The Complete Rockstar Series (94 page)

Mine!

The unwelcome thought pulses through my subconscious.

I down another shot of whisky and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand while staring daggers into the back of Douchebag’s head. I should have anticipated Kate would invite Abby to this thing. By the time I noticed Abby in the club, I already had a few drinks in me and was feeling belligerent enough to stay and torture myself instead of ducking out early to spare myself the rage-inducing visuals.

Douchebag’s hand glides down the exposed skin of Abby’s back to rest at the base of her spine and I tense up, clenching my shot glass so tight I’m shocked it doesn’t burst into a thousand pieces.

“Hey!” I hold up two fingers for the bartender in the VIP lounge. In less than a minute, another double whisky is placed in front of me.

“Haa-aaawke.” A flirty, feminine voice sings my name.

I toss back the drink and tilt my head to see who’s joined me at the bar. My eyes go wide when I see Jessica Hamby standing next to me, a complete knockout in her bright red dress. Jessica from the flight to Colorado. Jessica who I fucked every way possible on every surface of my house in Boulder. Jessica who is a demure, eyelash-fluttering media darling in public and a seductive vixen with a very dirty mouth in private.

“Jess.” I let my eyes roam slowly up and down her body, taking in every curve, each one wrapped up like a gift in the tight red bandage dress.

Jessica leans into my shoulder, stealthily sliding her hand into my lap to give my crotch a squeeze. “How have you been?” she purrs.

I shudder from her touch, spinning my stool to face her. Jess steps between my legs and drapes her arms around my neck.

“I’ve been very bad. You?” Her pink tongue pokes out to wet her lips in a calculated move. As sexy and hot as she is, my eyes are drawn over her shoulder. I hold my breath when I find Abby staring back at me. The hurt look on her face makes me want to shove Jessica away, grab Abby, toss her over my shoulder, and drag her somewhere private where I can pin her against the wall, drive into her slick heat, and claim her for myself.

I’m about to make an excuse to get rid of Jessica and do just that when a head of brown hair blocks my view of Abby. Ezra pulls Abby close and leans down to kiss her. Abby doesn’t look very excited to be kissing her date and angles her head so I can still see her eyes, which are fixed on mine as Douchebag puts his disgusting mouth on what belongs to me.

“Hawke? Are you okay?”

Jessica’s voice tears my attention from the nightmare unfolding a few yards away. “Yeah. Fine.” I flick my gaze from Abby to Jessica and back. Abby looks upset, but makes no move to distance herself from her dickhead date. I’m pissed and hurt and slightly drunk, so of course, I make everything ten times worse.

I meet Jessica’s heated gaze head-on. “Wanna find someplace private?”

She gives me a wicked grin and reaches for my hand. As I lead her to the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of Abby’s tight frown and feel like the world’s biggest asshole.

If I’m going to go down, I’m going down in flames. I throw my arm around Jessica’s shoulders and land a sloppy, wet French kiss on her that she enthusiastically returns.

This time, I don’t look back.

I wake up way too early. My head aches from lack of sleep over the past week. I rub my eyes and get out of bed and get dressed, exhausted but determined to not lie around depressed.

On Saturday, after watching Hawke disappear with a perky little starlet only to come back a while later disheveled and grinning from ear to ear, the rest of my night went downhill quickly. My stomach wouldn’t stop knotting up and I wasn’t in the mood to dance, especially not with Ezra constantly pushing my boundaries with his wandering hands and mouth. By the time Ezra dropped me off, my mood was black. He was under the assumption he was going to be invited to spend the night.

Think again, buddy.

His expectations pissed me off, especially after ignoring my wishes and groping me relentlessly for several hours, so I ended things with him instead. Thank god he had to leave to go out of town Sunday. Otherwise, I get the feeling he would have wanted to discuss breaking up over dinner or something ridiculous.

I shuffle to the kitchen and start a pot of coffee, waiting impatiently for it to brew. On Wednesdays, I don’t see patients until noon, so I usually get in a long run in the morning. Today, I’m too tired and unmotivated. Justin was a mess yesterday at his appointment, still troubled, his moods unbalanced. I put a call in to his psychiatrist to discuss his medications, but never heard back. Worrying about Justin is only piling on top of the stress I already have in my life—Hawke, Ezra, my brother’s death… I need a break.

