Winter's Path: (A Seasmoke Friends Novel) (14 page)

Once finished, I sat on the bar, swinging my legs. “I have a new song I’ve been playing with for tonight.”

He grinned. “Let’s see.”

I pulled the folded piece of sheet music from my back pocket and passed it over. He read it in front of me, his smile slipping the farther down the page he got. By the time he was done and handed it back, a wrinkle had formed between his brows.

Leaning into me, he set both hands on the bar, caging me in. Face close to mine, he studied me. His size never intimidated me, though I suppose it should. But Rock was a seriously protective guy and a big teddy bear under all that muscle and testosterone. Former Army Ranger, he was tough as nails and intuitive as hell. So when he looked at me like he was doing now, as if he could read my mind, it made me squirm.

Slowly, he nodded. “Pretty personal lyrics there, Jen-Jen.”

I sighed. “Yep.”

“And he’ll be here tonight to hear you sing.”

If I sang it tonight. I was still debating. And that was kinda the point, to have Matt hear. After what went down on Wednesday and knowing he might fall back into the same safe trap he’d done with Summer, I thought I’d take the chance. It was a risk, a big one, to lay myself out there.

I rested my forehead to his for a beat. “He might interpret it to mean someone else.” Unlike a few of my other “Matt” songs, this one left room for wondering. But it was a start, right? A way to subtly feed him my feelings.

God. I was a coward. And stupid to think a song would suddenly make him fall for me.

“Or he’ll realize you meant it for him.” He chucked my chin. “You ready for that?”

Yes. No. Butterflies danced in my stomach. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

His eyes narrowed in irritation. “Most people don’t have an eighth of your courage. Things were different when he lived somewhere else. It’s not pathetic to want something and go after it, especially now that he’s here and staying.”

“It is when that something doesn’t want you back.”

“Then he’s the idiot. Not you.” He tugged gently on my hair and straightened. “Just open your mouth and sing. If he doesn’t fall flat on his face for you, I’ll put him on the ground for ya.”

Laughing, I shoved at his chest. “Grab me the guitar. I’ll do a run through before we open.”

Rock leaned against the bar while I played. Occasionally, he’d nod in approval or comment with “drop your voice lower there” or “hold that note longer,” but otherwise, he just listened.

Hours later, Winter’s Den was packed to the gills. I had five artists who’d played and I was set next. I kept swiveling back and forth on whether I’d do the newer song or an older one. Matt had come in around seven and talked a bit with Grampy’s friends. I’d popped over often, but kept it light.

As the current artist on stage was winding down, Rock came up behind me and, with a hand on my stomach, pulled me back against his chest. His mouth dipped to my ear. “Courage, Jen-Jen. You have it. Knock him flat on his face.”

My gaze jerked to Matt’s across the bar, and his face had drained of color. His lips parted in surprise, and I realized how my position with Rock must look to him. A flash of...jealousy? sparked in his hazel eyes as he looked from me to him and back again.

I walked to the stage and praised the others before me, giving them their due. I strummed the strings of the guitar, letting the familiar plucks settle my nerves. I didn’t get stage fright, but opening a vein right in front of Matt was causing the room to spin.

Screw it. I leaned toward the mic and looked at Rock. “This is something new.”

Rock winked and grinned with pride.

365 days in a year,

And for 358 you’re just not here.

You’re the nearest to happy I’ll ever see,

A trickle in time, a trick to be free.

It’s altogether worth it, the mind state of numb.

So I’ll just sit here and wait for my 7 days to come.

I chanced a peek at Matt while I played the instrumental between verses. His intent gaze latched onto me, equally confused and enraptured. Tearing my focus away, I raised my voice for the second segment and let the music pull me under, infusing emotion into my voice.

I only exist in your eyes.

Don’t blink this all as untrue.

I beg you not to wake me.

I’d give it all up to touch you.

Though it’s lonely here, you’re where you belong.

But soon, my 7 days will come.

I closed my eyes, and my fingers sped, building momentum, plucking the strings with purpose. Heartbreak and hope poured through the notes.

The winter is so long.

The wind is so cold.

But oh, sweet summer will be here

With my memories of old.

Soon you’ll cross the distance, wherever you’re from.

I just need to hang on for my 7 days to come.

I slowed the pace, let the last notes hang in the air, fill the room.

7 days, please come.

Silence lingered, and I slowly opened my eyes. Then, the room erupted into applause. God, I loved that rush. Nothing like it. Grinning, I took a quick bow and announced last call.

When I made my way back to the bar, Matt’s seat was empty.

CHAPTER NINE

Matt

July—Two Years Ago

C
ara paced the beach under the pier in pouty strides, pure pissed off vibes shooting into the night.

I watched her, determined not to give into her this time. Tomorrow, I’d be heading back home to Greensboro, and I wasn’t leaving things like this between us. She was beginning to come down off her high, her hands shaking, and I braced myself for the sharp lash of her tongue.

Slowly, I drew in salt-tinged air and struggled for patience. We’d been at this an hour already. “I’m willing to try if you meet me halfway.”

She rounded on me. “You’re insane. This was a fucking hookup, nothing more.”

