Fully Automatic (Bullet) (40 page)

It didn’t escape his notice that no one wanted to eat.

As he sipped at the liquid, he talked with his friends, but he wasn’t really paying attention.  His mind was on Ethan, and if his friend made it out of this shit, they were going to have a long conversation, because he couldn’t keep doing this.  It was fucking killing him.

Chapter Forty-seven

THAT AFTERNOON, ONLY Brad was allowed to see Ethan.  The nurse he’d gotten firm with before said, “It’s because you’re his brother, sir.”  The look in her eyes told Brad that he had to follow along with the story—if he said anything about not really being Ethan’s brother, the jig was up.  “These other people aren’t family.”

It was stupid, and he could have kicked his own ass for saying it, but he couldn’t stop the words from flying out of his mouth.  “What about Val?  She’s his fiancée.  Shouldn’t she be allowed to see him?”

Val looked up at him, but her acting skills were superb.  Instead of protesting or denying it or even looking shocked, she got a look of indignation on her face, challenging the nurse to tell her no.  The nurse nodded and Brad suspected she might have been onto them but agreed nonetheless.  She wrote Val’s name down and then led them both to ICU, and—once they were there—introduced them to the nurses in charge who then told Val and Brad a list of dos and don’ts.  They weren’t allowed to spend much time with Ethan, and there were only certain hours they could be there.

Brad asked, “What’s next?  I mean…is he in a coma or what?”

The pale thin-lipped nurse sitting at the desk gave him a look.  “Yes, he’s in a coma.”  Brad didn’t say anything, but he had more questions.  She saw that in his eyes and said, “He’ll be in ICU until the doctor says he’s stable enough to be moved.”

“But how long will he be like this?”

She shrugged.  She wasn’t unsympathetic, but her words were clipped and cold.  “There no way of telling.  He could wake up from it in the next five minutes, or it could be five years from now.”

Brad’s heart sunk, but he put his arm around Val’s shoulders
, and they went in to spend as much time with Ethan as they could.

The guy looked like shit. 
His skin was almost white, making the dark circles under his eyes all the more noticeable.  His cheeks looked sunken in, even though Ethan hadn’t lost any weight recently.  Val started crying when she saw him and sat in the one chair in the room, pulling it up close to the bed.  She took Ethan’s hand in hers.

It destroyed him, seeing her in such pain over something stupid and foolish Ethan had once again selfishly done to himself, and he couldn’t do a goddamn thing to make her feel better.  He rested his hand on her shoulder and squeezed, hoping to comfort her.

But then he felt a cold shiver worm its way up his spine.  No.  He wasn’t hurting just because of Val’s helpless feelings or because Ethan had done this to himself.  It started to dawn on him that there was a lot more going on here, and that realization felt like a hot knife in the chest as soon as it hit him.

Val still loved Ethan.

* * *

The next day they moved Ethan to another room, but he was dead to the world.  Before that, though, Brad sent Zane and Nick to the hotel.  They were in charge of checking them out of their rooms, Val’s included.

They were all in the room with Ethan when he was first moved to it.  Because it was during visiting hours, they were all allowed in the room, but the new nurse in charge made it clear that only Brad and Val could be there once visiting hours were over, and
only
if they didn’t get in the way.  Brad didn’t see how they
could
be in the way.  A nurse came by once in a while to check his vitals and the IV drip, but that was it.

There was another bed in the room.  It was empty for now, but Brad knew another person could be put in the room at any time.  He knew it was because the hospital had no idea how they were going to pay Ethan’s bill
(aside from Brad’s signature on some papers), and a semi-private room was cheaper than one alone.

When Nick and Zane were told to leave, Val asked, “Brad, should we call June?”

Brad had already thought of it.  There was no reason to tell her, because her knowledge wouldn’t change a thing.  The only thing it would do to his mom would be to make her worry.  And he wasn’t ready.  “She’d flip out, Val…and there’s really nothing she can do.”