The coffee finishes brewing and I pour a huge cup, adding cream and sugar before taking a much needed sip. Maybe I should take a vacation. Perhaps somewhere relaxing and tropical. I gulp another mouthful of coffee and let the warmth spread through my system.

Mmmmmm, what would I do without coffee? Maybe I should go to Costa Rica. They make great coffee there.

I’m sitting on my deck, enjoying my second cup of coffee while fantasizing about relaxing in a hammock on a beach in Costa Rica, when I hear a car’s tires crunching on my gravel driveway. The cottage is small enough to hear the doorbell ring from out back, even with the sliding glass doors closed.

If that’s Hawke again, I swear I might have a nervous breakdown.

I put my mug on the kitchen counter as I make my way to the door, steeling my nerves to face Hawke for the first time since Saturday night. Some friends we turned out to be. He won’t call me back, and I can’t even be in the same room as him without burning up with either lust or jealousy.

Hands clenched, back tense, I fling open the front door, ready to have it out with the first guy I ever loved. Heck, the
only
guy I ever loved.

Only it’s not Hawke on my front step.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

I hurl each of my drumsticks at the padded wall of the studio at Ross’ house, where they bounce noiselessly to the floor.

It’s been five days since I saw Abby at the club. Five days of dealing with the deep-seated self-loathing, made worse by my own stupidity. Fucking Jessica in the bathroom didn’t make my feelings for Abby lessen. Pretty much all it did was cause Abby to actively avoid me for the rest of the night.

Now, because I don’t want to let anyone down by scratching the itchy, crawly sensation burrowed deep under my skin with my usual reckless behavior, I can hardly sit still. The amount of anxiety coursing through my veins is begging me to get up and
do
something about it.

Ross doesn’t care if I come and go to use the studio at his house. He’s used to me keeping strange hours. I check my phone to discover it’s already six in the morning. I’ve been here for five hours, trying unsuccessfully to beat the blackness out of my mind by pounding endless rhythms out on my drums.

Hours of playing and I still feel the suffocating stranglehold of my demons, tightening around my neck like an invisible noose, sucking the air from my lungs, the light from my soul… If I even have a soul left inside my hollow chest.

I fist my hair and stand up, so frustrated I begin kicking the stool repeatedly while cursing nonstop at the top of my lungs. “Son of a bitch!” I grab the metal legs and swing the stool at the floor, slamming it down again and again until the vinyl pad snaps off and it’s just a misshapen hunk of metal.

My hands fall open, letting the remains of the stool slide to the ground. There are deep cuts on both of my palms, blood trickling down to pool on the black rubber soundproof mat.

Images of the accident flash behind my eyes… my sister, Hannah. I collapse to my knees and wail, a long, primal, agonizing howl until I’m wrung dry. Panting, I curl up in a ball and let the misery overtake me. Eleven years and this is the first time I’ve allowed myself to grieve for my family without turning the blame to myself.

When I finally catch my breath and calm down enough to sit up, I realize I feel lighter. Not much, but enough to notice a difference. I reach into my pocket and pull out Hannah’s stone, fingering the smooth, curved edges. What would my little sister think, seeing me headed toward destruction, slowly letting guilt chip away at any chance of having a decent life?

I already know the answer. Clenching my fist around the stone, I make a decision I should have made years ago.

I cannot go on like this.

“
E
zra
? What are you doing here?”

I’m shocked to find Ezra on my front step at eight in the morning on a Wednesday. Especially considering after our date at the club on Saturday, I told him I couldn’t see him anymore. I’m more shocked, however, to see the normally attractive man looking disheveled and upset.

“I wanted to talk to you, Abby.” Ezra’s hands twitch at his sides and he shifts from foot to foot. My instincts scream that something is wrong.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Ezra. I said all I need to say. I can’t lead you on by continuing to see you when I’m not in a good place for a relationship right now.” I begin to close the door, eager to get away, but a large palm smacks against it, holding it open.

