His Assurance (Assured Distraction Book 3) (24 page)

My head hurt like a vice pinched it, and someone kept tightening the knob. This Acetaminophen they sent me home with wasn’t doing shit. The only good thing in my life was Lola moving in with me. I tried hard not to complain, but she kept an eye on me so much that I knew she understood I hurt almost all the time. It had been a long fucking week, and I was still not hearing anything.

Another good thing was I no longer lost my lunch every damn time I stood. The first few days at home were awful. If I looked sideways too fast, up it came. Lola had been reading about it to me because reading was impossible at this point. Looking at words not only made my head hurt, but the nausea returned. She said something crazy about me needing to have my crystals realigned, whatever the hell that was. She tried telling me about it, but I honestly didn’t care.

The reading problem affected my ability to read music, too. That was the real bitch for me at this point. Everyone in the band was ready to get back into the studio to write, and I couldn’t be there. I wasn’t sure I was going ever to get there again. Maybe I would quit so they could move on and find another drummer. I thought about it a lot while I sat around with nothing to do per the doctor’s orders. Fuck that. I was ready to go places, do things, but most of all play my drums. A drum kit waited for me in the basement, and I wanted to get behind it ASAP. There was one small problem; I had to go down narrow stairs. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Looking down the stairwell made me sick, and things seemed to move around in my brain. It was like I was high only damn, someone forgot to give me the drugs.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

Lola:
What are you doing, Gunner?

“Nothing, as usual. What do you want me to do?”

Lola:
I want you to stand up and walk outside to sit by the pool. It’s a beautiful day.

“It’s exactly like it was yesterday. Nothing’s changed since yesterday when you made me go outside.”

Lola:
Okay, then let’s walk out front to the gate and back.

“Oh yeah, we did that yesterday, too, remember? I’m sick of this shit. I want to go places and do things. I want to play my fucking drums.”

Lola:
Do you think that’s a good idea banging on the drums? It might make your head hurt worse.

“How the fuck is that going to happen when I can’t even hear it?” I looked at her and saw the pain I caused her with my smart ass answers, but I was so fucking tired of this. “I’m sorry,
chéri
. I know you’re trying to help. Come here.”

She walked over and laid down beside me. I kissed her hair softly as I inhaled the beautiful fragrance. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take my anger out on you, but when is it going to get better?”

She rolled over and pulled out her phone.

Lola:
We don’t know the answer to that, but it will get better. The doctor said your hearing could come back at any time.

“Well, the time needs to be now. My life is so fucked up.”

Lola:
I know it is, but sitting around wallowing in your anger isn’t going to make it better. Let’s get up and do something. How about we ride to the park and walk around down there? Are you up for riding in the car?

I took a deep breath because I knew what it was going to cost me. My head would throb, and I would probably blow beets before we exited the driveway.

“Sure, let’s go, my little cherry pie. Anything to see something different.”

Lola:
This is good, right?

“Yeah, it is better. Thanks for making me come.” My head wanted to explode, but I would never tell her that. At least I hadn’t had to get my little friend, BBB, out. Blue Barf Bag and I were BFF’s since “the accident.” That’s what we called my fall. “The accident” marked a spot on my life line as everything was before or after “the accident.”

Paparazzi kept milling around outside my house trying to get a picture. Damn vultures. The sneaky little bastards wandered around on the other side of the street as if they were going unnoticed. They wanted the money shot, but what was there to see around here? Nothing, that was it. A damaged drummer. And that’s probably what I would be forever.

Lola:
What are you thinking about so hard, babe?

“Not too damn much. I’m glad to be out of the house. That’s all.”

Lola:
Really, because it looks like those wheels are turning so hard they could make your ears spin.

“Very funny. More like they don’t turn or do anything worth doing anymore.”

Lola:
Gunner, it hasn’t been all that long. A week recovering from a concussion is nothing.

“Well, how long will this fucking fun last then? I’m sick of this shit. I am dying to get behind my kit. I hate sitting around like some dumb shit staring at the walls of my house. Dammit, I want to take you to bed and fuck you like I’ve been dreaming about since the last time.” I took her hand because I knew that came out sounding all wrong. I didn’t know how to express what I felt about her at this point. I knew she had to be sick of my shit. Hell, I was sick of my shit. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I wanted to say all of this right to her.

