Passionate Addiction (28 page)

“It’s hard, isn’t it? Leaving them behind, I mean. I’ve done it for years, and it never gets easier.” Ryan patted Blake on the shoulder. “I hope whatever you have to deal with at home isn’t too serious.”

Blake turned to Ryan and nudged him with his shoulder. “No, everything’s cool. I’ve got a newfound respect for you though. The whole long distance thing sucks. How do you do it?”

Ryan scoffed, “Obviously not very well. My marriage is hanging by a thread.”

“You’ll pull through. Have faith.”

“I honestly don’t think we will.” Ryan shrugged. “And I’m not sure if I want to anymore. What’s the point? Apart we’re miserable, and together isn’t any better. I’m beginning to think that catching Julie cheating will be a good excuse to make a clean break.”

Blake jerked back in surprise while his friend turned and strode to the opened cabin door. Had he been too consumed with his own issues to notice the enormity of what Ryan must have been going through?

“I’m a fuckin’ douche,” he muttered to himself and grabbed his iPad from its position between the chair cushions and patted his jeans pocket for his passport. “Hey, Rye, wait up.”

Blake was the last to descend the aircraft staircase, shading his eyes from the early morning sun. An airport shuttle waited for them a few feet away, and he climbed on, disappointed to find Ryan already seated next to Mason.

Marriage had always meant a lot to Ryan, so Blake couldn’t let the conversation slide. They’d have to talk later, once they caught up on sleep, and the comfort of home soil made their problems less exhausting.

The bus drove them to the customs building where they went through the usual security protocol. Within minutes they were all hustling to the front doors manned by two of their usual security staff.

“Another big crowd?” Leah asked.

One of the men shrugged. “Not too big.”

“OK, guys, let’s make this a quick exit. I want to get home.” Leah walked outside and waited.

The standard burst of noise that accompanied their fans, erupted when they walked from the building. Females held up signs dedicating their love, men yelled, and cameras flashed—nothing new or out of the ordinary. Except for the woman breaking from the crowd.

One of the security guards lunged for her, his hands sliding over her slim waist as she jumped out of his reach. She ran toward Blake, throwing her thick, dark glasses and baseball cap to the ground, releasing a mass of silky, strawberry blonde hair.

Shit.

Michelle pounced on him, wrapping her legs around his waist. He had no choice but to grab her hips to steady himself and fumbled backward until he stabilized her weight. She clung to him, her thighs gripping him tight, her hands running around his neck.

“Get the hell—” His words died under her lips, the clash of her mouth hard and unyielding against his. He jerked back and dropped his hands from her body, letting her fall to her feet. Cameras flashed, people cheered, and none of it penetrated the wild
thump, thump, thump
of his chest while he wondered how he would explain this to Gabi. “Mother fuc—”

“Now, now,” she whispered, placing a finger over his mouth. “Is that any way to greet your girlfriend?”

He stepped back, gaining distance to breathe. Mason strode toward them, his gaze darting from Michelle, then back to Blake. “Is this the ‘nothing’ you were talking about?”

There wasn’t a rock big enough for Blake to hide under. Everyone stared at him, photographers, fans, security, Mitch, Leah, Alana, and Sean. The final kick to the balls came when he caught Ryan’s scathing gaze. “Remind me not to let you near my wife.”

“Now this is the type of attention I was talking about,” Michelle purred, the side of her lips lifting in a menacing smile.

He wanted to throttle her. To wrap his hands around her neck and wring the life from her. She stepped into him, placing her hands on his chest. All he could do was stand there, too shocked to figure out how to handle the situation without making a bigger mess.

“Get the fuck away from me,” he growled under his breath.

“Oh, sweetie, the photos have already been taken. No point worrying about it now.” She rubbed her breasts against his body, and he cringed. “It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He ignored the question, sidestepping her and continuing to the limo. All he could think of was Gabi. How she would react. What she would say. And how her beautiful face would contort in pain when she saw the inevitable photos.

“Blake, wait,” Michelle called over the bark of questions from fans.

He continued to walk in long strides across the tarmac, climbing into the waiting vehicle and pulling the door shut.

Inside, silence reigned, thick and uncomfortable.

“Gabi’s going to be devastated,” Alana whispered to Mitch, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Yeah. Gabi
would
be devastated. And the worst thing? Blake had a feeling this was only the beginning.

Gabi woke to the chime of her phone alarm and winced at her stiff neck and pounding head. She’d gone to bed early. Falling asleep every night worried about her relationship with Blake had paid a toll on her health and nothing seemed to lighten her mood. All she needed were answers. Some direction. A little insight.

She was stuck in limbo, not sure if the emotional distance he’d put between them was because of the issues he faced or simply because he didn’t know how to end things between them. Reaching for her phone on the bedside table, she silenced the alarm and frowned at all the notifications lining the top of her screen. Twitter, email, Facebook, missed calls, messages. All the icons stood side by side.

She flicked her finger over the screen and clicked the first notification—a text message from Tammy.
Gabi call me asap, honey.

The missed calls came from her parents and…Tammy.

Yet again, nothing from Blake.

It was too early to return any calls so she navigated to Twitter and searched her favorite hashtags. #recklessbeat and #blakekennedy were all she bothered to follow, and today, the stream was alive with recent tweets.

#blakekennedy glad to see you back with Michie. That woman’s damn fine.

Her heart stuttered, and she sat up straight in bed. There had to be a mistake. Or maybe she was still asleep.

#blakekennedy goes BANG! Barely steps foot off the jet and already has a woman literally running for him. I bow to the master of p*ssy.

