How Good It Was, page 9
“I know you do. Hell, there was a point when I was watching that I wanted to believe in them too. But we both know how this goes and how it ends. I just don’t know how we do this for a full year, pretending every day. Like, do you know how hard it is to keep my hands off you? I mean, not in a fucking creepy ‘you need to worry I’m going to molest you’ way. But look at you. You’re fucking gorgeous, Will. And that kiss. Bad fucking idea. Because now, I remember what you taste like, I want more.”
His words should make her happy, but they didn’t. Anger bubbled in her gut. “And there is the problem. You don’t want endless more. You want finite more. If you could have me for a no-strings night, you’d be in. But the idea of a relationship with responsibilities for me, for our child, scares you. You don’t want me. You want someone, and I’ll do. For now. I know you’re confused, but I can’t let you drown me in your confusion.” She picked up the contracts and closed her laptop. “I’ll post these tonight. Perhaps it’s best if I just go work in my room. Tell me when you are done making your dinner and I’ll come out and make my own.”
“Put the laptop down, Will,” he warned, his voice low.
“Luke. Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” he asked, snatching the laptop out of her hand before putting it on the counter. “I’m trying to be honest with you. Isn’t that important? That we use our words like grown-ups. You asked me how I felt about the video, and I told you the truth. Remember that whole conversation we had about how given everything else was a lie, we should be truthful to each other. Don’t go getting pissy when you don’t like that.”
He stepped up into her space, backing her into the fridge. Her heart raced as she studied his eyes. Somehow, she knew she wasn’t at risk. “I didn’t get pissy.”
“Yes. You did. Own it, Will. I was honest, and you judged me. If I didn’t give a shit about you, I’d lift you up right now, flip that skirt of yours, and fuck you. Just how you liked it in Detroit. Soul-stirring. Passionate. Furious. So up inside you that you have no clue what your name is, because the only name on your tongue, in your mouth, inside you is mine.” He pressed his nose in the crease of her neck.
Her body furiously rebelled against her as wetness pooled between her legs.
She wanted that.
No, she didn’t.
And, shit, he was right. She was confused too.
“But here’s the thing, flower. I’m not the only one so fucking deep in mixed messages, and memories, and needs right now. At least own that shit.”
Willow turned her head, his lips so close to hers she could almost taste them. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It is confusing. All of it. I thought the rules would make it easier, but they don’t, do they?”
“No. They don’t.” He pressed off the fridge, then ran a fingertip along her nose. “But we’ll figure it out. Just don’t be offended and instead talk to me, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Good. Now, go post your stuff while I make dinner. We could probably do with a bit of time to cool off, yeah?”
Unable to speak, she simply nodded and returned to her room, wondering what she could do with the rage of emotions flooding through her veins.
“Hey, Matt,” Luke shouted as he jogged along the street to catch up with him. Ahead was the studio and a day of rehearsing, playing around with songs until they were happy with the concert arrangements.
“Morning, mate. Ready for today?”
Luke caught up to him. “Yeah. Can I chat with you about something first? Before we go in?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I’ve been getting to know Willow, and been rehashing shit about my life. She asked me about why I thought we were so tight that none of you would tell anyone what we were doing.” They stepped into the studio building and headed to the elevator.
“What did you say?”
“That we’re family. Dysfunctional, obviously. But family first. I miss writing songs with you. I felt pushed out when Jase began to step up.”
The elevator doors opened, and once inside, Matt hit the button. “For real?”
Luke nodded. “Suddenly you guys didn’t need me. The last three songs on the album are now yours.”
Matt tugged a hand through his hair. “That was never the intention. Fuck. I don’t know why I keep fucking things up between us. Iz, then this.”
“About Iz. It’s time I pulled my head out of my ass. I’m glad she’s happy. And I know you’ll look out for her.”
Matt stared at him. “For real?”
“Yeah. I’m glad you have each other.”
When they stepped out of the elevator, Matt pulled him into a hug. “Thanks, brother.”
The pressure on his chest lightened a little.
“Hey, guys,” Cerys said, as she passed through reception.
Beyond the fact that meeting Cerys had totally chilled Jase out, making him a borderline likeable person, it was hugely to their advantage that she ran the production studio that belonged to her father, Jimmy Bexter, a famous American producer.
It was light and bright. And thankfully it came at a discount, although he’d noticed his paycheck from the band had doubled that month which would . . . wait, he had a million fucking dollars coming his way soon.
Not that he intended to spend any of it.
“What you just said . . . It’s going to make this easier,” Matt said, opening the rehearsal space they’d been allocated.
“What is? And why is no one ready to play?” Luke said, as he sat at his drum kit.
“Because we want to talk to you,” Alex said.
“I’m fine and I want to play,” he said.
Matt took his sticks out of his hands. “We’ll play, but first we talk.”
“That was quite the bomb you dropped on Thursday.” Ben leaned on the windowsill; arms folded. “You don’t just get news like that and then be fine. Sorry, let me correct that. Some people would be fucking ecstatic. But you’ve made it clear that marriage, kids, anything that you think ties you down is off the cards. So don’t give us the ‘I’m fine’ bullshit.”
