Heartstrings (18 page)

Chapter Twelve

* * * * *

As the final chords ring out through the arena, the crowd
erupts into ecstatic, cacophonous bliss. The audience surges forward, clamoring
to be as close to the stage as possible. The band members, sweat soaked and
grinning, make their way to the front of the stage, arms outstretched. I’m
jumping up and down, screaming despite my fried vocal chords. The incident in
the mosh pit, Slade’s heroic rescue, his searing kiss before the whole wide world—everything
about tonight has been strange, and scary, and ultimately beautiful. I suppose
this is what it’s like in Slade’s world. Everything is amplified, everything is
meaningful.

I look out into the gaping stadium, and for a moment the
terror wins out against my other swirling emotions. Somewhere out there are the
women who threw me into terrible danger. Somewhere beyond the walls of the
arena, in a dark room in the underbelly of this place, the men who attacked me
still lurk. I have to wonder whether there are others out there who would do me
harm, just because Slade happens to be fond of me? Between what’s happened
today, and the paparazzi earlier this morning, I can’t believe how much
scrutiny and how much danger I’m opening myself to, just by being here. Is all
of this really worth it?

Slade turns my way, his eyes light up with satisfaction and
desire all at once. He stands, backlit by the blaring stage lights, his every
muscle poised and perfect. That one glance is all I need to remind me that of course
it’s worth it. Because even though there are terrible aspects of this whirlwind
life, there are dark, scary things to be faced in the world whether you’re a
rock star or a waitress or a nurse. How many upsetting, worrisome things have I
seen as an ER nurse? I’ve seen gunshot victims, car accident fatalities,
newborn children passing away moments after they are born. Ultimately, we’re
all susceptible to the worst things life has to offer. There’s no escaping
that, no matter who you are.

Tragedy can strike at any time, sorrow can knock on any door
it pleases. But in the meantime, what’s the use of playing it safe? Why not
live every moment like it’s your last? If anything, that’s what Slade’s taught
me. We have no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow, next week or next year, so
why hold back?

The band members take their final bow and rush off into the
back stage toward me. Dodge and Joe capture me in a gigantic bear hug, and for
a second I’m taken aback. Neither of them has exactly been a fan of mine before.

“I’m so glad you’re OK,” Dodge says.

“Fuck those guys,” Joe puts in, “Way to fight back, Julia.”

Annabelle shoos them away so she can give me a hug, too.
She’s surprisingly strong for a waif-like songstress. “You’re really
something,” she says simply, “I’m glad you’re sticking around. You are sticking
around, right?”

Before I can answer, Slade steps between us and picks me up
into his arms. The others trade loaded glances and hurry away, giving us a
second of much-needed privacy. For the longest time, we stay locked in each
others’ embrace, cherishing the simple contact of our bodies pressed against
one another. Today has been terrifying for both of us, but we’ve come through
it together. Despite everything, there’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather
be than right here, suspended for a moment in time with the sexy, famous,
amazing man that I’ve come to care for so much.

“Thank god you’re OK,” he says, his breath hot against my
neck.

“You were amazing,” I tell him, tightening my arms around
his muscular shoulders. His shirt is totally soaked through—blood, sweat,
tears, the works. “But no more Mr. Tough Guy. We need to take care of that
cut.”

“Whatever you say,” he smiles, running his hand through my
hair. His brings his lips to mine with a fierce, protective force. I greet him
eagerly. Our mouths move together, speaking volumes all on their own without
another word. I tug on his hand and all but drag him toward the exit.

“Call Anders,” I tell him, “Make sure he has a first aid kit
on hand.”

Slade rolls his eyes but makes the call all the same. We
step through the backstage door and are immediately flooded with cries and
flashbulbs. Slade’s fingers tighten around mine, and I smile at him gamely. I’m
prepared for this now. After what happened in the pit, this is nothing. As we
make our way toward the car, I hear someone call my name from the crowd.

“Julia! Julia! Can I have your autograph?”

I turn to see a cute young girl holding out a pad and pen.
She’s staring at me reverently. “You want...my autograph?” I ask.

“Of course!” she cries, “I’m starting nursing school in the
fall, and I just love you!”

