Rock Redemption (Rock Kiss, #3)(56)

She couldn’t see his back in this position, but she knew it bore a finely detailed phoenix so stunning the artist in question had asked Noah to pose for a photograph that adorned the front of the artist’s book. That phoenix rose from the flames, defiant and glorious, and after guessing just how deep Noah’s scars went, Kit had come to realize the phoenix was Noah.

Only he hadn’t quite escaped the forces trying to haul him back down.

I can’t save him, she reminded the heart that still ached for him. Not if he won’t help save himself.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she said, “I had a one-on-one meeting with Esra Dali.” She’d held the news inside all day because Noah was the only one with whom she wanted to share it.

“No shit?” A smile that just destroyed her. “You got the part?”

“Not yet. But he asked me to come in next week and read for him again, this time with Garrison opposite me.” The Abigail-Garrison show was now on the road, and they were doing better than Thea had predicted, so things weren’t yet in the bag.

“Kit, that’s amazing.”

Noah’s excitement was genuine, she knew that. He’d always been her biggest champion, right back from when they’d first become friends. The fact he’d broken her heart didn’t alter that, didn’t erase all the things he’d once been to her… still was to her. “Thanks,” she said, wanting to shake him and kiss him at the same time. “I’m cautiously excited.”

“So,” Noah said after a short pause, “what did Gates say when you told him about us?”





Chapter 20


Kit rubbed a hand over her face. “Terrence and I aren’t an item anymore. I wanted to tell him the truth about everything, but… I didn’t.”

She’d still been on the sofa the morning after the gala, staring at the muted TV, when Terrence had called her. He’d said he was watching the same report, asked her if the rumors were true, if she’d ended up in Noah’s bed the previous night.

Kit had gone to deny it, to reassure Terrence that it was all media hoopla, when he’d continued on to ask if she’d “dumped” him for “that manwhore,” if she’d “lowered herself to the gutter.” He’d added that he hadn’t thought her so “cheap.”

His voice had been colder than she’d ever heard it, so much anger in it that she’d felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. Maybe it was just a flash of temper, but maybe it was a side of Terrence she didn’t know—and his extreme possessiveness was especially troubling when they’d only gone on three tentative dates.

Kit’s mind had suddenly filled with the stalker’s letters. He’d used the word “whore” liberally too, though always in relation to Kit. Chilled, she’d snapped at Terrence that he had no right to speak to her that way, and that if they hadn’t been over before, they were now.

Afterward, she’d felt guilty at suspecting Terrence of being her stalker, but she couldn’t shake off the chill, not even after he apologized via text message since she refused to answer his calls.

“Hey,” Noah said, voice quiet. “I’m sorry. I know you liked him.”

“I did,” she admitted, dropping her head back against the wall. “But don’t feel bad. The way Terrence reacted to the news about us, it made me realize that maybe the man I know from work wouldn’t be the same man in private.”

Noah rose into a seated position, one knee raised, his arm braced on it. Gently gripping her chin in his fingers, he said, “Gates touch you?” Danger glinted in his eyes, deadly intent in his voice.

“No. We spoke on the phone.” The shields around her heart pounded to nothing by his proximity, his protectiveness, and driven by a wave of love that simply would not die, she closed her hand over his wrist. “Fox told me you haven’t been sleeping.”

He dropped his hand from her face, broke her hold.

No major change in his expression, but she knew him, had spent hours studying his face over the years when they’d circled around each other… and in the months when they’d been more than friends. She knew before he spoke that the shutters had come down, that he was about to give her an answer that told her nothing.

“I’ve always had trouble sleeping.” A shrug. “I don’t want to take sleeping pills, so I catch naps when I can—like today. I make up the sleep.”

No, she thought, he didn’t. He was always wired. For a while, way back at the start, she’d thought he might be using, but she’d come to know that Noah didn’t do drugs. He just didn’t get enough sleep, turning jittery and almost too “bright” when the lack came to a head.

He appeared okay right now, but she knew Noah was adept at putting on a persona. “Noah,” she said. “Are—”

“I’m fine,” he bit out, then seemed to consciously force himself to relax. “I’m fine,” he said in a less sharp tone. “Just a few nights of insomnia. I’ll probably crash tonight.”

The emotional shutters had turned into a wall in front of her eyes. She wanted to shove at that wall, to batter it down, but battering against it when Noah didn’t want her inside would gain her nothing but broken bones. “I’ll have to spend the weekend in this bus,” she said as the butterflies finally went still, curling inward in an effort to protect their fragile bodies.