The Mighty Storm (31 page)

“
You still know that
’
s gross don
’
t you?”

“
Yep, but I don
’
t care because I love it.”

“
You always were a weird case.”

“
Ditto.” I pull my tongue out at him.

“
Yeah, but I always pulled off the weird in me way better than you did. I made it appear cool to others.”

“
Ahh, so I guess I should get some tips from you then on how to be the bomb.”

“
Most definitely. And I
’
ve got plenty of
tips
I can give to you that will
raise your cool points
in no time.” He runs his fingertip down the length of my nose. A finger of which has just been doing all manner of naughty things to me, not short of an hour ago.

It makes me shiver inside.

“
Hmm, I just bet you have.”

A question is buzzing around in my head. The one I
’
ve wanted to ask him since I first saw him in that hotel room for the interview.

I take a deep breath in. “Why did you stop calling and writing?”

He stares at me for a long moment.

“
I was young and, selfish and stupid, and I hated how much I actually missed you once I
’
d left. I didn
’
t know it was possible to miss someone as much as I did you, then. And every time I spoke to you on the phone or got a letter from you, it hurt just that bit more. Then I met Jonny and we started up the band, and my old life
–
you, all just seemed so very far away. I still missed you, but the ache had started to dull and I knew if I kept in touch it would just rake all those bad feelings up, so I decided to stay away.”

I run my fingertips along his jaw. He takes hold of my hand and kisses my fingers.

“
Why didn
’
t you ever get in touch with me once the band got big?”

I sigh. “For that very reason. You
’
d stopped calling and writing to me, and it had been so long, I didn
’
t want you to think I was only getting in touch because you were famous.”

“
I wanted you to. I thought about you often. Wondering what you were doing.”

“
So why didn
’
t you find me then? It
’
s not like you couldn
’
t have. You
’
ve sure got the resources.”

I feel a wave of anger. If he
’
d got in touch years ago, we
’
d have got together then, and I would never have met Will. And I wouldn
’
t be in the mess I
’
m currently in.

He presses his lips together. “I was afraid to.”

Those four words send shivers spiralling through me.

“
Why?”

He sighs. “In the beginning I was too absorbed in the band to care about anyone or anything. And I was mostly high
–
not the best person to be around at times.” He pulls in a breath. “Then we hit the big time and things were pretty wild. Then Jonny died, and…” He pauses as if gathering composure. I can see how much it still hurts him, even now.

“
Everything just fell apart. Denny and Tom were a mess, and they were looking to me to somehow fix it for them. And I just didn
’
t know how to. For a while back then, I didn
’
t think the band would make it. Especially when I went fuckin
’
AWOL in Japan.”

He grimaces at the memory.

“
Yeah, pissing on the stage. Not your finest hour, but completely understandable.”

“
That was one of my lower points, Tru. And then I realised that Jonny had been my glue, and then it hit me just how much he reminded me of you … you and him were similar in so many ways. And I
’
d relied on him, like I had you for all those years to keep things straight for me.”

“
When I moved to the States, the very first thing I did, without realising, was go looking for another version of you. It just happened to be Jonny,” he shrugs.

“
And through all the grieving for him, all I could think about was you. But we
’
d been apart for eleven years and I didn
’
t know how to get in touch. I wanted to, so badly, but I just kept thinking you
’
d moved on, and what if you didn
’
t want to see me … I just couldn
’
t bear the thought of losing you all over again, so I bottled it. And when you walked in that hotel room, I just…”

He runs his fingers through my long hair, brushing it over my shoulder.

“
I just couldn
’
t believe my luck that it was you. Stuart had given me the list with the interviewer
’
s names on that morning, and there was yours, right at the top. I spent the next hour pacing the floor, hoping it would be you, and then there you were, standing before me, looking the most beautiful you ever had, and I knew with absolute certainty I was never letting you go again.”

I push my lips together, scrunching my brow. “So that
’
s why I
’
m doing the bio?”

“
Partly,” he half-smiles. “But mainly because you are a fan-fucking-tastic writer.”

“
Good save.” I smile and lean close to him, kissing him gently on his lips.

He grabs my face, keeping me there. “Don
’
t ever leave me, Tru. I can
’
t lose you again.” There’s a quiet desperation in his voice. It makes my insides tremble.

“
You won
’
t ever lose me. I promise.”

I
’
ll always be in Jake
’
s life, one way or another. I know that for sure.

His kiss deepens to intense, his tongue invading my mouth, crashing with mine, pulling me further into him.

We are all lips, hot tangled emotions and sensation.

The way he holds me, kisses me, it
’
s with such a wretched need, an intensity of the likes I
’
ve never felt before. It
’
s blindsiding. And I feel like I
’
m getting a glimpse of what I may mean to him.

