This One Moment (17 page)

After Hailey left to go shopping, I sat on the couch and began phoning around. I needed to find a space to rent for when the guys showed up next week. We couldn't stay here. There wasn't enough space and the walls were too thin. The last thing Hailey needed was for us to piss off her neighbors with our loud music.

Forty minutes later, and no closer to finding us a place to work in, I hit speed dial on my phone.

“Hey, what's up?” Brandon asked.

I told him what I needed. “Any suggestions?”

“Sorry, can't help you there. I mean other than…” His final words faded away, his unspoken suggestion all too clear.

“No! No way in hell I'm going back there. I've already told you that.”

“I know, but you have to admit it's perfect.”

I shook my head. Visiting the cemetery had been hard enough. Returning to the house where it all happened would be a thousand times worse.

I just couldn't do it.

“He's dead, Nolan,” Brandon said after a long silence. “He can't hurt you anymore.”

Tell me something I don't already know
. “That doesn't matter.”

“You really want to be in the dark about what happened?” I could hear the frown in his voice, along with
When did you become such a pussy?

Or maybe that was just the voice in my own head. “What's the point of me remembering? It won't bring back the dead.”

He sighed heavily, the sound reverberating through the phone. “You're right. It won't.”

Since I had him on the phone and he would find out soon enough, I filled him in on what had happened earlier. I also filled him in on what the label wanted me to do about the situation.

“What exactly is going on with you and Hailey?” His words were slow, questioning. He wasn't asking me about what she and I were doing together. He was questioning my motives and where I thought this would all end up.

“You mean other than I still love her?”

“Shit, you had sex with her, didn't you?”

“Maybe.” I cringed at his groan.

“You sure know how to complicate things.” Epic understatement of the year. “Have you told her how you feel about her?”

I squirmed on the couch. “Kind of.”

“I take that as a no. You need to tell her the truth, Nolan. With all the other lies circulating about you, you need to tell her the truth.”

“And then what? We have a long-distance relationship? It would never work.”

“Why not? You'll never know if you don't give it a chance.”

I swore aliens had abducted my best friend. Since when did the king of going-nowhere relationships dole out relationship advice? “It doesn't matter, not with the label pushing for this fictitious romance between me and Alyssa. I can't do that to Hailey. She deserves better than to be hidden away like some dirty secret. But that's exactly what will happen.”

Brandon released a defeated sigh but didn't say more on the topic. We ended the call and I went back to fiddling around with a new song I'd been working on.

But as much as I tried to block it from my mind, the image of my parents' home sneaked into my thoughts. And with it came the promise of a new memory of that night.

F
IVE YEARS AGO

I entered my house and flipped the light on. Instead of the usual warm glow, the light was cold and harsh. But that wasn't what filled my body with icy dread.

Blood drops on the beige carpet formed a trail to the kitchen.

I strained to hear a sound, but my ears were met with nothing but silence. Darkness seeped from the room, and I walked toward it, my gaze glued to the bloody trail. A strong, unpleasant odor sat heavy in the air, and my stomach turned.

Ignoring the five alarms in my head telling me to get out of the house, I stepped into the kitchen and turned on the light. My hand recoiled at the sticky wetness on the light switch and I glanced down to see what it was.

And wished I hadn't.

Smeared bloody handprints stained the walls.

I snapped out of the memory and rested my head on the back of the couch, body trembling. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on other things. Like Hailey. Naked.

It took several minutes for the trembling to finally subside. With a hard breath, I pushed myself off the couch and grabbed a beer from the fridge. I opened it and downed half of the cold beverage. Maybe this was the answer to surviving this town while I was here.

I returned to my room, grabbed my guitar from the case by my bed, and played the melody for the ballad I'd been working on. The music soaked into every part of my body, reminding me just how important it was to me. Like oxygen to fire.

But as much as I wanted it, I couldn't have everything. I couldn't have the music
and
Hailey
and
the oblivion from my memories. I had to choose.

The apartment door clicked open. I continued playing the guitar. When it became obvious that Hailey wasn't going to check on me, I placed the guitar against the bed and went to find her.

Full grocery bags littered the floor in the hallway outside her bedroom door. It wasn't like her to just dump her groceries there and go off to do something else.

