Chapter 35
Jodi Castle
Nash couldn’t look at her. Leastways not when she was looking at him, something Jodi found herself doing a lot during the journey north.
They didn’t talk, and when they had to interact, a cold edge tainted his words that left her permanently on edge.
It didn’t take long for the rest of the Ghost Boys to clock on to their disharmony.
“Something going on?” Lee asked her over hotdogs in Fl?m.
Jodi shook her head, not wanting to share the details, even though she’d have loved Lee’s wisdom.
“You know you can talk to me.”
But she couldn’t. Not about this. Not about her screwing up so badly.
All the details kept churning inside her head.
Everything she ought to have said and done.
The fact she ought to have stopped it. Should have left with Nash right after Paul propositioned them.
She’d known that staying would create issues, but she’d buried those thoughts, buried them deep in favour of satisfying the itch there in her brain that made her want Rock Giant instead of only wanting Nash.
Even now, that need still hadn’t gone away.
All her indulgence had confirmed was that she was every bit the monstrous screwup she’d ever been.
You couldn’t hide from yourself forever.
Bonus: no doubt both men now hated her, and everyone else would hate her too once they found out.
She hated herself.
All that time she’d spent raging against the labels her father and younger brother had accredited her with, and now she’d gone and proved them right.
“Worthless, lying cheating cunt.” The last words her father had ever said to her rang in her ears again.
“If you leave, you’d better not show your fat arse around here again. ”
She hadn’t. But that was all in the past, and there was trauma enough in her present that she didn’t need to open old wounds.
Did Nash even know the full extent of what she’d done?
Would his seething eventually lead him to break up with her? She could hardly blame him if he did. She’d done this to them. She’d proved she wasn’t decent wife material. But then, if he did, what would she do?
She couldn’t lose everything again, and if they split, she would—job, friends, family, security, all the support that kept her sane.
It’d be back to the tent, and much as she loved her tent, now she’d grown used to it, she loved the bus more.
There were definite benefits to solid walls.
Plus, this was where all those who were important to her were.
If he dumped her, there’d be no more touring.
No more Lee cuddles and Jez pep talks. No more Balin making her laugh until it hurt.
No more family and feeling like maybe she’d found somewhere she belonged.
It’d be back to relying on herself, and she was shit at that.
Left to her own devices, she always screwed up—faster than she did in company—her and the cats had barely got by the first time, scavenging and living on hedgerow produce.
“You okay, babe?” Balin sidled over while she was tidying her undies drawer and rested his head on her shoulder. “There a reason you’re stowing tea in your knickers? Hey, are you the one responsible for the toothpaste in the fridge?”
She couldn’t handle his closeness, even as she craved it, hence couldn’t bear to shake him off. “Did I do that? I’m sorry. My head’s a mess at the minute.”
She scooped the circular bags out from one of her bra cups and placed them on the edge of Lee’s bunk.
Now she was looking, at least a dozen bottle tops, a staple gun and a phone charging cable had also somehow ended up in the drawer.
Plus, one of Rock Giant’s baby hats. She’d have to figure out a way of returning that.
Babies would suffer otherwise, and she didn’t want the emotional burden of some tiny premature baby in the NICU suffering because she’d stolen its hat.
Balin seemed to be hovering around like he was waiting for her to say something. She didn’t have those words ready. He shifted. His movement making the floor creak.
“Yeah, we’ve kinda noticed, you’re a bit off. Are you going to tell your uncle Balin what it’s all about?”
He made it sound jokey, but she knew him well enough to detect the difference in tone between now and when he was actually mucking about. He was genuinely worried, and Balin rarely worried about anything.
“I take it the pair of you had an argument?”
“That obvious?”
God, her throat hurt.
“It’s the silent treatment and the wide berths you’re giving one another that’s the giveaway. And you know, the separate beds. Can you not just fuck and make up?”
Fucking was what had landed them in this position, and she didn’t just mean in terms of the other night.
Because really the problem was that they didn’t talk about anything.
The last weeks had consisted of blow up after blow up, followed by sorries and sex, but no discussion, no analysis, no time spent together working shit out.
