Skylar
Having nowhere else to go, I march down the hall to Chandler’s suite. I mutter a curse when I realize I don’t have a keycard.
Fortunately—or not—Chandler pops up a moment later. “Want to talk about it?”
The look I fire his way conveys my answer.
Giving me a tight nod, he unlocks the door. “Understood.”
I head for the living room, but he steps into my path, blocking me. “Please don’t do anything drastic.” His expression goes from uneasy to stern. “You know as well as I do that Josh will fall apart without you. And if he falls apart…so does the rest of the band.”
Is he serious right now?
Josh not only relapsed, destroying every ounce of hope I had, but I caught him in our bed with another girl. Yet this jerk has the balls to stand here lecturing me about doing what’s best for the band?
“Jesus Christ.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s not the one you’re mad at, dear,” Grams calls out.
Leaving Chandler in the dust, I join her in the kitchen and have a seat at the table. “Sorry, Grams.”
While the woman couldn’t be further from a nun, she has a soft spot for the big man upstairs.
Bending over, she pulls a pan out of the oven. I get a whiff of my favorite dessert. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
A perturbed Chandler enters the kitchen, but Grams immediately points to the door. “Out.”
Unaccustomed to someone else calling the shots, he bristles. “But this is my—”
“Out.”
Realizing arguing with the woman is a losing battle, he scrams.
Grams dishes out a large slice of cobbler and places it in front of me. “We can talk about it, or we can eat our feelings.”
I promptly grab a fork and shove some cobbler into my mouth. “Option two.”
Because talking about it won’t change anything. And as much as Chandler bombarding me pissed me off, he was only speaking the truth.
Josh would fall apart without me—or worse—and it would undoubtedly cause a ripple effect that would impact all of us.
I’m beyond livid, but I could never do that to the people I’m beginning to consider my family.
Humming to herself, Grams sets the rest of the cobbler between us and takes a seat next to me.
I’m chewing my second bite when my thoughts drift to Memphis.
I walked away from you too, Sky.
Over the years my mind has gone back and forth between wondering if he truly meant what he said about it only being sex…or if he was saving face—and his heart—because he felt the same thing I did.
I often convince myself it’s the former because it’s far more bearable than the latter.
But every so often there are these moments when our gazes collide…and for three short breathtaking seconds…the entire world stops.
Because even though I had chosen Josh…
My heart chose him.
And just like that, his callous words from last night echo in my head again, reminding me those three short seconds are based on my own longing rather than reality.
Memphis is the type of guy who goes after what he wants and doesn’t stop until it’s his.
Which means if he truly wanted me…I’d know it.
On edge, I stab the baked good, wishing it was his stupid gorgeous face.
“Mixed signals are the freaking worst. He says one thing, but does another.”
“Well, you know what they say.” When I look at her, she adds, “Actions speak louder than words.”
I snort. “I’ll say.”
He makes me cobbler. Tends to my wounds. Chases away my demons.
A painful spasm spreads throughout my chest.
Fucks me in a bathroom…then pretends like I don’t exist.
I shovel more cobbler into my mouth, attempting to fill the void expanding inside me. “He’s a walking contradiction.”
She takes a sip of her coffee. “We all contradict ourselves at some point. It’s part of being human.”
Frustrated, I put my fork down. “Then how am I supposed to know what’s real?”
Because while I understand what she means, it only makes it that much harder to figure out which actions of his are authentic and which aren’t.
She gives me a pointed look over the rim of her mug. “Sometimes the why is more important than the what, honey.”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know the why.” I draw invisible patterns in the table with my pointer finger. “I mean, I know what he told me, but his actions don’t always line up with that. Hence the whole walking contradiction thing.”
Grams places her mug down as she contemplates this. “Well, in my experience, we tend to contradict ourselves when we’re fighting an internal battle because our head and heart are at odds.”
That makes sense, but it doesn’t make it any less exasperating. “Yeah, but—”
“I’m assuming you booked your plane ticket already,” she interjects.
“Plane ticket for what?”
“To go home, dear.” Side-eyeing me, she takes a sip of her coffee. “It sure sounded like you were going to leave his cheating ass for good this time.”
My stomach twists with dread. I can’t exactly tell her why I’m eternally indebted to Josh.
“It’s not that simple,” I settle on, my uneasiness now turning to shame.
She probably thinks I’m some weak doormat who’s only sticking around for the money.