“Look, Lola, I want you to know I am so damn glad to have you here with me. I don’t know how I would have made it without you this week, but I know you have things you need to do, too. I want you to consider going home after my doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

Lola:
What? How can you say that? I’m where I want to be, Gun, or I wouldn’t have stayed.

“No, I know you applied for jobs in Houston. What happened to the interview you had scheduled? You need to move on with your plans. I may never get my hearing back. You heard the doctor say it, or if I do, I might never get it back well enough to play in the band. I don’t want you to feel stuck here with me. I want you to do what you want with your life. That’s what I wanted you to be able to do when you went home the first time. You have dreams to pursue, and that’s what I want for you.”

Lola:
Did you ever once hear me complaining about being here with you? No, you didn’t. I’m here because I want to be.

“But you didn’t want to be here before the accident. You wanted to go home and work in Houston, so how can you say you’re here because you want to be?”

Lola:
Listen to me, Gunner. I will leave when I’m damn good and ready and not a minute before. You need me, and I want to be here for you.

“Why? Why would you want to stay? Why would you want to be with a gimped-up guy who can’t do anything for you? Hell, we can’t even enjoy sex. If I could only tell you all the things I think about doing to you when I watch you move around the house.” She looked at me, and I wondered if she could see how badly I wanted her right now. I needed to strip her down and fuck her until she screamed my name over and over. Right here, right now. Then I wanted to start all over and make love to her slow and easy, so she felt ever single thrust all the way in and all the way out. But, yeah, it felt like I was never going to hear her scream my name again.

Lola:
Did it ever occur to you that I might want to be here because of my feelings for you?

Her words drew me back to the moment. “You have feelings for me? When did this happen? Did you have feelings when you decided to go back to Houston or was it after you had to take care of my sorry ass?” She looked down as though she was trying to form the correct answer.

Lola:
Before I left.

“Then why the hell did you choose to leave?” I was pissed off. She never once mentioned anything about feeling something for me.

Lola:
We never seriously talked about it. I mean I know you said you wanted me to move in, but it was an “in the moment” thing. I never took it seriously. You never said anything other than you wanted me. I thought it was only a sexual thing between us, Gunner.

Damn, how did I not see this coming? “Lola, I’m not good at the whole expressing my feelings thing. Haven’t you figured that out by now? Being with you is the best,
chéri
.”

Lola:
Look, I’m not expecting a declaration of love from you, Gun, but I need to know that we are at least on the same page. I need to know that a relationship is going to be possible at some point.

Yeah, this was hard. Over the past week, I had thought of nothing else, but now, who knew? I squeezed her hand. This girl got me, but I was not sure I was capable of having a relationship at this point. I never wanted it based on the need for me, not a medical need. I wanted it based on love. How could I explain this to her? I brought her hand to my lips and kissed softly across her knuckles. Those deep dark eyes locked me in, and I needed to break right now. I could tell her that I loved her and knew I truly meant it before, but now, I wasn’t sure I could be the one responsible for dragging her down with me. I took her soft hand and turned it over palm up. Looking back into those eyes, I said, “I would have told you that before the accident, but now I don’t know.”

Lola:
You don’t know if you have feelings for me?

“No, I don’t know if I can do this relationship thing with you, Lola. I’m not good for you now.” I stood up and held my hand out to pull her up, too. It took all I had to do that one maneuver that before would have been a no-brainer. It was a sign when nausea hit me as I pulled her sweet body up beside mine. “I’m ready to go home, please.”

Lola:
Wait, don’t I get a say in this, at all? Why do you get to decide who is good for me or not?

“Just take me home, okay?” I couldn’t look at her.

We drove home in silence—hell, I was always in silence now—and I could see she was mad or maybe hurt. That was the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her but better now than later. She could leave tomorrow since I knew the doctor was going to release me from twenty-four seven babysitting. It was better for both of us.

As she pulled into the garage and turned off the car, I watched her chest rise and fall with a deep breath she took, then it moved out and in slowly as she tried to decide what to say or do. Finally, she picked up her phone and began to type a message. I thought I had come to hate texts because it seemed like everything people wanted me to hear was the very thing I didn’t want.

Lola:
You want me to leave?