Reckless: A Bad Boy Musicians Romance Page 19

  ‘Then why did you do it?’

  Hale looks at me as though it should be obvious. Perhaps he’s right.

  ‘I asked her if she’d said all that,’ he says. ‘She didn’t deny it. In fact, she seemed almost pleased. So… smug. She played the whole thing off like she was doing me some big favour, like she knew what was best for me. Like I couldn’t be trusted to make my own decisions. I just got so damn tired of that. Merry and the label, trying to shape me into something I’m not. I went along with it for too long. I’m just sorry you got dragged into it all too. Forgive me?’

  I lean in and give him a wordless hug, my arms tiny around his waist and his as heavy and firm as pine logs around my shoulders.

  ‘I take it that’s a yes?’ he asks.

  I nod into his chest. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Thank you, Hale.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Just… for this, I guess. For being here.’

  ‘Nowhere else I’d rather be.’

  His voice is gruff, but his grip is firm, and for a second – despite knowing how he feels about Eden – I almost believe him.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

  ‘I don’t know. You’ve got your life in New York. The tour coming up. Fame. Fortune.’

  He grins down at me. ‘Fortune might be pushing it a little, Carrie.’

  ‘You know what I mean. I just don’t get it.’

  And then I’m pulling myself out of his grasp, looking him square in the eyes. His forehead is wrinkled in confusion as he stares down at me.

  Now or never, Carrie, I tell myself. You have to know what this is. If it’s real, or if it’s a figment of your imagination. No matter what, you have to know.

  ‘Why me?’ I ask, even though I’m scared of the answer. ‘What could I possibly offer that you can’t get from a thousand different girls? Just tell me, Hale. Please. I can’t figure it out.’

  I can feel his fingers on my arms, gripping me as he pushes me ever-so-slightly away from him, until he’s far enough away to look into my eyes. His expression is soft but serious, no hint of a joke on his face. I’m grateful for that. I need to know. I need to understand. When he speaks, he speaks slowly. ‘Because it’s you, Carrie,’ he says. ‘Because it’s always been you. Because I can’t think up a world where it isn’t you. I don’t know how else to explain it.’

  ‘Try,’ I say. ‘Please.’

  He lets out a long sigh. ‘OK, so… here’s the thing. I hated the idea of coming back to Eden. I hated it. Spent ten years promising myself I’d never let myself get sucked back here. Cut off ties with my dad, with every bad thing that ever happened to me. And I built a new life for myself. A good life. Better than I ever could have dreamed. So when I came back here, I didn’t know what the hell I was going to find. I figured that it would be the same old town, that I’d be able to flip it the bird and say, “Hey, fuckers! Look at me now! I got out! I made something of my life!”. And my God, Carrie, I wanted that. I wanted that so much. I just wanted to rub people’s noses in it, just because I could.’

  ‘Hale, I don’t –’

  He puts up a hand. ‘Just a minute,’ he says. ‘You wanted the explanation, so let me finish. So I wanted to really show that I was a big deal now, and then I rode into town and… nothing. I didn’t recognise any of it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He pauses. ‘Well, no. That’s not entirely true. I did recognise it. All the streets were in the same place, all the buildings looked the same. Physically, it was still Eden. But it didn’t seem like the same town I’d grown up in. It was like a whole new world, you know? Like I’d stepped through the looking glass, and everything was just that little bit different from how it was supposed to be. And what’s the point of bragging in that case? I couldn’t show off; I had nothing to show off to. I might as well have been trying to impress the moon for all the satisfaction it would have given me.’

  ‘So what happened?’

  He looks up at me like it should be obvious. ‘I walked into the Red Rose Diner, and there you were. Just the same as you were ten years earlier. Hadn’t changed a bit.’

  The idea raises the hairs on the back of my neck. ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘I think.’

  ‘It’s a compliment.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘I think so. You were the one good thing about this town. The one thing that made it worthwhile. If you hadn’t been there that day, or if I’d chickened out and decided not to head into the diner – if it hadn’t been your shift, or if you’d moved away – then there wouldn’t have been anything left here for me. But here you are. Still my Carrie. Just like you were way back when.’

