The Problem With Heartache (3 page)

“Come through into the kitchen. Let me make you a cocktail.” Deborah turned around and rushed us forward into the next room, a combined dining room/kitchen, with a wraparound bench. On the burner, a pot bubbled away and the smell of garlic and onion wafted toward me.

“Would you like a mimosa? Or I can make a …” Deborah paused, studying the bottles of liquor lined up on the kitchen bench. “I could try a mojito? Or just one of these spirits with juice, or soft drink? I don’t know, you’re probably so used to fancy—”

“Just a beer would be great, if you have one.” I interrupted her speech before her face got any redder.

“Yes! Yes, of course we have beer. I’ll just get—Kate!” Deborah yelled, and I flinched just a tiny bit. “Kate, come and get your guests a beer. Two beers. Get them a beer each.”

Benny nudged my side, and I thrust the flowers forward. “Sorry, Deborah. These are for you.”

“That is so sweet,” she said. She took the flowers and bent over the cupboard below the sink, rifling around and then producing a vase.

Footsteps thudded down the stairs behind me, and I turned around. Standing at the entrance to the room was Kate. She looked different to the last time I’d seen her, and yet the same. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was wearing black jeans and a large black shirt that seemed to hang off her tiny frame. Her face was pale, as if she hadn’t seen the sun in too long and the look in her eyes, that of the lost.

Or, it
was
that of the lost, I should say. Now, it had been transformed into full-blown rage. “Mum …” There was venom in her voice, and her eyes flashed with anger. “Did you invite Lee Collins here after I specifically asked you not to?”

Ouch.
Good to know I was a welcomed guest.
Benny shuffled awkwardly by my side.

“Oh! Did I forget to mention that, dear?” Deborah didn’t even make eye contact with her daughter, instead filling the vase with water and arranging the flowers within it. “And I’m sure he’s fine with just Lee. The Collins part really isn’t necessary.”

I stifled a laugh. Only because I was afraid that if I let it loose, Kate might take one of the dining table chairs, break off a leg and stab me with it.

“Kate.” I smiled. “Nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Hey, I’m Benny.” Benny stepped forward, his arm outstretched, and Kate took his hand and gave a limp shake before shoving her hands back in her pockets.

“I’ll just get those beers.” She power-walked/ran to the sliding door and flung it open, storming through the backyard.
I’m thankful I’m not a misplaced ant on that path right now.

“I must have forgotten to tell Kate you were coming. Ah, well, she’s glad you could make it,” Deborah said. She returned to the stove and gave the simmering pot a stir. “Dinner shouldn’t be too long; make yourselves at home. Take a seat in the lounge, or here if you’d like.”

“I’m going to …” I glanced at the door, then back to Benny.

“Go, man.” He nodded, and I returned the gesture, then walked outside.

The path from the house to what I presumed was the garage wasn’t long, ten feet at most. When I reached the open door, I looked in, past the parked Ford Ranger parked, and over to the corner …

And there she was. Leaning against the brick wall, her head tilted to the ceiling.

“Hey.”

She whipped her gaze in my direction, and I couldn’t read her expression. It was somewhere between anger, fear and … indifference.

And I knew all about indifference.

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” Kate said. “I’m sorry if I was rude, it’s just … You didn’t have to, and now you’re here, and I’m sure there’s probably some cool bar you could be at, or some girl …”

The words hung unspoken between us. I was happy to let them stay that way.

“It’s cool. I wanted to see how you were doing. We had to give Michael and Stacey a lift up here anyway; I thought it’d be nice to drop in. Say hi. See how you’re holding up.” To my ears, the words sounded weak, but it was the honest truth. I swallowed. How truthful would her answer be?

And do I want to hear it?

“I’m okay.” Kate shuffled one foot on the floor, sweeping it in an arc in front of her. “I’m actually doing good.” She managed a smile.

It was fake as all hell.

“How’s your dad?” I changed tack.

“He’s … he’s okay, too.” Kate seemed to shake off whatever it was holding her in one place and walked to the fridge, retrieving three beers and handing one to me. “Everything’s just … okay, you know?”

She was inches from me, and her eyes, her hazel-coloured eyes were flecked with gold. There was something about her—the fineness of her features, the fullness of her lips … I licked my own. You could cut this tension with a knife.

Or, with the dropping of a beer bottle, which was what Kate did.

“Shit, sorry.” She bent down to pick it up, but I did too, and it was like a scene from a bad romantic comedy. I swear—all we’d need was to butt heads on the way back to our feet.

Come on, Lee. Take control. Do what you came here to do and be the family guy.

