Reforming the Rock Star Page 14

  Her uncomfortable, be-someone-you’re-not-and-he’ll-love-you clothes.

  Fuck. Fashion.

  She snatched her sweats and threw them in the bag, then tossed one dress and frilly skirt after another at the wall, watching as the flashes of rainbows flew through the air. One after another fell to the floor, but never gave a thud satisfying enough to quell the ache in her chest.

  With every passing throw, the tears came harder, steaming hot and fast down her cheeks until she was gasping for breath. And still she chucked the dresses with more force than the ones before until there was nothing but an empty dresser and a sea of clothes on her floor.

  Never again. She’d never let herself get that close to falling in love again.

  She flopped on the bed and collapsed into tears, but her catharsis was interrupted by a knock on her door, firm and commanding. And familiar.

  “No.” She choked and burrowed into the pillows. If she didn’t acknowledge him, maybe he wouldn’t exist.

  “Let me in. I need to explain.” Laz was more pleading than she’d ever heard him before, but that didn’t change her resolve. Let him beg. It was the least he could do.

  “I’m not home,” she shouted.

  There was a long pause, then a click and the door swung open.

  Fantastic.

  Not only had he embarrassed her in every way a man could. Not only had he done that every day since they’d met. Now he got to see her blotchy, tearful, and knee-deep in self-pity. Would the humiliation never end with him?

  “You can’t just break into my room.” She edged toward the headboard, pulling her knees up to her chin.

  “You need to listen to me. It wasn’t what it looked like.” His mouth was a hard line, and he stood in his most intimidating stance—arms crossed and legs hip width apart. Like a pissed-off Superman.

  But she wasn’t the one who needed to be doing anything. Enough was enough. Maybe she’d let him convince her to give this a try, but he could never convince her to keep doing it. “Have you ever heard an honest person say ‘it’s not what it looks like?’ I mean ever? In the history of time.” She took a deep breath and reached deep into her spirit for the one part of herself that didn’t fracture into a million pieces at the sight of him.

  Finally, she stood and faced him. Hell if she was going to let him make her uncomfortable anymore. Those days were over. She was a lone wolf. A pillar of strength. An island unto herself.

  Again.

  “I have. I just heard myself say it.”

  She harrumphed and moved around him to snap her suitcase closed.

  “What are you doing?” he asked softly.

  “Leaving. I can’t do this. Not here. Not with you.” She pulled the case from the bed and sat it on the floor. “Fucking Fairbanks. Nothing good ever comes from being here.”

  But Laz grabbed her suitcase and tossed it back on the bed as though it weighed nothing at all.

  “You have to know I didn’t sleep with her, Syd. She climbed into bed with me when I was sleeping. Don’t do this. Not for some stupid mistake.” A note of pleading melded with the anger in his voice.

  “You’re right, it was a stupid mistake.” Tears pooled in the corner of her eyes, but she blinked them away. She had to stay strong. “I need you to leave.”

  Her voice broke on the last word, and she cursed herself.

  “Please listen to—”

  “No!”

  Her shout surprised both of them, but Laz backed away, his hands held up and splayed out in defeat.

  After another deep breath she continued, “I don’t want to know what happened. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter if it was all some huge misunderstanding and I’m just a crazy person. It was the wake-up call I needed that this,” she gestured wildly between them, “doesn’t work. It can’t work and being around you is only going to break my heart more. Don’t you get it? When I see you, I know you could be with anyone. Tonight only proved that. How or why it happened doesn’t matter. I don’t care.” The words had spilled out, one after another, but she knew he’d heard her.

  “What can I do to get you to understand?” He’d mumbled the words under his breath, but she heard them like they’d been whispered especially for her. And maybe they had been.

  “What can I do to get you to understand?” she repeated and stared him in the eye. “We were fooling ourselves. Why put in the effort? I’m not going to start a race with a broken ankle. And I can’t do this with a broken—” The words died on her tongue, but she willed herself to finish. “I can’t do this with a broken heart.”

  “Sydney—” He reached out to her, but she stepped away.

  “Please, Laz. Don’t,” she said. “Just leave.”

  “I’ll go.” He took a step back. “But we can work something out. I’ll stay out of your way. We’ll avoid eye contact. Anything. Just don’t go.” His brows were pulled together, and she could tell he was fighting the urge to reach for her again.

  For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. Now that reality had started to set in, she knew Laz hadn’t meant to hurt her. And she didn’t want to leave.

  But if she didn’t?

  She surveyed Laz, all tall and muscled and heart-stopping. Standing in front of him now, already she could feel her resolve slipping away. If she gave him the chance to try to change her mind, she would. She’d come up with a million ways to rationalize staying with him and not one of them changed the fact that staying with Laz was a one-way ticket to Heartbreak City.

  Better she leave now before she walked in on more women throwing themselves at him and wondering why he was with her. She couldn’t live like that for a week, never mind forever.

  At last, he interrupted her thoughts. “Will you at least take some time to think it over?”

  “Okay,” she said softly. “But I need to do that alone.”

