The Problem With Heartache (24 page)

In such a short time, Lee had hugged me, confided in me, pushed me away, and then pulled me back into this weird almost formal role.
Friend.
It was one little word, but it held so much weight. Weight I shouldn’t have let sit on my shoulders when a greater burden, the heaviness of memory, already sat there.

And I didn’t know that I could keep carrying it.

Fifteen minutes later I met Lee and Benny in the casino downstairs. Benny was dressed in a basketball singlet and some shorts, shooting Lee murderous looks. “This is the worst bloody idea …”

“Come on, Benny. It’s for Kate.” Lee laughed.

“Hey, don’t go pinning this on me,” I grumbled. I still felt like death warmed up from my severe lack of sleep, but in some ways, that made me want to run more. Maybe, if I was physically tired as well as emotionally, I could finally get some rest.
Maybe
.

We walked out of the casino into the dry Vegas heat, and instantly I started to wonder if this was such a good idea.

“Well this was an early wake-up call,” Sam said, and opened the door to a hire car.

“I thought we were going for a jog?” I quizzed Lee.

“We are.” He hopped in the car and waited for me to join him. “But we’re doing it somewhere pretty.”

Sam steered the car out of the city, an easy feat with the minimal early-morning traffic, until we reached a sign that read
Red Rock Canyon National Conservation Area
. Soon after, Sam parked the car and we got out.

I looked around, breathing in the clean, fresh air, and smiled. In the distance, great red rocks poked out of the ground like oversized boulders, not too dissimilar to something you’d find in outback Australia. Long grass was scattered around the dirt walking-trail, and birds flew low overhead in the distance. It was arid, it was fierce, and it was intensely beautiful.

“Wow,” I breathed, taking it all in.

“Is this a good enough place to clear your head?” Lee asked, and I smiled. It was perfect.

We set off at an easy pace, Lee checking in with me every few steps to make sure I was keeping up okay. Soon he stopped asking and we just ran, the casual breeze whipping my hair this way and that, the heat of the sun causing sweat to bead down my forehead.

Thoughts swirled in my head and I tried to pin them down, sort them out. Lachlan was still ever-present in my mind, but the specifics—the exact colour of his eyes, the specific timbre of his voice as he spoke my name … they were getting harder and harder to pinpoint in my brain. And I
hated
myself for it.

And then there was Lee. And I had these
feelings
for him. These growing, murky feelings that I didn’t want to have. Feelings that churned in my stomach when he did stupid things, like showing up early in the morning to gift me a new pair of trainers.

No.
Think of Lachlan. Lachlan’s drawing of my lips, the streetlight shining down on them. The art, the care that had gone into sketching each little line …

Stab
.

Lee. Caressing my neck, rubbing it, his skin on my skin, awakening feelings that had long lain dormant.

Lachlan. Making out on the couch, his hands exploring, caressing my body as we both innocently explored each other.

Stab.

I loved Lachlan.

But Lee was a good guy. He cared about me, about my family. He was funny, with the little pranks he’d played back when I’d first started in the job. He was deep, showing me another side of him in the letters we swapped on a regular basis. He was sweet—how did he even remember that I’d said I liked to run when it all got too much, let alone figure out my shoe size and buy me a present?

And why had it jarred when he’d called me his
friend?

I studied him, jogging a few paces ahead of me. His toned, brown legs looked good pounding the red dirt beneath them, leading up to his toned, muscly—

Stop checking out his arse, Kate.

I puffed out a breath of air. Why couldn’t things in life be easy?

We kept running until my shirt was drenched in sweat, my hair sticking to my head. My breath was coming faster, in small short bursts, and I was fairly sure we’d lost Benny some way back. I was no closer to working out Lee’s deep, dark secrets, but I felt like I had a solution for my feelings, for my emotions.

“Turn back?” Lee puffed, his head over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” I agreed, spinning around and heading for the car.

It was simple. That was what I needed to do. I’d turn back. Focus on what was important.

Because what was important to me? What was most important? It was remembering Lachlan. Honouring his memory.

I
had
to do that.

Dear Kate,

I looked under my hotel door. On my seat in the bus. I even checked my guitar case, but no new letter from you. Is this thing done? Are you moving to the digital age? Should I be checking my email instead?

Seriously, I just wanted to make sure I haven’t overstepped the mark with the whole ‘running’ thing. I know we’re doing it every day, but don’t for a second think this is about you. I’m a really good-looking guy. I need to keep my body in shape. It’s important. As is my paleo diet, my lack of drinking, my morning meditation and prayer sessions, and …

No, seriously. I just like spending time, thinking of nothing and sweating. Getting all the shit in my head out, whether through exertion or the physical act of pounding the pavement.

And I like doing that with you.

I like being together, alone, with you.