“Please, Abby? Just hear me out.” His eyes express a silent plea, and being the empathetic idiot that I am, I open the door to let him in.

“One cup of coffee, Ezra. One.” I hold up a finger to emphasize my point.

“Sure, whatever you want,” he readily agrees. I refill mine and grab another cup to pour one for Ezra, sneaking glances while I stir in his requested creamer. He’s tense and somewhat agitated. This is not the Ezra I remember, fun and playful, if not a little too handsy for my liking.

Ezra takes the offered mug and follows me to the back deck. I sit in my chair, but he remains standing, towering over me. He places his cup on the small table and begins to pace back and forth.

“Ezra?”

My pulse kicks up a notch from his odd behavior, and not in a good way.

I put my coffee next to his, moving to stand up. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

Ezra darts in front of me, blocking me from getting up. “Abby, you have to give me another chance.”

“No, I don’t. I told you, I’m not in a good place—”

He leans down, putting his hands on the armrests, boxing me in. One look into his eyes and I know I’m in trouble. Ezra isn’t heartsick. He doesn’t miss me. He doesn’t want me back. He’s pissed off and even though I don’t know what I did, I know I’m the reason why.

In the calmest voice I can manage, I try to get Ezra to back off. “Ezra, I’m sorry it didn’t work out. Honestly, it has nothing to do with you.”

His mouth curls up in a sneer so vicious, I have to force myself not to flinch. “It’s not you, it’s me? Are you kidding?” Ezra tilts his head, eyes raking over me in a way that sends an icy chill down my spine. “You’re hot and all, but there’s no way you’re using the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line to break up with me.”

“It’s not a line, Ezra. It’s true.”

“I don’t give a fuck what’s true!” he shouts. “You lead me on, let me take you out, tease me all night, and then dump me? No. That isn’t how this,” he gestures between us, “ends.”

“Please don’t yell.” My heart is pounding against my ribcage. Ezra is truly frightening me. I’ve dealt with unstable patients before, but other people were always nearby to help if it got out of my control. Right now, I’m alone. My nearest neighbors aren’t close enough to hear him shouting.

“I’ll fucking do what I want!” he roars. His huge hands dart out and wrap around the top of my arms. I’m yanked to my feet as if I were a rag doll. He pulls me close enough that I have to twist my head to the side so our mouths don’t touch. “No one dumps me, sweetheart.” Ezra drags his nose down my cheek, his hot breath ghosting across my neck.

“Let me go,” I say through clenched teeth. As much as I hate violence, I’m two seconds from punching him in the face. Of course, there’s no way I can win a fight against Ezra. He’s taller, heavier, and way more muscular than me.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t think about this.” Ezra brushes his mouth across my skin and this time, I jerk back. His hands tighten on my arms as I struggle to get free.

“Let me go!”

“Don’t be like that, Abby.” His voice is so detached and unemotional, I break out in goose bumps from the chill.

With my arms pinned, I only have one option. To bring my knee back and kick him squarely between the legs. Ezra howls in pain. He immediately drops me to clutch at his groin.

I completely misjudged the recovery time he’d need from a hard shot to the balls, because when I turn to run inside the house, he grabs me by the hair.

“Ow!”

An arm slides around my waist and I’m lifted off my feet as Ezra turns us around in one swift move. With no time to react, I find myself slammed to the ground, the air whooshing out of my lungs when I land on my back with Ezra on top of me.

“You bitch!” he roars.

I scream, clawing and scratching at whatever is within reach, desperate to get free. Ezra’s size and strength is no match for me and he has my wrists pinned in seconds. Fear twists and flips my stomach into knots. I have to swallow back the bile that threatens to rise.

“You don’t want to do this,” I plead, but Ezra isn’t hearing me. His eyes are near feral as he stares down at me, helpless beneath him.

“Oh, I think I do.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to look at those inhuman eyes. The only thing I hear is the hammering of my own heart. This can’t be happening.

