This One Moment (5 page)

“You didn't think I'd miss it, did you?” Nolan sounded almost horrified I would even believe that. “And by the way, congratulations on being voted MVP.”

I blinked. “You knew?”

His sexy grin became a full-out beam. “Of course I knew you were named most valuable player. I might not have kept in direct contact with you, but you were still very much part of my life.” He cleared his throat and shifted on my bed. “Now I sound like a creepy stalker.”

If that made him a creepy stalker, then I was one too. As much as I had claimed I wouldn't go looking for info about him when his band first became popular, I hadn't been able to stop myself. When I read the fan sites about how amazing he was between the sheets, I knew I should quit punishing myself that way, but I still kept reading them. Although from the sound of it, beds usually weren't involved in the quick-and-dirty fuck sessions. Some girls practically wrote erotic novels in their enthusiasm to share about their shameless trysts with him.

When it came down to it, I'd believed I had somehow failed Nolan, but I'd wanted to make sure he was okay, even if he was no longer talking to me.

Now that he was back in my life, though, I knew I wouldn't survive once he left again—maybe this time forever.

All I could do was protect myself from falling even harder for him.

Only I didn't know how.

Shortly after I'd admitted to semi-stalking Hailey, the physician came into the room and asked me to leave while he examined her. So while I waited, I paced the hallway, pretending not to notice the nurses at their station watching me.

I was used to my life being splashed around the tabloids and by the media. It was part of the job. Okay, it wasn't exactly my real life that was talked about. Everything about it from before I met Jared was fiction. What little I chose to reveal, that is. I didn't have a cheat sheet in my pocket I could refer to, helping me remember details about the life I'd fabricated. I was still pretty elusive about my life prior to forming the band. I gave just enough details to satisfy most people's curiosity. But as lucky as I had been so far, I knew my secret wouldn't last forever. I knew eventually the media would find out the truth about my father. I was surprised they hadn't already.

Being pursued by fans and the media was commonplace for anyone in the spotlight. But admitting to Hailey that I had watched her soccer games from afar had felt awkward, and I was unsure if my actions had flattered or repulsed her.
Shocked
might have been a better word to describe her reaction. Brandon had done a good job keeping secret what I'd been up to when it came to Hailey.

I continued pacing the hallway, waiting to be allowed back in Hailey's room, waiting to find out how she was doing physically, and waiting to find out when her memory would return.

Right now an attacker was out there, and I had no idea why he had hurt Hailey. Nor did I have any idea if he would return to finish off the job. It could've been a random attack—Hailey might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But the attack also could have been planned. Maybe Hailey had found out something she shouldn't have. Maybe the attacker would try tracking her down to ensure she couldn't talk. Permanently.

I swallowed back the sour taste of irony. Both of us were dealing with amnesia. But while Hailey wanted to remember the past—
I
wanted her to remember her past—my memory was something that needed to stay buried in the three coffins where it belonged. Forgotten. By everyone.

Until Hailey remembered that night or recalled who might've wanted to hurt her, or until we knew if it had been a random attack or not, she wasn't safe. I had two options. The first one was to bring her back to L.A. Then I could work on songs with Jared for the upcoming album. But after we finished recording the album, there would be the promo blitz in anticipation of the release of the first single. Following that would be the exhaustive touring. I couldn't drag her along just to keep her safe. What was I even saying? No way would she agree to it. She had a life. She didn't need to make it any more complicated than it already was by moving to L.A.

The second option was to stay with Hailey and see if I could help her jog her memory and be there for her while she recovered. Keep an eye on her as much as I could. But if she didn't remember what happened by the time I had to leave, then what?

“Hi.” A female voice snapped me from my thoughts. Two girls in pink scrubs and with name tags identifying them as nursing students grinned at me.

“Aren't you Tyler Erickson?” the shorter girl squeaked. The second girl stared at me like someone had performed a tongue-ectomy on her.

“I am.”

“Oh my God! We loooove your music. I didn't know you were doing a concert here tonight.”

Every muscle fiber in my body stiffened. The last thing I wanted was to bump into fans while I was in town. Too many questions would start circulating, and the risk was always there that someone would remember who I really was and leak it to the media. “I'm not,” I said, inwardly cursing myself for not having the foresight to wear my hat and sunglasses in the hallway.

