Bent not Broken (349 page)

I nodded. “I understand. Well, maybe you’ll find love again someday,” I said, trying to keep him encouraged.

“Yeah.” He looked up at me with those deep set, brown eyes, fixing them on mine. I stared back, losing myself in the depths of his dark irises. I saw pain behind those eyes, but hopefulness as well. It was the same hopefulness I remembered from years ago. “Maybe someday,” he said softly. Just then, shaking his head as if he were trying to snap himself out of a trance, he changed the subject. “Wow! Can you believe we’re really here after all these years? It’s quite serendipitous,” he chuckled.

“Like the movie?” I asked.

Confused, he asked, “There’s a movie?”

“Yeah, Serendipity. It’s my favorite. Apparently, rom-com isn’t your thing.”

He shook his head. “No, I can’t say that it is.”

“You should watch it sometime,” I suggested. “But to answer your question, no, I really can’t believe it’s been so long. It seems like yesterday, and yet it feels like forever ago. I feel so
old
.”

“Old?” He gave me a look of disbelief. “No way. You don’t look a day over twenty-eight.”

My giddiness boiled over in the form of a giggle.
Damn! Could I sound any more ridiculous?
“You’re crazy,” I told him. “I’m actually
thirty
-eight.”

His eyes widened, and his eyebrows shot up. “You’re shittin’ me!”

I shook my head, grinning at his surprise. Another nice ego boost. “Nope.”

“I didn’t know you were only seven years older than me.” The expression on his face changed with this realization.

Only.

Now that’s a thought.

“Well, I was twenty-four when you were seventeen, but you turned eighteen a few weeks after you left Fairbanks, so I guess, technically, I’m closer to six years older.”

“Wow, it seemed like such a huge gap back then, but now…it’s like we’re practically the same age.”

I like the way you think, Chris King.

“Too bad I’m closer to forty and you’re closer to thirty. I wish we could switch ages,” I said wistfully.

Glancing at his empty beer, Chris stood up from his seat, grabbing the bottle off the table. I assumed he was going back into the kitchen for another one.

“Oh, age is just a number,” he assured me, as he stepped away from his seat.

Don’t leave. Keep talking…

As he left the room, he asked, “Want another beer?”

“Sure.” I gulped the last of the bottle.

“And, if it’s any consolation,” he called from the refrigerator, “you look a helluva lot sexier at your age than I do at mine.”

I laughed. “Now you really are crazy!” I loved this flirty side of Chris, and the fact that the beer had started to loosen our inhibitions a little.

“I might be crazy, but I know hot when I see it,” he said with confidence.

Oh my…

I had no idea how to respond as he walked back to the sofa, twisted the cap off the beer, and handed it to me.

With a smile he smirked, “It’s true. You were always very easy on the eyes. All the other guys talked about what a MILF you were.”

Playfully rolling my eyes, I groaned, “Oh geez, I remember…like that’s not embarrassing,” as I covered my face with my hands. I didn’t want to think of those boys crushing on me, but it definitely boosted my sad ego.

He sat down beside me and continued to grin, enjoying my reaction. “Yeah, I didn’t let ‘em talk shit though. I had way more respect for you than that.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled. “I appreciate that.” I clutched the bottle in my lap and began peeling the label. My nerves were on overdrive. It’s not that Chris made me feel uncomfortable as much as I was just keenly aware of this crazy, new feeling that I’d never expected—my own attraction to him. I glanced at the beer and immediately took a big gulp, hoping he wouldn’t notice my trembling hands.

Popping the top off his own bottle, he leaned toward me, his voice gravelly, “I mean, come on. I’m not gonna dance around it. You’re beautiful.”

I nearly choked on my beer, but quickly recovered, masking my freaking-the-hell-out face with a subtle smile.

He continued, nervously glancing at the beer in his hand. I wondered if he was praying to the gods of liquid courage like I was. “Salem, you’ve…you’ve always been sexy as hell,” he stammered. “You had to know how hot all the guys at Fairbanks thought you were, and you probably just chalked it up to some silly teenage fantasies.” His eyes shot up to meet my gaze. “But I hope you know that you meant way more to me than that.”