Gabi couldn’t breathe over the tightening of her throat. She skimmed down the Twitter feed, reading similar comments, most mentioning something between Blake and Michelle. Some included links to photos, and curiosity demanded she take a look, even though her mind begged her not to.

#RecklessBlake Heartbroken to see you reunite with Michelle at the airport. But happy for you both. Took this pic…

Her blood pounded loud in her ears while she clicked on the image link. In the next beat her chest constricted and she covered her mouth with a gasp. “Oh, Blake, what have you done?”

The photo showed a side view of him standing, his hands holding the slim waist of a woman, her legs around his hips, and his mouth against hers. Gabi knew instantly who it was.
Her
. Michelle Clarkson. Blake’s ex. Or what the Twitter feed now clarified as his new girlfriend.

Gabi dropped her phone, holding her knuckles against her lips to stop herself from throwing up.

He wouldn’t do this to her.

How
could he do this to her?

She slid to the side of the mattress and placed her feet on the floor. He wouldn’t. Not Blake. Not after everything they’d shared. He had more decency than to play with her emotions.

So why hasn’t he contacted you?

Rationality taunted her, weighing her down. She didn’t want to think about that. If she did, she would lose the grip on her wavering restraint and fall into a place she couldn’t recover from.

Maybe this was the reason he’d been distant. Had he been playing Gabi for a fool? Or was Michelle the situation he wanted to sort out by himself?
Yeah, it looked like he was sorting her out good and proper.

“Oh, god,” she choked.

Her phone vibrated on the bed, flashing with an incoming call. She froze, unsure what to do if Blake’s name was across the screen. Inching forward, she raised her chin and peered down.

Tammy.

Of course it wasn’t Blake. Another fist slammed through her chest. Even though she wouldn’t know what to say to him, she wanted him to care enough to call. Having his reunion with Michelle plastered all over the internet wouldn’t have escaped his notice. Or, oh god, what if he didn’t care?

Maybe he was too busy fucking the whore.

She ran for the bathroom and fell to her knees, heaving over the toilet. Her stomach clenched and bile choked her throat, yet nothing came out. Minutes passed with her head hanging limp, tears burning the back of her eyes. She needed to get ready for work: Shower. Dress. Eat—if she could force food over the sickness that consumed her.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t expected something like this. Blake had always been too good to be true. This was reality finally helping to open her eyes.

Pushing to her feet, she padded into her bedroom, grabbed her clothes off the dresser and went back to place them on the basin beside the shower. Her nose tingled, and she sniffed it away, refusing to cry. Tabloids thrived on creating gossip. This could be another celebrity scene blown out of proportion… Or was she weak and naïve for searching for unlikely excuses?

Stop! Blake’s mouth on another woman would never be acceptable for her, no matter what way the press spun the story.

With numb hands she turned on the taps and stepped under the shower’s spray. Rumors wouldn’t defeat her. No. She was stronger than that.
They
were stronger than that. Blake only arrived back in the US less than twelve hours ago, and if something as monumental as their relationship hung in the balance, she was sure his first priority would be to get in contact with her.

She closed her eyes and the Twitter image glared back at her from the darkness. He’d had his eyes open.

Blake had been kissing Michelle with his eyes open!

A glimmer of hope sparked to life in her dying heart. She straightened her posture and tilted her head back under the water. No man ever kissed a woman he cared about with his eyes open. It had to be a set-up. Blake was going to call her. She could feel it. He would call or email or Skype and explain everything.

She just needed to try harder to convince herself of that.

***

Blake pressed the channel button on his television remote again and again and again. He had no clue what played on the screen, but the action kept his hands busy and away from his cell phone. One day had passed since returning home, and all he’d done was hide from the world in his apartment.

“Have you called Gabi yet?” Mitch walked into the entertainment room, sat beside him on the leather couch, and handed over a can of soda.

Blake shook his head. He couldn’t call her. Listening to the hitch in her breath as he told her about Michelle would send him over the edge. And would she even believe him? This morning’s tabloids had described a heartfelt reunion between old lovers. Far from the seething, hate filled homecoming it had actually been. All he wanted was to make Gabi happy. To keep her bright eyes glinting and her gorgeous smile wide. He wanted to make her proud, yet everything he did was a disappointment.

He’d spent every waking moment praying she hadn’t seen the photos. It wasn’t a stretch to wish she hadn’t. The hype on Twitter and Facebook had grown and dissipated like a mini gossip whirlwind, however, the photos would always be on the internet if Gabi knew what to search for.

“She hasn’t called or emailed since I returned to the states, so I’m taking that as a good sign that she hasn’t seen the photos. And I told her I’d be out of contact for a while because I’ve got stuff to deal with, and she has work and school to keep her busy.”

“You need to call her.” Mitch cracked his can and rested back into the cushions. “Allie’s havin’ kittens worrying about her.”

Allie was having kittens?
Blake let the stress and anger and fear take hold, allowing his blood to boil with annoyance, his heart to thump with pain. He slammed his soda can on the coffee table and threw the remote, watching it slide against the polished wood and fall to the carpeted floor. In a burst of uncontained emotion he pushed to his feet. “Allie needs to mind her own fucking business.”

He took two steps, beginning to pace, before he stopped.
Shit.
He’d finally lost his mind. His friends had been frantic planning their engagement party, yet Mitch continued to find time to stop by and check on him with Alana always sending food.

Blake ran his hands through his hair, pulling, trying to alleviate the emotional pain with physical. This needed to stop. He needed to take control of his life. Only every time he tried, he seemed to fuck it up more. It was time to come to terms with his future. He was going to lose Gabi, or his position in Reckless Beat. Or both.