Deep (Stage Dive, #4)(27)

“And I’m not sure me telling him I just banged his little-sister-in-law would help, either,” he snapped. “Shit. Liz, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. It’s complicated.” My voice seemed so small.

He looked back over his shoulder at me, face guarded. “Wait…”

“It was an accident. You got jealous when you saw that guy with me in the bar, overheated. I get it.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You never do.” Without further ado I rolled off the bed, taking the sheet with me. “I’d like you to leave.”

“Lizzy.” It was right there on his face and in his eyes. The set of his shoulders shouted it, and those curled fingers just reinforced everything. Regret.

“Leave, please. You know you want to.”

Jeans lay abandoned just inside the bathroom door. I halfheartedly kicked them aside, locking myself in.

“Sweetheart.” A timid knock or two. “C’mon, open up.”

My back to the door, I slumped down, not stopping until the hard marble chilled my ass. Egyptian cotton didn’t have such great thermal properties, apparently. Tears fell, but I just ignored them. Whatever.

“Let me explain.”

I don’t think so.

“I just … I panicked when I saw it was him. Fuck, Lizzy.” An angry thump on the door. “You don’t get how hard this is. I like you, but…”

But. But me no buts. Fuck.

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t have told him in time.”

Huh. Nor was he saying he would have.

“Christ, can I at least have my pants?” he grumbled.

No, actually. No he couldn’t. From me, he couldn’t have a single thing more. I’d given all I would.

More tears fell unchecked. My body still buzzing but my heart breaking open. How confusing. So much good with the bad. It really was complicated. Everything went quiet out there; he said no more. I guess, at the end of the day, I just wasn’t the kind of girl that “complicated” worked for. I wasn’t in search of drama. I wasn’t only happy when it rained. So instead I sat on the cold bathroom floor and cried and cried.

Eventually, dimly, I heard the front door slam shut.

Over and out.





CHAPTER FIVE





NOW


“No.”

“What do you mean, no?” asked Anne, face incredulous.

“No. I’m not going to explain what went on between me and Ben to you.”

She just blinked.

“It’s personal.” I stood tall, despite feeling about two inches off the floor. “I just wanted you to know that I chased him, not the other way around. I had feelings for him and I acted on them. End of story.”

So I guess I would explain what happened between us. At least a little of one side of the sorry tale. Hopefully enough to save the band. Good god, did my pride lay in tatters on the floor.

Mal wouldn’t meet my eyes, and Ben’s nose was still bleeding. Awesome. What a mess. The entire dinner party had denigrated into some blood-splattered, rock ’n’ roll wrestling, multiple-surprise-baby-announcement mess. My fault. I should have handled it differently. Not that I had any idea how I could have done better just yet, but whatever. Doubtless some genius ideas would taunt me at two in the morning.

There were a lot of judgy eyes in the room. All of my new friends and family gathered around to watch the explosion. Shit.

“I’m sorry,” I said and bolted for the door. I grabbed my coat and left.

*

A banging noise.

I cracked open an eyelid. In the darkness the alarm clock shone 3:18 a.m. in brilliant green. What in the ever-loving hell? The banging continued, followed by the muffled sound of voices. One was loud and belligerent, the other far calmer. I got up and flicked on the living room light, stumbled over to the front door. Whoever it was would just have to take me in socks, old sweatpants, and an oversize T-shirt. Away from the warmth of my bed, goose bumps covered my arms.

“Liz?” a familiar rough voice demanded. “Open up.”

I did as asked, yawning and rubbing the sleep from my eyes all the while. “Wow. You look a mess.”

“Yeah,” said Ben, swaying slightly.

He stood upright mostly due to the aid of David, one big arm thrown over the other man’s shoulders. Hair hung in his face, combining with the beard for a cross between a yeti and a Cousin It kind of feel. From between the dark strands, red eyes peered out at me. Oh, and lest I forget, he also stank like he’d recently bathed in a keg of beer, using Scotch-scented soap. Lovely.

“Sorry ’bout this,” said the guitarist, half dragging Ben into my apartment. “He insisted on coming over.”

“It’s fine.”

“On the couch?” David asked, face lined with strain.

“Ah, have to be the bed, please. He’s too big to fit on the couch.”

“Serve his stupid ass right if he woke up on the floor.” David sighed.

“Let me help.” I slid beneath Ben’s other arm, trying to take some of the weight. Christ, the man could put a bear to shame in the sheer bulk department.

“Hey, sweetheart,” said the giant drunken sod.

“Hey there, Ben.” I grabbed hold of his hand, hanging on tight. “How you feeling?”