Dance With Me (With Me in Seattle #12)(28)

“That’s not true.”

“It’s absolutely true. He could have pulled out of the race altogether and cited medical problems. But I had to challenge him, and he died because of it.”

“He died because he didn’t listen to common sense and get rest when he should have,” I counter. “He was an adult.”

“I suppose.” But she doesn’t sound convinced.

“What else are you feeling guilty about?”

“Everything,” she says without even thinking it over. “It’s why I work so damn hard. If I’m working, sinking all of my energy into the job, I don’t have time to think about Rick and that whole clusterfuck. But it caught up to my health, and my doctor made me take this three-month vacation.”

“How is it affecting your health?”

“I was getting dizzy. I passed out twice on the road. I was convinced I had a brain tumor, but the doctor said it was exhaustion and ordered mandatory rest.”

“Good.”

She raises her brow and takes a sip of her tea. “I hadn’t slept with anyone after Rick until you. That’s why I didn’t text or call you after. Because I felt a massive amount of guilt for not only being with you but also enjoying it so much.”

“Starla, Rick would want you to move on with your life. He would want you to be happy.”

She shakes her head adamantly. No.

“Of course, he would,” I continue. “He loved you.”

“No. He wouldn’t.” She takes a deep breath. “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this. I probably should have made you sign an NDA when we started seeing each other.”

“That’s the second and last time you’ll insult either of us like that.”

Her cheeks darken with shame. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“Tell me.”

“About a month or so before he died, Rick was filling out new insurance paperwork, life insurance and that sort of thing. Doing what he did for a living is dangerous, and he always had an updated will. He was making sure I was the beneficiary on everything since we were just a few months from being married. Anyway, I can’t remember exactly what led to it, but I said something about wearing black for a whole year if he died, out of respect. I said it in a joking way, you know?”

I nod, waiting for her to tell me more.

“And he said, ‘No, you’ll get in that coffin with me, babe. If I die, you die. There’s no happily ever after without me.’”

I’ve never wanted to punch the hell out of a dead man so badly in my life.

“I laughed at him, sure that he was continuing the joke, but he was dead serious. He was like, ‘no, you’re mine, and if one of us dies, the other does, too.’ I blew him off, and we never talked about it again.”

“Starla, that’s not a normal thing for someone to say to a person they supposedly love.”

“Well, I didn’t grow up in a typical loving family, and I’m not using that as an excuse, but I just blew him off because he was only thirty-two. I never expected him to actually die.”

“Of course, you didn’t.”

“I was so fucked up after it happened.” She closes her eyes and shakes her head mournfully. “And I will admit—to you—that I thought about killing myself.”

My hands fist on the countertop, the movement catching her eye.

“Are you okay?”

“No. Keep going.”

She pauses. “I had it all planned out. I had a bottle full of a mish-mash of pills that I’d been prescribed for anxiety and insomnia. A bunch of stuff. And I was just going to take them all at once and go to sleep.”

My gut churns. My eyes burn. The thought of Starla hurting herself, of never knowing her is a searing slash to my very soul.

“What stopped you?”

“Meredith called me that afternoon and said she was on her way to spend a few days with me. That Mark had things handled at home, and she wanted to be with me. It gave me something to be happy about. Something to look forward to. And I knew that if I followed through with my plan, she and Jax would be devastated, and I didn’t want to put them through that.

“So, I took the bottle into the bathroom and flushed all of the pills. Since then, I still don’t sleep well, but I refuse to take meds for it. I never fill the prescriptions. It’s not because I want to hurt myself, but because I don’t want them. I have been doing fine.”

I shift my head to the side as if what she said didn’t make sense at all.

Because it doesn’t.

“Everything you just said does not sound fine.”

“I know, but I really am. After the first six months or so, I fell into a rhythm. Record, promote, tour. Over and over again. Constant work. Come to Seattle to see Jax and Mer and the kids, then back to it. I worked hard, and I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished in the past five years. My career has skyrocketed, thanks to that hard work.”

“And you’re dizzy and passing out.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I went to the doctor and took his advice to rest. I hated the idea of it, trust me, but here I am. And it worked out because I reconnected with you, and I get to see Mer and Jax whenever I want. I’m writing songs, and I’m dancing, but I’m not fixated on the work anymore.