“But what if he stays in the coma forever, Brad, and we don’t tell her?  Then what?”

“And how the hell do you think she could even get here?”

“The same way we did.”

He relented.  She was right—his mother should know.  But he hoped to give Ethan time to wake up.  He was torn.  “I’ll make you a deal.  If he’s still like this in a week, I’ll call her.”  Val seemed satisfied with the answer.  He asked, “You wanna come with us to get something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry.”

And that was the answer he got from her every time he asked her to eat a meal.  He started bringing food to the room, though—a slice of toast or a banana from the cafeteria.  She’d eat at it without even paying attention, but she did eat, in spite of her insistence that she wasn’t hungry.

When it was evident that Ethan wasn’t going to wake up anytime soon, Brad gave Nick and Zane a wad of cash and asked them to find a cheap ass motel with two beds and a shower.  That way they could sleep and shower when they needed to.

He called his boss on the second day, because he was scheduled for work the following day and, even if Ethan miraculously awakened that afternoon, there was no way in hell they’d make it back in time or that Brad would be in any shape to work.  His boss was cool about it but asked him to keep in touch.  He also canceled their shows for the following weekend, because even if Ethan was okay by then, he probably wouldn’t be ready to perform.  He’d need some time to himself.

But Brad
didn’t know how long he could keep all their lives on hold.

Val continued refusing to leave Ethan’s side as the days wore on
, and it became evident that he wasn’t just going to sit up in bed and start talking.  Brad knew what was going through Val’s mind.  She was feeling guilty.  She thought that if she and Brad hadn’t spent the night together, she somehow could have saved Ethan.  Or, just like the thought he’d entertained himself, maybe she believed that Ethan
knew
what had happened with them and done it on purpose.

It was possible.  It was something Brad had considered more than once.

It seemed like forever ago now, but he was sure he remembered them kissing in the suite, and that was what had prompted him to put her off and make her pissed off.  Ethan could have seen that.  And then he felt chills, because Ethan had, just that evening, been telling Val how much he loved her and wanted to get back with her.  If Ethan had seen what had transpired between his best friend and the woman he apparently still loved, he very well could have decided to overdose.  Ethan took everything in life hard,
everything
, and it was a possibility.

Yeah, Ethan made his own choices (and they were shitty choices at that), but if Brad and Val had pushed him over the edge like that?

God, that revelation hurt.  It hurt badly.  And he was never going to say a word to Val about it.  It would be something he kept to himself for eternity.

* * *

A couple of days later, Brad, Nick, and Zane came back to the room, having finished breakfast, loaded with a couple of snacks for Val.  When they walked in, Val was holding a cup of water up to Ethan’s mouth, her hand resting behind his neck.

Brad freaked out at first, thinking Val had finally gone over the edge.  The woman hadn’t bathed in days
, had hardly eaten a thing, and looked like hell.  If that wasn’t guilt, he didn’t know what was.  But when he first walked in, he was convinced she was fooling herself into pretending he was awake and was forcing water down his throat.  As he got closer, though, he saw that Ethan’s eyes
were
open.  He whispered to Nick to ask him to get a nurse.  And it wasn’t long before they were all whisked out of the room so the staff could tend to Ethan.

Relief washed over Brad
, and he excused himself to find a restroom.  He found a tiny one down the hall that looked like one used for urinalyses.  He locked the door and let the past week’s emotions overtake him.  He hadn’t cried like that since he’d been a kid, and he hoped he never would again, but he had a lot of shit to let go and no punching bag around to beat the shit out of, so he sat on the toilet, rested his arm against the sink, dropped his head on his arm, and let it all out.

Somehow, he knew his life would never be the same.

* * *

They got back to Denver and tried to settle back into a routine, but it felt fake to Brad.  None of them talked about it.  Yeah, he understood that they felt relief that Ethan had pulled through, and it was a horrible thing, but no one wanted to talk about it.  It was tucked away in a seemingly safe place.