Lee

I was quiet. My head was spinning. It was two days later and I was sitting in yet another hotel lobby, waiting for the boys to come out of their interview while scrolling through my phone, trying to pretend that status updates like ‘Nom nom nom’ and ‘I’m super passive-aggressively picking on you’ were worth caring about.

My heart wasn’t in it.

My heart was at the lake.

My heart was six-foot under.

Despite being woken daily by Lee at the door of my room, despite three mammoth runs through the national park, I still wasn’t able to sleep. The hurt was just too real. It lingered in my bloodstream, eating away at my body. Not only that, but right now, my body ached from all the exercise and I needed to sit down. I figured the boys would be all right to make it from the interview room back to the lobby unsupervised, just this once. Yes, I had officially reached non-caring.

Lee, though? Lee had been nothing but caring. Every morning he’d knock, and every morning we’d run, without a word, alone but together. Separate, yet as one.

If Lachlan were alive, would I even know Lee like this at all?

I shook my head, trying to rush the morbid thought away, but it just wouldn’t quit. Apparently it liked harbouring its depression within my soul; it was comfortable there. Hurt loved to hide—sneak up on you like an uninvited guest when you least expected it.

And I never sent out a damn invitation.

“Mind if I join you?” Lottie had already sat next to me before she’d finished the sentence. She scooched up close to my side on the red leather couch, placing her handbag at her designer shoe-clad feet.

“Not at all.” I smiled.

“Katie!” Jay squealed, and he lifted his arms and dove across my lap, sending my phone and ever-present clipboard flying.

“Jay!” Lottie scolded, but I shook my head.

“It’s fine, truly,” I said, wrapping my arms around the little bundle of energy and giving him a few tickles. He squirmed under my touch, laughing with this innocence and excitement that had my stupid emotions ready to burst all over again.

“Ever since we started on tour, he sure has come out of his shell.” Lottie ruffled his hair.

“How long have you been on the road for?” I furrowed my brow.

“About a month, then we had a break while the boys went back to Oz, and then this leg now. So not that long, really.” Lottie stared out the window, a troubled glaze over her eyes.

“What’d you do before this?” I tilted my head to the side as Jay wrapped his arms around my neck. “Work in styling, or more some high-end fashion stuff …?”

“Ha!” Lottie snorted. “Did Lee tell you that?”

“No.”

“Well, he kinda owes me right now, so I thought …” She pursed her lips together, and looked down for a second. “Sorry. I’ve got to let it go. Before this, I was a dancer.”

“Wow! How cool. Like, with a band, or ballet, or—”

“A stripper, Kate. I was a stripper.”

Oh.
My eyes widened and I felt flustered, searching for something to say. “I’m … sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Lottie gave a short, bitter laugh. “When your parents cut you off, and you’re raising a kid, you have to do whatever you can to get by.”

I blinked. It really put it all in perspective. I was grieving, yes, but Lottie had struggled, struggled for years by the sound of it, just to survive.

Sometimes, you know the facts. You understand that people are doing it worse than you, way worse. They’re suffering, they’re bleeding, and they’re dying out there.

But you still can’t stop your own ache.

And that makes you feel like a selfish bitch.

“Are you okay?” Lottie placed her hand on my shoulder as I blinked back a tear. God, I hated crying. You did it once in the morning, and it was like there was a pressurised tap ready to leak inside you for the rest of the day.

“Fine.” I sniffled, and gave her my best smile.
See? Totally fine.

“Jay, let’s play hide and seek. Mommy will come find you in a minute.” Lottie covered her eyes with her hands and Jay shot me a sparkly-eyed look before running to the other side of the couch and placing a cushion over his head. It was adorable; his two little chubby legs wiggled out over the couch’s edge, visible for the whole world to see.

“Talk to me.” Lottie grabbed one of my hands and clasped it with hers, running her fingers over mine.

I looked into her open, honest eyes, and I wanted to hold back—I really did—but sometimes, holding all the pain on your own got too much. And being on the road with a group of forty-odd people was one of the loneliest things I’d ever done.

“I … my boyfriend died,” I whispered. It was the only way I could think of to explain.

Less than a second later, Lottie’s arms were around my own, and she pulled me tight against her slight frame. “Hon … Stacey did mention. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s … okay.” Of course, those treacherous tears had started to fall, but at least they left their ugly, wracking chest-coughing friends at home. “Well … actually, it’s not.”

Now
those suckers came through, and I did those ugly-cry hiccups of full-blown pain, even though I tried to stifle them down. It was just so hard not to think about why, and to wonder when it would stop hurting—because I didn’t know if I could survive much longer.

I pulled away, and Lottie’s forehead creased in a frown. “Do you mind if I ask how?” Even her eyes had the sheen of unshed tears over them.

I shook my head. “Motorcycle accident.”