Collide (a Collision novella) Read online

  8

  IVY

  The look on his face nearly broke me. His eyes a dark night full of stars and then I told him the truth. If we had been two stars colliding, we were the pair that collapsed. We dissolved, disappearing into nothingness.

  My heart felt so heavy in my chest, and I gripped my belly as I returned to the penthouse. I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t face any of them, so I stayed in my room. I didn’t hear anyone return, and sometime past dinnertime, I decided I couldn’t go any longer without food. I made my way to the kitchen, hearing the sound of slamming cabinet doors and the fridge long before I exit the hall to the main room. I stop short when I see Gage, and I’m ready to spin back for my room when a painful slur freezes me in place.

  “Little mama.” Gage storms toward me, and my instinct tells me to move. Back up. Get out of his way. Instead, I hold my ground, and he…he does the damnedest thing.

  He wraps himself around me. An arm circles my waist until a firm hand presses against the small of my back. Fingers delve into my hair, cradling the back of my head as he tugs me into his chest. He’s enveloped me, and I’m overwhelmed by all that is Gage Everly. He smells like fresh sun, salty air, and a bit of whiskey. From the sound of his voice, he’s clearly drunk, but the way he’s holding me, like I’m a life preserver and he’s hanging on for dear life, I can’t push him away. Besides, it feels so good to be held. So damn good.

  “I’m sorry,” he purrs into my ear, his breath a tickle at the shell. “I’m so sorry, Ivy.” He continues to hold me, rocking us a little. My hands come to his hips, but I don’t know what to do with him.

  “Hug me back, gorgeous,” he murmurs. I can’t remember the last time someone hugged me—really hugged me—so I give in. My hands slide up his back, bracing my palms against his shoulder blades. He nuzzles his nose lower into the crook of my neck and shoulder, and I tug him closer to me. My breasts ache as they flatten against his hard chest, but I don’t want to let him go. I melt into him, molding myself to his embrace, and praying he won’t release me.

  But he does.

  He unwraps from me, and without looking at my face, he falls to his knees. Both land with a thud on the tile floor, but he doesn’t flinch. His forehead presses against my belly as his hands cup the baby bump.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” he mutters to my belly, rolling his head back and forth. He sniffs, and I fear he’s crying. My hands cup his rough cheeks, tugging gently so he’ll look up at me, but he continues to roll his forehead on my belly. Another sniff.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” He presses his face against my stomach, forcing my nightshirt back. He’s…he’s kissing my belly, circling and circling as he mutters. “If I hurt the baby…”

  His voice drifts with another sniff.

  “I’m sorry, baby, so sorry. You be good in there and grow like you should for your mama, little one.”

  Tears come to my eyes. This is how it should be with someone who cares for me and loves my baby. But the sensation is foreign and uncomfortable because he isn’t the father. He shouldn’t be worshipping what’s growing inside me. I tug at his cheeks again, forcing him to gaze up at me. His eyes are liquid from his unshed tears and the alcohol.

  “I’m okay,” I whisper. He quickly stands, and this time I do press back, startled by the sudden movement. He cups my face so I can’t get too far away from him. His forehead lowers to mine, and we stand like this for several seconds. My eyelids close as I inhale his scent, the whiskey stronger.

  “I’m drunk,” he slurs, rolling his head against mine.

  “Time for bed,” I tease, clutching at his wrists and pulling back from him. I lower our hands and slip one of mine into his.

  “I can’t go to bed drunk with you.”

  I laugh as there’s no way I’m going to bed with him, drunk or otherwise. Still, I lead him toward his room and then decide to take him to mine. I have the master suite with a private bathroom, and it will be better for him when the hangover kicks in. I’ll sleep on the couch.

  I pull back the covers, and he tugs off his shirt. I asked Jared to take it to him earlier, and it appears he’s still wearing his board shorts from parasailing. He crawls in like child, and I pull the sheet up over him. I shouldn’t check out his muscular back. I shouldn’t linger on the curve of his shoulders. I shouldn’t smooth down his spine with a finger.

  But I do. God help me, I do.

