Wasted Heart (25 page)

“Rhye Clark, I have your cellphone number now, and I will be using it. Remember that love is an action. It is not a feeling or fleeting emotion, and it requires hard work and perseverance. Make sure you recognize it before it’s gone,” she says, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Fight for it.”

Turning towards me, she places her hands gently on either side of my face. “Please take care of him. He’s very fragile, though he’ll never admit it,” she says, cutting her eyes to Rhye and back to me. “Don’t give up easily and remember that anyone who is worth your love is worth waiting for.” Letting me go, she kisses me lightly on both cheeks and stands back. “See what years of therapy gets you? Call me Dr. Phil and pay me millions,” she says, jokingly. “Drive safely, and Syn, I’ll call you next week.”

“Please do,” I reply as we walk back to the truck.

Once we are on the road, with Josh sitting in the passenger seat and Rhye in the middle, I feel a peace that I didn’t yesterday. For most of the ride, we all stay silent. The only movement is the touch of Rhye’s warm hand as he grasp my free one, linking them.

“Try that other slow beat with the acoustic guitar solo in the middle,” I tell Mel as we sit, working in the studio. He rotates some knobs on the intricate sound board and brings in the other track that I was asking for.

“Yeah, I agree. That’s the one. Your bandmates should be back any minute, and we will lay it down. See if it sounds close enough,” Mel replies, bouncing his head to the beat of the music.

I nod in agreement. We’ve been in the studio for the past week recording all the new material with the band. Jared and Ian arrived on Monday. It was fucking hard at first being around those guys. I didn’t know what attitude Jared was going to come at me with, but it seems I’m not the only one that’s chilled. We decided to let the past rest and carry on in Chris’s remembrance. Of course, they ask about my drug situation. I didn’t make any false promises, but told them, as of right now, I’m clean. That’s all I can fucking say at this point.

I’m finally feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be, and that’s the goddamn truth. Talking with Jay helped. I still know that I’m responsible for some of the shit that went down, but I wasn’t the only one. Lately, I’ve also thought about that night with Chris. If I could have stopped him from pulling the trigger, I would have. Fuck, I rather it had been me, but the reality is, it wasn’t. I’m the one stuck living here, dealing with the bloody aftermath.

Josh and I were talking the other day, and the bastard actually said something that I get. He said, “Rhye, you can live on your knees, down in the dumps, begging for the scraps that life throws at you, or you can live standing as tall as you can, reaching for the stars.” When he first said it, I called him a pansy ass pussy, but days later, here I am thinking about it. The drugs make my life heaven for about two seconds, while the down could cost me a lifetime. A lifetime of singing, a lifetime of playing the guitar, a lifetime with Syn.

Syn. She fucking drove my sorry ass to Jay. I’m still tore up inside about what she did for me this past weekend. She offered me a piece of her world by taking me to her home and giving me shelter, not just from the outside but from life. Then the girl really listened to me when I even didn’t know what I was saying, bleeding out my pain. She tried to heal me the only way she knew how. And fuck, I can’t say it worked, but seeing Jay, yeah, it gave me some closure. Jay. Part of me still loved and wanted her, but then I would look at Syn and those feelings were nothing compared to the desperate aching wonder I have for that girl. She’s so goddamn beautiful on the inside and out. I didn’t know that purity of the soul still existed in this shitty world. When we returned that night, everyone was half asleep, especially her from driving all day. I kissed her cheek, wanting her so bad my teeth hurt, but I let her walk into her apartment. Alone.

This week, I’ve been busy with my band and she with hers. I’ve hardly seen her. After the first twenty-four hours, I convinced myself it’s for the best. She doesn’t need my shit, and maybe she’s realizing it. I even went straight back to the apartment the first two nights after recording while the other guys hit up the bars. I kept telling myself she would come over, she’d check on me, but only Josh showed up. It’s for the fucking best. She deserves so much better. Someone that can give her what I can’t, words she deserves to hear. So, these past two nights, I went out with the band, not getting home until late, drinking some beer, but saying “no” to anything else. I’m hard up for some pussy, that’s for damn sure, but I can’t think of being with anyone but Syn.

“What up, man?” Jared says, walking in the studio with Ian after grabbing some lunch. They both come over to give me a bro hug.

“You guys need to hear this shit. See if we can come close to playing it,” I say as they sit in the chairs behind Mel and me.

The door opens again, and I look up to see Ryan. “Hey, Rhye. You got a minute?” he says, nodding for me to follow him out the door. When we are both in the hallway, he says, “Listen, I need you and Syn to get on that duet today. The record label is pushing pretty hard for it. They want it recorded by the end of the week. If they like what they hear and feel like it’s going to be a hot hit, they may have a slot for you both to sing at the Grammys coming up.”

I nod, realizing what a big deal this is for both Syn and myself.

“Look, Julie already has a couple of back up tracks ready to go with it. I need words, and I’d like to see what you two come up with. If not, then we’ll pull somebody else’s lyrics in. Are you where you can work with her right now? Her band is recording sound today, and if your guys are in the same place, let’s get on this right now. You with me?”

“Yeah. If Syn is okay with it?” I answer, fishing to see what she said.

“She is. Let’s do this then,” he says, slapping me on the arm. “Studio C is open. Grab your stuff, and I’ll tell Syn to meet you there.” Ryan turns to walk down the hall.

