it. Do you?”
“I don’t know. Nothing seems right. I feel like I’ve been waiting for a third option to just fall in my lap, and it hasn’t. I can’t keep waiting, but whatever I choose is going to define everything.” I shrug, I wish I could give him a better answer.
“Not everything. Whatever you choose. What we have, that will stay the same,” he promises. His hand reaches over to squeeze mine.