Steady Beat (20 page)

He spun, looking for what he didn’t know. His stare fell on the king-size bed, its immaculate, crumple-free duvet mocking him.

“We’ll make it to the bed next time
,” he’d whispered in Pepper’s ear only moments ago, the thought of her in it with him almost too wonderful to imagine. But the bed sat there now untouched, its pristine gold and white satin cover a cruel jibe. As if the world, after giving him something so perfect, goaded him with its removal.

A hoarse cry ripped from his chest. His soul.

He hooked his fingers into the bedding, yanked it from the mattress and tossed it across the room. It struck a lamp, knocking it to the floor with a dull thud.

He stood at the foot of the bed, his chest tight, his breathing wild. He stared at the upended light, the rose petals scattered around it looking like fat drops of blood on the carpet.

Heather was pregnant.

He was going to be a father.

He pictured a baby in his arms. Thought of the spare room in his home—only three of the four walls painted. Thought of the stairs to the second floor. Pictured a toddler falling down them because he hadn’t installed a gate. Christ, how much would he fuck up a kid? He was fucked up himself, a mental excuse for an adult, what would he do to a child?

He closed his eyes, dragging an image of Heather from the darkness of his mind. Did he go back to her? Should he ever have let her go in the first place? Shouldn’t he have fought for her? But if he hadn’t let her leave him he never would have met Pepper.

Pepper.

God, he loved her. Not just with his heart but with every molecule in his body. Her voice, her heart, her warmth. She calmed him. Completed him.

And yet he couldn’t turn his back on his child. Only a wanker would do that, which meant he couldn’t turn his back on Heather either, right? Right? But why hadn’t she called him before now? How fucking sad to discover this way, via a gossip website. Was it a publicity stunt? Heather always was one for the dramatics. She loved the attention. Her career had skyrocketed when they’d shacked up together, the paparazzi crazy for a wild celebrity couple. Was that what this was all about? Or was she really regretful and thought this was the only way to get to him? Why didn’t she tell him before going public? Why now? When he’d just found Pepper?

The thoughts and questions lashed at him, a turbulent storm of harrowing confusion, wild and frenzied and crippling.

He raked his fingers through his hair, walking in tight circles at the foot of the undressed bed.

Would he be a good father? Was he capable of being a father at all? Would he be out somewhere and get distracted and forget about his child? Forget he was a dad? In charge of another life? Could that happen? He’d left Maxie the mutt at the park once. Why wouldn’t that happen with a baby?

Cold terror sliced at the raging storm in his head. Could the baby be born with ADHD? Would it grow up to be like him? He remembered how terrorized his parents were by his inability to sit still, to keep his attention on task. He remembered his mother’s frustrated tears and his father’s angry outbursts whenever Noah derailed at an inappropriate moment. Would his child suffer the same fate? Jesus, had he already ruined its life just by being its father? Or would it be calm, like he was with Pepper? Calm was in him. He knew that. Would it be in his child? Christ, would it?

What did he do?

What did he do?

What the
fuck
did he do?

The questions deafened him, assaulted him. Fast and barely complete before the next one attacked. He scrunched his face against the screaming noise. Against the confusion.

He crumpled to the floor, head buried in his hands when no answers came. When nothing came but more questions. Insistent questions. Bleak questions.

Questions that tore at his sanity.

Questions without answers.

Answers without hope.

Or Pepper.

Chapter Nine

Pepper decided she was going to spend the day with her face buried in her pillow. That way, she could pretend the world didn’t exist. That way she could pretend she didn’t exist. It would make everything so much easier. Really, what did she contribute to the world anyway? Stupid dreams, empty courage and woeful fantasies of a life spent with a world-famous drummer who women lusted after. That’s what she contributed.

Oh, and cold drinks served on napkins.

