Diving Into Him (6 page)

Letting out a shaky breath, she loaded her box in with the other equipment. Then, collecting herself, she got into the passenger side. She pulled the car door closed behind her. She watched through her window as Koty came outside. He jogged to the back of the car and slid his box into the trunk. Then he slipped into the back seat without a word. She twisted her lips, eyes stinging. Sometimes it was frustrating, having to coach him. Other times, she wished that she could go easier on him. Part of her wanted to be sweet to him like normal women would. She was sure that, if he were hanging out with a teacher or graphic designer, he would be pampered and adored. That kind of woman would cook for him and rub his shoulders at night after a hard day on stage.

She caught her reflection in the window as the car moved through the dark night. Her dark eyes reflected sadness. A crease ran between her eyebrows, marring the smooth olive skin. She rolled her eyes. She shouldn’t feel bad because she wasn’t an affectionate—even maternal—woman. She liked who she was—most of the time. Something about Koty always made her question herself.

Griff pulled in front of their condo only a few minutes later. Her shoulders slumped. Car rides were always conveniently fast when she had to deal with something difficult.

“It’s not that comfortable, but we’ve got a couch.” She twisted in her seat, grinning at Griff.

“It’s a great couch,” Koty said from the back seat.

“Who the hell wants to sleep on leather?” She nudged Griff. “I’ve got some extra sheets, though. It’s plush enough. We can get you something better tomorrow.”

He lifted a hand. “Thanks, but I’ve got a hotel room.”

She gaped at him. “I thought you were broke.”

Shrugging, Griff jerked a thumb toward the trunk. “Wanna leave that stuff?”

Jett pressed her lips together. She had never spent a night away from her guitar. She didn’t want to seem like a worrywart, though. “Yeah, whatever.” She opened her door.

“Hold on,” Koty said. “Pop the trunk.” He climbed out of the back seat.

She got out of the car, eyebrows furrowed as she watched him. He pulled his guitar from the trunk. “You know what, grab mine, too,” she said, keeping her voice casual. Relief flowed through her. She wasn’t the only one who was protective.

“I lost this thing once,” he said, strapping his guitar case onto his back. “I’m not making that mistake again.” He handed hers to her.

She nodded. Being without the instrument was like being without one of her limbs. Ducking her head back into the car, she addressed Griff. “Eleven tomorrow?”

Her drummer nodded. “Sweet dreams.” He lifted a hand toward Koty, then pulled away. Making a U-turn, he left their condo complex. Silence settled over the neighborhood, interrupted only by the soft calls of crickets.

Jett shouldered her guitar case and strode toward the front door. Her heart hammered in her chest. She had been alone with Koty since their kiss the day before, but something felt different as she slipped out her house key and unlocked the door. There was a heaviness to their solitude, perhaps because of the song they had worked on all day. She swallowed hard and pushed the door open. Flipping on lights, she moved through the living room and into the kitchen. Again, she wished that she had a pet to greet her.

Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out a bottle of water. She twisted off the cap and drank from it. The cool liquid soothed her throat, sore from the day of singing. Koty reached from behind her and pulled out his own bottle. She gasped, jumping. Her bottle of water tumbled to the floor. Water pooled onto the tile around her boots. Eyes wide, she remained motionless.

Without a word, Koty bent down. He reached between her legs, his arm brushing her calves. His fingers closed around the bottle. Picking it up, he straightened. His hands brushed her waist.

Her heart slammed in her chest.

Leaning closer to her, his lips moving against her ear, he sang part of the song she had written that day. “Prowling through this brick and oil city, I’m making my way to you.”

His warm breath sent a sweet chill down her spine. Still frozen, she closed her eyes.

“Out and about, glammed up real pretty, gonna make my way to you.” His voice, husky and full of heat, echoed through the kitchen.

Slowly, she turned toward him. His eyes bore into hers, heat spilling from them.

“Prowling through this brick and oil city,” he sang again. His lip quirked. His eyes burned.

Fire pooled in her belly. Hands shaking, she pressed her feet into the floor. She waited, a statue, wishing that he would just take her right there. He could bend her over the counter. She didn’t care anymore. As long as she didn’t have to deal with the madness creeping through her brain, she didn’t care.

But she
did
care. Steeling her resolve, she slipped past him, careful not to touch him. “Goodnight,” she called over her shoulder. Without another word, she traipsed up the stairs. A second later, she slipped into the safety of her room, closing the door behind her. She did not lock it, though.

