The Problem With Heartache (18 page)

I didn’t know how long I stayed curled up, but when I finally lifted my head, Lee Collins was looking at me with a pensive expression on his face. He extended his arm and I took it, then he pulled me up toward him so I lay beside him on the couch, careful to leave a small space between us in case he thought this was me taking advantage of a drunk guy. Because I wasn’t.

Right now, I just really needed his arms.

We lay there in silence for so long my lids heavy, my breath slowing, and I started to wonder if falling asleep here would really be so bad. Lee’s arm was draped around my middle, heavy as a sandbag, pinning me to the spot, and it was nice to have some kind of security holding me in place.

That was all I really wanted; something to hold me together. Some
one
to hold me together.

“Kate, for you? I know there’s something else.” He shifted his body so one leg rested slightly over mine, resulting in me becoming the bottom layer of a Lee toastie. “You’ve been through a lot; you’re a tough chick. I know that you’re going someplace after this, someplace good, real good.”

I shook my head. “But how do you know?” It was a nice sentiment, but seriously, how could he have faith in that?

“I know, because I’m going to Hell.”

I furrowed my brow, thinking of all the bad-arse things I’d heard or known Lee Collins to do. “What? That’s ridiculous. You might have taken advantage of a few groupies, gotten drunk a few times, but you’re a good person, Lee. You’re a really good guy. Why would you think you’d be going there?”

I turned to see emotions warring on Lee’s face. He fought this demon inside him, then pressed his eyes shut so tight I could see the tension creasing their corners, popping the vein on his forehead. Then, seconds passed with nothing, and his face returned to a calm, even state, his breathing long and drawn-out as he drifted toward sleep. I let myself relax against him, the lulling rise and fall of his chest compelling mine to fall in synch. I could just fall asleep here … we weren’t naked or anything. Being wrapped in these arms might make sleep come easier. It wasn’t like I was really crossing any boundaries or anything … was I?

“Because I killed my brother.”

Four years, seven months ago …

I’
LL NEVER
forget the day I finally met my brother. It was the third time we’d arranged to meet, and this time, I was far less nervous than I had been. Maybe it was because I wasn’t sure if he’d show this time, either. How was I to know?

Instead of walking into the bar, nerves jangling in my stomach, my senses on high alert, I casually meandered in, checking my phone for a message from Carly. She didn’t know quite what I was doing today—telling people I had a secret brother wasn’t high on my to-do list—but she knew I was in town.

Carly:
Can’t wait to see you guys perform again tonight! Looking forward to seeing you :)

Carly … I thought of her luscious lips, her bewitching eyes and her amazing body and the breath just floated away from my chest. But more than that, it was her mind. The way she asked me things that no one else did. The way she spoke to me, listened, and really understood. She was so interested in everything to do with the band in a way that didn’t seem superficial. It felt real.

“One Bud, thanks.” A man walked up and placed his order, pulling a cardboard coaster close to his chest and then angling his body to face me. “Lee.”

I turned to look at him, and my first thought was
shit
. I guess, in the back of my mind, I’d hoped that maybe Mom and Dad were wrong; maybe I didn’t have a long-hidden sibling. It seemed stupid now. I’d wanted a brother for years, but I guess when you’re a kid, wanting a sibling is filling a void, offering you a playmate. Now, I looked at this guy who could almost be my twin, if I were somehow rougher, edgier, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d screw with Tony’s scandal clause. He’d sure as hell better not.

“Hi.” My voice cracked a little on the word. His dark hair was longer than mine, pulled back in a ponytail, and he had a two-day stubble marring his chin and cheeks. He was skinnier than me, too; I could see his shoulder bones, and the thin lines of his arms as they snaked out of his top. My teeth clamped down on my lip. Was he … what sort of an upbringing had he had? Did he have money? Was he a good person?

“Here you go.” The bartender slid my brother’s beer across the counter to him and picked up the notes he had left, placing them in his register.

“Wanna go …?” My brother jerked his head toward a booth, and I nodded, grabbing the drink I’d had sitting there since earlier.

He led the way, scooted along the leather and I followed and sat down a respectable distance away from him.

“You’re Lee Collins, huh?” He took a swig from his beer, then slammed it back down onto a coaster. “Ryan. Ryan Abrahams.”

I leant over to shake his hand, but he didn’t take mine, and after leaving it hanging there awkwardly for a few moments, I pulled it back to my side, resisting the urge to swipe it through my hair and play it cool, as if I were just taking the long way round.

“So … you’re my brother, huh?” The words left my mouth and I gave myself one helluva kick up the ass. What the hell was I saying? Couldn’t I string a damn sentence together?

