Blindsided (20 page)

He thought a few minutes before saying anything, allowing the air conditioner to have an effect on the heat of the interior of the car.

“I promise I’ll give it a fair try, Jen, I do. But I need to know that if I really don’t think I can live here, that we can come up with some other arrangement. I love you, and I want to be with you, and I want this to end as much as you do. But we both need to be willing to compromise. I will move to Santa Fe in a heartbeat if I think we can make a life here. But, please Jen, don’t give me an ultimatum like that. Don’t make me choose you or a place that makes me happy. We’ve done that for too long. I know you can’t be happy in Seattle, but if this makes me just as unhappy, are you willing to find somewhere new we can agree on?”

Tony was glad the words were out. All those thoughts had never found their way out of his brain before, and he suddenly felt more clear and focused than he had in years.

Jen nodded, and Tony could see that tears were beginning to form in her eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her with a newness and passion gripping him. When he pulled away, they were both near breathless.

“We will work this out Jen, somehow. I promise,” he said as he stroked her cheek, drying her tears with his thumb.

Once again, she said nothing, but her nod seemed more assured this time.

###

This was it, Nate thought. Their agreement was busted. Chelsea straddled him, it was warm and wet everywhere, and he didn’t have the willpower to stop the woman he loved from sliding him inside of her. He wanted to make love to her, really make love to her, so much.

“I still want to wait,” she said quietly as she pulled away and sat up.

He was shocked to hear it, and his body protested, but his heart was glad. She’d been struggling with the whole no sex thing since the beginning. Did this mean that she shared his feelings? It was still too early to say it out loud. He was so inexperienced when it came to actual love that he was scared to admit it, scared of what power it would give her over him.

She brought his right arm up and studied the swirls of pattern, design and color she found there, the light touch of her fingertips nearly overwhelming him with desire. The look on her face was so serious, so intent. He almost made a joke about her never seeing a man with tattoos, but he didn’t want to break the spell that had fallen over both of them. They seemed to be suspended in time, floating through the cosmos in their own little bubble.

“What’s this one?” she asked in a quiet voice, her fingers tracing the outline of the god on his upper arm.

“It’s Shiva,” he answered quietly, “Indian god of destruction. When he dances, the world is destroyed. The legend is that he has already destroyed the world many times over and that we are living in a universe that had been remade, over and over again. I got it as a reminder.”

“It’s beautiful,” Chelsea said, letting her fingers linger on it for a moment more before she moved on, up to his shoulder, his neck.

“Didn’t these hurt?” she asked, a wince evident in her voice as she touched the leaves that ran from his collarbone almost to his ear.

He couldn’t see what she was referring to, but he could tell by her touch on his body. His tattoos were more a part of him than anyone understood, and he thought of them as revealing what was already there, rather than obscuring his flesh. Not that he’d ever told anyone that. It sounded way too new age-y.

“They did,” he said, “But not too bad. I’m used to the pain of tattoos. It’s more of a sting than anything else.”

Then he found himself telling her how he felt about his tattoos, how he considered them an unseen part of himself. If she could share what she had in the woods, he could tell her his hippie dippy ideas about tattoos. He just let it pour out. It seemed important that she knew that they weren’t about maintaining some stupid image.

Chelsea didn’t laugh or smirk, or look at him like he was crazy. She studied his face for a moment after he spoke, then moved her eyes along his body, making her mind up as her eyes roamed his painted skin.

“I think you’re right,” she said as she picked up his other arm and started studying those tattoos with the same interest she had shown to the others. “I can’t imagine you without them, actually. You wouldn’t be, well, you.”

He smiled. Acceptance. Finally.

“Exactly.”

He had so many, they intertwined and overlapped, colors swirling and lapping at each other on his hot skin. She bent her head to kiss the one on his wrist that said “Death is the only release” in heavy gothic script.

“Turn around,” she said, and he did, spinning in the big tub so his back was facing her.

Her little fingers ran over his skin, raising goose bumps. He heard her take in a sharp breath and knew what she was looking at.

He couldn’t believe he’d just told her that. He held his breath while he waited for the inevitable judgment, the wariness. He didn’t get it.

“Oh Nate,” she said.

Her voice was so filled with emotion that Nate turned to look at her. Her eyes were filled with such sadness that his heart constricted.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he said. He reached his finger out to catch a tear on his knuckle. “It’s ok. I’m fine now. It was years ago.”

Her voice shook and she avoided looking at him, looking at their reflections in the darkened window. He spun around to hold her against his chest.

He barely heard her when she said, “I don’t like thinking about people hurting you. About you in pain. And where were your parents?”

Nate sighed. He hated this, hated saying it. But fair was fair. He buried his nose in her wet hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her.

“My parents kicked me out when I was fourteen,” he said.

“Fourteen?” Chelsea said, lifting her head off his chest, her eyes opening wide in shock, “Good lord, why?”

“Because I was always in trouble, I didn’t go to school. And like I said, they weren’t exactly the best parents. My dad was never home and my mom was pretty much useless once she started taking pain pills all the time.”

“And you lived on the streets all that time?” she asked, incredulous. He nearly laughed. His teen years were out of the realm of experience for most people.

“Yeah. That’s where I met Sean and Bill,” he said, stroking her wet skin.

It had all been so long ago, had been so instrumental in the formation of his personality, he didn’t even feel the pain of it anymore. Usually.

She started to say something else, then stopped herself, chewing on her bottom lip instead. Finally, she rested her head back on his chest, little hands stroking his arms gently.