“Look,” Jase said. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk to about this shit. But I’m worried about you regardless. Everything was on tilt before this. But now . . .”
Luke’s chest tightened. His breathing shallowed. Fuck, he bit down on his jaw until he was at risk of cracking his own teeth. “Honestly, I’m fine.”
Jase huffed. “You’re fine that a gorgeous woman is asking you to pretend to be in love with her so she can save her career, then fuck off back to America and take your kid with her?”
Luke glared at Jase. “What do you want me to say, Jase? It is what it is?”
Matt stepped over to Jase and put his hand on his shoulder. “Sometimes, life sends you what you need, Luke. Not what you want.”
“Keep the mysticism or whatever the fuck that was to yourself. I didn’t need this, and I don’t want it. I had plans to take a trip before the album comes out in a couple of months. Did you know that? Wasn’t going to plan it. Was going to show up at the airport and look at the board. See where I could go. And you know what, I’ll have more fucking money than I can poke a stick at, and not be able to do anything with it. A million dollars isn’t fucking pocket change.”
“A million dollars?” Alex asked. “You mean pounds? Did you win the lottery or something?”
Fuck.
He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He’d deliberately left the money out of the conversation with the band.
“Whatever. We all got paid more than normal. I was…”
“She’s paying you?” Jase asked, guessing what he’d meant.
Ben looked from Jase to Luke. “For real?”
“Go fuck yourself,” Luke said. The walls of the studio were closing in. Trapped. Fuck, he was trapped at home, trapped here. How had everything become so volatile. How had he gone from honesty with Matt to this? The world started to go out of focus. Stars began to spin in his peripheral vision. He reached for his water, but his hands shook.
What the fuck was wrong with him?
“That can’t be right. She’s not, is she?” Matt’s voice sounded muffled.
His heart raced faster.
What the fuck?
He couldn’t catch his breath.
Words continued. He couldn’t hear them. They got farther and farther away, as if his head was still under his duvet cover or his pillow over his head.
“Luke?” Ben’s hand on his shoulder made him jump. “You’re sweating, man.”
“Did he really take money from her to do the right thing?” Alex shouted.
“Alex. Shut up a fucking minute.” Ben glared at his brother. “Luke’s having a panic attack.”
Luke gasped as the words rocketed through him. He was torn between tearing his drum kit apart and falling to his knees in tears. The world suddenly seemed too small; his own skin too tight.
Oxygen was in short supply as he sucked in air. There wasn’t enough. His breathing became more uneven.
Panic’s icy fingers closed around his throat.
He was going to die on a plywood platform.
“Breathe,” Ben said as he shoved his head between his knees and rubbed circles on his back.
Luke focused on Ben’s hand. Inhale for a circle, exhale for a circle. Slow and steady.
His eyes stung, from the sweat running into them or the sting of tears, he wasn’t sure. Either way, he felt stupid.
“What the fuck?” he gasped.
“Yeah. Luke. You’re not fine. Talk to us, mate.” Ben removed his hand and Luke sat upright, too ashamed to look his friends in the eye.
“I don’t know what I’m doing. Can barely describe what I’m feeling. My head’s like it’s filled with fucking soup, sloshing around, filled with shit. I don’t know if I’m alright. How can this be so polarising?”
Matt sighed. “Tell us.”
Luke got up and began to pace on unsteady legs. He took a gulp of tepid water. “I can’t think about it all at once or I’ll blow. Can we go get a drink?”
Jase shook his head. “Mate. I don’t think alcohol is going to help beyond letting you forget for a couple of hours. Getting pissed isn’t going to help anything.”
It would. Anything to take the edge off the rawness he felt, to remove the fear at the way panic had descended over him like a dank, black mist. One of his dealers could drop something by when they left the studio. A line and he’d be fine, right?
“What’s going on?” Alex asked.
“What do you want me to say, Alex? You’re here with this stupid fucking intervention because you see the problem. Willow is pregnant. I didn’t plan on ever having kids. She’s American, I live in the UK. She’s been let down by every other fucking man in her life and needed a contract in place to make sure it didn’t happen to her again. This is no one’s fault, and yet I have all this . . . anger, frustration . . . shit, I don’t know.”
“You’ve not yelled at her, have you?” Ben asked.
“Jesus. Fuck. No. Of course not. I might be a dick, but she’s carrying my kid. I’m not going to yell at her. But I need to . . . fuck. I don’t know. I want to tear this place apart with my bare hands. Rip my nails off. Make something hurt. I don’t know. Make me bleed to stop this. FUCK.” His words reverberated off the walls of the studio. Luke took a breath before he continued. “I’m a pressure cooker. I’m doing the right thing. I’m doing what’s expected.”
“You’re taking a million fucking dollars. How hard can it be?” Alex snapped.
Luke stepped up into Alex’s face. “You’re kidding me, right? Have you any idea how hard it is for me right now?”