“Looks that way.” Ryan nodded, then pointed his finger from his face to mine and back again. “You don’t see the similarity?”

I gave a half-hearted chuckle. “Well, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said. He twirled his beer in his grip. “When I first saw you on TV, I thought we looked alike. So did my girl. That’s what prompted me to look up my parents, y’know? Never had any great desire to get in touch—since they fucking abandoned me.” You couldn’t miss the bitterness that laced his last phrase. It dripped like honey off the edges of a spoon, seeping to my consciousness below.

His words were everything I was afraid of come to life. He didn’t want to be my brother, or to meet the fucking family. He wanted to make a quick buck out of my newfound fame, to get a free ride from his rich younger ‘brother’. Tony was gonna kick my ass over this one.

I looked up and Ryan was staring at me, expectation in his eyes. “I mean, they were only kids.” I tried to make excuses, but it only fuelled his anger. His fingers wrapped around the glass in front of him, his knuckles turning white as he exerted his strength.

“So was I.” Something dark flashed in his eyes.

Sometimes in life, people got hurt. And that pain, it ran so deep that it tore into their very being, ate away at their soul. I could see that hurt in him.

And I wished he hadn’t had to go through that.

I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself. I had to give the guy a chance. How would I feel if our situations had been reversed?

“So … what do you … uh … do?” I turned my beer in my hands and took another sip, more for the desire to do something with my hands than anything else.

“I’m a carpenter.” Ryan nodded. “Just finished my apprenticeship … I’m travelling a bit now, trying to get a contract.”

“Oh.” I smiled. “That’s cool.”

We sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, and I noted that he didn’t ask what I did for a living. Once again, the difference in our lives was blatantly obvious, from my designer jeans to his cut-price skate shoes.

I looked around the room. This was a much more upmarket joint than the place where Carly worked, where Ryan and I had first agreed to meet. This place had wide, open windows and a long marble bar, high-end liquor decorating the shelves behind it.

“This is a big thing, huh?” I nodded, gesturing between the two of us. “Insta-brothers.”

“Yeah.” One corner of Ryan’s lips raised in a smile.

“Do you mind if I ask why you didn’t come those first two times?”

“Nerves, I guess.” Ryan studied me, his gaze shrewd as he took a pull of his beer, then set it back down on the coaster in front of him. “Do you think I’m after your money?”

“No.”
A little.

“I … there aren’t a lot of people in life I’m close to.” Ryan spoke the words slowly, as if he were carefully choosing out each one. “Honestly? I kinda … I kinda thought that maybe having a brother would be nice. But I’ve had a lot of disappointment in my life—a heap.” His eyes flashed with something dark. “And the other two times, I … I wanted to come, both times, and the second I even drove to meet you but I couldn’t get out of the car. What if you were some dickhead who thought he was God’s gift just because you’re on MTV, or whatever?” He spun the beer bottle in his hands, twisting it around. “I don’t think I coulda handled more family screw-ups.”

A pang of guilt washed over me. He’d had a rough life. “Do you … are you close with your … parents?” I almost threw the word ‘other’ in there, but thank hell I pulled it back at the last minute.

Ryan slammed his drink on the table and eyeballed me, seeing into my very core. “Shit, no. He’s a dick and she’s a drug-fucked whore.” There was anger in his gaze, and his pupils danced around the room, leading me to wonder if perhaps he hadn’t dabbled in the art of drugs himself. “I have a girl, though,” he conceded.

“Oh? How long you been together?” I prompted him. It seemed to be the only thing he’d mentioned so far that didn’t come served with a side of hate.

Ryan’s face lit up, and he got this faraway look in his eyes. “Since high school. Almost eight years, but I’ve had to travel a bit to try and get work recently, so we haven’t really been seeing each other these last few months. She’s … she’s damn well perfect, y’know?” He let out a long breath, then shook his head. “She has these eyes … they’re like the ocean. She’s funny, too, and so easy-going. And her mouth is this, just this plump, juicy thing, and … damn. She’s just … she’s everything.”

In that second, that very moment, I knew what he was talking about. Those who say love at first sight doesn’t exist are blind. I knew from the very moment she fell out of that tree that Carly was something special, that we were meant to be together. And I was so glad that despite his shitty upbringing, my brother had a love like that, too.

Everyone deserves a love like that.

Present day …

I
TRIED
to open my eyes, but dear God, someone had super-glued them together. What fresh hell was this?

I gave it a second shot only to find that there was a spotlight positioned directly in my line of vision, screaming its harsh, white beam right onto my face. I scrunched up my eyes, nose and mouth, and anything else I could to ward off the evil. What the—