I walked into the living room. Hailey was on the couch, laptop on her lap. She looked nothing like the woman I'd made love to earlier in the shower. She didn't even look like the woman who'd left to go shopping. She looked hollow. Broken.

I joined her on the couch. “What happened?”

“The pictures of us are all over the Internet.”

“Already?” Not that this surprised me.

“And it would seem people aren't too impressed with me. I'm the bitch who's trying to steal you from Alyssa.”

“No one thinks that.” My words were nothing more than a lie, but I couldn't stop myself from saying them. To give her some small amount of hope, no matter how tiny it might have been.

“Really?” She turned the laptop so I could read the comments on the band's unofficial fan site. “And it's not just here. A girl at the store recognized me and made her opinion about me quite clear….Oh, and to top it off, I remembered something there that might have to do with what happened to me, but I can't be sure.” Her words came out fast, tripping over themselves.

“What did you remember?”

She continued staring at the computer screen. “Nothing much, really. A man asked why the fuck the other person had brought me there. I was lying down and my eyes were closed. When I opened them, I couldn't see anything.”

“Nothing at all?”

“It was dark and they were shining a flashlight in my face.”

“Did you recognize the voice?”

She shook her head and slouched forward. “I just want to remember. I'm tired of having this gap in my life and not knowing what happened.”

I placed the laptop on the coffee table and pulled her into my arms. “I know.” But I didn't. Had it been in my power, I would have done anything to switch places with her. For Hailey to be the one who remembered what happened and for me to stay oblivious to my own private hell.

She rested her head against my shoulder and started crying. I held her tighter, as useless as that was. I had a feeling she wasn't crying because she was mourning her missing memories. It was a combination of that and the hate oozing from the fan sites because of the lies. Beyond holding her, I didn't know what to do. About anything.

My cellphone pinged. I ignored it, not wanting to let go of Hailey just yet.

Hailey's phone pinged. As did mine, again. And if that wasn't enough, they both started playing music to let us know we had calls.

Realizing something big was going down, I picked up my phone as she answered hers.

“What's up?” I asked Brandon.

“Dude, have you seen the press conference with Alyssa Graham?”

I frowned, an expression reflected on Hailey's face. “What press conference?”

He told me what site to find it on. Whoever Hailey was talking to must have told her the same thing. She was already pulling it up.

“I'm watching it now. I'll call you right back.” I ended the call and we watched the video footage.

Alyssa was standing outside, the sun shining behind her, lighting up her blond hair and giving her an angelic appearance. Even though I couldn't see the person, I knew her handler was within arm's reach, ready to end the press conference if necessary. “Thank you, everyone, for coming. I'm going to issue a statement first on behalf of myself and Tyler Erickson, and then I'll try to answer your questions.”

I glanced at Hailey. Her face was free of emotion. I had no idea if that was a bad thing or not.

“First, Tyler and I thank everyone for the support you have shown us over the past few months. As you may have recently heard, his mother and sister were victims of domestic abuse when he was a teen. It was that tragedy that brought us together. For a number of years I've been involved with the emergency women's shelter in L.A., and through the generosity of people like Tyler, the shelter has been able to make a difference in the lives of those women who are survivors of abuse.

“Tyler has been donating to the shelter for several years, and that's how we met. Because of what we have in common in our own lives, we've grown close during the past few months. He recently returned to his hometown to help out a friend.

“Members of the media tracked him down there and pried into his personal life. Tyler chose to go by a pseudonym because he didn't want what happened to his family to overshadow the hard work he's done to prove himself. He wanted his talent to speak for itself.

“I am aware the paparazzi stalked Tyler and photographed him with another woman while he was dealing with his grief. I can promise you that he and I are still together. The photo misrepresented the situation, which, as we all know, is typical of the paparazzi. Only a few weeks ago they were proclaiming I was pregnant with Tyler's love child. But as you can clearly see, that is not the case.” She rubbed her hand over her flat stomach to emphasize her point. Several reporters chuckled. “Questions?”

“How can you be so sure there is nothing going on between them?” a reporter offscreen asked. “The photos that went viral suggest otherwise.”

“Because I trust Tyler when he says nothing is going on between them. And he's never given me a reason not to trust him.”

“Aren't you worried that Nolan Kincaid might end up harming you like his father did to Nolan's mother and sister?” a female voice asked. “Research shows that children of abusers often go on to become abusers themselves.”

