Broken instrument, p.21
Broken Instrument, page 21
That’s where I was wrong.
I didn’t consider gravity. I didn’t consider Hadley or how she might react. I didn’t consider my own strength and how I could potentially react on a hard day by keeping those stupid pills in my house. I didn’t consider a lot of shit. And because of it, I lost everything.
The crowd continues chanting my name, anxious for me to play the first song even though the rest of the band is still offstage and the bright lights have yet to turn on. But I stay quiet, lost in my own head. In the memories of that night. In the potential of what could’ve been if I hadn’t screwed up.
If I close my eyes, I can almost hear Hadley’s quiet voice when she whispered she loved me after we had sex.
No. That shit wasn’t sex.
It was more.
It was opening the door to our future and closing the door from our pasts. Or at least, it’s what I’d thought. Somehow, my past caught up to me anyway. And there’s nothing I can do to change it.
“Fen.” The word is nothing but a whisper, and I’m not sure how it cuts through the crowd, but I hear it. The soft lilt. The breathy, strained syllable. I’d recognize it anywhere. It’s been haunting me for weeks.
Her voice.
I turn around, convinced I’m going crazy, when a curvy brunette grabs my attention through the heavy black curtains hanging on the side of the large platform.
The guitar slips from my fingers, landing with a reverberating thud. Pixie’s ears perk, and she searches for what spooked me. When she sees Hadley, Pixie races toward her, her butt wiggling from side to side. With a grin, Hadley crouches down to greet the beast while my feet stay planted, positive I’m seeing things.
What the hell is she doing here?
She hates me.
I screwed up.
She shouldn’t be here.
I watch as Hadley scratches Pixie behind her ear and almost falls on her ass as the dog crowds Hadley’s personal space, desperate for more attention and an opportunity to lick her face, her hand, or anything she can come in contact with.
My heart beats faster, practically galloping in my chest, but still, I don’t move. I can’t. It’s like a spell’s been cast, and it’s one I don’t want to break. If I move, she’ll disappear. I’ll be alone again. And any spark of hope that hit when I saw her standing next to Hawthorne will dissipate into wisps of smoke. I can’t let it happen.
Oblivious, the rest of the band joins me on the stage, and the lights flip on. Blinding me. Convincing me I’m hallucinating, and there’s no way in hell the love of my life is here. Not after she left me.
I turn to the audience, shielding my eyes and blinking slowly before turning back to Hads. My Hads.
She’s still here.
My new band watches me curiously, waiting for me to greet the crowd and play the first song in our set, but I’m too stunned to do anything but stare. I watch as Hawthorne leans down and murmurs something to Hadley. She shakes her head but takes his offered hand and stands up. He says something else, though I can’t hear a word over the cheering audience.
With bright red cheeks and scuffed up black converse shoes, Hadley’s gaze connects with mine as she walks toward me. On the stage. In front of thousands.
And I can do nothing but watch. Her swaying hips. The short wisps of hair framing her face. The way her white teeth dig into her lower lip as she looks at the ground instead of her surroundings. Like she’s anxious. Shy. I can’t figure out if it’s because she’s on stage in front of a massive crowd or if it’s because of me. Because of how we left things. How I screwed up. How she broke my heart.
When she reaches the center of the stage, she takes a slow, unsteady breath and looks up at me. “Hi.”
“What are you doing here?” I rasp, my words echoing throughout the stadium, and I realize the microphone is only a few feet from us.
I sigh, remembering where the hell I am, and take a few steps away from it.
With her arms folded, Hadley follows me, looking small and vulnerable. “Hawthorne wanted me to tell you, you’re kind of supposed to be performing right now, and we can sort our stuff after.”
“And he sent you out here to tell me that yourself?”
Her tongue darts out between her lips. “Yes.”
“So you’re not going anywhere?” I ask.
She shakes her head, the first ghost of a smile causing her lips to slant as she peeks up at me again from behind her black frames. “Sorry, Fen, but after a short conversation with your brother and a long-ass flight all alone, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”
“Is that right?”
She nods and steps closer to me, closing the last bit of distance between us. Her fingers are delicate and unsure as she cups the side of my face and rubs her thumb along my cheek. “Yeah. I’m sure we can get into this when we don’t have an audience watching our every move, but I love you, and I’m so sorry for abandoning you and for not being willing to listen. I was scared. And I know it’s no excuse, but I’m here now. And I’m not––”
I slam my mouth onto hers, and the crowd goes wild. Cheering. Clapping. Whistling. But it all fades away until I’m left alone with nothing but Hadley and the feel of her curves pressed against me, the soft sweetness of her lips, and the knowledge she isn’t going anywhere. Not anymore. Not after everything we’ve been through.
She loves me.
Me.
My lungs force me to stop kissing the shit out of her, and I pull away, resting my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath.
“You’re not going anywhere?” I repeat.
She shakes her head.
“No matter what?”
“It’s like I said. You’re stuck with me.”