The memory of Noah sweeping into Rupert’s Bar less than twenty-four hours ago and buying it there and then just so she could sing with the band snaked through her head, and she snorted into her pillow. No, cold drinks on napkins wasn’t part of her offering to the world anymore either. Even if Noah let her keep her job, she couldn’t work there.

So her only option, given that she’d used up all her bravery approaching Noah two and a half weeks ago, was to stay in her room with her head in her pillow. Which is exactly what she’d been doing for the last twelve hours, give or take a few moments of frustrated weeping in the shower and sobbing on the toilet. At least she couldn’t fail at that. Just her and the pillow and nothing else.

Unbidden, an image of Noah came to her, his grin relaxed and playful. Her stomach clenched. She’d attempted to forget all about him since arriving home, but every time she believed she’d banished him from her thoughts, he popped in there again. Apparently she
could
fail at being alone with her pillow after all. So all round, she was one big failure.

Great. Her mother would be so gleefully happy right now.

The edge of the bed dipped, a warm hand pressing with gentle pressure to the small of her back. “I’m sorry, Peps.”

Pepper twisted on the bed, looking up at Frank where he perched beside her, a steamy mug in his other hand. The scent of freshly brewed coffee with undertones of whiskey filled the room. Repositioning herself on the bed, she took the mug. She never drank alcohol at seven in the morning. Never. Of course, she never lost her heart to a drummer about to become a father, either.

Oh wait, yes she did.

Taking a sip of the laced coffee, she studied Frank over the mug’s rim. “You know what sucks the most about this all?”

Frank shook his head. Consternation swam in his eyes. His normal mischievous flamboyance was nowhere to be seen. “What’s that, sweetpea?”

She sighed, the whiskey in the hot drink slinking its way down her throat into her belly. “Even though the situation is totally out of my control, I still feel like I’ve failed.”

Frank scowled. “Because Noah’s floozy of an ex is pregnant?”

Pepper took another sip of coffee and then shrugged.

“Are you still going to sing with them?”

She pulled the mug away a little, staring into its dark brown depths. “I don’t know.”

“You won’t fail at that.”

She raised her stare to Frank’s face. Perhaps it was the whiskey in her stomach, perhaps it was the lack of sleep, but she felt sick. And broken. “Won’t I?” she asked. “Singing in front of a crowd? I’ve never done that before. Hell, before I sang for the band, I’d only ever done it in the shower, for my singing teacher when I was a kid or for Dad. What happens if I get stage fright? It wouldn’t be the first time. What happens if I choke?
When
I choke? And honestly, I don’t know if I
want
to be a singer. I know I always said it was my dream but now I’m—”

Frank shook his head, his smile exasperated. And sympathetic. “You really have no idea how to be your own cheerleader, do you?”

Pepper snorted, gripping the mug tightly. “The bar I work at has just been bought out, the man I’m in love with is about to become a father with his girlfriend of eight years and the band I was going to sing with doesn’t have a manager anymore to organize everything that needs to be organized. At this point in time, I’m thinking I’m more albatross than cheerleader.” She sipped more of the potent brew. “Perhaps I should become a birdwatcher? Surely I’d have some success at that?”

Frank scowled at her again. He opened his mouth, finger pointed at her. And then closed it again at the sharp rap on the apartment door.

Pepper’s heart jumped into her throat.

She shoved it down again, telling herself to stop being stupid. There wasn’t a hope in hell Noah would be here.

With a soft pat on her thigh, Frank rose to his feet. “Let me see who that is and then I’ll give you the lecture you deserve.”

He walked from her room, leaving her alone.

She sipped more coffee, closing her eyes as the whiskey burned its way to her stomach. She wanted to ring Noah. She wanted to hear his voice. No, that wasn’t right. She needed to hear his voice. She’d heard it every day from the first time they’d met in the bar. They’d spoken to each other every day for the last two and a half weeks. She didn’t realize until now how addicted she’d become to it. Not just his Australian accent, but the timbre of it. Its resonance. The way it made her soul smile.