“Research also shows that some children from abusive homes become victims themselves when in a romantic relationship,” Alyssa said. “And other children are perfectly well adjusted despite the abuse. There has been no indication, other than some misguided reports, that Tyler is anything but the kind and generous man I know he is.”

There were a few more questions, but nothing Alyssa couldn't smoothly handle. But despite what she had told the reporters, and subsequently the world, I had a feeling no one would completely buy her story about Hailey's involvement. If anything, it made Alyssa come off as naive when it came to our “relationship.” Some people might've scoffed at her naivety. Some would frown at my involvement in the affair (given that I was the one supposedly cheating on her). But ultimately, Hailey would be the one paying the price.

The press conference ended, and Hailey and I sat quietly for a minute, all kinds of thoughts rushing through my mind. The most important one was what this meant for Hailey and me.

“I guess that's it, then,” Hailey finally said. The skin on my body tightened at the real meaning behind her last three words—
that's it, then
.

When I was a little girl, I used to stay up late, waiting for my father to come home from the hospital, where he worked as a surgeon. To me, he was this godlike man who saved lives. He was invincible.

Years later I realized that wasn't true. He couldn't save everyone. And with each patient who died under his care, he had to gracefully accept defeat. He moved on and didn't let the loss paralyze him.

I hit Kayla's number on speed dial as I walked down the steps to retrieve the rest of the stuff from the car.

She answered the phone before it rang a second time. “Did you watch it?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And what?” The stale air in the stairwell closed in on me, making it hard to breathe. Much like what seeing the video had done to me. I picked up my pace.

“Is it true they're an item?”

I sighed. “The record label is pressuring them to do this.” Although I had a tough time believing they needed to apply much pressure when it came to convincing Alyssa. How could she not want to be with him?

“I'm sorry, Hailey. I really am. I thought for sure you guys would make this work between you.”

I laughed, but even though I'd meant for it to be full of humor, it came out flat. “It never would have worked,” I said, repeating what I'd already told myself a million times. Although deep down I wasn't sure if I truly believed it. If I really had wanted things to work between Nolan and myself, I could've made the effort.

I guessed that in the end I was afraid. Afraid to give us a chance and risk getting hurt. Afraid of him leaving me again, like he'd done before, like my ex-boyfriend had done to me.

I didn't tell Kayla that, though. She'd never understand. I told her I'd talk to her later and ended the call.

Mom had sent me a text, asking if I knew the latest news about Nolan trending on the Internet.
It's not what it sounds like,
I texted back.
We're just friends. The reporter got it all wrong.

That's too bad,
she replied almost immediately
. I always thought you and Nolan were good together. You brought out the best in each other.

During our senior year of high school, I had suspected Mom secretly wished I had been dating Nolan. I never would've expected her to still feel the same way given his career and his reputation. But then, she was one of the few people who knew the real Nolan and had never put much stock in the tabloids. She knew him as the same great guy I knew him to be.

Nolan was in his room, strumming a melody he'd been working on for the past day or two. Needing to get out of here and go for a run, I rushed to change into my workout gear and sneaked out the apartment door. Nolan didn't have an issue with me going to the store on my own, but I had a feeling he'd want to come running with me to make sure I was safe. Awesome if I wanted company. But this time I needed to run on my own. I needed to think about what to do with this whole Nolan situation.

The road wasn't busy as I ran down the street. The occasional vehicle drove past. I hadn't been for a hard run since the attack. My body felt a little stiff but otherwise cheered me on.

Once I arrived at the lake, I ran along the snowy path. The route wasn't busy, thanks to the colder temperatures. Only the die-hard runners would be outside. Everyone else would be pounding away mile after mile on a treadmill. But since I spent my days working in a sports center, I preferred running outside as much as possible, cold or no cold.

The only sounds greeting me were the ragged panting of my breath and the muffled thuds of my sneakers against the snow. I felt more at peace out here than I had in a while.

A bird cawed loudly not far from me and I was startled, my breath tumbling out as a gasp. Then with a flap of its wings, the crow took to the sky.

A crisp snap of a branch echoed through the wooded area. I inhaled sharply the chilled air and surveyed my surroundings. I couldn't see anything.

Another crack of a twig.