Little does she know.
Patting my hand, she nods in understanding. “It never is.” She holds my gaze. “However, I can’t help but wonder…”
“Wonder what?” I ask when her voice trails off.
“What makes you think it’s so simple for him?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out…
Because I have absolutely no argument for that.
Guilt plucks at my insides. I expected Memphis to not only understand—but accept—my situation with Josh when I approached him about being friends with benefits.
But I never extended the same courtesy to him when he turned me down.
I was too busy feeling disparaged. Hurt.
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on the table. “I keep making mistakes.”
So. Many. Mistakes.
“Oh, honey. I have shapewear older than you.” When I give her a questioning look, she states, “I’d be more worried if you weren’t making mistakes at your age.”
Her words should bring me comfort, but they don’t.
I’ve always been a people pleaser and—despite knowing I couldn’t be further from flawless—a perfectionist who excels when it comes to fixing other people’s messes.
Realizing I’m striking a match and lighting my life on fire just so I can feel the heat is a big sliver of humble pie I wasn’t prepared for.
Expression serious, she squeezes my arm. “Mistakes are okay to make when they help you figure out what you want.”
That painful spasm returns with a vengeance.
I know exactly what I want.
The same thing I used to pray for when I was a little girl looking up at the stars.
“I just want to be happy, Grams.”
The kind of happy that makes me wake up with a smile on my face…and fall asleep with the same smile.
For the same exact reason.
Because I feel wanted.
And cherished.
And so loved I’m drowning in the depths of it.
She wipes away the tear rolling down my cheek. “You’ll find your way there…one day.”
I hope so.
Clearing my throat, I rise from my chair. “I’m gonna go for a walk and clear my head.” Leaning down, I smack a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you for the talk…and the cobbler. It was delicious as always.”
“You’re welcome, sweet pea.”
I’m almost out of the kitchen when I hear it.
“Although I can’t take all the credit. Memphis requested cobbler for breakfast.”
Damn him.
Squeezing whatever’s still left in the bottle, I add more soap to the bubble bath I’ve been soaking in for the past three hours.
I’m reaching for a washcloth when there’s a knock on the door. “Are you coming to bed?”
Just the sound of Josh’s voice sets my teeth on edge.
“Go fuck yourself.”
He’d have a much better shot at hooking up with Grams than getting me to sleep in the same bed he screwed his little groupie in.
“Come on, baby,” he pleads, as if me locking myself in a bathroom all night somehow inconveniences him. “I’m sorry.”
The only thing he’s sorry for is getting caught.
And yet…I’m still here.
Closing my eyes, I sink down in the tub until my head is submerged under water.
Because he’s all I have.
Because sometimes I still see glimpses of that little boy when I look at him.
Because he killed my monster.
I’m drowning all right…but not in love.
In the choices I’ve made.
My trauma.
His empty words and broken promises.
My lungs burn, but the fundamental need for air wins out. “I don’t want to talk to you. Leave me alone.”
“Fine.” He sighs in defeat. “I’m going to bed.”
Good riddance, douchebag.
A cool draft wafts across the bathroom, causing my already pruney skin to break out in goose bumps.
Feeling around for the plug, I drain some of the cold water and turn the faucet on hot.
Spending the entire night soaking in a bubble bath seemed like a great idea three hours ago, but now I’m having reservations.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I lay my head against the edge of the tub.
God, how I miss my treehome.
And him.
The asshole exasperates me to no end, but he also makes me smile bigger than anyone else on the planet.
My mind wanders to the conversation I had with Grams this morning. Specifically, something she said.
“What makes you think it’s so simple for him?”
I assumed I was the one who had the most to lose when I offered Memphis no-strings-attached sex, but now I realize that couldn’t be further from the truth.
Not only is Josh his brother, he’s also his bandmate.
Once upon a time, they used to be close, but ever since Josh found out about us things have been strained between them.
So strained the two only talk if it’s band related.
Another thought occurs to me then.
Josh told me to stay away from Memphis…
Who’s to say he didn’t tell Memphis the same thing?
Not only would that explain why he’s avoided me like the plague for years, but why he turned me down.
Having sex with me—again—would not only ruin the tiny thread their relationship is hanging on to…
It has the potential to destroy all his dreams.
Memphis is arguably the most talented person in the world, but he’s part of an equally extraordinary team.