After a while, Jake slows his kiss down, and moves his lips from mine, chasing kisses down my neck. He pulls me close to his chest, holding me tight.

“
Jonny would have loved you,
”
he murmurs, stroking his fingers down my spine.

“
You think?” I tilt my head back to look at him.

“
Definitely.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “I
’
d talked to him about you in the beginning quite a lot, so he kind of already knew you fairly well.” He looks at me shy.

I like the look.

I smile at the thought of Jake talking to Jonny about me. I wish I had gotten the chance to know Jonny. He seemed like such an awesome guy in his interviews, and he was incredibly important to Jake.

“
I
’
d have had a fight on my hands with him for you though. You were just his type.”

“
I was?”

“
Yep, exotic, smart … beautiful.”

Exotic?

“
Charmer.”

“
Damn straight.”

“
Jonny was gorgeous...” I grin.

“
Hey!” he chastises, slapping my behind through the covers.

“
But not as gorgeous as you, of course!” I squeal.

“
That
’
s more like it.”

I like that he
’
s talking about Jonny with me, with such ease now, and no sadness.

He presses his forehead against mine and closes his eyes. I bask in his contentment, feeling it like it
’
s my own, as I breathe him in.

“
Who was your first girlfriend?” I ask, tracing my finger over the tattoo on his chest.

I know he never had one back in the UK. So she was definitely an American.

I hate that I don
’
t know this stuff about him.

“
Aside from you?”

“
I was never your girlfriend.”

“
You should have been.” He opens his eyes and stares into mine. I
’
m surprised at the intensity of his gaze. “But to answer your question, little Miss Interviewer,” he grins, moving back. “I
’
ve never had one.”

“
You
’
ve never had a girlfriend?”

“
Nope. Never.”

“
You
’
re shitting me.”

“
I
’
m not shitting you. I
’
m being completely serious.” His eyes are steady on mine.

“
Sorry, I just find it a little hard to believe
–
Jake Wethers has never had a girlfriend
–
what about all the models and actresses?”

“
And did you see any pictures of me with them for any longer than a week?”

I rake through my memories, cringing at the images that flash through my mind of Jake with other women.

I shake my head, no.

Wanting to change the subject, I say,
“
Okay, seeing as though I
’
m in interviewer mode, I want to ask
–
if you, Jake Wethers, had to pick one song as your title song to describe yourself, what would it be
–
and it can
’
t be one of your own,” I quickly add.

“
Hurt,” he answers without hesitation.

It makes
me
hurt inside he picked that song.

“
Why?”

He lets out a light sigh. “Some people said Reznor was writing a lyrical suicide note, others said he was writing about finding a reason to live. I think it
’
s both … it just depends on which side you
’
re looking at it from.”

“
And which side are you looking at it from?”

He stares at me from a long moment. My heart is hammering in my chest.

“
Now?
…
a reason to live.”

My insides start to tremble.

“
Reznor
’
s version or Johnny Cash
’
s?” I ask quietly, trying to conceal the pain from my voice.

“
Johnny Cash.”

“
Why?”

He closes his eyes briefly. And in this moment I just want to magic up all the power in the world to soothe his pains away.

“
Because I have a few things in common with him,” he answers, opening his eyes.

“
Like?”

“
The drugs … the women … hanging out for the girl of my dreams.”

I take a sharp breath in. Tears instantly prick the backs of my eyes.

He touches my face, his thumb smoothing over my lips. “You
’
re my June, Tru.”

Holy shit.

“
Except I can
’
t sing,” I say trying to make light of the moment.

“
Well, yeah there is that, but you can play a mean tune on the piano.”

I tilt my head to the side, forcing a smile I don
’
t really feel.

“
So what
’
s yours?” he asks.

“
Oh, without a doubt, I Can
’
t Get No Satisfaction.” I push the smile into grin trying to take us back to moments ago.

“
Do I detect a hint of sarcasm there, Bennett?”

“
Mmm,” I press my lips together.

“
Well, I
’
ll just have to see what I can do about that.” Then he
’
s flipping me over onto my back and kissing my neck.

“
Jake?” I say after a moment.

“
Hmm,” he murmurs, running his tongue over my skin.

“
Why have you never settled with anyone for longer than a week?”

He lifts his head and stares down at me with such an intensity it makes my insides ache.

“
Because I was waiting for you.” He tucks my hair behind my ear and kisses me gently on the lips.

“
I just wondered if it was because of your past … you know
–
your dad?” I ask tentatively. “Why you
’
re afraid to have a relationship.”

I feel him stiffen under my hands, and I know I
’
ve said the wrong thing.