“So why are you here?”

“What? In the hospital?” I asked. They nodded. I didn't want to talk about Hailey, or at least share about our past together. “I'm visiting a fan.” It wouldn't be the first time since the band's debut album had climbed the charts that I had been asked to visit a fan in the hospital. So this lie was plausible.

“That's so sweet,” the taller girl said, finally finding her voice. “Can we get your autograph?”

“Absolutely.”

Both produced notebooks from their pockets for me to sign. I'd just finished signing for the second girl when a woman with a perma-frown etched on her face approached. “Ladies, you're not here to harass patients and their visitors.”

“But this is Tyler Erickson. The lead singer of Pushing Limits,” the short girl gushed.

The scowl on the woman's face hardened. “I don't care who he is. But if you don't have enough work to do, I can find you some.” Her tone made it clear that whatever she came up with would be far from pleasant.

Both girls hung their heads. “Yes, ma'am.” Before she could respond, they scurried down the hall.

“Sorry about that,” was all she said to me before following them, not giving me a chance to explain that it was all right, I hadn't minded.

I went back to pacing. By the time the physician poked his head out of Hailey's room, I'd worn a trench in the floor. “How's she doing?” I asked.

“Are you family?”

“I'm her fiancé.” I hoped that wouldn't get back to her parents; if it did, I'd have some explaining to do. But I figured it would get me more answers than being just Hailey's friend.

He eyed me for a moment, almost causing me to squirm. I was positive he knew I'd lied, so I wasn't expecting it when he said, “She's doing well considering everything that has happened. I want to monitor her for a few days before I release her. And she'll be sore for a while.”

“What about her memory? When will she get it back?”

“It's hard to say. It might never return.”
Fuck.
That was not what I needed to hear. I thanked him and entered Hailey's room.

She was staring out the window, lost in thought, and not for the first time since she'd woken up, I wished I knew what she was thinking.

I used to be able to easily read her, but I was out of practice. I couldn't even tell if she was happy to see me. She hadn't exactly welcomed me with open arms. More like the opposite. I mean, other than the part about the kiss—although I doubted that she had even known it was me at the time.

But I couldn't blame her for her reaction after the shitheaded way I'd treated her. I'd intended to protect her, but all I'd done was hurt her. I could spend the next ten years trying to make it up to her and I would always fall short.

I stepped closer to the bed. If she heard me approach, she didn't let on. She continued staring at the sky, as if she could find the missing memories spelled out in the clouds if she looked hard enough.

“What are you thinking?” I asked, desperate to break the tension.

“He said”—she gestured toward the door—“I might never remember the attack.”

“I know. He told me. But there's a chance you will.” Or that she would remember what had happened, but not enough for the police to arrest the asshole who'd attacked her. It was possible she hadn't even seen him, which would be great if the guy knew she couldn't identify him. But if he wasn't aware of that, Hailey could be in danger.

I sat back down next to her on the bed. I didn't know how to bring up my concerns without freaking her out. And no way would she
not
freak out. “I'm planning to stay in town until the police capture whoever did this to you.”

“You can't do that,” she blurted out. “Aren't you supposed to work on your next album or something?”

“I can work on the songs here.”

“It's really not necessary, Nolan. I mean, what if I never get my memory back? You can't stay here indefinitely. Your life is in L.A.”

I stared at her for a good ten seconds. It sounded like if she could've gotten out of bed, she would've escorted me to the door and wished me a good life before sending me on my way.

“Look, I'm concerned about your safety.” I was one step from glaring at her to show her I meant business. “What if the attacker went after you specifically and knows where you live? You could have died. Maybe that was his intent, but someone interrupted him and he didn't have a chance to kill you.”
Way to go, Nolan, on sugarcoating it.

Hailey rolled her eyes. Literally, fucking rolled her eyes.

I folded my arms. “I'm serious. And I can stay with you until he's caught, or until I know you'll be safe.”

She shook her head forcefully. “You don't have to worry about me. Besides, I…I have a boyfriend.”

My heart sprang to my throat, practically cutting off my airway. “A boyfriend?”