Again I scanned the area. I still couldn't see anything, but unease spread through me. The kind of unease you get when someone you can't see is watching you. But who'd be watching me?

I didn't stick around to find out. I turned around and ran toward the snow-covered beach. But my energy stores started to drain from the near sprint. Even with the adrenaline rush, I couldn't maintain the pace.

A heavy breath was the only warning I got before a large man hurled himself at me and shoved me to the ground. A scream escaped my lungs, but the impact of my body against the hardened snow cut it short.

Momentarily stunned, I fought to regain the breath knocked from me. But that couple of seconds was all he needed. He grabbed hold of my arm and yanked me to my feet.

“Where ya think you're goin', bitch?” a deep male voice said behind me.

I whipped around, but before I could fight back, I was slammed into the brick wall next to me. My head whacked against the hard surface, and the dark alley temporarily tilted in front of me. I closed my eyes.

Screaming, I kicked and squirmed and did everything I could to get away from the guy who had attacked me in Westgate. He was even wearing the same dark blue ski jacket he'd worn that night.

But he was too strong, and he half dragged, half pushed me to the steep ledge. With the rocks at the bottom, I'd never survive if I went over.

I dug my heels into the snow, resisting the forward movement, but he easily outweighed me. I continued struggling, twisting my body, trying to break free of his grip. He lost hold of my hand and I lunged at his face with my fingernails, clawing at his flesh. But I was wearing thin knit gloves. The attack on him was nothing more than a joke.

“Fucking bitch,” he growled, even though I'd done zero damage to his face. Far less than he planned to inflict on me.

He shoved me backward. By some small miracle, I stopped my momentum, barely, the ledge mere inches behind me.

Then without warning, the ground under my feet gave way and I screamed. All I had time to do was grab hold of a root sticking out from the cliff. Nothing else existed between me and the boulders below.

My gloves weren't designed for this kind of abuse, and the knit fabric slipped against the root. I tightened my hold on it, praying it would be enough, knowing deep down it wasn't.

My hands and shoulders ached at the desperate attempt to keep from falling. My feet searched for anything that could help me. I couldn't even find the tiniest hint of a ledge to reduce the strain on my upper body.

Not deterred from his original goal, the attacker tried to pry my fingers from the root. I tightened my grip, but I couldn't hold on much longer. My hands, arms, and shoulders were rapidly fatiguing.

Pain burned in my shoulder muscles, and I cried out. Like it or not, I was going to die.

And then the worst thing that could possibly happen did. He pried the fingers of one hand off the root, leaving me dangling precariously with the other hand. I screamed and frantically flailed my free hand around, trying to grasp hold of the root again. But it was now out of reach and there was nothing nearby to hold on to.

Grunts came from somewhere above, but I couldn't see what was going on. I opened my mouth to call out for help, but was stunned into silence when the attacker stumbled to the edge. His momentum was too great, and before he could recover himself, he tumbled off the cliff a few feet from where I was dangling. Unlike where the ground had given way under my feet, there was nothing for him to grab hold of, even if he'd had the chance.

I didn't dare look down to see what happened to him. I didn't want to know. My fingers were sliding free of the root.

I screamed what would be my last scream.

A hand grabbed hold of my wrist, and Nolan's concerned face looked down at me over the ledge, his body flat on the ground. “I've got you.” But he didn't. My jacket slipped in his grip. I gasped. “Hailey, give me your other hand.”

I tried but couldn't reach that far. “I can't,” I sobbed.

“Yes, you can, Forget-Me-Not. You can do it.” He shifted his body further forward.

With what little strength I had left, I reached up. Nolan grasped my wrist and readjusted his hold on the other one. He pulled me up, inch by slow inch, until I was far enough that I could wriggle my body back onto the ledge.

Nolan pulled me back so I was solidly on the ground and threw his arms around me. He held me so tight I could barely get air into my lungs, but I didn't care.

I was alive. Shaky. In pain. But alive. We were both alive and trembling.

“Is he…is he dead?” The hoarse words scraped against my raw throat and I winced.

“Yes,” Nolan said, his breath warm against the top of my head. He pulled away slightly, face pale. “Do you have any idea who that was?”

I nodded, the movement slow, my head heavy. “It was the guy from Westgate who put me in the coma.” I shuddered, the truth of what had just happened gripping me tighter than Nolan. “What are you doing here? Not that I'm ungrateful.”