Suddenly, Ezra’s heavy weight is gone. For a minute, I’m too stunned to move. The distinct sounds of fighting sink into my frightened brain. I open my eyes and climb to my feet. I literally have to rub my eyes in disbelief to be sure I’m actually seeing what I think I’m seeing.

“You fucking asshole. I’m going to kill you,” Hawke growls.

Hawke and Ezra are circling each other like two panthers battling for dominance. Ezra’s lower lip is split open, blood trickling down his chin. He spits red and wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

“Fuck you, dickhead,” Ezra snarls. “I can take you.”

“Then go ahead and try,” Hawke says. His glasses are gone. With no barrier up, I can see the pure, lethal rage in his two-toned eyes. I’ve never, ever seen him this angry. My gaze drops to Hawke’s hands. White bandages are wrapped around both, a stark contrast to the black ink on his fingers and colorful artwork on his forearms.

I’m no longer frightened of Ezra. What I’m afraid of is that Hawke will actually kill Ezra and end up in jail. He looks downright murderous.

Snapping out of it, I dart inside and grab my phone. I quickly give the operator the information and they tell me they’re sending the police right away. It can’t have been more than a minute since I left the deck, but when I get back, both men are bleeding heavily from the face. Hawke’s white bandages are dirty and bloodstained and the front of Ezra’s shirt is soaked with blood as well.

“Oh my god.” The phone slips from my hands as I watch the nightmare play out.

Hawke snarls and leaps forward. Ezra puts his arms up to block his face. Unfortunately for Ezra, Hawke’s target isn’t Ezra’s face, but his midsection. Hawke lands several hard blows to Ezra’s ribs before jumping back out of reach.

“You sick motherfucker. You’re going to regret hurting my girl.” Hawke’s voice is so low, it’s almost a guttural growl.

“Fuck you, superstar,” Ezra says. “Are you fucking her? Is that why you’re here?”

Ezra swings, landing a glancing blow to Hawke’s stubbled jaw. Hawke’s eyes light up with fury and he returns the punch, connecting with Ezra’s temple. Ezra’s body drops like a two-hundred-pound bag of sand. A loud thud resonates as he literally hits the deck.

“Fuck!” Hawke groans, shaking out his hand.

All at once, everything catches up to me, becoming too much to handle. Without warning, I burst into tears and my knees go weak.

“Abby!” Hawke notices, crossing the deck just in time to catch me before I join Ezra unconscious on the ground.

I clutch at Hawke but my hands are shaking too much to get a good grip. He scoops me up and sits down on a chair with me curled up on his lap. Soothing fingers run through my hair while whispered words calm me down.

“It’s okay, Bee. It’s okay.”

How anything is okay is beyond me. Everything in my life is crumbling to dust while I stand in the center of the storm, doing nothing to stop it from happening.

Ezra groans and I whimper, snuggling closer to Hawke, letting the steady sound of his heart guide me back from the edge of losing it completely.

The loud sound of someone squawking on a radio erupts from nearby and I feel Hawke relax beneath me. The police are here.

This is it, the turning point in my life. I can feel it. It’s sink or swim for me. Do I want to continue down the path to destruction, always choosing the wrong men, loaded down with issues I’m compelled to fix? Or do I get my act together and pursue a healthy relationship?

I know what feels right,
who
feels right, but what
is
right?

Not knowing the answer, I inhale Hawke’s earthy scent and bury my face in his neck. For now, I’m content just to be in his arms again.

“No. I’m fine. Honest.” I have to hold my phone away from my ear as Gavin shouts in concern on the other end. “Gav, no. I’m only staying with Abby until her mom gets here.”

I flick my gaze over to where Abby is huddled up on her couch under a fuzzy red blanket, her eyes closed. She looks tiny and heartbreakingly fragile. A far cry from the strong woman I know. I feel sick at the thought of her trapped underneath that asshole as he attacked her.

Fuck.
If he had hurt her… I can’t even imagine. I’d either be in the jail cell next to him or he’d be in the morgue.

“I gotta go, Gav.” I hang up before he can yell at me some more for getting into a fight that involved the cops. But that bastard got everything he deserved. I literally wanted to kill him.

