I saw saloon-slut smirk in the doorway and my anger got the better of me.
“We were done the moment you stuck your dick in someone else!” I yelled at him before turning my back on him and storming away.
I cried all the way home, then climbed into the shower and cried some more. I cried because we were done and because he had broken us. I cried because we had yelled at each other again and then severed our ties. I cried because we were so fucking dysfunctional despite how amazing it felt being with him.
But mostly I cried because I missed him and I loved him so fucking much it physically hurt. I didn’t want it to be over. I wanted it to be how it was before he ripped my heart out and stomped all over it.
But you can’t undo the already done.
And you can’t unsay the already said.
A mental image of him fucking his anger out of him with the girl from the bar sent another wave of heartache through me. I didn’t want other girls putting their hands on him. He belonged with me.
No.
Not anymore. We had just made absolutely certain of that! My inability to forgive him had just poured gasoline all over our love and set fire to it.
Feeling miserable, I didn’t even bother removing the towel from my hair before climbing into bed and hiding under the covers.
When Bridget arrived home and cracked open my bedroom door I pretended to be asleep.
But sleep was the furtherest thing from my mind.
Chapter Eighteen HEATH
It had been another great gig. The crowd was smaller than those we had been playing to lately, but they were hard-core fans and their excitement had electrically charged the air. We could do no wrong and for the first time in weeks I’d felt happy and alive again. The music. The fans. Performing with my brothers on stage, it’d all come together to form an awesome show. We were at a small licensed venue on the outskirts of town. And damn it felt good to be home.
After the show, none of us were keen to leave. We stayed behind for a drink with friends and fans, some we knew, some we didn’t. I was designated driver. I wasn’t going to touch another drop of alcohol until I sorted things out with Harlow.
Not that I was making any progress.
Since our confrontation at the Sugar Shack I hadn’t heard from her or made any attempt to see her. I was waiting until her anger had subsided. I thought she might have calmed down a little bit while we were away touring with the Masters of Mayhem music festival, maybe even missed me a little. But that was just proof of what an asshole I was. Time wasn’t going to soften her anger. What I had done to her wasn’t going to be repaired by a few weeks apart.
Sometimes, as the days passed by me, I wondered if anything could repair what I had done. I was losing hope. I had fucked up the one chance I had with the most amazing girl in the world and I was at a loss as to what to do next.
There had been plenty of opportunities to move forward. Blondes. Brunettes. Redheads. At every gig. At every meet and greet. Hell, even the thirty-something receptionist at the bus charter company offered me her cell number on a post-it note attached to our charter agreement.
Then, in Virginia, when I’d returned to the edge-of-town motel we were staying at, I’d flung open the door to see a girl waiting naked for me in my bed. How the hell she’d known it was my room was beyond me. I was learning that some of these girls would do crazy shit given the opportunity and side stepping them was getting exhausting.
But I wasn’t interested in moving forward. I had tried and I couldn’t. I was in love with the only girl I could ever imagine sharing my life with. And I wasn’t prepared to risk that for anyone else.
Granted, the only one girl I was interested in actually hated me.
But there would be no one else.
While in Seattle during the festival tour, Armie had insisted we visit Renton and the childhood home of his idol, Jimi Hendrix, only to find it had been torn down. “Fuckers,” Armie had yelled disillusioned that the sacred site had been razed. “Let’s go get a drink as a salute to Jimi.”
So he and I had gone into town and found a bar where Armie had toasted Jimi for both of us with several bourbons. As we walked back to our car we passed a jewelry store down a little side street. It was a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it type place with a small display window out the front and a small, skinny front door with peeling paint and a rusty door knob. But something drew me to the window and there, right there, in the middle of all the other items was the ring. The one I would one day slip onto Harlow’s finger when I made her my girl, permanently.
If she ever stopped hating me.
“Dude, seriously? She thinks you’re an asshole.”
I loved Armie for his brutal honesty.
“I know, and she’d never say yes to me in a million years,” I said, staring at the stunning diamond and platinum piece. But it was too beautiful not to have. And I knew I would search for a hundred years and never find a ring more perfect for Harlow. It was just like her; one in a million.
“Well she won’t ever say yes if you never ask her,” Armie said looking at the window display through thick-rimmed glasses. He was a vision of dark spiky hair and black clothing against the stark white timber of the jewelry store. He tapped at the window as if there was a puppy on the other side. “Some things are too precious to walk away from.”
I didn’t know if he was referring to the ring or if his observations included Harlow. I never asked him, but I had the feeling he was telling me to go for it.
The ring cost me almost more than I would make on the tour, but just having it made me feel closer to the girl I was crazy about. I couldn’t explain it. I just had to have it. For her. Even when hope for us was fading.
Now we were back in town and I still hadn’t seen or heard from her and the ring was tucked safely in my sock drawer.
I wasn’t going to push my luck and force her to see me. I wasn’t in a position to piss her off any more. So the plan was to let time slip by and let the Universe take over. If I kept my faith in us, then somehow we would work this out.
“So have you thought about how you’re going to ask her?” Armie had whispered to me before we went on stage.
“I have to work out how I am going to get her to talk to me first. Let alone marry me,” I replied.
The show was over, it was just after one in the morning and I yawned. It had been a good night but I was feeling the onset of fatigue.
While on tour, we had landed a recording contract with a major label. Things were finally starting to happen for Vengeance and there was a potent enthusiasm within the band. Armie had written a lot of material on the road and we were keen to get into the studio and start creating our second album.
We had booked a studio for the next morning, which was only hours away, to work on recording the album and I wanted to start with a clear head.
My car keys jingled in my hands. “I’m ready to call it a night. Who wants a ride home?”
Jesse, Piper and Armie decided to come with me. Tommy had already left with his new girlfriend Saskia, and Zack was heading home with a girl called Jane, who was his every-now-and-again girl.
Armie was a little drunk but talked excitedly about starting in the studio. We were on the verge of something exciting happening to the band. This was our shot at the big time and we were all ready.
The car park was almost deserted as we left the bar. The night had wrapped up and the people were gone. The lack of heat in the air was a solemn reminder that summer was almost over.
As we headed towards the Challenger along the side of the road, Armie started to goof around. Jesse and Piper walked ahead of us, their arms around one another as Jesse smoked. Seeing them together and so into each other opened the hole in my chest. It was times like these, when the day was winding down and it was time to turn in, when I missed my girl the most. I let myself think for a moment of how much I wished I was going home to her arms, and how badly I wanted to curl myself around her warm body as I fell asleep. Then I forced the thought away. Because I ached too much when I thought shit like that.