Fatigue tugged at Jett, pressing down on her and making her eyelids heavy. She slugged back the rest of her coffee, sighing as the last drop trickled into her mouth. She had spent the last seventy-two hours doing nothing but writing songs in the studio, sleeping only for a few hours in between sessions. The night before, she slept in the studio on an air mattress. Sometimes, she worked better in silence. Plus, part of her was afraid of what might happen if she went home with Koty. They hadn’t spoken much since the incident in the kitchen, and he never came into her bedroom. As much as she wanted it, it was probably for the best.

“Let’s run through that again.” She cupped the microphone in her hands.

Griff launched into the drum line, the beat thrumming throughout the room. Despite how exhausted she felt, she caught a second wind as she belted out the first verse.

The door to the studio flew open. A young woman with long dark hair and dark skin burst in, holding a toddler girl in her arms. The baby’s cheeks were bright red. Her hair was plastered to her forehead. The woman glanced around the room, eyes wild.

The music ground to a halt.

“Is everything okay?” Max jumped up from the piano bench and rushed toward the woman.

“She’s got a really high fever,” she said.

Jett eyed her. She looked vaguely familiar. “What’s going on?”

Max took the little girl into his arms. Pressing the palm of his hand to her forehead, his eyes widened. “Did you give her Tylenol, Savannah?”

Jett nodded slowly. Savannah had answered the door the day that she went to Max’s apartment to ask him to join the band. That day felt like ages ago. Blinking to clear out the fog creeping through her brain, she stifled a yawn.

“I have to take Chloe to the emergency room,” Max called to her from across the room. He stood in the doorway and hugged his daughter to his chest.

She twisted her lips. She didn’t want to give him a hard time, but they still had hours before they finished the song they were working on. She glanced at the other men. Perry stared at Savannah’s chest, his eyes practically popping out of his head. Koty plucked random notes on his guitar. Griff sat behind his drum kit, his back leaning against the wall. His eyes were closed. She swallowed hard. She didn’t want to be the one to force Max to stay. Taking a deep breath, she made herself look him in the eyes. “Can you meet her there after?” She jerked a thumb toward Savannah.

Max’s jaw tightened. “Chloe is
my
daughter. I have to go.”

“Come on, we’re almost done.” She glanced at the toddler. She didn’t know much about children, but she doubted that Chloe was going to drop dead. She hated to sound cold, but they didn’t have time to wait for him to come back.

“I’m going.” Max walked into the hall.

“Wait.” She followed him.

Savannah tossed her a glare. “
Pendeja
.”

Jett ignored her. She caught Max’s arm. “I need you. Let Savannah take care of this.” She gave him a smile in an attempt to ease his concerns.

He wrenched away from her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He dashed down the stairs. Savannah followed him. She threw another glare at Jett over her shoulder. Then, they both disappeared outside.

Heart slamming in her chest, Jett returned to the studio. Her hands shook. She wanted to scream at the other men, sarcastically thanking them for backing her up. Instead, she returned to her position in front of the microphone. “Let’s just keep going.”

The men exchanged glances. Then Griff started the drum beat. Koty brought in the guitar, and Perry backed it up with his bass line. Jett inhaled through her nose, pushing her diaphragm in. Then, clutching the microphone, she launched into the first verse.

“Sandwich in his hand, mischief in his head, he’s going down,” she sang. Her thoughts strayed back to Max, though, and soon she was replacing the lyrics with complete nonsense. It was as if he just didn’t want to be there anymore. She knew everyone must be as tired as she was, but still. He could have let Savannah handle Chloe. Jett was sure that Savannah was a great mother. She gritted her teeth. Her voice died in the speakers.

The music stopped.

“You good?” Griff cocked his head at her.

She looked down at her feet. Pressing her lips together, she shrugged. She didn’t want to sound like an asshole.

“Why don’t you take a break?” Griff nodded toward her pack of cigarettes on top of the piano.

She narrowed her eyes, wondering if he was suggesting that she was cranky. Or, she surmised, he was just trying to be helpful. Nodding, she crossed the room and grabbed the pack. Then she went outside.

The cool evening air whispered around her face. She yawned as she pulled out a cigarette. Slipping it between her lips, she lit up, cupping the flame against the breeze with one hand. She inhaled, calm flowing through her. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the brick facade of the building. She took another drag, raising the cigarette to her lips by feel, her fingers brushing against her mouth.