“Then why are you still here arguing with me?” My gaze wove over her too-thin frame, her short knotted black strands. “I’ll tell you why. Because you want to try, too.”

“Bullshit,” she muttered, but it was weak.

“Go to rehab. Get clean. Work this shit out of your body and I’ll come back down to Myrtle. Or you can come up to Greensboro.”

I ran a hand down my face, not knowing what the hell I was doing. She was right. We were nothing more than a one-week stand. Sex. Pleasure. I had no idea if taking the physical aspect out of the equation would leave us with anything worth the effort. But the thought of walking away from her like this, strung out and only seeking the next diversion, had my conscience battering my chest. Guilt ramming my head. I’d never been the kind of guy who could turn my back on a problem. I was a fixer.

And she needed fixing.

Sighing, I stopped her frantic pacing with my hands on her shoulders. “Don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself. I’ll be here when you get out.”

She paused, then shook her head, reaching for the zipper of my shorts and nearly getting them undone.

I grabbed her hands, giving her a little shake, even though my body tensed for her to keep going. It was ludicrous how she could get me hard in point-five seconds despite me being sickened by our actions. “No. Listen to me, Cara. We don’t have to be just this. There’s potential here. Can’t you see it?” Dipping, I forced her to look in my eyes. “We can go on a date, eat out at a restaurant. Hell, I don’t know. We could spend a lazy afternoon collecting seashells.”

For the briefest blip in time, she met my gaze with weary hope in hers, eyes shimmering. Just as quick as it appeared, it was gone. She wrenched away from me, digging into her pocket for the vile I knew was there. That had been her solution to everything thus far. Snort shit up her nose.

Panic clutched my airway. “You do that crap, I walk away. We’re done.”

A rough, dry laugh passed her lips. “Oh, boy wonder.” Sarcasm dripped like a decade old garden hose. “We never started.” Holding one nostril closed with her thumb, she inhaled the white powder from her other palm. Securing the vile, she put it back in her pocket.

Numb with shock—though, I shouldn’t have been—I shook my head. I’d done all I could and it wasn’t enough. If she didn’t want help, I couldn’t make her. “Come on. I’ll drive you back to the club.”

She swayed. “Nope. I’m good right here. We’re done, remember? You can go back to your perfect fucking life.”

Grinding my jaw, I took her arm. “I’m not leaving you out here alone.” Though this wasn’t the crappiest area in town, it was close. Abandoning her on a deserted beach while she was high as a kite with no way to get home was not an option.

Again, she jerked from my grasp. “Leave!” Crazed lunacy lit her eyes, twisted her lips as she bared her teeth. Her pupils were blown. “Leave!”

Cursing, I lifted my hands in a helpless gesture and slapped them against my thighs. “Goodbye, Cara.”

I climbed the dunes and strode to my car, where I pulled up a taxi app on my cell phone. I called a service, gave them Cara’s description and location, and paid for the fare back to her club. Hopefully, she’d get in a taxi since she wouldn’t let me drive her home. Indecision swirling inside me, I stared at her shadow on the beach as she paced. It felt all kinds of wrong to drive away, but I hadn’t a clue how else to help her.

Shifting into gear, I pulled out and made my way to the other side of town. Once back at the beach house, I tossed restlessly in bed until finally crashing.

In the morning, I packed my bags and set them by the door. Going through the motions of closing the house for off-season, I kept thinking about Cara. What more I could’ve done. Since it was a long drive back and the last of the milk needed to be used, I sat in front of the TV with a bowl of cereal and scrolled through the morning news.

I choked on my first bite when a photo of Cara popped on the screen. Cereal forgotten, my stomach bottoming out in sickening dread, I turned up the volume.

“...was found dead on the beach this morning by a resident fisherman. They have not officially listed cause of death, but Myrtle PD say she did have drugs in her system and water in her lungs, indicating she may have passed out and drowned. A statement given this morning by the coroner claims they are not suspecting foul play at this time. Cara Richardson was the owner of the popular nightclub, Tedium, and is survived by her brother, Joe, who was unavailable for comment. In other news...”

A gale force wind expelled from my lungs. Sharp tingles of awareness prickled my spine, shooting darts to my limbs. Shock morphed with regret, along with a thousand other savage emotions I couldn’t pin down.

No. Christ God, no.

Violent tremors wracked my body. Frozen, I stood I don’t know how long. Cold. Wrecked. A vise around my sternum threatened to steal the very breath from my lungs.

Dead. Stubborn, merciless, broken Cara. Dead.

No, no, no!
What had I done?

The front door opened and closed, but I didn’t move. Couldn’t. Cara was...dead.

“Hey, handsome. I came to see you off...” Jenny stepped in front me, eyes wide, concern furrowing her brow. Her gaze lowered to the floor, where the bowl of cereal had spilled, and then to the weather report on TV.

Wasn’t that interesting how Cocoa Puffs looked like dog food? Especially all over the hardwood floor. I’d never had a dog growing up. Wonder how I knew what kibble looked like. I supposed it was a good thing I didn’t have a dog, else it would be eating my cereal off the floor and...

