Heartstrings (20 page)

I put my car in drive and head East toward the man I need.

Chapter Fourteen

* * * * *

The highway carries me from state to state, and I’m bearing
down on the big city with every inch that I travel. My focus doesn’t waver
once. The only thing on my mind is Slade Hale, and the only thing I’m concerned
with in the world is telling him once and for all how I truly feel. Not how I
feel about the rest of our lives, but how I feel in this one precious moment in
time—a moment I don’t intend to waste.

My breath picks up as the glittering lights of New York
City, as immeasurable and beautiful as the stars in the quickly brightening
sky, begin to appear on the horizon. I don’t know anything about New York. When
I was growing up, Philly was my city. There’s something enchanted and
terrifying about the Big Apple that has always made it seem unattainable,
unfathomable. But I don’t have time to be nervous, now. Slade’s tour bus has a
head start as it is, and I need to catch him as quickly as I can, before he
writes me off for good.

Men like Slade survive by segmenting parts of their past,
relegating bad memories and missed chances to little mental storage boxes where
they can’t do any more harm or cause any more heartache. I don’t want to be the
wasted opportunity that Slade refuses to think about ever again. I don’t want
to be a far off regret, held at arm's length and never again examined. I don’t
know what I want to be to him exactly—a girlfriend, a playmate, a significant
other. But I do know that I want to be in the present tense, always.

The New York skyline looms up before me, hard and imposing
against the light gray sky. Soon, the air will be alive, and the sky painted
with the pink and orange hues of sunrise. Soon, the city will come to life, and
millions of people will rub the sleep from their eyes and begin another day.
And today, I’m going to be one of them. Today, I am going to put everything on
the line for this mysterious, frustrating, unbelievable person I’ve fallen for.
And where better than New York to risk a thing like this?

I hold my breath as I glide into the Lincoln tunnel. When I
was little, my mom used to tell me it was good luck to hold your breath driving
through tunnels and past graveyards. But this tunnel is far too long for that
game. I might not be able to convince luck to come along for the ride this
time. All I have to rely on is my own conviction and the hope that Slade wants
the same thing I do, deep down. I have to hope that he loves me as much as he
says, as much as I’ve come to love him.

My little car emerges into the city, and I’m immediately
overwhelmed. There’s nothing I hate more than congested, cranky city driving.
Even at this hour, there are cabs and cars careening all over every lane of the
street. I grip the steering wheel tightly, and anxiously try to keep my
bearings. Annabelle gave me the address of the hotel where the band will be
staying during their couple of days in New York. I just have to find the hotel,
find Slade, and refuse to leave until he hears me out. Not exactly a cake walk,
but I can’t give up yet.

Some dopey hipster on a fixed gear bike nearly cuts me off
as I head downtown. There’s this wild, untamed quality about New York that is
fascinating and frightening all at once. It’s like everyone here is a part of
this huge organism, each person serving a specific function. I can’t help but
feel like a foreign object, a germ about to be engulfed and defeated by the
city’s immune system. I try to remind myself that I have every right to be
here, but it’s hard to convince myself of that fully, especially in the face of
my seemingly impossible mission.

I swing onto Houston Street, the main drag that separates the
East Village from the Lower East Side. Slade’s hotel should be somewhere on
this maddening main drag. All around me, creatures of the night are returning
to their holes in the wall, to sleep off their hangovers or start a sleepless
new day all over again. My heart tightens in my chest as I catch sight of a
blinking neon light flashing the name of Slade’s hotel. The long tour bus is
parked around the corner in a cleared alley. He’s so close, I can practically
feel the heat of him.

Frantically, I park my car at the nearest meter and hop out
onto the sidewalk. I throw as many quarters as I can at the thing and sprint
across the intersection toward the hotel. Only when a car horn screeches at me
do I realize that I’ve run through a red light myself. I skip out of the way of
oncoming traffic and make it across, panting and shaken. I feel lost, and
desperate, and alone. All I want is to collapse into Slade’s arms again, and to
never leave. He’s the closest thing to a home I’ve found in the world, and I’m
homesick as hell.

