Love's Rhythm (17 page)

He pushed past them, shouldering his way between Lauren and Nick, eyes downcast, jaw muscles locked.

“Josh.” Lauren turned, trying to snag his arm. Lord, how many times had she said his name? Was she incapable of saying anything else? So pathetic a mum she couldn’t think of anything but her son’s name to try to ease his pain? “Josh,” she said again, hurrying after him.

But he didn’t stop. She saw Aslin move, like a mountain moving toward the kitchen doorway. She saw Josh quicken his pace. The bodyguard’s gaze flicked to her and then Josh burst into a sprint, running from the kitchen.

“Josh!” Lauren called, running after him.

Yeah, that’s right, say his name one more time. That’ll fix everything.

He didn’t stop. The bang of the front door slamming shut was the only answer she got. Her feet stumbled, shock sinking like a pike into her brain, and she bit back a sob. Lord, how had this happened?

Every maternal instinct in her being told her to chase after him. To hold him. To take his pain and confusion away. Every other instinct—those of a person who’d experienced heartache—knew nothing would ease his pain at this very moment. Her son was angry with her, the angriest he’d ever been, and he had every right to be. She’d fucked up. Big time.

“I’ll go after him, Miss R.”

Lauren flinched. Rhys. She’d forgotten all about Rhys. She jerked her burning stare to her son’s best friend, shame flooding through her. He hurried past, giving her a wry smile. The expression was at once totally uncharacteristic on the teenager’s normally cheeky face and sympathetic beyond his young years. Fresh shame crashed over her, and then again when the front door banged like a shot over a silent battlefield.

Lauren let out a choked cry. Oh God, what had she done?

“He’ll be okay.” Nick’s hand smoothed up her back. “He just needs some time.”

Lauren closed her eyes. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I messed everything up.” She shook her head, stepping away from him. His fingers slipped from her shoulder, trailing over her back as she twisted from his touch. “Everything.”

“It wasn’t exactly how I saw things going.” His voice played over her nerves, so familiar, so soothing and yet so damn frustrating and confusing. “Do you want me to send Aslin after him?”

A lump sat in her throat, thick and heavy. She tried to swallow it away but it wouldn’t go. Just like the guilt in her belly, it wouldn’t go.

You should have told Josh. The second Nick turned up here in Murriundah, you should have told Josh who his father was. Instead, what did you do? Fuck. Fuck his father over and over again like a star-struck groupie.

She opened her eyes, studying the empty hallway stretching away from the kitchen. “No. I don’t want anything from you, Nick.”

“Lauren—” he reached for her but she shrugged his hand off her arm, “—don’t be rash. Please, babe, don’t be rash. Not after—”

“He’s your son,” she went on, ignoring the pressure on her chest, the numb emptiness in her heart, “and I can’t keep you from seeing him, but
I
can’t see you.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Because this is
my
fault?”

“No.” She turned away from him, from the empty hallway stretching away to forever. “It’s mine. All mine. I was too scared to tell Josh who his father was when he was old enough to know and I was too scared to tell him when you turned up at my house.”

“But you don’t have to be scared any more. He knows. What is there to be scared of?”

The lump in Lauren’s throat grew thicker. “I’m scared of you, Nick. I’m scared of how much I love you, how much I need you. I’m defenseless against you and that scares the shit out of me. I’m a chicken, Nick. I know this. But I can’t spend my life fighting the rest of the world for you.” She snorted, a contemptuous little sound that tore at her soul. “I failed the first time I tried and never recovered.”

Nick’s jaw muscles knotted. He studied her, silent.

Take it back, Lauren. Take it all back. You can make it work this time. Take it back. Before you lose him again.

It was a beautiful fantasy. The kindergarten teacher and the rock star. A beautiful, wonderful, romantic fantasy. But it was just that—a fantasy.

She gave Nick a slow, sad smile. “You know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result, right?”

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving her face. “I’d call it the definition of optimistic hope.”

A laugh bubbled up Lauren’s throat, fragile and soft and surprising. “You
are
a man of words, Nick. Powerful, soul-moving words. And it would be selfish of me to expect those words should only be for—”

A sharp, shrill ring made them both flinch. Nick bit back a growled curse. She crossed her kitchen to where her phone hung on the wall, a prickling tension sweeping over her. It would be Josh. Telling her he’d calmed down. Telling her she was a horrible mum. Telling her he didn’t want anything to do with her again. Telling her he was—

She picked up the handset and put it to her ear. “Robbins’ residence.”