It was like a time bomb.

Brad wanted some reassurances.  He was at the end of his rope.  Ethan was his brother and a brilliant musician, but Brad didn’t want to wonder and worry when the next time would be.

He felt like he was walking on eggshells, and he considered calling another team meeting to talk about what had transpired.  But then he thought first that he should talk to Nick to see how he felt.  Nick was the most reasonable of the bunch, the one most likely to tell him what he thought.  So when he caught Nick outside the apartment after work, he asked him to take a walk.  He was still wearing his work coveralls, but he needed to feel everyone out.  “How you feeling?”

“What do you mean?”

“The past few weeks have been pretty emotional.  You holding up okay, man?”

“Yeah.”  Nick shrugged.  He was quiet for a little bit but then said, “Things have been a little weird, though.”

“Yeah.”  He cleared his throat.  “I was thinking about calling a meeting.”

“You think that would help?”

Brad took a deep breath.  “Honestly?  I have no fucking idea.  But…I hate the idea of waiting for the next time, you know?  I’d like a promise from Ethan that we’re done with this phase of our lives.”

“You don’t really think he’d make a promise like that, do you?”

“No.  Wishful thinking.”

They walked in silence for a minute and then Nick said, “You know what’s going on with Val and Ethan, right?”

A ringing started in his ears, and he felt dread as a shiver tickled his spine.  He knew he wasn’t going to like what Nick had to say, but he needed to know.  “What?”

Nick stopped walking and Brad turned to face him.  “I’m only telling you this because it’s only fair to you.  I’m not sure what all is or was going on between you and Val, but I don’t want—anyway, uh…Ethan proposed to Val.”

It felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.  When he got his bearings, he sucked in a deep breath of air.  Had he heard Nick right?  “What?”

“Ethan asked Val to marry him.  I, uh…don’t know if it’s totally official yet, but…”

Brad couldn’t hear him after that, and it felt as though the world turned black.  He already knew.  If Ethan proposed, he knew Val accepted.  He felt numb.

Somehow he had the presence of mind to say, “Don’t say anything about me and Val to Ethan.  That shit’s over.”

“Yeah.  No way.  It’s not like she was cheating on him.”

Brad felt like he was going to throw up.  He grew quiet, walking
back to the apartment with Nick, but his mind was trying to find a way to deal with the worst news it had ever received.

Chapter Forty-eight

BRAD SAT AT the bar nursing the mug of beer.  His forearm still stung, but it was a temporary irritation he’d grown used to over the years.

He thought back over the past two hours.  He’d been sitting in a chair getting new ink.  He’d asked his tattoo artist to design a new one for him, something that had been begging to be part of his permanent story for a while.  So now he glanced down at his left forearm to look at the spot that stung—the representation of an arrow.  It looked much like what Brad imagined a Native American might have used hundreds of years ago.  It was beautiful and colorful and fit right in with all the other tattoos on his arm.

They all held meaning for him.  One of his first had become part of the montage on his upper right arm when he’d been eighteen.  It was a small banner that was a cliché, but it said
MOM
.  He’d shown it to his mother to soften the blow that her son had gotten an entire half sleeve of ink in less than two months.  Others were simply cool designs that became borders around and between the pictures.  Another in the initial half-sleeve was a bullet, meant to signify the first name of his band.  It was a cool tattoo…dark with no color.  Only his skin created the lighter areas of shading.  But he also had a tattoo of a revolver, and underneath it were the words
Fully Automatic
.  He’d had that one done just a month or so after meeting Val.  What was it about that woman?  What had it been about her then?  Sure, she was pretty, but for a while now he’d been surrounded by pretty girls who wanted to feel like they were dating a not-too-dangerous bad boy.  He’d never understood how he’d gotten that rep.  He had his suspicions, though.  The main reason was probably because he’d always hung out with Ethan, a guy who
had
earned the reputation…between his bouts with drugs, drinking, fighting, and a couple run-ins with the law in high school, not to mention the fact that he’d broken a lot of girls’ hearts too.  The only thing Ethan ever seemed to give a shit about were himself, his mom, and his guitar.  Brad sometimes.