  He nodded, looking a little sad and a little sick. “If you do decide you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

  Another long moment passed while they looked into each other’s eyes. There was only one thing left to say, and if she had one wish, it would have been that she be spared from the obligation to say it. But if she didn’t say it now, she would never find the courage.

  “Good-bye.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and shook his head. “Good-bye, Syd.” He turned on his heel and left without another glance in her direction. Which was a good thing.

  It meant he didn’t see the silent tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She stared at the door through blurred eyes, unable to muster the strength to move. The whole needing time and sleeping on it excuse was bogus. Her mind was made up. She’d gotten everything she’d expected from this relationship, and it was time to move out.

  She crept down the stairs and into the foyer. How she got into the car or when she started driving were all a vague blur of time and space. She didn’t know. Didn’t know what to do or where she was going.

  All she knew was the aching hurt filling her chest and scratching at the back of her throat.

  She flicked on the radio, desperate to find anything to distract her from torment. It was tuned to a news station and a bubbly reporter was babbling on about one celebrity divorce or another.

  Apparently heartbreak was an epidemic.

  “In other news,” the reporter chirped, “The Rift announced today that rumors circling about Lazlo Stone’s departure from the band are, indeed, false. These speculations had begun some months ago, but gained popularity after a photo of Stone and an unnamed acquaintance that reporters have dubbed ‘Plain Jane’ was leaked last week. The Rift is set to release a new studio album this fall. Johnny, back to you—”

  She twisted the radio off. She should have as soon as she’d heard his name, but it was one more terrible decision to add to the scoreboard.

  By the time she could process where she had been going, she was already there. Not the airport. Minerva�
�s house. The only place she ever visited when she was stuck in this shit hole town.

  Probably it was some kind of weird impulse to go to the closest thing to a mother she’d ever had. Either way, there was no way she’d bother the old woman now with her daughter’s wedding so close…

  Oh God, Callie’s wedding.

  Laz or no Laz, there was no way she could leave before the wedding. Callie needed her, and she would never break her promise. And besides, Paula was counting on her, too. And Lita and Lori. This was bigger than her.

  She would go back.

  But not now.

  She laid her head on the steering wheel and sobbed.

  Her tears washed away the awful nicknames, the memories of women’s faces when they saw them together, even all the hurt she still carried with her from childhood. It was all so small in comparison.

  Losing him was the worst thing that had ever happened to her, and no amount of crying would rinse away that fact.

  When she finally lost the ability to cry, she headed back to the estate. She’d have Paula help her with the meals. And the rest of the time she’d remain in her room. She’d be there for Callie and her friends, but no other kind of torture would ever get her to see his face again.

  When she crept back into the foyer, the place was still pitch-dark. Her case gave a muted thud when she reached the first step and the lights flicked on as if in response.

  “Syd? Is everything o—” Callie appeared at the top of the steps and her eyes widened when her friend finally came into focus.

  No wonder. She must have looked like a B-movie extra with her old, dirty clothes thrown on and the smears of her poorly applied makeup streaked down her cheeks.

  “Are you trying to leave?” she asked. “What’s with the suitcase?”

  Syd didn’t respond. She just shook her head. All the energy and sadness had been wrung from her system. She felt like one of those chocolate bunnies at Easter time. All crumbly and hollow.

  “Let’s go chat in the kitchen,” she whispered, tossing a glance over her shoulder before facing her again. “We can have some Swiss Miss.”

  She sat in the same stool Laz had occupied when they’d last been in the room together, though she tried hard not to think of it. Or of the way he’d spun side to side on it like a kid in a playground. Or of their food fight.

  And especially not the things that had happened afterward.

  All that was behind her now. That was her choice. There was nobody else to blame.

  “You want to talk about it?” Callie had retrieved two mugs from the cupboard above the sink and filled them with hot water from the tap.

  “Use milk. No. Use creamer.”

  “I have to fit in a wedding dress, and the press will crucify me if I gain even a pound,” her friend said mournfully, but still dumped out the water in the mugs and headed for the fridge.

  “I have to get food drunk. So bring on the heavy whipping cream. And the french fries. Please. Let’s eat our feelings. It’s the only healthy thing to do.” She folded her hands on top of the counter and laid her head down.

  The comforting sounds of cooking filled the room while Callie stirred and microwaved the cups, but they didn’t have the usual effect. Even after her cocoa was placed in front of her, Syd didn’t take a sip for a long time. Had he ruined her for food, even? Callie was staring at her, head tilted to the side like she was examining something on National Geographic.

  “What?” Syd sighed and sipped, promptly burning the roof of her mouth with the molten magma inside her mug. Bad to worse. And it was skim milk.

  Fate was a cruel mistress.

  “I haven’t seen you like this. Ever.” Her friend sounded like a child who’d just discovered their parent had a first name other than “Mom.” Totally mystified.

  She ignored the burn and kept drinking. In between, she stared into her mug. Anything to distract herself from Callie’s scrutiny.

  “I’ve seen you sad. And hurt. And hungry. But I’ve never seen you, you know, totally dejected and in despair.”