  I whisper, “Sleep well,” and draw back my hand to step away from the bed, but he rolls, and his hand catches my forearm.

  “Don’t go. Not yet.” The plea in his voice stills my heart. What does he want with me? “Stay.”

  The word is low, and I’m not certain I hear him correctly until he tugs at my wrist. I bend a knee and lower myself beside him. Pressing on my shoulder, he forces me to my side. The sheet between us acts as a barrier, and he pulls me back to his chest.

  “Just this one time,” he mutters behind my head. “Don’t ever let me come to bed drunk again, gorgeous.”

  I shake my head, holding back a chuckle. Then he buries his face in the crook of my neck, and his arm slips over my hip. His hand covers my lower belly, flattening as if he wishes to reach from one side to the next and palm the entire bump. He hums, blowing my hair a little, and then he’s snoring.

  + + +

  When I wake, Gage is gone. The penthouse is quiet, but I can’t tell if the boys are still sleeping or out. I decide I need a beach day. One where I can take off the cover-up and not feel self-conscious. I exit the condo and walk a bit down the boardwalk. The great thing about being on the beach is you can cut through the shrubbery along the wooden walkway and plop yourself anywhere. I’m not looking for solitude, but I want some quiet to process all that happened last night.

  Gage’s apology was sweet and reminded me of my mother for some reason.

  Family loves unconditionally, my mother used to say. Being that her own parents didn’t love her and had disowned her, she made sure I never felt unloved, and she built a family around me, mainly through her band. Uncle Tommy, of course, is family, but Hank Paige would have just as easily been a father if my mother would have let him.

  My mind drifts as I lie back on the beach blanket and splay my hands over my stomach. There’s life inside me. A new life and I’m ready to lead it although I’m scared out of my mind. I will finish school just shy of the baby’s birth, earning a degree in music therapy and a child. I don’t necessarily need a job, so as much as I want to use my education and help others, I need to prioritize my life. Finishing school is first on the list, provided baby keeps her timer and stays put until the due date. I’ve read about how sometimes babies come earlier than expected.

  “You wouldn’t do that to me, right?” I say, patting my stomach. My eyes are closed, feeling the warmth of sunshine on my lids, so I don’t see anyone approach me. The sudden thump of a body close to mine causes me to sit upright, straining my belly muscles.

  “Who wouldn’t do what to you?” Gage chuckles beside me, and I turn to face him.

  Seriously. He should come with a warning. His aviators cover his eyes again, reflecting my startled expression back to me. His hair looks freshly washed, still damp, and his chest is bare except for the medallion on a leather strap. His freckles pop with the fresh tan on his face.

  “You scared the crap out of me,” I snap, letting go of my stomach and reaching for my cover-up. I’m wearing a bikini, which hides nothing. Gage makes himself at home next to me, propped up on his elbows as he lies on his stomach. A hand comes to my belly before I can slip on the beach dress.

  “Don’t do that,” he says, keeping his eyes on my stomach. “You don’t need to cover it.”

  “Her,” I correct, my voice teasing him.

  “Her? You already know the sex of the baby?”

  I shrug. “The ultrasound wasn’t certain, but it seems more real if I address her as a her.”

  He stares at his hand on my stomach and slowly pulls back, tucking his
arm under himself again. “Do you want to know the sex?”

  “I don’t think so. There are so few surprises in life, so I can wait. I have another test when I return that will be more conclusive, but I don’t want to think of that one yet. I wanted to enjoy this trip before I’m restricted from flying.” I shrug, cutting myself off from explaining.

  “Tommy says this place is about your mother. You being here. I hope we aren’t intruding on something private.”

  I peer down at him. “You’re not. I mean, you’re fine. I mean…it’s all good.” Why am I stammering? And what are his eyes doing behind those glasses?

  “Lie back down,” he tells me, but I remain seated.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to find you.”

  One brow cocks upward. “And how did you know to find me here?”

  “A grumpy former rock star told me where to look.”

  I chuckle at the reference to my uncle. Tommy hasn’t been the same since my mother’s death. He’s had to take care of too many of her lingering issues since she died, and I’m about to add another person to his list. He needs something to do with himself. He’s too young to sit around and be a grumpy old man.

