Lead (Stage Dive, #3)(48)

And I just kind of needed to walk away before resorting to violence. This conversation was doing my head in. “Wow. Those are wise words indeed.”

The man’s eyes flashed in sudden understanding. “I don’t mean that you … ah, well obviously you’re not in the same category as him.”

“No?”

“No, of course not.” He put his hands on his hips, then changed his mind and linked them behind his head. All the while looking at me like I was just one small step away from the loony bin. At least we’d moved on from him laughing at my feelings.

“I mean, hello! Different situation entirely,” he said.

“That’s a relief.”

“Yeah, you haven’t realized yet that it would never work out between us.” He looked up at me and I could almost see the cogs and wheels desperately working overtime in his head.

“Talk me through it, Jimmy.”

I’m reasonably certain sweat broke out on his forehead. “Well, do I look like the kind of guy who takes relationships, seriously? No, I’m a player.”

I cocked my head. “Except you’re not, you don’t have sex at all these days.”

“True. But when I do, I’m not the kind that goes back for round two. Been there, done that. It’s like they said at dinner, I don’t pretend I’m interested in more.” He wrapped his hands around the railing, holding on tight. “And they shouldn’t be either. I’m a hell of a bad bet, Lena. Fucked up home life, reformed addict. I mean shit, my issues have issues. I don’t want any of that. I just wanna be left alone, you know?”

“If you want to be left alone, then why don’t you want me to leave?”

“This I can handle. We give each other shit, there’s some give-and-take. It’s good. But I can’t do more. I just can’t.” His voice held such absolute heartbreaking certainty.

“How do you know if you’ve never tried?”

“No.” He looked up at me from beneath dark brows, fingers white, he held onto the railing so tight. “There’s too much to lose.”

I just stared at him stunned. “I think that’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

He pinned his lips shut, apparently not happy with the news.

So much information whirling around inside my head. I needed time to make sense of it all, to figure him out. Things were changing again, I could feel it, but I didn’t quite understand how yet. The situation was as complicated as the man.

“Anyhoo, I don’t think I’ll keep dating people,” I said, sucking in my stomach. “Let’s just concentrate on the other stuff. If anything can convince me you’re a monster, the jogging alone should do it.”

“Lena, you need to keep dating.” Little wrinkles appeared beside his eyes, his jaw tightened. “The next one’ll be better. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“I don’t think god wants me to date. The signs have been quite clear.”

“One more,” he said, voice dropping to a highly persuasive rumble. “C’mon, just give it one more go then I’ll drop it, I promise.”

“I don’t know …”

“Please? See, I used my manners.”

“That’s great.”

“Lena …”

“All right, one more then that’s it. And I do have a condition. Next date, you’re banished to downstairs. You don’t meet him and you sure as hell don’t interrogate him. In fact, I don’t even want to see you. I catch sight of you, its home on the sofa all night watching TV. No excuses. No ifs, buts, or maybes. Do we have a deal?”

His jaw tensed, shifting beneath his skin. “All right. And the next date’ll be better, you won’t regret it.”

I already did.





CHAPTER TEN


“Adrian sent through info about the first few venues and hotels booked etcetera.” I passed Ev my iPad.

We were sitting on the steps, watching the guys work in the new basement recording studio set up. The finishing touches had been put on it the day before and Jimmy had gone all out. The walls alternated black sound proofing with floor-to-ceiling glass and lots of high-tech equipment sat shining within. The delight in his eyes when the guys made all the right sounds of approval was lovely. I had a feeling all the building and equipment was his way of trying to apologize to them for the past, his way of attempting to make amends.

Whatever way you looked at it, the studio was a very good thing.

“Looks like the publicity machine revs up after New Year’s. There’s not too much booked until then,” I said. “A couple of interviews, that’s about it.”

“Good, they need a break.”

“Yeah.”

A scrawny Australian guy named Taylor and his gorgeous wife Pam, who had some native American heritage, were waiting on the door step when we got back from jogging (swift stumbling/walking) this morning. Usually after I’d done my torture time, Jimmy would take off on his own for a ‘proper’ run. Today, however, he’d acted mildly delighted to see these guests. The friendliest I’d ever witnessed him being previously was the small smiles Ev garnered for herself now and then. He’d even suffered through a quick hug from Pam, despite his limbs stiffening and his face screwing up. I don’t think I’d ever met anyone so averse to letting people get close to them.