“Wow...” I say, flabbergasted, “Um...OK. Sure.”

Slade grins as I quickly sign my name for the girl. She lets
out a wordless scream of enthusiasm, and we continue on our way. Anders opens
the door for us, and we wave once more to the screaming, uncontrollable crowd.
Slade slams the car door and we take off into the night, where to, I have no
earthly idea...

There’s a first aid kit waiting on the seat next to me, and
I go straight into nurse mode. “Take off that shirt,” I say sternly.

“Just like old times,” Slade laughs. He obeys my order,
peeling the stained garment from his body. My concentration wavers as his
defined, rippling abs come into view. But the cut that rakes across them is of
more immediate concern.

“Old times?” I laugh, “You mean a week ago? You sure do have
lots of occupational hazards to deal with, don’t you?”

“I do,” he says.

I'm surprised by the serious tone in his voice.

My hands work quickly, readying all the disinfecting
solutions that I’ll need. I turn to face him, and he offers his torso to me. I
swab at the cut, relieved that it’s so shallow. During his run-in with that
skinhead, I had feared the worst for a moment. What if Slade had died trying to
protect me? I have no idea what I would do if something happened to him,
especially if it was my fault. We fall into heavy silence. I understand the
serious look he’s wearing, now. Bravado is all well and good, but what happened
tonight isn’t to be taken lightly.

“What were you doing in that pit, Julia?” he asks, as I
attend his wound. “You should have just come backstage. The crowd can be
dangerous, when the wrong people show up.”

I bit my lip nervously. As furious as I am with those women
for what they did, I don’t want to burden Slade with this. But he’s looking at
me intently, and I know that I won’t be able to evade his probing questions. “I
tried to get backstage,” I tell him, focusing my gaze on his wound, rather than
his intense dark eyes. “The bouncer didn’t know me, and he wouldn’t let me in.
But then...Helena and the girls showed up. They took me inside with them. I
wanted to watch from backstage, but they insisted that we watch from the crowd.

I was...overwhelmed. Really overwhelmed by what it’s like
out there. I’ve never been in an audience like that. Everyone was at full
throttle, as if there was this unwritten agreement that I feel like I never got
to consider. And when the pit opened up...I tried to steer clear of it. I was
already just barely managing to keep afloat in the audience, and...Helena. She
and Ruby and Jackie...they threw me. They just grabbed me and tossed me
straight into the fray. I thought I was a goner. And when those men got to
me...I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t put a stop to it. I’m
just so glad that you were there for me. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to
thank you.”

“Thank me?” Slade spits. I look up, startled. His eyes are
roiling pits of utter rage and contempt. “You should be furious with me.”

“What?” I say, forgetting first aid for the moment, “Slade,
I’m pretty sure you saved my life tonight. What—?”

“I’m the reason that your life was in danger in the first
place,” he growls. Every muscle in his body is hard with tension, his throat is
taut with trying to keep from screaming. “You shouldn’t have been there. You
should have been safe at home. And Helena...she’s jealous of you. Because of
me. This never would have happened if it wasn’t for me. It’s my fault. If something
had happened to you...I would just fucking lose it. That would be it.”

“How do you think I feel?” I ask incredulously, “You got a
knife pulled in you for my sake. You could have been gutted right there in the
pit. How do you think I would have felt if you got hurt because I’d gotten
myself into a stupid situation?”

“Stop it,” he says harshly, “You didn’t get yourself into
anything. You’re not a fucking idiot. You were there for me. You got thrown
into that pit because of me. Those assholes got their hands on you because of
me. What were you even doing here? You’re supposed to be at the hospital.”

Oh, god. The last thing I want to do is tell him what
happened this morning at work. But we might as well get everything out in the
open. “I couldn’t get to work this morning,” I say.

“Why not?” he presses.

I take a deep breath and dive in. “When I got to the
hospital,” I begin, “There were a lot of reporters and a ton of photographers.
They’d sort of set up shop in front of the ER. My supervisor wouldn’t let me
stay. The crowd of press was obstructing our work. So, I decided to come to the
show to tell you everything that was on my mind. How happy I was about all of
this. About us. About...” I trail off as Slade’s eyes turn to iron.