I straightened my body, looked her in the eyes, and spoke. “Listen, I wanted to tell you … I’ve spoken with the guys—the guys in the band”—
Idiot, give her the details
—“and we want to set up a small charity fund for you guys. I know how hard it can be, having one parent out of action, trying to get by on government help but having to work your ass off to do it, and I wanted to do something, you know?”

Since the word “charity” left my mouth, Kate had been shaking her head so sharply, I was worried she might strain a tendon
. Shit, do you even have neck tendons?

“No, no. We don’t need your help.” She pushed past me, but I grabbed her wrist as she did, and I swear a tiny gasp escaped her mouth. I bit down on my smile.

“I’m not saying you
need
it,” I said, pulling her closer to me. Her chest rose and fell as she breathed, and I immediately pulled my gaze away from it. I was here to help her. Not to stare at her boobs. “I’m just saying it’s something we’re doing. It’s non-negotiable. Just something small, say two grand a month. I’ll make the checks out to you guys, or we can put it in your account—whatever.”

Kate threw her wrist down, and this time, there was a definite fire in those golden eyes. “You will
not
do any such thing! We’re not a freaking … we don’t need your pity, Lee Collins. We do just fine on our own.”

“Don’t you see?” I raised my voice to match her volume. “I know you don’t need my pity, and that’s lucky, because I’m not offering it. This is me helping a friend out, because I get it. My dad …”

I trailed off as recognition flashed in her eyes. My father had Parkinson’s. It wasn’t identical to her unique familial disease, but it still sucked ass.

She bit her lip, and stepped back again. “I forgot,” she said, and I leaned closer in case she spoke again. “I still can’t take your money, though.”

And with that, she spun on her heel and fled back into the house, leaving me standing there with a bottle of beer and a slight case of wandering eyes as I found myself wondering how skin-tight those jeans must be to give her ass such amazing shape.

I shook my head. I came here to try and help them, to have dinner, and to leave.

That ass was off-limits.

For more reasons than one.

“S
O, HOW
did Michael adapt to life in a big band like yours?” Mum asked. Her eyes were wide with excitement, and it was hard not to at least giggle a little.

But then, every time I giggled, I felt guilty. The weight of oppressive sadness would wrap around my shoulders, encompassing me in its misery. Lachlan still wasn’t here. And nothing, no amount of ridiculous words from Mum or flirting from a too-privileged pop star would fix that.

I shoved my plate forward, losing interest in the food. How could I eat when my stomach churned with memories? When this time only a week ago I’d been celebrating my birthday with my dead ex-boyfriend?

Mum looked at me and all but pushed the plate back to its spot, her eyes telling me to
eat
. I guess it was better than her eyes telling me to launch myself at Lee Collins. Not only was I missing Lachlan with a heartache that broke me in two—a crushing pain that had me losing interest in everything—but I’d had my fair dose of flirting with artistic types with Dave. Tortured artist really wasn’t my thing, especially when the torture they were inflicting was on me.

“He went really well. It’s a bit different to touring here in Oz, you know?” Lee smiled easily and leaned over to grab a second helping of potatoes. I saw a flash of approval in Mum’s eyes. She loved seeing people eat. She shot me a nod, and I could practically read her subtext of
See? What a healthy, strong boy!

“In what … way?” Dad asked. He was seated between Lee and Benny. Who brought a security guard with them to dinner, anyway? I got it, he was famous, but I didn’t see any crazy fans running around outside. Was it really necessary?

“Lots more people. Lots more shows. Lots more media.” Lee nodded. He spoke a little slower for Dad’s benefit, but not
too
slow—not the sort of slow some people did when they made him feel ridiculous. Where they made
me
feel ridiculous.

“So what about you, Kate? What have you been up to recently?” Lee turned his attention back to me. Thankfully, despite Mum placing my drink down next to Lee’s, I’d managed to rearrange the seating so I was safely between Benny and Mum. I had a feeling that sitting that close to Lee-
freaking
-Collins could possibly result in me trying to punch him in the junk for insulting us with his handout offer. Heat crept up my cheeks as I thought about what so many other people had probably done with that ‘junk’, what they would do to be seated so close to him right now.

I shook my head. He was hot, sure, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t Lachlan. No one would ever be Lachlan. And six months wasn’t enough time to even begin to change that.

Guilt crept in at my conscience, the ever-present assistant to my main man, depression, who haunted my thoughts at night. I shrugged to try and shake it off, to clear my thoughts, and stared at Lee. He didn’t hold a candle to Lachlan. In fact, that rich, American, dinner-attending, security-shadowed type was about as un-Lachlan as you could get. I bet he’d never done anything spontaneous in his life. He’d probably need to clear it with the FBI first.