The door squeaked open behind her. She kept her eyes closed, exhaling smoke into the air. She squeezed the filter between her fingers, feeling the foam squish.

“Are you okay?” Koty asked from beside her.

Her eyes flew open. She jumped, nearly dropping her cigarette. Recovering it, she leaned back against the building again. Her heart slammed in her chest. “I’m fine.” She brought the cigarette back to her lips.

“You’re lying.” Koty leaned against the wall beside her. Heat radiated from his skin. Inches of space separated their limbs, but she hadn’t grabbed her jacket. She shivered, but not only from the cold. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

Sighing, she watched as clouds moved across the dark sky. A storm was rolling in. She blinked up at the night overhead. “It’s just nerves.” She took another drag, rolling smoke out of her mouth. “I’ll be fine.”

He snorted. “I’ve known you long enough to know that Jett Costa doesn’t get nervous.” He turned toward her. In her peripheral vision, she could see his baby blues studying her face.

She
was
nervous about the show. A little over two weeks remained, and South of Forever only had one and a half songs. They hadn’t even started rehearsing yet. She closed her eyes, wondering how in the world she was going to pull off such an insurmountable task. Even worse, she hadn’t been sleeping very well. The moment in the kitchen and on the piano replayed in her head, as if on repeat. She wondered how she was supposed to move on from Koty when he was in her face at every turn. She couldn’t even smoke a cigarette in peace.

“What else is going on?” he asked, still watching her.

Aggravation reared inside of her. She turned her head to face him, but his eyes melted into hers. The frustration in her dissipated. She gazed back at him, measuring him. She could just tell him how she felt. If he didn’t feel the same, though, she would just look like an idiot. “It’s just the band.” She turned away from him.

He shifted next to her. Gravel ground beneath his sneakers. He inhaled sharply. “The other night, if Max—“

The door swung open behind them. Jett flinched. Her fingers dropped her cigarette. It bounced off the toe of her boot.

Griff emerged from the stairwell. A cigarette hung from his lips. “Borrow a light?” He held a hand out.

Lips parted, she glanced from him to Koty. Griff opened and closed his hand impatiently. Fingers numb, she reached into the pocket of her jeans and plucked her lighter free. She dropped it into his hand.

“Thanks.” Flame flared to life as he lit his cigarette. Koty slipped into the stairwell behind him, closing the door. It squeaked shut.

Jett frowned. If Koty had been about to ask her about the kiss, he could have just hung out until Griff finished his cigarette. She stared at the closed door, wondering why he had taken off. Pulse throbbing, she wished she knew.

Groaning, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She was pathetic.

Next to her, Griff cleared his throat. She opened her eyes, blinking. “Are you seeing him again?” he asked.

She straightened, gaping at him. For a second, her lips felt frozen. “What in the world would give you that idea?” she managed.

Griff leveled a gaze at her that was all too knowing. “You guys are acting like a couple of high school kids sneaking around.”

Sputtering, she fumbled for her pack of cigarettes. She needed to put something in her mouth before she did any more damage.

“I figured you guys were together anyway, the second you told me you bought a condo.” He blew smoke up into the dark night air.

Holding her hand out for the lighter, she shook her head. “We’re just roommates.” She made her voice firm.

Laughing, Griff handed her the lighter. “How long have I known you?”

She gave him a cool look. “Why does everyone keep saying that?” She lit her cigarette and pocketed the lighter.

“You’re an open book, Jett.” He tapped ash onto the ground.

Her lip curled. She shouldn’t be so easy to read—even to the people she had known the longest. She needed to step up her game. “We haven’t been together since Perpetual Smile fell apart.” Her mind drifted back to the afternoon that she sat outside of the treatment center, waiting for Griff to pick her up. That day, Koty came instead. She blinked back tears.

“Do you want to get back together with him?” Griff studied her with grey blue eyes.

A drop of water splashed into her eye. Flinching, she glanced up at the sky. Fat, dark clouds roiled overhead. Another raindrop landed on her hand.

“You should go for it,” Griff continued, as if she had answered him. Droplets of cold water hurtled from the sky. “I’ve never seen you so happy.”

She started to tell him that he was wrong. The sky opened up. Rain poured down on them, putting out her cigarette. She dropped it onto the ground, turned, and ran into the stairwell. She held the door open long enough for Griff to get inside. Then she dashed up the stairs.