Hence, nothing changed and nothing got resolved.
They just got shittier and the knots inside of her more complicated.
So complicated, that it never seemed worth the effort of picking at them to see if they could be unravelled.
It was easier to pretend they weren’t there.
That everything was peachy, and if they said, ‘I love you’ and talked about wedding dates, that would be enough.
But it wasn’t enough.
Not when she’d started to see how different things could be, but she didn’t see a fix either, other than attempting to talk to him, but honestly, that seemed like a conversation that was rife with landmines and Nash blew up over the slightest thing.
Irrelevant, anyway, given he wouldn’t occupy the same space as her for more than five seconds.
So, she was both stuck and fucked.
“Jo, please? Seriously, please. Can you not just forgive him for whatever shit he’s done?
He’s our frontman, and we need him on top form.
The next gig’s only a couple of days away, and he’s completely off his game.
I know he’s always a scrappy little bitch, but Christ, I don’t need my head bitten off every time I so much as look at him.
Jo-Jo, please. If we attempt to wow a Black Halo crowd at the minute, we’ll be laughed off the stage. ”
“I’m not sure sex is going to fix it, Balin.”
He scoffed. “Of course it will.”
Sorrier than he’d ever know, she shook her head.
Was it nice living in a land where you didn’t have to worry about complex emotions or anything outside of the here and now, like he did?
Balin never seemed burdened with the same sort of emotional baggage as the rest of them. But it had to be lonely, too, right?
Dammit, she knew it was. She’d lived that life.
Him having his fun was the exact same thing she’d done back in her past. Taking off with something that wasn’t hers and putting it through its paces, only to abandon it and walk away at the end of the night.
Problem was, once the fun was done, and the adrenaline high wore off, you were still alone.
“Then just forgive him. Let him say, sorry, or whatever.”
“What should I forgive him for, Balin?” She closed the drawer. Further organisation could wait until later.
Balin lifted his head from her shoulder and rested his chin there instead. The point of it dug uncomfortably into her shoulder. “Ain’t this about him watching me? I figured it was, and he implied it was about him watching me.”
Evidently Nash was being circumspect with the truth. Perhaps that oughtn’t to be so surprising given the circumstances.
“I’ve told him that he should cool it for a while—”
“It’s not about that.”
“—maybe concentrate on. Wait. It’s not?”
“No.”
“You’re not mad at him and me over what went down in Bergen?”
She stilled, gaze fastened on her hands and the hat she’d stretched over them, flashes of that moment upstairs on the Black Halo bus intermingling with the present.
She shoved the piece of crochet into the drawer and closed it tight.
NICU babies had more than one source of hats, one going astray wouldn’t matter.
“I’m mad at myself.”
“Huh?” Balin circled around her and squeezed in between her and the bunks.
That close there was no avoiding his presence.
She let her gaze fall to the easy viewing that was his chest. It was never difficult to figure out why people went for him.
He was exactly the right mix of groomed and rugged.
Pretty, too, with his dark hair and even darker eyes.
“Jo? I’m not following. Unless you’re saying you overreacted. In which case sorry will fix it. Did you? You know him having a fetish isn’t any sort of slight against you?”
“I know that, Balin.”
She also knew in her soul that was a lie. That she was having her emotions manipulated by Nash, and—possibly unwittingly—by Balin.
“Good.” He flashed her a smile, which faded just as fast as it’d appeared. “Are you sure you know that? I promise he loves you, and I know we had that earlier conversation, but he’s not cheating on you.”
No. The cheater was her. Nash just got off on bending the rules and her to his will.
Would Balin be so eager for them to fix things if he knew the truth?
What would he say if she mentioned they were in this position because Nash had decided watching her and Rock Giant was a fantabulous idea and she’d foolishly agreed, and then when Nash had lost control of the situation and changed the rules, she’d gone a step further and took a hammer to the very idea of them by shagging his rival?
“It’s been forty-eight hours. Isn’t that enough wallowing?”
Two days. Was that it? It felt so much longer.