I nodded. I understood where he was coming from because he’d always meant more to me than ‘just some client.’ He was my saving grace. We’d shared things that I’d never shared with anyone. That moment in my office, when he found me looking at my wrist, the promise I made to him was a turning point in my life. He didn’t cure my depression, but he certainly gave me a reason to keep pushing forward. “You were more to me too,” I said softly.

Continuing to stir up my already mixed emotions, he added, “You were my lifeline back then.”

He stood up, walking over to the massive windows. Leaning both hands against the glass, he stared out at the city for several seconds. “And yet, here we are again…crossing paths.”

Without thinking, I spoke what had been on my mind all night, “Does it make you question fate?”

He whirled around to face me. A brooding expression was plastered on his face, and he seemed just as perplexed as I was. With each ragged breath, his sculpted pecs rose and fell, defining themselves in his fitted, thermal shirt. Finally speaking up, he said, “Yeah…yeah, it does.”

Suddenly the air between us changed. I soaked in the way he looked at me with a softness in his eyes. The expression on his face was different than the canned smile he normally used to pose for the cameras of his adoring fans. This smile was warm, inviting, comforting—a smile meant just for me.

What does all this mean?
Part of me felt so ridiculously wrong, but then again, another part of me felt so utterly, hopelessly…right.

****

CHRIS

I stood there, suddenly realizing this woman was like an ointment on my raw and wounded heart. I’d just opened up to someone I hadn’t seen in fourteen years. I felt like I could talk to her as if not a day had passed.
Then why did you hesitate when the opportunity to talk about the kid came up?
Everything about her felt safe—secure.
It’s still too soon,
I argued with myself. But I looked into her eyes, and I couldn’t help but feel…heard.
Maybe someday I’ll find the courage.

Something should’ve felt amiss. She was my fucking counselor fourteen years ago. I shouldn’t have felt so connected to her like I was, but I did. It was crazy to think how quickly my heart could remember. I mean, after a few weeks back home from juvie, I knew I had to force myself to forget about Salem Honeycutt. She meant a lot to me in those months at Fairbanks, but I had to let her memory go. Move on. Learn to live without needing her.

But I’d learned when you have a connection like that with someone, it was impossible to see them again and not feel
something.

Just then, my phone rang in my pocket. I glanced at the screen, hoping I could ignore the call. I just wanted to sit and talk to Salem all night.

Beverly. My manager
. Dammit.

“Sorry,” I sighed. “I’m gonna have to take this.”

****

SALEM

I nodded just as he swiped his finger across the screen.

“Hello?...Yeah…Uh, hold on a sec,” he said, glancing at me. He stepped out onto the balcony and slid the door closed behind him.

I walked to the kitchen to find the recycling bin for glass bottles and then peeked around the lower level for a bathroom.

After finishing up, I walked back to the sofa. Chris was still outside, pacing the balcony and talking in hushed tones. He looked like he might be engrossed in conversation for quite some time. If I’d had my car, I would have slipped out, but I didn’t. I was stuck there until he finished his phone call, so I slid my shoes off and propped my feet up on the sofa.
I may as well get comfortable. I might be here a while.

I found the remote and clicked the power button for the television. Flipping through channels, I finally found something to watch and settled into the couch. I relaxed and enjoyed some of the show, but the beers I’d drunk were making me feel sleepy. Before long I was dozing off with my head on the armrest.

****

CHRIS

Beverly was talking entirely too long, as usual. I paced back and forth, eager to get back inside to Salem. Almost thirty minutes had passed and we were still hashing out venues, dates, songs, and marketing. I just wanted to fling my phone off the balcony and go back inside where a beautiful woman sat, waiting for me.

“Beverly,” I finally managed to get a word in edgewise. “Can we finish this tomorrow? It’s getting late. I have company.”

Beverly laughed a feminine, airy laugh. “Ahh, okay. I get it,” she insinuated.

I could almost feel her winking at me through the phone.

Not that it was any of her business, but I’d known Beverly for years. She was as much of a friend as anyone. “No, no. It’s not what you think,” I chuckled.

“Riiiight,” she teased. “Well, go entertain your company. I’ll call you again tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Bev,” I said hastily.