Opening her eyes, she plucked her cell phone from the nightstand. She’d hang up when he spoke. She just wanted to hear him say g’day.

Jabbing her phone awake, she tapped open her contact list.

And closed it again. She couldn’t call him.

Instead, her heart smashing against her breastbone, her tummy warm with whiskey, she opened her web browser and navigated her way to the gossip site Frank had directed her to yesterday.

The main headline was brutal.

Heather Lang and Noah Holden Prepare For Parenthood?

There was an image of Noah and Heather in an airport, the text beneath it telling Pepper it was LAX. Heather’s hand gripped Noah’s biceps, her knuckles white, the small bulge of her belly pronounced in a skin-tight white dress. Noah’s jaw was bunched, his eyes covered by mirrored sunglasses, his unruly, sexy hair hidden under a New York Yankees baseball cap. He looked straight ahead, his expression set. Heather smiled up at him, as if he was the second coming.

Tight agony wrapped around Pepper’s chest. She closed her eyes, biting back a sob.

A soft knock raised her head.

Samuel Gibson stood at her door.

Pepper gaped at him and then scrambled for her robe, all too aware she was whimpering on a bed in her underwear, close to tipsy thanks to Frank’s super-charged coffee.

Samuel strode into her room and dropped onto her bed, just as she shoved her arms into the sleeves of her deep-green silk robe.

“It fucking sucks, doesn’t it?”

She stared at him, unsure what to say. Her pulse thumped hard and fast in her ears.

He ran his gaze around her room, a small grin tugging at his lips. Pepper frowned and followed his line of sight, her belly fluttering when she realized he was looking at the Nick Blackthorne CD case sitting on her nightstand.

Turning back to him, she swallowed at the thick lump in her throat. “Is he okay?”

Samuel shrugged, his fingers plucking at her duvet. “He won’t answer any calls. Not mine, Jax’s, Levi’s. Hell, he hasn’t even spoken to his agent
or
his parents. I know because I’ve had all three of them on the phone asking me what’s going on. His mum and dad are worried sick.” He looked at her, his own worry clear on his face. “They never liked Heather and were glad when she left him.”

Pepper let out a ragged breath. She walked back to her bed and sat next to Samuel.

He shook his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “She’s no good for him, Pepper. Never has been. But Noah, he’s almost noble. She played on that when they first met. Gave him some bullshit story the night he first slept with her about being scared to leave his hotel room because her ex was stalking her. They woke up together and she never left his side after that. She loved the attention being with a famous drummer brought her. She hated the rest of the guys. She knew from the get-go being Noah’s girlfriend would be good for her public exposure, and, wouldn’t you know it, a month after they were first photographed together, she landed her first big endorsement deal. And she’s selfish. I guarantee the second she saw those images of you and Noah together she would have been pissed. She didn’t want him any longer, but be fucked if she’d let anyone else have him.”

Sickened dismay ate at Pepper. “Why wouldn’t
anyone
want Noah?”

Samuel chuckled, the sound wry. “Noah’s not easy, Kerrigan. His frantic energy makes it hard for people to relax around him, and then there’s the way he can be hyper focused on one thing followed by bouts of an inability to string two thoughts together. That’s hard to live with. Plus, his random boredom would get him—and the band—into trouble. Often. It drives most people batshit.”

Pepper lowered her gaze to her knees. “I’m not most people.”

“No, you’re not.”

She shot Samuel a sideways glance.

He smiled at her, and for the first time Pepper realized the man beside her loved Noah as much as she did. And that he’d accepted her. She sighed. “What will he do?” she asked. Damn it, she ached all over. As if she’d been fed through a wringer.

Samuel shrugged. “I don’t know. A part of him will believe he’ll have to go back to her. That he owes it to her.”

Cold grief wrapped Pepper’s soul. “A part?”

Samuel cast her a long, steady look. “The rest of him will want to be where his heart is. With you.”