“Yes, a boyfriend.” She lifted her chin in the way that was totally Hailey. “So you can go back to L.A. and let him worry about my safety.”

Anger clenched my gut in a tight fist. “Well, if it's true, you've got yourself one douchebag of a boyfriend.”

She pressed her lips together, squeezing the blood from them until they were white. “He's not a douchebag. And what do you care, anyway?” Her voice cracked at the last part, and I inwardly threw numerous curses at myself. Brandon had mentioned at one point that she had a boyfriend, and it had almost killed me hearing that tidbit, so I'd never brought up the boyfriend question again.

“So where is this boyfriend? Why hasn't he been right here by your side every single day?”

“Because…because he was out of town.”

“Was? So he's back now?”

She hesitated, her gaze going to the ceiling, and that was when I knew I had her. She didn't have a boyfriend. She just wanted to get rid of me. Well, to hell with that. It just made me want to stay put even more.

“He's due back today,” she replied.

I patted her leg and kept my smirk in check. “Can't wait to meet him.”

Hailey shifted on the bed, almost knocking me off the narrow space. “Maybe next time you're in town.” Her eyes gave away what we both knew was true—that I wouldn't be returning to Northbridge after this.

A knock on the door interrupted our standoff. Before Hailey could say anything, a petite girl with long blond hair and curves that would drive most guys wild stepped into the room.

Hailey cursed under her breath.

F
IVE YEARS AGO

The normally delicious smell of Mom's chicken casserole wasn't enough to hide the stench of fear and booze sitting heavy in the kitchen air. I grabbed a dinner plate from the cupboard. Dad expected me to serve him, just as he expected Mom to do the same. While I might not have cared if he was fed or not, I knew that if I didn't do it, Mom would ultimately pay for my recklessness.

I placed the plate full of food at his spot on the table.

“When's she coming home?” he asked, still leaning against the kitchen counter, whiskey bottle in hand. He made no move to sit. If I wanted to leave, I'd have to walk past him, dangerous glint in his eyes or not.

“She didn't say.”
Never,
if Mom and Sarah were smart about it.

And maybe that was their plan.

Before I could do any form of rejoicing, a voice at the back of my head muttered,
As if that would ever happen.
Not as long as Mom believed that staying here was the only way she could provide for herself and her kids. It wasn't a big deal for me. I was nineteen and could leave anytime I wanted. But Sarah was only eleven.

I moved away from the table, ready to make my escape.

Dad grabbed my arm. “I'm not through talkin' to you.”

I snatched my arm back and stalked to the kitchen door. “I need to do my homework.”

As I reached to open the door, I heard a grunt behind me and instinctively spun around. That was the only warning I got. A blunt object hit my forehead, above my right eye. Whatever he'd thrown at my head shattered on contact with the stone-tiled floor.

I stood still, momentarily stunned, too dazed to fight back.

My father snatched the whiskey bottle from the counter and topped up his empty glass. His hand shook as he poured the brown liquid. It wasn't shaking because he'd hit me. He'd been drinking ever since he got home and found his wife and daughter gone. The note Mom had left said that her friend had suffered a stroke. There was no hint in it as to when they would return.

I blinked my senses back into place and walked out of the kitchen and out the front door. Adrenaline pumped through my body and I started running: down the front path, across the street, to the back of Hailey's house. If it hadn't been for my sister and mother, I would have kept running and never looked back.

Blood dripped down the side of my face. I brushed the back of my hand against my forehead. It stung like hell but somehow I managed not to flinch. Blood was smeared against the back of my hand, warning me I couldn't hide the truth from Hailey.

As I contemplated turning around and walking to who knows where, Hailey's window opened.

“I'll be right down,” she said through the screen. “Meet me out front.”

She was already waiting for me in the doorway when I came up the pathway. Her short shorts revealed her toned, never-ending legs; her light purple tank top hinted at the lack of a bra. And I instantly forgot what had happened at home.

Frowning, she brushed my bangs across my forehead and inspected the wound. “You're gonna need stitches. It's pretty bad….What happened?”

“I walked into the patio door. I wasn't paying attention and didn't realize it was closed.” As much as I hated lying to her, I couldn't tell her the truth.

I couldn't risk my mother's life.