She sighed breathily into the phone, “Goodnight, Romeo.”

I stepped inside to an angelic Salem sleeping on my sofa. I didn’t dare wake her. She looked so comfortable with her legs curled up and her arm cradling her head. She was the epitome of radiance and class, unlike some of the groupies who had been known to crash the band’s after-parties in the past. I loved this quiet little after party with this exquisite beauty resting peacefully in my living room.

Damn. On any other given night, I would…

Ugh, let it go, Chris. Can’t happen. Won’t happen. She doesn’t see you like that.

But I wasn’t about to let her sleep all night in that uncomfortable position. Gently lifting her from the couch, I carried her toward my bedroom. No woman had ever spent the night in my bed. Ever. Hotel rooms? Fuck yeah. But not this place. Not
my
space—the place where bad-ass rock star and vulnerability meet. I had a sneaking suspicion that Salem was about to change a lot of things in my life, and it scared the hell out of me.

She sighed quietly in her sleep as her head rested against my chest, and she instinctively wrapped her arm around my neck. My skin tingled as her fingers grazed across the back of my neck while my heart thundered in my chest.
Fuck, this woman does crazy things to me.

I couldn’t help the thoughts that ran through my mind as I lay her down softly on my bed among the throng of pillows. I tugged the blanket up over her body, covering the very thing I wanted to admire—those long-ass, sexy as hell legs.
Damn, I don’t remember her having those when I was seventeen.

She unconsciously snuggled against my pillow, breathing deeply in her sleep. I brushed a strand of her hair away from her face.

“You have no idea what you meant to me, Salem,” I whispered softly. “The heart doesn’t forget that easily.”

Slowly, I leaned down and lightly placed a kiss on her forehead. The scent of strawberries from her hair invaded my senses while the heat of her skin on my lips caused my imagination to run wild.

She clutched my pillow tighter in her arms. “Mmmm,” she hummed in her sleep, a sound that instantly resonated in my cock.

My body wanted me to stay, begging me to slip under the covers with this beautiful vixen asleep in my bed. But, my mind insisted I walk away. The internal struggle was intense. With a silent groan, my brain finally won the argument, and I quietly slipped out of the room unnoticed.

Chapter Sixteen

SALEM

A sliver of sunlight sliced through the curtain and poured onto my face. I rolled over, reaching for my alarm clock, when I realized that something about the feel of the blankets and the space around me felt different. That’s when it dawned on me that I was in an unfamiliar place. Glancing around, I tried to get my bearings. Plush bed with a down duvet, lots of pillows, guitar stand in the corner. The scent of the pillow I was lying on held a hint of masculinity.

Then it all came barreling back to me. I’d spent the night in Chris’s bed.
Oh crap!
Bolting up, I tore the blankets off of myself and saw that I was still wearing my clothes from the day before. I staggered out of bed toward the bathroom.

Thank god my hair wasn’t too messed up. Running my fingers through my hair, I attempted to smooth out the tangles. I swished away my morning breath with the mouthwash I’d found on the counter while I sat down on the toilet.

I don’t even remember how I got into his bed.

Finishing up, I quietly spit the mouthwash in the sink and washed my hands. My reflection stared me down in the mirror. I had to come out and face Chris sooner or later. Why did it suddenly feel like I was about to do the walk of shame? “It’s now or never,” I whispered to pump myself with some confidence. Gulping, I reached for the door knob.

The smell of bacon hit my nose before my foot hit the floor outside of his bathroom. I tiptoed down the spiral stairs.

“Ah, there you are, sleepy head,” Chris said with a smile. “Good morning.” He held out a hot cup of coffee like a peace offering.

He was wearing jeans and no shirt. I eyed him warily…him and his bare chest. The waistband of his jeans hung just below the waistband of his boxer briefs, and I tried to beat down the feelings rising up in me.
Get a grip, Salem.

Reaching out, I took the coffee from his hand. “Thanks,” I said sheepishly, “How…how did I—”

“I was on the phone pretty late. When I came back inside, you were sound asleep on the sofa, so I carried you to my bed.”

Oh my god, he carried me?
I glanced down, noticing he wasn’t clutching any strained muscles in his back, which was with relief. “And you?”