I slip into the lobby and feel the breath catch in my
throat. The hotel is far swankier than I would have imagined. It’s done up in
vintage glamour, all velvet and brass and intricate details. The concierge
cocks an eyebrow at me as I step into the space.

“Can I help you?” he drawls.

“I’m looking for Slade Hale,” I say breathlessly.

“You and every other woman in New York,” he says flatly.

“Slade’s a...friend of mine,” I insist, “Please. It’s
urgent.”

“I’m sorry,” the man tells me, “I can’t just give away the
locations of famous rock stars to every wandering fan that shows up in my
lobby.”

“Look,” I growl, stepping up to the counter and shoving my
finger into the pathetic little man’s face, “I’m not going to stand here and be
insulted by a glorified bell hop. You don’t have any idea what you’re talking
about, buddy. I happen to be the woman that Slade Hale loves. If you doubt it,
check out the fucking internet, you sniveling little worm! Now. Either you tell
me where I can find Slade, or I’ll stick that funny little hat of yours so far
up your—”

“Julia!” cries a voice behind me. I spin around to see
Annabelle stepping out of the elevator. She rushes to me and wraps me up in her
arms. “I knew you’d come,” she whispers.

“Annabelle, where is he?” I ask, ignoring the confounded
gaze of the concierge.

“He’s in the tour bus,” she tells me quickly, “He’s
practicing, all alone. It’s now or never, my dear. Go get that wonderful,
stubborn friend of mine!”

She pushes me toward the front doors, and my feet pick up
beneath me. I tear around the corner of the hotel and into the alleyway. The
tour bus looms up before me, impressive and foreboding. I take a deep breath
and force myself forward. My hand is shaking dreadfully as I close it into a
fist and rap on the metal door. I hear someone rustling beyond the portal. This
is my last chance to turn back, save face, and forget about Slade Hale
forever...and there’s no way in hell I’m taking it.

The door swings inward, and Slade steps down into the
threshold. For a moment, his face is completely still, locked in an expression
of distracted aloofness. But comprehension dawns on him. Twelve different
emotions seem to pass over his features as I stand silently before him. Surprise,
confusion, anger, elation, all battle for their moments in his mind. His mouth
falls open in a wordless question, and I decide to make it easier on him.

“Can I come in?” I ask, forcing the scene onward. He nods
and steps aside, allowing me onto the bus. I climb the steps, my legs quivering
beneath me, and step into the main cabin. The bus looks even bigger from the
inside. Rows of comfortable seats, a full kitchen and dining table, and the
driver’s cockpit are all in plain sight, with room to spare. Through a cracked
door at the back of the bus, I can see the corner of a bed. I try not to
fixate, and do my best to keep a level head. I turn to Slade as he closes the
bus door and stands opposite me across the way. We don’t speak. We simply
breathe, take each other in. We both know this moment is too significant to
mess up, and neither of us wants to begin for fear of bungling the job.

“Well...” I begin.

“Well,” he replies quietly. I can already sense the barrier
he’s building between us. He’s trying to wall me off, and though I know it’s
only to protect me, but it hurts like hell. I take a step toward him, and his
every muscle tenses.

“Slade,” I try again, “I couldn’t just let you leave me like
that.”

“I know it’s hard,” he says, “But it’s the only thing we can
do. I won’t drag you into a world that’s going to hurt you.”

“There’s nothing in this world that could hurt me more than
having you cut me out of your life,” I tell him, “I’ll push past paparazzi all
day, I’ll punch out skin heads in mosh pits, I’ll get a full-body tattoo and a
dozen piercings and none of it will hurt like the way it hurt watching you walk
away from me.”

“I have to protect you,” he insist, his voice straining,
“It’s my job.”