  I decide to lie back, allowing the sun to heat my skin—all my skin—which feels exposed. My boobs don’t fit as well as they once did in the two triangles, and I should have considered their growth when I threw this red slip of fabric in my suitcase. Keeping my eyes closed, I try not to think about Gage lying next to me. Try not to think about him cuddling up to me last night.

  “So…about last night,” he begins, and I swallow as if he’s read my mind. I’m ready to tell him nothing happened, and he doesn’t need to concern himself. I’d be surprised if he remembers any of it in his inebriated state.

  “Before Cash…” He pauses, and I instantly hear the hollow in his voice. “…killed himself. We had a huge fight. I told him I was sick of his attitude and behavior. The drugs. The women.” He pauses again, and I roll my head to face him. He still wears his glasses, but it doesn’t matter as he isn’t looking at me. His fingers dig in the sand. When he notices I’m watching him, he twists his lips. “Sorry about the women. It’s just…true. I know that hurts, and I’m sorry, but he was all over everyone. It was the drugs, I think. He wanted to be accepted so badly. He was accepted, though. The fans loved him, but he couldn’t see it. He pushed us harder, rode the guys, worked himself into a lather, and then crashed. The cycle was never ending, and I was tired of the bullshit. It felt like we were so close to what we wanted, and he was going to blow it all. Anyway, I let him know how I felt.”

  He pulls his glasses from his face, folding them and setting them aside, then rolls to his side and props himself up on one elbow to face me. “It’s hard to love someone and then realize you don’t know them.”

  “I already told you I didn’t really know him,” I say sadly. I wanted to feel like I did, but the reality was I didn’t. “I didn’t love him.” I swallow with the painful thought. I’m not certain I’ll ever understand love—at least, romantic love. It was a summer of lust, which meant I had strong feelings for Cash, but not the right kind of feelings. Maybe if I loved him, he wouldn’t have done what he did. “It sounds crass, but it wasn’t love or even star-struck. I’ve been around rock stars my whole life. I’m not that easily impressed.” I wince. “Sorry.”

  He winks at me, and a weak grin grows on his lips. “Don’t apologize. It’s one reason I like you. You seem comfortable in the rock star lifestyle but aren’t swallowed up by it or bitter about it.” He’s silent a second. He averts his eyes to the blanket between us, and he smooths his palm over the terrycloth material. “Anyway, guilt ate at me. I mean, he was one of my best friends. How did I not see he was so depressed? How did I not notice his anxiety? Did our fight cause what happened?”

  My chest pinches, and I reach for his cheek, enjoying the feel of his rough facial hair against my palm too much.

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “How do you know?” His eyes drift up to mine and then back to the sheet beneath us.

  “You couldn’t have helped him unless he wanted help. Suicide is a cry for help, but it’s selfish and irreversible. He was loved and didn’t see it.” I was too young to learn this lesson from my father’s death, but I’d seen enough destructive behavior from my mother and Hank to know you can’t help those who don’t see they have a problem.

  Gage nods. “It’s why I apologized last night.” My eyes widen. “My rule is never to go to bed angry. Always say you’re sorry. Cash was my family, and family always says they’re sorry.” My mouth pops open as he says the very words I spoke to my mother, but then I close my lips, wanting him to continue. “A brother from another mother and all that bullshit. We were each other’s only family with Jared and Petty. I should have told him I was sorry. I should have gotten him help because I loved him. Because he was family.”

  His guilt eats at me because I recognize it. I fought with my mother before she died. She went into cardiac arrest shortly after our argument, and I thought that was it. I thought she’d pass without my ever saying I was sorry for what I said. I apologized when she came to, and that’s when she reminded me that family loves unconditionally. I understand what Gage is saying.

  “I’ve been sorry every day after his death.”

  My fingertips comb over his jaw, soothing myself as I scratch at his stubble. “I’m sure he knew you were sorry, and you loved him. If you’d already been there every step of the way, good and bad, he knew it.”