Her hot tears burned his chest. He was so overwhelmed with emotion he could barely breathe. He had never had anyone care about what had happened to him as a kid, and plenty of people had seen the scar, knew how he’d lved.

Here was a woman who deserved much better than an aging rock star with a self destructive streak and she was crying about years-old violence. Tears burned his eyes and he clenched them shut. And that was the woman he’d chosen to love. A woman who didn’t cry when she’d told him about the worst months of her life, but who got torn up about a wound he barely remembered getting.

###

Chelsea stopped crying and shook her head. Unbelievable. She was in love with him. Against all her better judgment, she had fallen for him as hard as was possible. But there was no other explanation for her tears over a scar. She cared about him, a lot. She had once again fallen for a bad boy, but this time it was worse.

She’d never loved a bad boy before, never given her heart to one. But Nate had hers all wrapped up. He’d overcome horrible obstacles to become the reformed bad boy he’d always claimed he was and that had cemented it. It was terrifying and exhilarating. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She wiped her eyes and made up her mind. She’d revert back to lust. He was tantalizing, there was certainly nothing to cry over when it came to his body. Lust was easier, cleaner than the messy rush of emotions zinging through her veins.

His erection still poked up from the water, and pushing aside her feelings and her tears, she slid down in the tub and gripped his shaft with her hand. She slid her tongue over the tip and swirled it around. A tortured sound escaped his lips as he struggled to breathe.

“Chelsea, what are you doing?” he said, voice strained.

She looked up at him, her hand still stroking him.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed deeply, a tormented sound, then put his hands under her arms and easily lifted her until she was settled in his lap.

“Sweetheart, getting a blow job from a girl with tear stains on her cheeks is not my idea of a good time,” he said into her hair.

“Jesus, aren’t you ready yet?” Chelsea yelled back to the bedroom where Nate was still packing. “I’m supposed to be the one who takes nine years to pack.”

The weather had turned back to rain and gloom and their moods had followed suit. Even the thought of getting back to traveling wasn’t cheering her up. She hated going anywhere on someone else’s terms. It killed the whole in-control thing she was after.

Oh, and she was in love with Nate and there was no way to make it work. That was bound to make even the most cheerful of people grumpy and Chelsea had never claimed to be that. Since it was his fault, she might as well take it out on him.

“Would you calm down?” Nate yelled back, “The plane’s chartered. It won’t leave without us.”

He was grumpy too today, but she had no idea what was causing his grouchiness. Whatever it was, it meant that they were grumbling and growling each other the whole morning. They weren’t helped by the early hour or the weather. Chelsea realized she preferred the passionate, yelling arguments they’d had to this low key dissatisfaction, but she wasn’t sure how to shake Nate from his grumpiness. Maybe she’d work on hers and see if that helped.

She tried pulling him into a hug when he had appeared in the kitchen with his bag, and while he didn’t pushed her away, he felt tense in her arms. She stroked his back and asked him what was wrong. Instead of answering, he just shook his head and kissed the top of her head in a distractedly. Well, it was all she had in her at the moment. He was just going to have to stay grouchy.

They were quiet as Nate drove to the small municipal airfield tucked behind the sprawl of SeaTac. The charter plane was like nothing even a seasoned traveler like Chelsea had ever seen. When she thought of charter planes, she thought of the three or four passenger types that she took to remote places. This was a luxury model with four leather seats, two cocktail tables, a bar and a TV that looked more like a movie screen than a normal television.

Chelsea laughed and shoved him affectionately. He over dramatized it and tossed himself into one of the leather seats, neatly landing her on top of him.

“You okay now?” she asked, nuzzling his neck.

She inhaled deeply, loving the scent of him. Sadly, she realized she had a limited amount of time left to enjoy that scent. She took another deep inhale and sighed.

“Careful, babe. You’re going to hyperventilate down there,” he said, hugging her more tightly. “And yes, I’m fine. I just hate going to LA. Sorry I took it out on you.”

He apologized by spending the entire trip kissing her senseless.

###

Chelsea arrived at the club about an hour before the opening act was scheduled to begin. Nate had gone ahead to do sound check and have some sort of band meeting while she had hung out in his ridiculously large house. She’d spent the afternoon looking at old pictures of the band and generally nosing around in Nate’s stuff. The thing was, none of it seemed to belong to the Nate she knew. It was more like what she would have expected from a rock star’s house than the house in Washington, but it wasn’t Nate. Maybe that’s why he had gotten so uncomfortable when Tony had recognized him. He really wasn’t the guy people recognized, even though he had the same face.

There was already a long line at the front of the club, and for a moment she stood on the sidewalk across the street, unsure of what to do. Did she have to wait outside with the rest of the fans? She realized with a start that since she and Nate had been together almost every moment since they had met, she hadn’t bothered to get his cell phone number, so she was stuck out here wondering what to do. Wonderful.

A movement around the corner caught her eye. A big panel truck was pulling away from a driveway on the side of the building. Of course. A back door. Chelsea crossed the street, breaking through the line and making her way to the loading dock. A few of the fans in line gave her dirty looks, but she ignored them as best she could. The women were especially annoyed with her, eyeing her casual jeans and tank top with disdain. Most of them wore mini skirts, tottering heels and tiny tops. They clearly thought she had no chance of getting to go backstage to see the band. She hoped like hell that Nate had told people to expect her. Walking back through the line and joining up at the end was not something she wanted to experience.