  And just like that, there I am again at sixteen, standing in the harsh-lit parking lot of the Stop ‘n’ Shop just outside of town. I can see myself, just as I was back then. I’ve got Hale’s blood on my shirt and I’m watching him look at me, just as I did ten years earlier, and as I see that wry little smile cross his face I know for a fact that I feel just the same way now as I did a decade ago.

  I love him.

  My God, do I love him.

  My fingers grasp and reach for him, longing to have him close to me, never wanting to let him go. I know, deep down that it can’t last – that the tour is calling him, that the lights of the city are going to end up drawing him back to them sooner rather than later, like a moth to a flame – but right now this is enough for me.

  ‘Stay tonight,’ I mumble into his chest. ‘Please. I need you here.’

  I feel his arms wrap around me, pulling me into a tight bear hug, and without a word he leans forward and kisses me on the top of my head. By the time we’ve made it to my bedroom and his skin is bare against mine, the rest of the day seems almost like someone else’s bad dream.

  But for how long, Carrie? the little voice asks in the silence, too brave and too bold to be quieted forever. How long can this possibly go on?

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next day is a haze of bedsheets and caresses, of laughter and moans and everything in between. The morning slips through our fingers without notice; noon drifts by without a care in the world. Except for brief bathroom breaks and Hale slipping away to the kitchen to make coffee for the two of us – because I’m a lot of things, but even I know I’m no replacement for a good cup of joe – we waste the day in each other’s arms.

  It’s almost four o’clock before Hale announces that enough is enough: that I have exhausted him, that he needs food and a shower and a respite from my eager body. I can’t say I blame him. My whole body aches, both for him and because of him.

  It’s not enough to stop me slipping into the shower behind him, pressing up against him while he runs his soapy hands across my breasts, gripping my ass with his slippery fingers, kissing me under the stilted droplets of my showerhead and then…

  Well, it’s a good job we were already in the shower, put it that way.

  ‘I was thinking,’ he says as I hand him a towel. He makes no effort to dry himself, or to cover himself up; somehow, I manage to be fine with that. ‘You feel like going out again tonight?’

  ‘Sure. Anywhere in mind?’

  ‘Got an idea or two.’

  ‘Sure you wouldn’t rather just stay in bed?’

  He grins, and pulls me close enough that I can feel him hard again through my towel. ‘Don’t tempt me,’ he says. ‘If the diner ever starts delivering, we might never leave that bed again.’

  ‘Who’s tempting?’ I reach down and take him in my hand, teasing him with just enough of a quick stroke to make his resolve quiver. I can almost see it in his eyes, how much he wants to take me back across the room and undo all the good work we just made with regards to getting clean.

  ‘Tease,’ he groans as I let my hand slip away.

  ‘Oh, you love it.’

  ‘Sure do. Never said otherwise.’

  ‘Damn straight.’

&
nbsp; If someone had told me a couple of weeks ago that this would be how I was spending my day off, towelling off after a marathon sex session with a celebrity, I would have thought they were nuts. If someone had told me just how comfortable the whole thing would feel… well, I would have straight-up laughed in their face. But that’s just Hale, through and through. Everything about him makes me feel at ease in his company.

  It’s when he’s gone that the doubts set in.

  ‘Hey, Carrie?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  A frown crosses his face; it’s the look of a man about to deliver bad news, and in that instant I’d give anything just to be able to kiss the words right out of his mouth. ‘I’m going to have to go back eventually,’ he says. ‘You know that, right?’

  ‘Yeah, I know. I’m just trying not to think about it.’

  ‘The whole thing with Merry is going to need sorting out. Then there’s prep for the tour, final rehearsals…’

  ‘I know, Hale. Believe me.’

  ‘Sorry. I just don’t want you to think that it’s because of anything you did, or because I’m not enjoying this. I’m loving every second. It just… it can’t last. Not like this.’

