He was quiet for a moment. Then his head relaxed against my chest and he ran his fingers down his face.
“I feel I’ve lost my right hand and I don’t know how the band with survive without him. I was talking to the guys today, and we don’t know if we should keep going or not.”
I thought for a moment as my fingers swept up and down the length of his muscular arms.
“Bands have kept going after the death of a band member. Metallica. ACDC. Avenged Sevenfold. Ozzy went on after Randy died.”
“But some don’t. Look at Zeppelin.”
I wrapped my arms around the broad expanse of his chest and held him tight. “I’m not sure, but I suspect they didn’t make any major decisions on the night of their friend’s funeral.”
I felt him close his eyes and for the first time in days, felt him relax.
“You’re right. It’s too soon.” His strong fingers curled around my wrists and he sighed.
“Where do you think we go? When we die?” He asked.
“I don’t know. I like the idea of reincarnation, so we all get another chance. But at the same time, I like to think that our loved ones are waiting for us when it’s time to go.”
He drew in a deep breath to control his emotion, but his voice broke as he asked, “Where do you think Armie is?”
I felt him tremble against me and I held him just a little bit tighter.
“With Hendrix, Randy and Dimebag somewhere.” I whispered, my lips brushing against his ear.
Later, we towelled off and slipped into bed. Without a word he pulled me into his arms and held me against his warm body. His big hands cupped my jaw as he kissed me.
“Please,” he whispered into the darkness, “just for tonight … one last night … please just make it right.”
He rolled me onto my back and was between my thighs in a breath. Without hesitating he pushed into me, and a sigh escaped him as he pressed his hips to mine.
He took it slow, his hands whispering along the length of my body, his lips moving rhythmically across mine as he kissed me so deeply I could feel it through to my very core.
Shadows danced on the ceiling and the bedroom wall next to us as we moved in perfect symphony. There was no need for words. We were just two bodies moving together in the darkness. Desperate for pain relief. Chasing some kind of brief respite through our physical pleasure. We sighed, our breaths deep and lazy.
Sometime during the early hours he fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. His beautiful long lashes fanned his cheeks and his body relaxed into the bed. But he didn’t move from my arms. If I tried to disentangle myself from him he would only pull me closer.
Somewhere in those dark hours it all became clear. Looking down upon his beautiful face all the reasons to stay away from him became so utterly unimportant.
The only thing that mattered was how he felt about me. And he loved me. I knew that. It was there in every look, every word, every touch … and I had turned my back on him for fucking it up when, really, it was forgivable. He hadn’t set out to hurt me. It had been one big clusterfuck and it was time to move on from it.
I wasn’t prepared to live without him a moment longer. He was mine. And I was all his. I always had been. From the moment he leapt off that stage and asked me my name.
I loved him.
Completely.
And I forgave him.
Completely.
I. Was. His.
For the first time in days he had relaxed into a deep, restful sleep. His body was warm, pressed against me, and the heaviness of his muscular bulk was comforting.
I wondered if I should wake him up and tell him that I thought we should be together; if it wasn’t too late. If I hadn’t pushed him too far away.
But he looked so exhausted, even in his slumber. He needed to sleep. To rest his tortured mind.
I would tell him tomorrow. Tell him how much I loved him. And that we belong together.
“I love you,” I whispered into the stillness of the shadows.
His body was infinite warmth beside me and I felt more content and safer than I had in a long time.
Sleep came as the moonlight disappeared from the room and settled me in darkness. My body finally relaxed and I was pulled into a deep and heavy slumber.
When I awoke, sunlight warmed the room with its white light through the curtains. I blinked, my mind slowly coming to life. I reached for him but found only an empty space in the bed beside me.
I was alone.
Heath was gone.
He had left a note on my bedside table.
If I had stayed I would never be able to let you go. I know you are right. We are better as friends. Thank you for helping me find peace with it. Goodbye my H-bomb. Your friend, Heath.
I sat frozen and re-read it several times, trying to process it. Trying to make sense of his words. It was goodbye. Heath was letting me go.
And it was the last fucking thing I wanted.
But what did I expect? I had pushed him away. I had spent the last month telling him I could never forgive him. Telling him to leave me alone. Because I was hurt and mad, and … goddamn it … what a fucking mess.
I didn’t want to cry but I did. Because he was gone. And I had made him go away. I had made him think we were better as friends. And now he believed it. Because I was young and stupid and one giant pain in the ass!
Last night had been his goodbye.
I slumped back into the spot where not so long ago he had been sleeping. His smell lingered in the sheets. Warm and clean. And the familiar scent of him induced another bout of tears, and I squashed his pillow over my face to muffle my sobs.
What. Had. I. Done?
I wanted to ring him. To tell him I was wrong. That I had fucked up. That I was still batshit crazy about him. That I didn’t want to go back to Georgia and my shitty, shitty life. That my home was … fuck, my home was wherever the hell he was …
But his letter … Thank you for helping me find peace with it.
If I said anything now it would confuse him. Upset him. Send his world further into a tailspin. It wouldn’t be fair on him. Now wasn’t the right time. He had just lost his best friend. It was about Armie now. Not some stupid teenage girl who couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
No. I had made my choice and now I had to live with it.
Even if that meant living without him.
Chapter Twenty HARLOW
It was two days before I saw him again. On my last night in California.
Fat Tony had organized a surprise farewell dinner at the Pizza Palace. My eyes welled with tears as I walked in and saw everyone there waiting for me. They were all there for me, to help me celebrate my last night in California. Fat Tony. Leo. Bridget. Coralee. Nikki. Piper. Jesse. Zack. Tommy.
Heath.
He sat down the other end of the table from me, relaxed and calm. Any residual sadness that I occasionally caught on his beautiful face wasn’t because of me. It was over Armie. And he did an amazing job at keeping it in check. Although when he smiled, it never quite reached his eyes. Apparently he had spent the last two days with his brothers up in the family cabin at Arcadia. Piper said he’d rung Jesse and said, “Fuck it, we have to keep going. Let’s do it for Armie.” And the band was due to start working on their album in the next week.
Tonight he barely acknowledged me but when he did, he smiled and it was warm, but it lacked everything we had once shared.
I smiled back at him, my heart aching and longing for him to love me again. But he didn’t. Not anymore. I could see that. From across the table. He didn’t love me anymore because I had told him not to. And he never once tried to catch my eye. And I never caught him stealing a look in my direction.
Heath had gone and done what I had asked him to do. No. What I had demanded he do. He had moved on.
It took all my energy to hide my misery. Up until Heath’s note I hadn’t truly believed I was going back to Georgia. But I was. And my Californian adventure had come to an end. Just like Heath and I.