Alex shoved him away. “How fucking hard? Willow has all the worries you have, plus she has to grow a baby, in a strange country, with a guy saying he doesn’t really fucking want her or her kid. It fucking sucks growing up with a dad who doesn’t want you. You try to figure out how to change yourself, to bury who you are so you can live up to some unreachable expectations. You take up rugby, because it’s his favourite sport, but he never comes to your games. You get great fucking grades, but he doesn’t give a shit. You wear jeans and a hoodie so you can look the fucking same. But it doesn’t matter how you change yourself, he’s never going to want you, you selfish fuck.”
“Alex,” Luke said, his tone softening.
“Don’t fucking Alex me, this is about you. You’re building an unbearable future for your kid. You had a dad who loved the shit out of you. You need to love the shit out of yours. And the mum. No one is asking you to shotgun marry her. But make her your priority and your kid a priority in your life because all this . . .” Alex gestured up and down Luke’s torso. “All this angst and fear and panic and shame doesn’t change that one iota. But you don’t ever want that kid to feel the way I do about my dad.”
Ben threw his arm over Alex’s shoulder, then whispered something into his ear that Luke couldn’t hear. Alex nodded, then gave his brother a weak smile.
Luke took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’ve been thinking about me, not my kid. I just don’t know how to get over the fact that the future I saw for myself just got blown to smithereens.”
“It’s not your kid’s fault. You and Willow did this.”
He thought about the baby. A child. His child.
And beneath all the emotions he felt, there was a flicker of something soft. Something that made him think of his dad. The kind of father he’d been, and he wondered if he had it in him to follow in those footsteps.
And what it would do to his soul to form any kind of real connection with Willow and Cletus before they left him for good. Just like everyone else. His mum. His dad. Even fucking Matt, now Jase was properly back in his life.
“You’re right.”
“You’re giving that baby a job before it gets here,” Alex said. “Its job is to not disrupt your life. It’ll never be able to do that. You’re setting it up for failure. Just love the little one. That’s all it wants, Luke. Everything else, money, opportunities, access, the country it lives in . . . it’s all a bonus. But what they need to know is that both parents love them.”
The words were important, but it was the look in Alex’s eyes, the one that showed all the hurt he’d suffered at the hands of his father, that hit Luke hardest.
Matt put his arm over Luke’s shoulder. “If we start with that. That Cletus needs to know you love him; how do you get there from here? And what can we do to help?”
Luke walked over to the wall by the radiator and lowered himself to the floor. He was suddenly chilled to the bone.
When he looked up, his friends had followed suit. “What do I do?”
Ben tapped the floor twice. “I think you have to separate things. You can’t cling on to things you know you can’t have.” The tone of his voice said it was personal.
“Chaya?” Luke asked.
Ben shook his head. “We’re talking about you. Plan A didn’t work out. Maybe plan B didn’t, either. But pick a letter and build a new plan.”
Alex shoulder-checked his brother. “Go speak to someone, Luke. A professional. Get help figuring out what’s going on.”
Luke studied the floor. The very idea of doing that made him feel ill. He didn’t need some overpaid mind monkey ferreting around in his head. Even sharing with the guys felt like too much.
“Think about what was good about your childhood. What bits of it do you want your kid to experience? Get excited about the good in this,” Matt said.
“You made a fucking life, mate,” Jase said, squeezing his shoulder. “It’s amazing. A fucking miracle.”
Luke looked up at him. “Sounds like you should have one.”
Cerys took that moment to pass the doorway, and Jase yelled, “Sunshine, did you hear that? Luke said we should have babies.”
She backed up and pointed at Jase. “Do not. Get. Baby fever.”
Jase shrugged. “Hey, I’m here for it all with you. You know that.”
Cerys grinned and disappeared.
“Fuck, I love that woman,” Jase blurted.
And perhaps therein was the problem. Perhaps he could have something more with Willow.
But he was sitting in his own way.
7
“What are you reading?” Luke asked her as he packed the last of his things in his bag on the sofa. Cables for his phone and two packs of gum she’d picked up from the store for him while he showered. He’d been chewing a lot of it. She hadn’t asked why, but she assumed it was to do with the changes she’d asked of him. There had been no sign of coke, and while he hadn’t quit smoking completely, he wasn’t smoking around her or in the apartment.
“The Desire Map. It’s about creating a meaningful life.”
He lifted the book carefully to look at the orange and purple cover. “‘Goals with soul’? You already have a lot of goals.”
“Yes. But I’m always looking for growth. And the journey I was on has changed. Figured it would help to reread and reset my expectations for the next eighteen months. Do you set goals?”
Luke lowered the book. “Not much of a goal setter. More of a ‘do what you can and hope shit happens’ kind of guy. How did the posting go?”
“You mean you didn’t look?” Willow asked, glancing up. “I put that first video up nearly three days ago.”
Luke shrugged. “Didn’t know I was supposed to.”
Willow rolled her eyes and put her book down on the sofa. “Give me your phone.”
Luke slipped it out of his pocket. “Here. But if you go mooching around on there, you’re going to see shit you wished you hadn’t.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, her stomach flipping over. “Have you been—?”
“Fuck. No. But. Well. I haven’t deleted shit that may already be on there.”
Okay. Past stuff she could deal with. “I wasn’t planning on going through your messages. There. I installed some apps. Now, you follow me, and you can see the post and comment. Comments would be good. You could say something like—”