She clicked off the set and touched my shoulder.

I flinched.

“Matt? You’re freaking me out. What’s wrong?”

Slowly, I slid my gaze to hers, convulsing beyond repair. “I...just left her there.” My chest cracked open and my vision blurred with tears. “I...I...”

A wounded, jagged sound filled the room and, judging by Jenny’s frightened response, I’d made the noise.

Shit. I had to get out of here. Had to...I don’t know. Had to something. I pulled my keys from my pocket and started for the door.

Jenny stepped in front of me, palms out. “Nuh-uh, handsome. You’re not driving anywhere like this.” As if engaging a wild badger, she carefully reached out and took the keys from my numb fingers, tossing them aside. “Let’s go sit on the beach for a bit, okay?”

Like a child, she took my hand and led me outside, where the hot sun beat down on us. But it wasn’t hot enough. I was so damn cold. Bone-deep cold. I’d never be warm again. Never. We walked past the deck and dunes to the surf, where she ordered me to sit. I complied, plopping my ass in the sand.

This was where we’d met, Jenny and I, wasn’t it? Yes. Right here. She’d looked so pretty and sad. I hadn’t abandoned Jenny, like I’d done with Cara. No. With Jenny, I’d given her a bottle of water and a hug and...

“What’s going on? Matt, talk to me.”

She knelt between my thighs, cupping my wet cheeks. Wet? Yes. I was crying. Couldn’t seem to stop. Sobbing, actually. Her chocolate strands whipped in the wind, the shampoo scent rising over that of salt and warm sand. She chewed on her lip, her wide, wild gaze darting between my eyes. She was shaking. Or was that me?

I was scaring the shit out of my Jenny girl, and that was uncalled for. I might be a careless asshole who turned my back on a virtual stranger in need, but I’d die myself before hurting Jenny. I grabbed her and hauled her into my lap, wrapped my arms around her and banded her to me. Some of the tension coiling my muscles loosened even as my stomach rioted.

She straddled my legs, her thighs caging my torso, and rocked me. Gentle fingers wove through my hair, circled my back. With my face pressed to her neck, I wept. And wept. And fucking wept. She just held me as if I were precious, as if I deserved consoling.

Gripping the back of her shirt, I held onto her for dear life. My sanity. My reprieve. The only goddamn beacon in my life some days. Christ, if she knew what I’d done, she’d take the happy from me and I’d never see her again.

“I fucked up, Jenny. I fucked up so bad.” My voice was ragged and rough, a coarse abrasion to her soft skin. And that was wrong, too. Only perfection should ever touch her.

“Hey.” She eased back to look in my eyes, our faces so close I could count her thick lashes. Honey and whiskey swirled through the brown of her irises. “Hey, now. You don’t fuck up. Not ever.”

My chest had been pried apart with a claw, and no amount of sutures or staples would ever close the gaping wound. Cara was dead. Which made me a murderer. Maybe not by my own hand, but I’d played my part by walking away. “I just left her there. I did, Jenny. I did fuck up.”

With a slight shake of her head, she stroked my unshaven jaw, confusion and concern in her eyes. “Handsome, whatever happened to upset you, I’d bet my life it wasn’t your fault. You are kind, decent, and trustworthy.” Her slim fingers drifted into my hair, massaged my scalp. “You’re okay. You got this. And in the mean time, I’ve got you.” She urged my head to her shoulder and rocked some more.

And once I got back to Greensboro late that night, I went right into the church my family attended nearly every Sunday and sat in an empty pew. I stared at the altar in the semi-dark, stared at the cross, and made a decision. Never again—never again—would I let lust rule my actions. Somehow, I would atone for my sins and move on, hopefully with forgiveness. I didn’t deserve it, but I’d try. The next woman I had sex with would be my wife, or we’d be heading in that direction with a commitment.

And she would have to be nothing short of perfect.

Present

M
y head was a riot of chaos. With my elbow on the table, I rubbed my fingers over my lips, pretending to listen to Amber. We were at a delightful little French bistro having dinner, and I couldn’t recite back one word she’d said after hello. She wore a pair of black slacks and a pink sweater, makeup lightly applied, golden hair around her shoulders, and...nothing. She was perfect, exactly what I needed, but I felt nothing.

Jenny’s voice from last night drifted into my head again. Her sultry tone and the powerful punch of emotion as she’d sung. Just what, precisely, did that song mean? I’d been teetering back and forth for going on twenty-four hours, dissecting the lyrics. I could’ve sworn she’d meant it for Ian. It made sense, with the seven days focus and whatnot. Except...

Hell. Except that one line kept tripping me up.
I only exist in your eyes
. Thing was, she’d never state that about Ian. From day one twelve years ago, she knew—everyone knew—that Ian belonged with Summer. No one existed for him but her.

Which meant the song was about me. And that couldn’t possibly be true. Jenny had never shown any sexual or romantic interest in me. Our first summer, she’d hooked up with Ian and I’d closed the book on any chance. A couple weeks ago, she’d responded to my kiss, but I’d also been crazy that night and she’d been in shock over my behavior. Right? She didn’t date locals. She didn’t want to settle down with an ever-after.