So when Ethan had walked into Brad’s house with Valerie all those years ago, Brad had expected a girl
who was more Ethan’s flavor…trashy.  He’d never said anything and hated feeling judgmental, but Ethan wound up with skanky girls.  Valerie…she was different.  She was sweet, intelligent, friendly.  But, more than that and something he couldn’t understand, he felt like they had some kind of connection.  He’d been drawn to her from the moment she said
hi
and then stared at the beginnings of what would become a full sleeve on his right arm.

He knew they’d had…
something
, and for a long time both of them had just pretended it was a best friendship.  And they’d finally consummated that burning, consuming need they’d always had for each other and denied.  That was it, he’d thought. 
Finally
…years later, they could be together and no one—Ethan included, the guy who’d shit all over her and pissed away any chance he should have had—could say anything about it.

Brad downed another swig of beer.  Exactly how had it happened, though, that Valerie had once more wound up in his friend’s arms? 
But this time, they were engaged to be married.  Brad had figured out that Val still loved Ethan because she hadn’t left his side, not once, while he was in that goddamned coma.  She loved him in spite of the fact that the guy had jerked her around for way too long.  Brad had thought Valerie was really done with his friend.  She’d broken up with him, had finally had enough, had even dated a good guy who’d treated her well…a guy Brad would have hated to lose her to.  No, Brad hadn’t been too happy about that one either, but at least Jet had treated Valerie with love and respect.

So he’d spent the last week watching Ethan somehow pull her back, like she was a fish with a hook in her mouth.  And Brad realized then that what he’d told her all those years ago was true…that he’d wait for her, forever if need be.

What a fucking lovesick dumb ass.

While he’d been sitting in the chair earlier as his tattoo artist permanently colored his skin yet again, he looked at that arrow that he’d asked her to draw.  It signified what Valerie had done to him.  Somehow she’d struck him in the heart.  It felt like an arrow, piercing clean through, and if he pulled it out, he’d die.  He knew that.  So he’d be happy just so long as she was in his life.

He’d known Karen had had a crush on him ever since he’d had her ink her first tattoo on him—one of a jaguar on his lower abdomen.  Earlier tonight, she’d touched his arm more than usual, more than she’d needed to, but she’d finally given up flirting.  He knew he’d been sour and quiet.  But maybe he should take her up on her offer.  He was considering it as he knocked back the remainder of the beer in the glass.  He needed something—
anything
—to drown out the fresh pain he felt from losing Valerie again.  Yep…Karen could maybe be just the distraction he’d need.

And he’d continue to wait.

In the meantime, he had to prepare to engage in a difficult conversation, likely to be the hardest one of his whole goddamned life.

* * *

He waited for the perfect moment.  If nothing else, Brad really was a patient man.  He’d always believed good things came to those who waited, and he had to keep believing it.

Several weeks later, Val was in the kitchen brewing a cup of coffee on a Saturday morning.  He’d just gotten out of the shower.  He leaned against the counter
next to her and said, “Let’s go to Starbucks.”  She started to protest. “Don’t worry—the guys will drink it.”

She considered it and nodded.  “Just give me a minute.”  She went into her bedroom and pulled her hair back.  He wondered if she was tel
ling Ethan what she was doing and decided not to worry about it.  If Ethan needed to be a part of it, he’d get some news he wouldn’t have wanted to hear.