“I heard you leave, and when I realized you'd gone for a run, I came looking for you.” He frowned. “Why the hell were you running on your own? You should've asked me to come with you.”

“I needed to be alone, and you were busy.” And while I'd known the paparazzi might have been an issue, I'd figured whoever had attacked me had long since moved on. That in the end, it had been nothing more than a random attack. Well, the joke was on me. Nolan had been right all along.

But I wasn't about to admit that out loud.

Nolan didn't look thrilled with my answer but let it go for now. He started pacing back and forth, shoving his hand through his disheveled hair. Cursing. Muttering something about being no better than his old man.

Panic gripped me at how close he was from the edge. It added another layer to the thickening lump in my throat. “Please, Nolan. Don't go so close to the edge.” It could give way at any second.

He startled at my strangled voice, glanced at the ledge where only a few minutes ago I'd been clinging for dear life, and stepped toward me.

I opened my mouth to remind him that he was nothing like his old man, but a dog barked not far from us and the sound of footsteps approached. My body went on instant high alert and my mouth slammed shut.

A golden retriever burst through the undergrowth and bounded toward us, panting, happy to see us.

His owner wasn't far behind.

Sorrow filled Nolan's eyes at seeing the dog. If Lucky, Nolan's old puppy, hadn't died from an unexplained broken neck, he would have looked like this dog.

Nolan grabbed my hand and led me to the woman in her early twenties. She recognized him and her eyes widened.

“Do you have a cellphone?” he asked. She removed the earbuds from her ears. “I need to call 911.” I could see he didn't want to tell her about the dead body. And he certainly didn't want to let on that he was responsible for the man falling. That was the last thing Nolan needed leaked to the press.

Still starstruck, she handed him her phone. More than anything, she looked like she wanted to ask him to sign it…or her breasts.
Oh, please, not the breasts again.
I wasn't in the mood to witness another fan flaunt her girls at him. One was more than enough, thank you very much.

Nolan walked off a few yards with the phone. Neither the woman nor I could hear what he was saying. I don't even know if she noticed me. She was too busy staring at his backside. As long as she wasn't shrieking at me or throwing stones at me for stealing him from Alyssa, she could stare at it all she wanted.

Nolan returned a few minutes later and handed her back her phone. “Thanks.” To me he said, “They're on their way.”

I expected now that she had her phone back, the fan would leave. She didn't. She kept staring at Nolan.

Her dog, who'd been sniffing around the ground, wandered to the ledge, where the attacker had fallen, and barked. This broke his owner's attention away from Nolan. Barely.

She turned and took a step toward her dog.

“Well, thanks for your help,” I said.

She didn't get the hint. She walked toward the edge. I threw Nolan a nervous glance. He eyed her, body tense. Both of us knew this wouldn't end well if she saw the body.

The dog barked again. Sirens wailed in the distance. The woman screamed.

“Is…is he okay?” she asked after the last echoes of her scream had faded.

I glanced at Nolan. I still hadn't seen the guy. Maybe he wasn't dead. Maybe he was unconscious.

The look Nolan gave her suggested otherwise.

She continued staring at the body, waiting for him to move, but didn't say anything else. Nolan pulled my shaky body into his arms. The adrenaline overload had already faded away and I relaxed slightly, the feeling of being safe battling against my fears. I wouldn't feel completely safe until we'd spoken to the cops, until this truly was over.

I ran my thumb across his cheek. “You saved my life, Nolan. That makes you nothing like your father. That makes you a hero.” The words were soft so the woman couldn't hear them.

He gave me a small nod, but I wasn't thoroughly convinced he believed me. I pulled a blank as to what else to say to change that.

It didn't take long before deep male voices cut through the air, and two cops traipsed toward us through the wooded area. “Are you the one who reported the fall?” one of them asked Nolan.

“Yes. He's over there.” Nolan pointed to where the woman and dog stood. She was still peeking over the ledge, as if she expected the man to get up and walk away.

The cop and his partner strode to the spot and peered down. One spoke into the mic on his shoulder and indicated where to find the body.

The younger cop asked the woman questions about what happened. The taller, bulkier cop, with an intimidation factor of one hundred, stalked over to us.