“No,” I tell him firmly, “It’s your job to care about me and
respect me and be there for me. I can protect myself just fine. I’ve been doing
it for years now, without your help. No matter what lengths you go to, you will
never truly be able to keep me safe forever. And do you know why? Because the
world is dangerous, Slade. Terrible things happen to wonderful people, tragedy
falls out of the clear blue sky. There’s nothing you can do to completely
safeguard the people you love —that’s not the way the world works. The best
thing you can do is love with a full heart and do your best. Everything beyond
that is just vanity.”

“Julia,” he says, staring at me hard, “I’m not talking about
happenstance. I know that something could happen to you out of nowhere. You
could get in a car accident, or come down with pneumonia, or god knows what
else. Some tragedies aren’t preventable. But I’m not talking about that. I’m
talking about bringing you into a place where misfortune and pain and
corruption aren’t possible, they’re certain. My life is rough, and dangerous,
and unreliable. Yours is stable, and secure, and—”

“Empty,” I finish. “Nothing at all happened to me, Slade.
Not in my entire life. Not until you got your stomach kicked in and ended up in
my hospital. You’re the first real thing to happen to me ever, Slade. And I’m
not going to let you walk out of my life without a fight. You can’t make me.”

“I can refuse to let you in,” he counters.

“But why would you do that?” I ask, pleading.

“Because!” he shouts, slamming his fist against the wall of
the tour bus, “I’m not worth the risk, Julia! I’m not worth you getting hurt.”

“That’s the thing,” I say, closing the space between us,
“You are worth it. You’re the only thing that is.”

“I wish I could believe that, Julia,” he says, stock still
as I approach him. “I want to be with you, Julia, I really—”

He stares at me long and hard. All of a sudden, it’s like
we’re back in the hospital again, trading bits and pieces of ourselves, feeling
out our unquestionable attraction. Back before there were any complications,
just excitement and possibility. It’s like we’re retracing our steps, fumbling
to locate each other in a mess of baggage and fears and expectations. I reach
out and take his hands in mine. His grasp tightens, his eyes bore into me,
endless in their dark intensity.

“I want you to take me,” I tell him, my voice rasping with
barely contained lust.

“But—”

“I’m not asking to come with you on tour,” I say, taking
another step forward. I press my body against his, and feel the way he’s
growing hard against me. “I’m not asking to be your girlfriend. I’m not asking
you to marry me. All I’m asking for is—”

His mouth falls upon mine, silencing me. He wraps his arms
around my back, and pulls me tight against his firm, eager body. I open my
mouth to his, and bury my fingers in his long, dark curls. His powerful tongue
glides into my mouth, filling me with the irresistible taste of him. I flatten
my body against his, my breasts push against the hard panes of his chest. He
swings me around, never for a moment letting a hair’s breadth of space between
our bodies, and presses me up against the wall.

My short black skirt bunches up around my thighs as I wrap a
leg around him, and pull him hard against me. His tongue probes deeper and
deeper into my mouth, and I’m dizzy with the force of his kiss. I can feel the
hard length of him against me as he grinds against my body, and the friction
between our groins draws a deep moan from the very core of me. I tighten my
fingers in his hair, letting him feel the sting of it—just a hint. Slade brings
his teeth down on my lower lip, biting me just hard enough for it to burn. A
sizzling jolt runs down my spine, and I cry out with pain and delight in equal
measure. I throw my arms around his broad shoulders, pull myself up, and wrap
my legs around his back.

I can feel his member bulging right against me, and a warm
wetness begins to throb between my legs. Slade’s mouth leaves mine as he
travels down the tender skin of my throat. I groan as his tongue flicks against
the sensitive skin above my collarbone and glides expertly along my neck. I
arch my back against the wall, rubbing unabashedly against his ever-growing
hardness. I hear him gasp against me, and he takes me up into his arms,
staggering back through the cabin to the room beyond the cracked door.