I head back to the studio to let the guys know where I’ll be for the next couple of hours. Grabbing my guitar, I head over to the studio. I’m the first to arrive, so I sit in one of the thick leather chairs and grab a piece of paper and pen. Personally, the lyrics are not coming to me because of a nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach at seeing Syn. My knee bounces uncontrollably, and it’s fucking hot in here. I freeze at the sound of the door opening.

Her curly blonde hair falls around those delicate shoulders of hers, emphasizing the wicked-colored eyes I like. Today, she has on a yellow t-shirt with a little tan skirt and those damn cowboy boots. They look better than a pair of ten inch fuck-me-heels, and I get an instant hard on for her.

“Hey,” she says, smiling at me. Walking to the chair beside me, she sits her notebook down followed by that sweet ass of hers.

“Hey,” I stupidly reply back. What. The. Fuck. I tap the pencil against the paper, staring at her.

“So, I guess they want us to get this song together today,” she says, staring back at me like she’s waiting for something.

“Yeah. I guess. Whatever.” I look down, feeling stupid. Where is this weirdness coming from? I go from knowing her to not knowing what the hell she wants.

She looks down at her notebook, and I look at mine. Minutes later, I hear the sound of her pencil, scribbling across her page, and it’s about to drive me fucking crazy. I lean my head back to stretch my neck and close my eyes. Her sweet smell invades my nostrils, making my already blue balls black, if that’s even possible. I just fucking…want…her.

“What is your problem?” she jumps up yelling, while turning towards me. “One minute you’re you, then you’re the good you, and then we are back to this self-centered egotistic asshole you, which seems to be the you that ignores me and pretends that I don’t matter. And I love and miss all the yous, and after not seeing you for days, this is the you I get?”

Huh? Her outburst confuses me at first. Then I realize what she is implying, and I get rip roaring mad. My body tenses at her words. Does she not realize the hell I’m putting myself through for her? I look down at my paper to try and control my rising temper.

I’m going to kill him before he drives me achingly insane. He has been ignoring me for days, and I can’t take it another long, hard second. Watching him look down at his still blank pad of paper, not looking at me once again, makes me want to commit murder. I watch his cheeks cave in and out with visible anger. Good. Maybe, he’ll get mad, but by God, he will see me.

He throws his pencil down and cuts those beautiful brown eyes up. Instead of the deep look of hatred that I’m used to, I see heart starting passion and stark lust staring back at me, causing me to take in a quick intake of breath. My heart literally bursts with love within my chest, spilling over and over inside me.

My body ignites with electrical currents firing inside, filling me with need, saturating me with life changing desire. My entire being reacts with the soft, fine hair on my arms standing up. Sexual attraction revs up my body like hot flames leaping across my skin, gathering at the back of my neck, but as fabulous as that feels, it is nothing compared to what my heart craves. Him. All of him.

Without a sound, he stands and advances, stalking towards me like an uncaged beast. I’m trapped within his lustful gaze, drowning in our ardor, completely lost in him. The feeling of my butt hitting the wall behind me is the first realization that I am even walking backwards. My breath comes out in pants, fear and arousal warring within me. I’m not scared of him, just of what happens now that I know he is the one that I want to share my body with. Without a doubt, without a second thought. Forever.

He, with his body and essence, pins my petite frame against the hard surface behind me. The heart he wanted everyone to believe was wasted, captures me wholeheartedly. He’s so close that, once he leans his face down, his warm breath, smelling of sweet peppermint, washes over my upturned face. His body vibrates against mine.

“You don’t need me. This is my reality, but it doesn’t have to be yours. When I didn’t see you at the first of the week, I figured you agreed. I don’t want you to live with my addiction. Don’t make me feel like the fuck up when I’m trying to do the right thing. I don’t want you in my fucking life; it’s hard enough dealing with my own shit,” his raspy voice says, clipping out every single word. Puffs of his sugary breath reign over my face.

I shouldn’t be stunned by his words, but I am. Destroyed. Damaged
. “What did you expect, Syn?”
I think to myself. My own anger builds inside me, returning, in force, once again. I loosen my arms that are pinned between us, placing my hands solidly on his chest and pushing with all my might. My fingertips tingle where I touch him, but I can’t let him overwhelm my senses another second. I can’t lose myself in someone like that ever again. He stumbles back, surprised by my strength.

“You don’t have to do it alone!” My voices rises. “I thought we had been over this, Rhye. I thought you heard Jay. I’m here. Right beside you. I want to fight it with you, but you have to let me. It’s my choice to be with you, and I don’t want to be anywhere else. Damn it.” A small growl of frustration escapes through my lips, and I actually stomp my foot in annoyance. “Just get over your stupid jerky self already.”

He charges me, lacing his hands roughly on my arms and pushing me back, against the wall. Leaning down into my face once more, he speaks his words through gritted teeth, “You stupid, little…,” he pauses, breathing harshly.

“Say it,” I whisper, daring him.

He roughly jerks my stiff body against the wall a second time. Curly tendrils of my blonde hair bounce loosely around my shoulders. His eyes devour me while his nose presses intimately against mine. “Damn you. Why?” he asks, devouring my mouth, kissing me with everything he wants to be and already is.

I answer him by putting all the love I feel for him into this one exchange, one last shot to show him how I can’t live without him. I raise my arm, my hand softly caressing his rough, stubbly jaw, and his body heat warms the pads of my fingertips. Our heavy breathing and excited moans fill the silent recording room.