“I can’t find him, Miss R,” Rhys burst out. “I lost him in the dark and now I can’t find him.”

Ice-cold pressure crushed Lauren. Her face must have told Nick what was going on, that or he could hear Rhys’s panic through the phone from where he stood. He turned to Aslin. “Go look. Find where he is, make sure he’s okay and give me a call.”

The massive man nodded, flicked Lauren an unreadable look and was gone. If she hadn’t been so worried about Josh, she would have been impressed. But she was, and she couldn’t be. Not at the moment.

“Miss Robbins?” Rhys’s voice in her ear made her start. “Do you want me to come back? I’ve texted him but he’s not answering.”

She scrubbed her free hand over her eyes. How could she forget about her son’s best friend again? Still on the other end of the phone line, still out in the cold?

God, you’re a woeful piece of work, Lauren.

“Go home, Rhys,” she instructed softly, letting him hear a calm she didn’t feel. “It’s too cold to be outside now.” She slid her gaze to Nick where he stood watching her from the kitchen door, his face a study in controlled worry. “Josh’ll calm down.”

“If you’re sure, Miss R.” His teeth chattered through the response. “You know Josh. He’s gotta blow off some steam a bit and then he’ll be good. Nuthin’ pisses him off for long. And I mean, Nick Blackthorne’s his
dad
. The dude’s gotta be freaking stoked about that.”

Lauren felt her lips curl into a wry smile. “You’re right, Rhys. And he probably will be once he forgives his mum for being a shit.”

Rhys laughed. “You’re not a shit, Miss R. Just really good at keepin’ secrets.”

The churning knot in her belly tightened. “Where are you? Need me to come get you? Take you home?”

“Nah, I can see the lights of my house from here. Tell Josh to text me when he gets home.”

“Okay. Will you text me if he turns up at your house? Even if he doesn’t want to talk to me, I’d like to know I can call off the dog squad.”

Rhys laughed again at her desperate attempt at levity. “Shall do, Miss Robbins. Say goodnight to Nick for me. Tell him it was epic meeting him…err, right up to the last bit, that is.”

Lauren chuckled, even though her belly was still twisting. “Good night, Rhys. Send me a text me when you’re home, okay? And tell your mum I’ll call her tomorrow.”

“I will. She heard Nick was in town. The barkeeper at the Cricketer’s Arms has been telling everyone.” The boy laughed again. “Wait until I tell her he’s at your house. I bet she’ll invite herself to breakfast.”

Lauren closed her eyes again. That it was assumed Nick would still
be
at her house in the morning didn’t surprise her. Talk travelled fast in a small town like Murriundah, even faster when it came to Nick Blackthorne. What surprised her was the fact that no one had guessed who Josh’s father was before now.

It would have made things so much easier.

No, it wouldn’t. Her not being a chicken,
that
would have made things easier. But she was. And now
here
she was, fucking up the lives of everyone she loved and cared for.

“Tell her I’ll have the coffee brewing,” she said into the phone, “but she’s got to bring the croissants.”

Rhys chuckled. “I’ll keep texting Josh. Just in case, okay?”

“Okay. Night, Rhys.”

She returned the phone to its cradle, a sigh slipping from her before she could stop it.

“He’ll be okay.” Nick stepped up behind her, smoothing his hands up her arms. “Aslin’s out there looking for him. If the guy can find me a Vegemite sandwich in the middle of Yugoslavia he can find Josh.”

Lauren knew he was trying to put her mind at rest. She knew that. And for a dizzying moment the urge to lean back into his strength, his warmth, flooded through her, so powerful she almost did. Almost. To feel his arms wrap around her, to feel his solid presence support her. God, how many times over the last fifteen years had she wished for that very thing? Too many times. Until she’d finally realized it was a stupid, empty dream and gotten on with her life. Learned to lean on herself.

She walked away from him, out of the kitchen and into the living room, searching for her satchel. It was in here somewhere, and in it was her mobile. It made no sense, but her focus had become finding her phone. When she found her phone, she’d know what to do next.