  The little voice inside my head breathes out an insidious I told you so, but it’s nothing I haven’t heard a thousand times before. There it is, laid out bare as broken glass.

  It can’t last.

  We can’t last.

  Not like this.

  Not in this state of bliss.

  Why now, though? Of all times, why did he have to pick this moment, when I was riding so high and everything seemed to be going so well? Why couldn’t he have just given me a few more seconds, a few more minutes, a few more hours or days of revelling in his company? Why did he have to bring up the awful, bitter reality of the situation?

  Because that’s what he did last time, I think. Because last time he went away, he left me hanging, and it damn near ruined me. I should be grateful, really. At least he cares enough not to make the same mistake twice.

  He pauses. ‘You could always come with me, you know. Back to New York.’

  I’m shaking my head before he even finishes. ‘I can’t. There’s Mom, and the diner, and…’

  ‘Not forever. Just for a little while. A week or so. When was the last time you took a vacation, Carrie?’

  ‘It’s been a while.’

  ‘Ever?’

  ‘Not really, no.’ Not since Dad got sick, and money got tight. After that, there was no time to think about a vacation, and even if there had been… well, what were we supposed to do, just shutter up the diner for a week while me and Mom crammed into some crappy motel? Disneyworld was never going to be an option, and as for travelling outside of the country… well, I might as well have set my sights on Mars.

  ‘Come on,’ he says. ‘What’s a week? I’m sure the world won’t fall apart if you take a little time to yourself. You’ve earned it.’ He slips his hand round my waist, and pulls me close. ‘Besides, I’m not ready to let you go just yet.’

  ‘Is that so?’

  ‘Mm-hmm.’

  He has a point, of course. There’s no reason not to take a vacation, not really. It wouldn’t be too hard to imagine driving back north with Hale, my arms wrapped around him on his bike as he makes his way along the highway, stopping at motels en route – and I’m sure that I’ll be able to find a bus ticket or something down from New York when the time comes for me to leave. And Pete and Mom can surely mind the diner by themselves. Dana might even be glad to pick up a few extra shifts.

  It makes sense. I could do it.

  And God, wouldn’t it be fun to do this for another week? Another month? Forever?

  Easy, I tell myself. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

  ‘Let me think about it,’ I say. ‘Best I can do for now. Is that OK?’

  He smiles. ‘Sure,’ he replies. ‘Consider it an open invitation. Mi casa es tu casa, how about that?’

  ‘I think I can live with that.’