“Even when I’m broken?” I challenge, waiting for her to deny it. To tell me her love is conditional, and I’m not good enough. Will never be good enough. Because I won’t. Not for a girl like her. A girl who deserves the world but is stuck with my sorry ass. Because I’m not letting her go. Not anymore. Not now that she’s here. With me. For me.
I wrap my arms around her waist and squeeze her tighter, still convinced I’m hallucinating. But I know how she feels when she’s pressed against me. I’ve memorized her curves. Her fruity scent. The way her eyes crinkle behind her glasses when she smiles at me. And right now? I’m witnessing it first hand.
She’s here.
She’s really here.
And she loves me.
With the same smile that’s haunted me for weeks, she cups my cheek again. “We’re all a little broken sometimes, Fen. But I think, if you can forgive me and we stick together, we just might be able to fix each other too.”
I close my eyes and rest my forehead against hers. Again. Like I can’t get close enough. “I love you, Hadley Rutherford.”
“Love you, too, Fender Hayes.” On her tiptoes, she reaches for my mouth and kisses me softly. “Now, go get ‘em, Tiger.”
So I do.
And it’s one hell of a show. A high I’ve never felt before. But when they scream for an encore, I shake my head and rush offstage.
I have a girl to get to. And when I’m with her, it’s a high unlike anything.
It’s even better.
EPILOGUE
HADLEY
“I want to thank everyone for being here tonight, especially my amazing girlfriend, Hadley.” He motions to the side of the stage where I’m currently sitting with Pixie at my feet. “Without her, I wouldn’t be here. She’s saved me so many times. I’m not sure she even understands what I mean when I say I’d be lost without her. I love you, Hadley Rutherford.”
He plays the intro to a new song he’s been working on, and my grin widens as I listen to the lyrics, humming along since I’ve found my own writing mojo likes listening to him play while I work.
Fender and I flew home for a short trip, officially moved in together, and caught another flight to catch up with the rest of his band so we wouldn’t miss any scheduled concerts during the tour.
Things have been perfect. So much so, I was finally able to write “the end” on my latest novel, and my editor loves it. In fact, she said her favorite addition to the story was a certain love interest who thought he was broken but wound up having an excellent character arc. Her words. Not mine.
I’ve decided to open a new pen name, spending my time writing more love stories almost rivaling the one Fender and I found.
Almost.
And Pixie? She’s still Fender’s sidekick, watching over us every minute of every day while refusing to leave either of our sides. Unless his favorite running buddy stops by.
Speaking of Mia, she got accepted into LAU’s nursing program. Even though she still has a lot to work through, including abandonment issues and shitty taste in guys, she’s trying to put herself back together again.
The final note rings throughout the massive stadium, and Fender lifts his arms into the air, his lime-green electric guitar hanging from the strap across his shoulder, and says his goodbyes while the crowd cheers for another encore.
“You think you’ll ever get sick of his sappy declarations of love during every show?” Gibson asks beside me as he and the rest of the band wait for their turn to set up. Broken Vows was invited to meet up with Fender a few weeks ago. Hell, even the infamous Donny Hayes decided to tag along and be a guest singer during a show or two. It’s been nice getting to know Fender’s family. They’ve adopted me as one of their own. And the fact they’re all writing songs for River and Reese’s new movie? I’m pretty sure it’s the cherry on top of a fantastic future.
“You ever going to get sick of pausing halfway through a song to kiss the crap out of your co-singer?” I counter, tearing my gaze from my sexy boyfriend to his brooding brother beside me.
Gibson laughs. “No.”
“Then, no,” I reply with a grin. “I won’t ever get sick of Fender’s sappy declarations.”
“Good. Because I have a feeling they’re not going anywhere.”
My grin widens, and I look back at the sexy musician on stage I get to go home with every night. Seriously. Could I be any luckier?
The crowd continues screaming, cheering, and clapping, causing a deafening roar as the stage darkens. Fender jogs toward me with Pixie padding right beside him.
“You were amazing,” I tell him as I wrap my arms around his damp neck.
The crowd was begging him to take off his shirt as soon as he walked on stage, but he kept it on, gifting them with his signature smirk and sexy voice instead. And once he started playing, they didn’t complain. Because they saw the real Fen, and I’ll give him this much…the guy definitely still knows how to put on a show.
There were good things about Fen before he went to rehab. Lots of good things. Like his love of music. And his protective nature. And his loyalty to family and those he cares about.
It’s been interesting to sort through, but I’m glad we’ve been taking the time to find the pieces of the old Fen that are so worth keeping.
But what I’m even more grateful for? One of those pieces which made me fall in love with him in the first place is his lust for life. For chasing his dreams. And for weaving them with mine.
“I love you, Fender Hayes,” I tell him as I rise onto my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.
“Love you too, Hads.” He snatches my mouth with his own. “So damn much.”
* * *
Don’t Let Me Fall
Prologue
Ashlyn
My head bobs up and down to the music on the radio while I wait for the red light to turn green, and fiddle with my car's heater. Even though it’s late in the afternoon, the temperature is dropping, and I know as soon as the sun slips beneath the horizon, it’ll get cold again. It doesn’t help that my last class is with Professor Williams who likes to keep her classroom colder than Antarctica. A chill races down my spine as I turn the heat to full blast. At least it’s my last class for the week. I’m ready for a nice, hot bubble bath with a side of ice cream. After the week I’ve had, I need it. Big time.