Woeful, Lauren.

“Y’know, I know Murriundah like the back of my hand,” Nick said from the entryway. “I could check all the places I used to go when I was pissed at Dad?”

Lauren couldn’t stop her snorting chuckle. “If I remember correctly, those places were my old house, my tree house and the footbridge over Willows Creek, and I’m afraid to say all three have been demolished.”

Nick turned his head, fist balling as he muttered something under his breath. He looked so much like his son at that point Lauren didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Instead, she returned her attention to finding her bag. She needed her phone. She’d send Josh a text. Tell him she was sorry. Ask him to come home so they could talk.

Ah, there it was. Right where she dumped it beside the sofa Friday night. God, was that only twenty-four hours ago? She crossed to her bag, the very bag given to her by the man whose gaze followed her now, snatched it from the floor and pulled her mobile from its innards.

Turning the device on, she blinked at the screen. Twenty-five text messages. Forty-two missed calls. How had she missed them?

Are you kidding? Life hasn’t exactly been normal, has it? For Pete’s sake, you were still in your PJs at two o’clock this afternoon.

“Lauren, we need to talk about this.”

Ignoring him, she slid her thumb across her phone’s screen and tapped on messages.

A string of them filled her screen, none of them from her son. All of them, save one, were about Nick.

Hey, Lauren, Gary White here. Your mechanic. I hear Nick Blackthorne’s in town. Are U seeing him? Any chance U could get me his autograph?

Lauren, this is Milly Jenkins, Chris from soccer’s mum. I was told you know Nick Blackthorne and that he’s staying with you. Is that true? Night Whispers was my wedding song and I’d love to meet him. Would it be okay if we came around?

Hi, Lauren. The mayor would like to extend an invitation to you and Nick Blackthorne to attend dinner at his house Saturday evening. Please let me know by four o’clock Saturday. Thank you. Alysse Robertson.

They went on and on. All the same. All requests or hints or questions about Nick. Texts from people she rarely had anything more to do with than a smile if passing each other in the local market. Phone calls from numbers she didn’t recognize. All of them. Except one text left on her phone at seven-forty five this morning from Jennifer.

Heya, gorgeous one. Hope you’ve calmed down after your sudden bolt from my home last night. I’ve been called to an emergency at Gonano’s farm—one of his pregnant mares has gone down and the poor old bugger is beside himself. I’ll call you when I get home. If you need me for anything at all, just give me a ring. Love you heaps. Jen. AKA wonder-vet and rock-star mender. PS, I know it’s none of my business, but I think the guy is still seriously in love with you. You should have seen the gooey face he made when he was talking about you. Like, goo-ee. XXX

Hot tears prickled behind Lauren’s eyes. Hot and so damn conflicted it was all she could do not to sob.

“Lauren.” Nick’s hands were cupping her jaw, lifting her face to him. “Babe, don’t shut me out now. Not now.” He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Not ever.”

She stared up into his eyes, eyes she knew so well. Eyes she saw every night in her dreams. Eyes she saw every time she looked at her son. “Will you hurt me again, Nick?”

The question left her on a whisper.

He smiled, a slow, cheeky smile that promised her the world. A smile she knew as well as his eyes. “No,” he murmured. He lowered his head, touched his lips to hers.

And her mobile rang, the sound of Josh singing Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” bellowing from her hand.

She stumbled back a step, blinking, her heart leaping like a petrified rabbit’s. What the hell was she doing? Her son was somewhere out in the cold and she was kissing Nick? Kissing him? She snapped her stare to her phone, something akin to relief, something even closer to regret scorching through her at the image of a grinning Jennifer on her iPhone’s screen.

She hit accept and pressed the phone to her ear. “Jen,” she almost cried.

“You missing a family member, Miss Robbins?” her best friend asked. “’Cause I’ve got a cold, grumpy teenager sitting in my living room right at this very moment in time who insists he doesn’t want to talk to his mum…” she paused, “
or
his dad for quite a while.”

Chapter Eleven

Nick opened his eyes reluctantly, hissed sharply through his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut again. Fuck. Someone had opened the curtains through the night and the sun now streamed into his room like a golden bloody spotlight beam.