  He nods once. “I just try to make sure the guys know how I feel. If we fight, we apologize. We say we’re sorry, so no one walks away angry or hurting over a misunderstanding. I don’t want them questioning anything about the three of us. They’re my family.”

  “I get that,” I say, offering him a soft smile.

  “That’s why I had to apologize before I went to bed. I didn’t mean to wake you, but I’m glad I did.” He turns his face and kisses my palm. I smile a little deeper and then pull back. “And on that note, how did I end up in your bed?” He winks again, teasing me.

  “I worried you wouldn’t make it to the bathroom when a hangover kicked in.”

  He chuckles. “First, I don’t get hangovers. Second, you worried about me? I’m so touched,” he mocks, holding his hand over his heart.

  “Yeah, well…” I don’t have a retort, but I smile even bigger at his lighter mood.

  “So, Ivy, tell me all your secrets.” He rolls to fully rest on his front again and lowers his chin to his folded hands. I chuckle as I don’t have any secrets. At least, not any I’d share with him.

  9

  GAGE

  She doesn’t spill the beans about anything of importance. I’d never met a girl more closed off from sharing about herself, but as I listen to her tell stories of her mother and the band, I begin to wonder if it’s a self-preservation mechanism. Let’s face it, her mother was a fucking diva. For months, we witnessed firsthand the rumors about her on-again, off-again relationship with drummer, Hank Paige. I’d never seen such a vile relationship of jealousy and hate flip to passion at the drop of a hat like theirs did. It was a vicious cycle, and I wonder if this is what Ivy thinks a relationship should be.

  Wham. Bam. And thank you, ma’am.

  I’d disagree. I might not have had a role model of love, but I knew what I wanted a relationship to feel like and look like. I want the unconditional love Ivy mentions along with all the passion.

  I want I love yous and I’m sorry and Let’s make up and I’ll never let you go.

  My own mother died when I was a baby, and my father married Meredith when I was still a child. She wasn’t a good example of motherhood because she became verbally abusive as I grew. If she wasn’t smacking me, my father was. Until the day came when he couldn’t face the reminder I was of my dead mother, and he left.

  You’ll never amount to anything, Meredith had said. And I’d set out to prov
e her wrong even though I didn’t care about her. It wasn’t until I hooked up with Cash, and we finally met Jared that I realized my family situation was fucked up. Cash’s larger than life attitude was addictive and one reason I believed I could be who I wanted to be. When we added Petty to our trio, because every band needs a drummer, Cash’s vision became my dream. His nudge pushed me out of my comfort zone and into the limelight where he wanted to be.

  “I don’t do drugs,” I blurt, interrupting her story about some guy and her mother. “I just wanted you to know. It’s not my thing to let something control my brain. I drink, sure. Maybe too much. Last night, case in point, but I don’t do anything else.”

  I also knew the stories of her own father. Drug overdose. How strange that the situation was so similar to Cash. I’d heard Bruce was jealous of Kit and her growing popularity, but who can ever know the real reasons someone takes his life. Ivy seems strangely level-headed for someone surrounded by sex, drugs, rock ’n’ roll, and death.

  She smiles at my admission and nods once. “Noted.”

  “What else have you noted about me?” I tease, wanting to get a hint of whether she’s thought about me the way I’ve been thinking about her. I shouldn’t still feel this yearning for her. She’s pregnant. With another man’s baby. With my best friend’s baby. A shy smile creeps across her lips, but she doesn’t speak. When she doesn’t answer me, I change tactics.

  “Are you scared?” I ask, tipping my head in the direction of her belly. Her hands instantly cover her stomach, and I worry once again that I hurt her yesterday when I hiked her over my shoulder so carelessly.

  “Out of my mind.”

  “What scares you?”

  “Being alone,” she says softly and then swallows. I watch the roll of her throat, hearing the fear in her tone. It’s something I’ve begun to suspect. For her whole life, people have surrounded her, but do they see her? Not just Ivy Carrigan, daughter of the famous female phenom, Kit, but her. Ivy. I can’t imagine she’ll ever be alone. Some guy will snatch her up and hopefully treat her the way she deserves. But for now, I want to know more about her.