  “Callie, I—”

  Her friend cut her off. “You don’t have to explain and it’s probably better if you don’t. You wouldn’t know the first thing about you even if you wrote a book about it.”

  Wow. Pass the Band-Aids. Apparently everyone was doling out the tough love today. What had happened to the pity party she’d RSVP’d to?

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Let me guess what happened. You were in bed with a smoking-hot musician and you sat there and thought about how many other women he could be there with instead of you. Then you thought he’d eventually see that, too. Like you do with everyone and everything.” Callie eyed her warily. She’d still spoken with the same pitying tone as before, but it didn’t remove the sting from her words.

  “I don’t—”

  “You left Fairbanks because you never felt like you were good enough here. You didn’t want to cater my wedding because you weren’t good enough. And forget about a love life. Nonexistent, because you can’t understand what anyone could possibly see in you. You always think guys are out of your league, Laz or not. You need to learn to love yourself as much as everyone around you does. As much as Laz is starting to.” Callie moved the mug from between them and placed her dainty fingers over Syd’s. “I know it’s true. The way he was so open, walking around with you holding hands. He doesn’t do that. In fact, he doesn’t date at all. The most I’ve ever seen of a girl with Laz is from the back, shoes in hand when they skulk out of the tour bus in the middle of the night.”

  And the floodgates opened again. “Please stop. It’s…not like you think. I found him with someone else tonight. In his bed. He kissed her in front of me.” The sobs racked hard against her ribs until she was sure she might break with the effort, but she couldn’t rein them in. She would just have to keep crying until there were none left.

  “That’s impossible. Laz isn’t a cheater. He doesn’t have to be. He’s always totally straightforward.” Callie walked around the counter and took a seat beside her friend. Then, gently, she cupped her chin and gave her a shoulder to cry on, nestling the crown of her head against her long, lean neck. “If he didn’t want a relationship with you, he never would’ve said he did.”

  This was the way she used to hold Callie when she’d cried as a kid. And if they were hungry, she used to keep her there for hours and tell stories to keep her mind occupied. What an odd reversal it was now. And what a comfort. How could she leave her when this was the most important week of her life?

  She pulled back and tried to explain. “It’s more than just tonight with Elyse.” She sat up and took another swig from the mug and the liquid burned down her throat.

  “Oh, Sydney, no.” Callie shook her head. “Elyse?”

  “Yes.”

  “Elyse has been a family friend of Jake’s for a long time and you have to know that she’s a crazy person. I’ve told you about her, remember? The first time I met Jake’s family, she was in the pool and her top ‘accidentally’ fell off and she wanted all the guys to come help her find it. I think if something happened, there was definitely a misunderstanding.”

  “Okay. I can accept that. But. I think I love him.” It was a whisper, but she had to say it. Not to him. Not to herself. But someone had to know that for the first time in the history of her life she’d felt something real. Like someone out there was looking out for her. It had been wonderful.

  And now it was gone.

  “So go get him.”

  “Don’t you get it? This is what my life would be like. He could be the most loyal person on the planet. He could bend over backward to ensure he’s never within ten miles of another woman, but there would always be photos. And suspicions, and lies in the papers. How could anyone deal with that? How could anyone live like that?” The unspoken question hung between them—how do you live like that?—but it was a long while before Callie answered.

  “You think I can’t rela
te?” she asked with a bitter laugh. “I won’t lie to you. When Jake’s previous engagement fell apart, the media was all over me. According to them, I was the other woman, and because of all that, the company suffered and everyone hated me. My life was a disaster from top to bottom. Hell, we’re still being stalked by paparazzi who can’t wait to catch him cheating.” Callie sipped from her mug and offered the faintest ghost of a smile. “Add to that the fact that everyone around me reminded me continually that Jake’s record for commitment was shaky at best and my world was completely in shambles. If he left his last fiancé for me, what could I expect? But do you know helps me through all those doubts and uncertainties?”

  Callie speared her friend with a watery gaze, but they both remained silent. She’d seemed a little strained, but Syd had thought it was wedding nerves. She hadn’t realized how difficult it was for her.

  “My love for Jake. That’s the one thing I know is true and that’s all the matters to me. What happened before? His past? I have to wipe that away. Does that mean it’s easy? No. The paparazzi is a nightmare. Having people judge you is awful. But Jake?” A smile trembled on her lips. “He’s worth all of it. You have to learn not to care what other people say or think. Stop running, Syd. If the pain is going to come, it will find you no matter how fast you go. Isn’t it better to stand your ground and fight for a chance at happiness than spend your whole life avoiding the possibility of pain?”

  She thought back to the past few days with Laz. Of all the sidelong looks other women had given him. He’d never so much as acknowledged them. Instead, he’d held her hand and introduced her. No matter where they were, he’d made it more than clear that he didn’t have eyes for anyone else, and that had been true even before they’d really agreed to give it a go.

  “What if I can’t do it?” What if she was just like his ex, depressed and jealous to the point of insanity?

  “What if you don’t try?” Callie eyed her from over the brim of her mug, her eyebrows raised in question.