Rock Redemption (Rock Kiss, #3)(15)

And the worst, the absolute worst thing was that a part of her still wanted to see him, still missed him.

She got out of the car, then trudged her way to the house and to the fridge to get some water. The instant she opened the door, she remembered Noah doing the same yesterday, and that made her mind ricochet to the motel and to the syringe full of God-only-knew-what that Noah had considered pumping into his veins.

Her hand slid off the fridge, the door shutting on its own as she pressed the cold bottle of water to her forehead. It throbbed, both from her tears and from the memory of the breath-stealing fear that had gripped her that night. Regardless of how much she might want to forget Noah, to shove him out of her life, she had to accept that she’d be a wreck if she lost him so completely.

“So what are you going to do, Kit?” she asked herself.

There was no magical answer.




An hour later, she was lying in bed staring up at the ceiling when she realized her mind was going around in circles like a hamster on a wheel. Grabbing the phone, she called Molly. The other woman and Kit hadn’t gotten off to the best start—and the fault, Kit knew, had been hers. She was protective of the guys and untrusting of anyone she didn’t know. But Molly was a rare creature in Hollywood: a warm, loving human being who was fiercely loyal to her man and to her friends.

She’d quietly become a deeply trusted friend of Kit’s, someone without an agenda and honest to the bone. Becca was wonderful too, but the makeup artist was so much on Kit’s side that her advice was often one-sided. She was the kind of friend who’d cheerfully help Kit bury a body.

Molly, in contrast, never sugarcoated her answers, conscious Kit needed a sounding board who saw her flaws as well as her good points. She’d help bury that body too, but not until she’d grilled Kit on the facts and made her own decision as to the merits of the hypothetical murder. And, critically, she was friends with Noah as well, knew he was far more than just a promiscuous rock star.

“Hi, Molly,” she said when the other woman answered. “Did I wake you?”

A laugh. “It’s only eight thirty, Kit.”

“Right.” Kit groaned. “This filming schedule has reset my entire body clock. I’ll be fast asleep in another few minutes.”

“I can’t wait to see the movie.” Molly’s smile was in her voice. “Charlie’s a huge fan of the series, and she got me hooked when we were in high school.”

Kit hadn’t yet met Molly’s best friend, but she had a feeling she’d like the other woman. “Want to come to the premiere as my date?”

“Are you serious?” Molly uttered a wordless sound of excitement on the heels of her question.

“Absolutely.” A smile tugged at Kit’s lips, the other woman’s joy was so infectious. “I was going to go on my own, but it’d be fun to have the company.”

“I’d love to!”

They talked about the future premiere for a while longer before Molly said, “What’s the matter?” Her voice was gentle, caring. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

Kit had called Molly for a reason, but she still had to fight to speak; it all just hurt too much. Like a cold, icy weight sitting on her chest, crushing and crushing. “It’s about Noah,” she said, having already trusted the other woman with the ugly truth of what Noah had done.

The only other people who knew were Becca and Fox. Seeing Kit nearly every day thanks to their shooting schedule, Becca had picked up on Kit’s giddy happiness then on her devastation, and connected the dots.

As for Fox, he’d bumped into her in the corridor after she ran out of Noah’s hotel room, had held her safe while she sobbed, her heart in pieces. He’d kept her secret too, never let on anything to David and Abe, though the other two band members had to have guessed something was going on with her and Noah.

Now, Kit didn’t betray the fact Noah had ended up stone drunk in a dive on the wrong side of town, saying only that he’d come back into her life. “I don’t know what to do, Molly.” The confession emerged in a rasped whisper. “I know he’s not good for me, but”—she curled her fingers into her palm, admitted the truth—“I still miss him. Like a part of me was torn out and there’s this hole there.”

“Do you want to try again with him?”

Kit was shaking her head before Molly finished asking the question. “I’ll never trust him again.” How could she ever forget that horrible scene he’d set up for her, ever forgive him for humiliating her with such cruelty?

“I can understand that,” Molly replied. “What you said, about having a part of you ripped out—perhaps you need to find a way to allow that wound to heal.”

“By accepting Noah in my life?”

“I’m not going to tell you to do that, Kit, not after the way he hurt you. I will ask a question though—if he disappeared from your life forever, would you be happy?”

Kit thought of her panic the night Noah had called her, the cold terror that had gripped her throat and squeezed. “No.” Her breath hurt. “What am I going to do, Molly?”




Kit got through the next day by focusing on work with grim-minded determination; she even managed to laugh at the wrap party.

“This is relief laughter,” she said to Cody, one of her costars. “No one needs to wear that much makeup.” Her hair was still heavily damp from showering the cosmetics off. “You have no idea how tough it is to wash off full-body avocado-green goo.”