It takes a few deep breaths for me to calm down enough to turn away from the glass doors of Abby’s back deck. Padding softly so I don’t disturb her, I cross the living room and sit on the chair opposite the couch, push my glasses up on my head, and rub my aching hands over my face.

“Hey.”

I drop my arms at the sound of the low voice. “Abby? I thought you were asleep.”

She blinks a few times, her dark lashes fluttering against her pale skin. “I am pretty tired.”

I get up and sit next to her, rubbing a hand on her shoulder. The heat from her body would normally drive me insane, but lust is the furthest thing from my mind right now. All I want to do is erase the sad, weary look from Abby’s face.

“Why don’t you go lie down? I’ll wait here for your mom.”

Abby nods and stands, wrapping the red throw around her like a protective shield. I watch, the urge to follow her nearly unbearable. I want to curl up next to her on the bed, to hold her in my arms, comfort her, be there for her to lean on. I want to come home to her each night and wake up to her each morning. I want her to be mine.

But until I fix what’s broken inside myself, I’m not worthy of Abby Kessler’s heart.

An hour later, the front door rattles. I jump to my feet and dash to the foyer, worried that bastard Ezra posted bail and came back to finish what he started. When I fling open the door, the small blonde woman on the other side yelps in surprise, key in hand.

Shit.

“Sorry. You must be Mrs. Kessler.” My face burns in embarrassment.

“Call me Joan. You’re Hawke. We should have met a long time ago.”

I step back to let her in. I never thought about it until now, but she’s right. Abby and I dated for over a year, and were friends for much longer before that, and I’ve never met any of her family. Like me, Abby never talked about them much.

Joan extends a hand. We shake briefly before she tugs on my arm and pulls me into a hug. “Thank you so much for being here for Abby.” Her voice cracks and I feel her stifle a sob.

How long has it been since I’ve been hugged by a woman like this? A woman I wasn’t sleeping with? Since before the accident, by my own mother.

I wrap my arms around Abby’s mom and sink into the embrace. It feels so good I allow myself to accept the comfort. She’s soft and warm and motherly against my chest. My eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. Not wanting to get all emotional, I break away and take a step back.

“I’ll get going,” I tell her, shoving my feet into my shoes. “Abby is upstairs, asleep. She was pretty wiped out by everything.”

“Can you stay a minute?”

I glance up from tying my shoelaces and find eyes eerily similar to Abby’s staring at me. How can I say no? Just like with my own parents, I find that I can’t.

“Okay.”

“I’m going to grab a drink. Do you want anything?” Joan heads into the tiny kitchen area and opens the fridge.

“I’m good, thank you.” Nervous, I sit on the couch and drum my fingers on my knee, immediately hissing in pain.

“Wow.” Joan is standing next to me, staring at my swollen, black and blue knuckles. She puts her drink on the coffee table and returns with a couple of ice packs. “Here. These will help.”

“Honestly, I’m okay—”

“Hush. I’m a nurse and a mother. Let me do my job.” Joan smiles and I nod. It seems I’m unable to say no to this woman. She takes my hands and places them palms down on my thighs, then stacks the ice on the back of each one. “Stay like that for twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes! I can’t sit here with Abby’s mom for twenty minutes. I pull my lip ring into my mouth and begin to chew on it.

Joan must know what I’m thinking because she laughs. “I don’t bite, I promise. Actually, I’ve been dying to meet you after everything Abby has told me.” I cringe and Joan laughs again. “It’s mostly good, I promise.”

“Mostly good?” She lifts an eyebrow in my direction and I feel my face heat up again. “Yeah,” I admit. “I haven’t exactly treated your daughter the way she deserves.”

“What? You haven’t done anything wrong that I know of. If anything, Abby is the one holding back any relationship you two might have together.”

Huh?
I frown in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

Abby is great. More than great, she’s perfect. Patient and kind and loving.
I’m
the complete fuckup, not her.

“I’m talking about Abby’s need to fix everyone’s problems because of Nick. That’s why she’s a psychologist. I’m sure she told you.” The bewildered expression on my face must give me away. “Oh. She didn’t tell you.”