As I make a mental checklist of my upcoming assignments in my classes while tapping my finger against the steering wheel, a massive truck pulls up beside me.
From the corner of my eye, I peek over and catch a glimpse of a corded forearm resting against the steering wheel and a chiseled chin.
Ummm…hello.
I crane my neck a little further, while attempting to be inconspicuous.
Hot damn.
Clearing my throat, I look back at the stoplight. Because, ya know, it’s rude to stare.
The light’s still red.
I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth for a few seconds and go back to my checklist, but the stranger tugs at my curiosity despite my best efforts to ignore him. Unable to help myself, I glance at the guy again. My mouth practically waters as I take in his silhouette.
He has dark sunglasses propped on his nose, and his full lips are mouthing the lyrics to whatever song he’s listening to. His dark hair is somewhat wavy and is pushed away from his face, showcasing his tan skin and stubbled jaw as he stares at the stoplight in front of us. Thankfully, he appears to be oblivious that I’m most definitely checking him out when I most definitely shouldn’t be.
I gulp.
Who is this guy? He doesn’t look familiar.
It’s not surprising, though. LAU’s campus isn’t exactly small, but when your boyfriend’s on the hockey team and is LAU’s golden boy, you get to know people. A lot of people. Especially the good looking ones. I swear, they always group themselves together.
But this guy?
I tilt my head, continuing my perusal.
No, I for sure don’t know him.
If I’d seen him walking around campus or around the Taylor House for one of Theo’s parties, I would’ve noticed. I know I would’ve.
The guy’s good looking. Very good-looking. I’ll give him that much.
His mouth quirks into a smile as if he can read my mind before he looks down at his lap. I glance back at the stoplight––which is still red––then steal another peek at the stranger.
Is he texting someone?
My phone dings with a notification, and I flinch at the obtrusive sound, my heart kicking up a notch as if I was caught doing something I shouldn’t be, which, I guess isn’t exactly off-base. Digging the phone out of my purse, I scan the notification before my cheeks burn red and a gasp slips out of me.
Holy crap on a cracker. It’s an airdrop notification. From someone I most definitely don’t know.
Colt Thorne would like to share a note.
Colt Thorne?
Is he Colt Thorne?
My teeth dig into my bottom lip as I glance up at the truck again, but the space is empty, and the light is green.
Shit.
A loud honk blares from behind me, feeding my embarrassment until I’m pretty sure I’ll never live it down before I press the gas. As I drive through the intersection while staring at a certain truck that’s a few yards in front of me, indecision gnaws in my lower gut.
Because if my intuition is right, and Colt Thorne is the tall, dark, and handsome stranger in the truck––and he decided to airdrop me something––should I be stupid enough to accept it? What if it’s a dick pic? Or a list of names from his latest killing spree, since I don’t exactly know the guy, and Ted Bundy was attractive too or––
I shake my head.
Calm the hell down, Ash, I chide myself.
But time isn’t exactly on my side if I want to download this message. After all, it only works if you’re within a certain distance from the sender. I stare at the truck’s brake lights as he flips on his blinker, slowing down so he can make a right-hand turn. My thumb hovers over the “accept” button for a solid three seconds before my curiosity gets the best of me, and I tap it.
The notes app opens, and the message sent from the stranger pops up.
This message is for the cute girl in the beater who was staring at me at the light. Hope this is you.
You should text me.
547-555-4119
My jaw drops, and my gaze snaps back onto the road, but the truck’s gone. He must’ve turned while I was reading his note.
The guy’s ballsy. I’ll give him that much. I glance at the phone again, scanning the message another time when my phone dings with an incoming text message. It’s from Logan, my boyfriend.
I toss my phone onto the passenger seat as if it burned me, then turn off the music too, feeling like I’m on sensory overload. I drive the rest of the way home in silence, parking in the driveway while attempting to erase the last ten minutes from my life like it’s a dirty bathroom in need of bleach.
Unfortunately, it’s a waste of time.
Because even though I’m in a relationship, I can’t erase the fact that it’s nice. Being wanted. Appreciated.
I haven’t been given a guy’s number in years. Probably because most of them know I’m in a relationship with Logan, so it would be a waste of their time. But still.
A guy just gave me his number.
A good-looking guy.
A really good-looking guy.
My lips pull into a nervous smile at the memory, but I shake my head and shove the feeling aside.
Get a grip, Ash.
It doesn’t matter how good-looking the guy is or how flattered I am he reached out. I’m in a relationship. And I’m not going to jeopardize it for a stranger, no matter how attractive he is.
I reach for my phone and pull up the message my boyfriend sent, anxious to move on with my day and push the stranger as far away from my thoughts as possible.
Logan: Hey! You coming tonight?
With a frown, I close my eyes, my enthusiasm for this conversation draining before it even had a chance to begin. I don’t need to ask where Logan’s referring. I already know.