But Val came out alone
, and they walked in silence to his car.  He drove the short way to Starbucks and they went inside.  She started pulling out her wallet.  He knew she was working again, but he wasn’t going to invite her out and then make her pay.  “I got this.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.  Mocha, right?”  She nodded.  They decided to sit outside where it was warm but not yet hot under the umbrella.  Brad pulled his sunglasses out from where they dangled off the front of his t-shirt.  He needed to hide his eyes from her.  He took a deep breath.  Prolonging it wouldn’t make it any easier.  He and Val had always had an honest relationship, and it wasn’t going to stop now.  He just had to force the words out.   “Val, I don’t want you to feel bad, okay, but we need to talk.”

She
nodded.  “Yeah, we do.”  He was glad she agreed, so he decided not to pussyfoot around the subject.  He was going to hit her with the big guns.

“That night…did it mean anything to you?”

She looked pained, almost on the verge of tears.  It almost made him angry. 
She
was sad?  Seriously?  She spat it out, though.  “Yes.”

Well, that was more than he’d hoped for.  He hadn’t expected her to say that.  He was expecting her to tell him it was a one-night thing, something she’d always wanted to get out of her system, and now that she had, she was free to marry the love of her life.  He searched her eyes for truth, and he believed her. She meant it.  But now for the harder question. 
“Do you love him?”

She acted like this conversation was hurting her as much as it was him, and he wanted to get on his knees and beg her, asking
why
?  Why, if she cared so much, was she doing something so fucking stupid?  But he wasn’t going to.  If she wanted to marry Ethan, he didn’t need to make it harder on her.  She sounded desperate.  “Why?  Why do you want to know?”

He had to stay cool.  He couldn’t let on.
  “I
need
to know.”

“Why?”

He couldn’t tell her, no, but he didn’t have to lie to her.  He had to know her answer, though.  So he took a deep breath.  How he managed to keep his voice steady and calm, he would never know.  All he could figure was it was due to all those years of playing the diplomat, keeping peace amongst his friends and bandmates.  And he heard himself as though he were listening to someone else.  The words echoed in his head as they escaped his throat.  “If you love him, I’ll support your decision, and I’ll never say anything about that night again.  Ever.”  He took off his sunglasses then and stared her down.  This was the most vulnerable she would ever see him and, based on her answer, she might not ever see this part of him again.  Because if she loved Ethan, really loved him, then Brad had no business being in the picture at all…and he’d make damned sure he wasn’t.  And before he could stop them, his heart made one last bid for hers.  “But if you tell me you don’t, I’ll fight for you.”

She inhaled sharply and stared at him, her mouth open, her eyes watery.  It took her some time to get the words out, but when she did, it felt like a sledgehammer slamming into his heart. 
“I love Ethan.”

He nodded
and looked out on the traffic.  He had to process, but he couldn’t let her see what he was feeling.  He sucked more air into his lungs and sipped at his cup of coffee.  He didn’t trust himself to say a goddamned word.

Val, smart girl that she was, kept her trap shut.  She knew it was heavy.  She looked down at the table and said nothing.

She’d just set him on the path he’d follow for the rest of his life.  It even sounded melodramatic in his head, but he knew—he knew he’d never love another woman like he loved Valerie.  She was the perfect woman in his mind, but her heart would never belong to him.  He’d been fucking stupid to ever even hope she could love him.  No, she was hopelessly addicted to Ethan.  But he couldn’t point a finger, because he was hooked on her just the same.

It was something he had to accept, though.  And he’d survive.  He always had.

More than that, though, he didn’t want to hurt Val anymore.  She’d told him the truth, and he appreciated it.  He couldn’t torment her over it.  If he really loved her, he’d let her go and let her try to pursue happiness however she needed.

So he took another deep breath and slid his sunglasses back on. 
“Thanks for being honest with me, Valerie.”  He stuck out his hand to shake hers.  “Friends?”

She put her hand in his
.  “Of course.  Forever.”

And Brad then knew he had to find a way to live out the rest of his life.  Fully Automatic. That was it, all he had left, and he was going to make it if it killed him.  He didn’t need a woman.

He hoped it wouldn’t take the rest of his life to convince himself of it.