“The paparazzi is following you,” he says in a terrifying
monotone. I can tell it’s taking every ounce of self control in his body to
keep from flying into a furious rage. “That is unacceptable.”

“Slade,” I say quietly.

“No,” he says, averting his gaze, “I won’t have this. I
won’t have your life ruined for my sake.”

“It’ll pass,” I tell him, “I’m just a novelty for the
moment. They’ll get sick of me.”

“You’re wrong,” he says, “Once they get their hooks in you,
there’s no end. Trust me. I know a thing or two about it.”

“You’re upset,” I tell him, “We should talk about this when
we’ve both cooled down.”

“This isn’t a dispute over dirty dishes!” he roars. I shrink
back against the seat, surprised by the intensity of his anger.

“Why are you yelling at me?” I ask, my own temper beginning
to flare up inside of me.

“I’m not—I’m just—” he splutters. “It’s all fucked up,” he
says, letting his head fall into his hands. We sit in silence for a long
moment, staring at each other across the cabin. I swallow hard and edge toward
him. Wordlessly, I ease him back onto the seat. I’m not done with my first aid
yet. We don’t speak a word as I finish dressing his wound. We’re at an impasse.
There’s nothing either of us can say that won’t force the question of whether I
stay or go. I’m terrified of what comes next in this fight we’ve started. I
blink back tears as I finish fixing Slade up, holding back my fear and anger as
best I can. Time stretches out before us, ceaselessly.

The car rolls to a stop, and I look through the tinted
windows to see where we’ve ended up. I’m surprised to see the neon lights of
the now-familiar diner that Slade brought me to on our first day together. I
turn to him for an explanation.

“It’s a tradition,” he says quietly, “Whenever we have a
show within driving distance, we always come back for some chow.”

“Oh,” I say, trying to smile and failing, “Thanks for
bringing me along.”

He lifts his eyes to mine. Pain has hardened his gaze beyond
recognition. I can feel him closing down to me, cutting off our unspoken bond
and communication. “You know that I care about you Julia,” he starts.

I can tell there’s a “but” coming. I wish that I could hold
it back.

“I know,” I say, my voice thick with unspent tears, “I care
about you too.”

“All my life,” Slade says, “I’ve been keeping people safe.
My mom and my sisters. I couldn’t keep my dad from dying, but I was there for
them. I kept them out of harm’s way. That’s been my job since I was ten.”

“You were just a kid,” I say softly, “You didn’t have to—”

“Yes I did,” he cuts me off, “If not me, then who?”

“You don’t always have to be the savior,” I tell him.

“I can’t put you in harm’s way,” he says, ignoring my words,
“My job is to protect you. As someone I love, you’re my responsibility. I will
keep you safe, no matter what it takes. And if that means that we can never see
each other again...”

“No,” I breathe, “Slade, you don’t mean that. You can’t
really mean that!”

“I would rather know that you’re safe and happy somewhere
else than have you in danger at my side,” he says. “I’d rather you find
someone, have a house and babies and all that with another man, as long as
you’re out of harm’s way. It would be better than knowing that something could
happen to you on my watch. I’d trade your safety for having you in my life,
Julia. I would.”

“I wouldn’t want that,” I insist, “You don’t get to make
that call, Slade. I’m a grown woman. I can do whatever I please.”

“Not if I won’t have you,” he says quietly.

“You can’t do that,” I say again. “I won’t let you do this,
Slade.”

“Please stop,” he says, “Let’s just leave it for now. We
have a tradition to uphold. We can talk about it later. Or not talk about
it...I don’t even know anymore.”

He throws his dirty shirt back on and pushes past me toward
the door. I follow, numbed by his proposition. He can’t really mean what he’s
saying...He can’t really be ready to leave me behind out of fear of the
unknown...can he? I stumble out of the car and follow him into the old diner. I
feel my cell phone vibrate against my skin, and withdraw it from its hiding
place in my bra. I have a text message waiting for me. My heart sinks a little
when I see that it’s from Penny. I open it up with dread.

“OMG,” it reads, “Your pictures are all over the Web
already. I can’t believe he pulled you onstage! What the hell happened?”