Mended (Connections, #3)(21)
As soon as I got back to the room, Damon was full of remorse. We discussed our situation, and he surprisingly took our breakup better than I could have imagined. He wanted me to keep the diamond ring—but I couldn’t. I should have never accepted it from him to begin with. So I left it and left him.
Our personal relationship was over—but dissolving our business relationship wasn’t as easy. For some reason he didn’t want to let that go. I contacted my attorney, and he told me he would start the litigation needed to terminate our contract, but it wouldn’t be quick, easy, or cheap. I hadn’t earned any money in the past year and didn’t have much money left. I was supporting my mother and my sisters, and my accounts were draining fast. One of my sisters was in med school and the other two were in college. I couldn’t let them down. So when Zane Perry was diagnosed with a mild form of vocal cord paralysis and the Wilde Ones needed a new lead singer, I thought it would be the perfect arrangement.
When I left Xander’s house the night we’d all agreed I’d replace Zane, I went to meet my cousin for dinner. Logan was really tired and I was glad because Xander’s touch was still burning through my body and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Arriving home early, I struggled to sleep. Images of Xander, on top of me, under me, beside me, in me—I couldn’t erase them. Even after all these years I remembered how we were together. I could see the sensuality of his raw, naked body. I could smell him. I could hear the groans he made when he came. And in the darkness of my own room, I used those memories to help relieve the need that had surged within me from the moment I first saw him again. I held my breasts and slid my thumbs over my nipples. I ran my hand down to my sex and touched myself. I imagined it was him touching me, pressing his thumb against my clit—taking me to the edge and back simply because he could. My heels pressed into the bed and my fingers gripped the sheets so tightly I nearly tore them as my body finally found its release.
But I refused to give in to that kind of need again. I had to stop thinking about him that way. For the past two weeks I’ve tried to avoid getting too close to him. For reasons I don’t want to think about, though, I want to be near him. Then every time I am near him, I teeter between love and hate. It’s a fine line and I’m taking baby steps to avoid stumbling. I have to say, he threw me when he hadn’t said yes right away about my joining the band. That bothered me. I wanted him to welcome me, at least make me feel like he cared. But what bothers me the most is he hasn’t really tried to discuss what happened between us. I know I said the past was in the past, but I never thought he’d listen. He never used to let barriers keep him from discussing the things that were important to him. The fact that he seems so detached from the whole situation is eating at me in a way that’s causing me to lose focus. We’re going to be sharing the confined space of a tour bus and before I get on that bus, we need to clear the air. We are both grown-ups. We can do this—talk it out and then put it aside for the sake of business. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
I’m staying with a friend in Beverly Hills, so the drive to his house is short—too short. As I pull up to the beautiful architecture of his Canon Drive condominium building, my pulse races in a way I’m not familiar with. I walk slowly to his door, telling myself I can do this, not to be nervous. Just as I’m about to ring the bell, the door opens. I drop my gaze to the ground and I swear my heart jumps out of my chest. I think about running, but I’m not sure my jelly legs will take me anywhere. I draw a deep breath and when I can finally focus, I look up and almost laugh because it’s not him—it’s his brother. When I saw River at the announcement party I knew who he was right away—the light brown hair that looks almost coppery and the insanely green eyes hadn’t changed. To me he’ll always be Xander’s cute kid brother, but he’s grown up to be equally as handsome as Xander. The difference—River borders on adorable, while Xander exudes ruggedness. Their hair and eye color may be different, but there’s no mistaking they’re brothers.
“Ivy.” He greets me, pulling me for a quick hug.
“Hi, River. Is Xander home?” I ask nervously.
“Sorry. He’s not. I just stopped by to pick up a few things he bought for Dahlia.”
I must look at him skeptically because he explains, “He was out and picked up some old albums, CDs, and movies he thought she’d enjoy.”
“That was nice of him. I heard she’s been put on bed rest. I’d say I’m sorry, but really that must be kind of nice. The two of you get to spend time together doing things you like to do.”
An almost wicked grin crosses his face. He’s so much like his brother. My cheeks turn pink and I feel the need to clarify my comment. I point to the stack of albums under his arm. “Like listening to some awesome music.”
“Yes, we’ve actually been making the best of it,” he says with a laugh.
Backing away from the door, I say, “Well, it was great to see you again and it was really nice meeting Dahlia at the press announcement party. Please tell her I said hello. I’ll catch up with Xander later at rehearsal.”
“Ivy,” he calls in a tone that sounds a little too real for me to want to hear any more.
I stop just before the steps. Turning around, I clutch the railing.
“Never mind,” he says, and I just smile, then leave.