  Boy, do I ever.

  ~~~

  ‘So what’s your big plan for tonight?’

  Hale sighs. ‘You’re not going to give it up, are you?’

  ‘Not even a little bit.’

  We’re walking the streets together, holding hands like a couple of teenagers. After we showered, Hale got an idea into his head that it might be nice for us to go out for the evening. ‘Out in public?’ I asked. ‘What will Polly Walker and the rest of the gossip set say?’

  Hale snorted. ‘Like you give a damn what Polly Walker thinks about anything. It didn’t bother you when were sixteen; I can’t see that it’d cause you any sleepless nights now. Besides, I’ve got a plan.’

  ‘A plan?’

  ‘Mm-hmm.’

  ‘What sort of a plan?’

  ‘It’s a surprise.’

  I honestly thought he’d break, but two hours later he still hadn’t cracked. I was starting to get the impression he just liked watching me dance like a puppet on his strings, knowing full well I was never able to resist a surprise. We’d spent a little time walking through the park, hand in hand (and, whenever we had a quiet moment, usually lips on lips too), and grabbed an ice cream at the little stand in town – but he had kept irritatingly silent on the topic, perfectly satisfied to let me stew.

  ‘Come on, Hale.’ I say eventually.

  ‘Come on what?’

  ‘You know what. Tell me.’

  Silence.

  ‘Tell me.’

  Nothing. A steel trap.

  ‘Tellmetellmetellmetellmetellmetell –’

  ‘OK,’ he says, cutting me off. ‘We’re here.’

  To say it’s not what I had in mind would be an understatement. In the time since he’d promised me we were heading out for the night, I had managed to build up a thousand different romantic scenarios, none of which shared our current setting. In fact, I struggled to think of anywhere less romantic. ‘Where?’ I ask.

  ‘Right here.’

  O’Hara’s Bar and Grill is not one of Eden’s classier drinking establishments – and that’s saying something. It’s the kind of place you go when you want to forget something. I’m not saying I haven’t even found myself in there, but… well, not when I’ve been in a great state of mind.

  ‘Are you sure?’ I ask.

  ‘Look again,’ he says, and then I see it, right there on the chalkboard. Just what Hale had in mind for the night’s entertainment.

  LIVE MUSIC! OPEN MIC!

  Chapter Twenty

  I can’t help but raise my eyebrows when Hale opens the door for me. ‘After you,’ he says.

  ‘You’re serious?’

  He grins. ‘Never more.’

  ‘An open mic night?’

  ‘What, you think I can’t handle it?’

  I shrug. ‘I don’t know. It doesn’t seem like your sort of thing.’

  ‘How do you think I got spotted in New York? I ground these things out like they were my job. I spent more time on stage in dingy little bars than I did in my apartment.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ I say.

  ‘I promise you, I don’t.’

  ‘You want to do this here? In Eden?’

  ‘Why not?’ He smiles that smile, the one that says Trust me, the charm he can turn on without an ounce of effort. ‘Besides, I’ve got something I want to show you.’

  After last night I’m surprised if he has anything else to show me, but I lead the way regardless.

  I haven’t been inside O’Hara’s in a longass time, but it still looks exactly the same; bars like O’Hara’s never change. Even the faces of the people don’t change. The only way you’d know any time was passing at all was that occasionally people moved from one drink to the next.

  ‘You find us a table,’ he says. ‘I’ll get us a couple of drinks.’

  It’s easier said than done. Open Mic Nights are a staple of O’Hara’s, and pretty much everyo
ne in town seems to be there. Those who aren’t propping up the bar are milling around the stage, listening to Joanne McManus warble her way through a Patsy Cline number with more enthusiasm than talent, but that’s fine by me; I manage to snag us a two-seater a way back from the microphone, the closest thing the bar has to a quiet little corner. Across the bar, I can see Pete chatting to some of the bar’s regulars. He saw me come in the door with Hale, and shoots me a wink and a wave. I roll my eyes at him and he laughs, then goes straight back to his conversation.

  Why would Hale bring me to a place like this? Hell, he made it pretty clear earlier that our time together is limited – at least, our time in Eden; I still haven’t decided whether or not I’ll be taking the trip up to see him in New York, although I’d be lying if I said the idea didn’t send my stomach fluttering. We could be at home in my apartment, just the two of us. I know it’s not much, but it’s got to be better than a night of sticky floors and amateur singers.

  Well… I’d hope so, anyway.

  Five minutes after we stepped inside, Hale has his name on the call sheet, he’s negotiated the use of a guitar, and there are two beers sitting in front of us. By now, Willie O’Hara is on stage himself, strumming away alongside the Ward brothers, the owners of the junkyard at the edge of town and two of his best customers. Willie’s moustache bounces up and down on his top lip like a caterpillar on steroids as he taps his foot, keeping tune as his vocal accompaniment works their way through a Hank Williams number that must have been played a thousand and one times before in these hallowed halls – but honestly, gun to my head? They’re not all that bad. Bobby and Dick Ward might have five teeth between the pair of them, but they’re doing a damn fine job of riling up the crowd; by the time they’re finished, everyone’s laughing and cheering and slapping them on the back as they come down from the stage. Willie takes a moment to introduce Rhonda Burton from the library and her husband Todd – ‘First time up on stage, ladies and gentlemen, so show ‘em some love’ – and before long we’re listening to a pretty solid take on Walk the Line, courtesy of a woman who looked ten years younger up on stage than she did when she was doling out library fines from behind a heavy oak desk.