Page 16 of Collide

“Tommy says this place is about your mother. You being here. I hope we aren’t intruding on something private.”

I peer down at him. “You’re not. I mean, you’re fine. I mean…it’s all good.” Why am I stammering? And what are his eyes doing behind those glasses?

“Lie back down,” he tells me, but I remain seated.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you.”

One brow cocks upward. “And how did you know to find me here?”

“A grumpy former rock star told me where to look.”

I chuckle at the reference to my uncle. Tommy hasn’t been the same since my mother’s death. He’s had to take care of too many of her lingering issues since she died, and I’m about to add another person to his list. He needs something to do with himself. He’s too young to sit around and be a grumpy old man.

I decide to lie back, allowing the sun to heat my skin—all my skin—which feels exposed. My boobs don’t fit as well as they once did in the two triangles, and I should have considered their growth when I threw this red slip of fabric in my suitcase. Keeping my eyes closed, I try not to think about Gage lying next to me. Try not to think about him cuddling up to me last night.

“So…about last night,” he begins, and I swallow as if he’s read my mind. I’m ready to tell him nothing happened, and he doesn’t need to concern himself. I’d be surprised if he remembers any of it in his inebriated state.

“Before Cash…” He pauses, and I instantly hear the hollow in his voice. “…killed himself. We had a huge fight. I told him I was sick of his attitude and behavior. The drugs. The women.” He pauses again, and I roll my head to face him. He still wears his glasses, but it doesn’t matter as he isn’t looking at me. His fingers dig in the sand. When he notices I’m watching him, he twists his lips. “Sorry about the women. It’s just…true. I know that hurts, and I’m sorry, but he was all over everyone. It was the drugs, I think. He wanted to be accepted so badly. He was accepted, though. The fans loved him, but he couldn’t see it. He pushed us harder, rode the guys, worked himself into a lather, and then crashed. The cycle was never ending, and I was tired of the bullshit. It felt like we were so close to what we wanted, and he was going to blow it all. Anyway, I let him know how I felt.”

He pulls his glasses from his face, folding them and setting them aside, then rolls to his side and props himself up on one elbow to face me. “It’s hard to love someone and then realize you don’t know them.”

“I already told you I didn’t really know him,” I say sadly. I wanted to feel like I did, but the reality was I didn’t. “I didn’t love him.” I swallow with the painful thought. I’m not certain I’ll ever understand love—at least, romantic love. It was a summer of lust, which meant I had strong feelings for Cash, but not the right kind of feelings. Maybe if I loved him, he wouldn’t have done what he did. “It sounds crass, but it wasn’t love or even star-struck. I’ve been around rock stars my whole life. I’m not that easily impressed.” I wince. “Sorry.”

He winks at me, and a weak grin grows on his lips. “Don’t apologize. It’s one reason I like you. You seem comfortable in the rock star lifestyle but aren’t swallowed up by it or bitter about it.” He’s silent a second. He averts his eyes to the blanket between us, and he smooths his palm over the terrycloth material. “Anyway, guilt ate at me. I mean, he was one of my best friends. How did I not see he was so depressed? How did I not notice his anxiety? Did our fight cause what happened?”

My chest pinches, and I reach for his cheek, enjoying the feel of his rough facial hair against my palm too much.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“How do you know?” His eyes drift up to mine and then back to the sheet beneath us.

“You couldn’t have helped him unless he wanted help. Suicide is a cry for help, but it’s selfish and irreversible. He was loved and didn’t see it.” I was too young to learn this lesson from my father’s death, but I’d seen enough destructive behavior from my mother and Hank to know you can’t help those who don’t see they have a problem.

Gage nods. “It’s why I apologized last night.” My eyes widen. “My rule is never to go to bed angry. Always say you’re sorry. Cash was my family, and family always says they’re sorry.” My mouth pops open as he says the very words I spoke to my mother, but then I close my lips, wanting him to continue. “A brother from another mother and all that bullshit. We were each other’s only family with Jared and Petty. I should have told him I was sorry. I should have gotten him help because I loved him. Because he was family.”

His guilt eats at me because I recognize it. I fought with my mother before she died. She went into cardiac arrest shortly after our argument, and I thought that was it. I thought she’d pass without my ever saying I was sorry for what I said. I apologized when she came to, and that’s when she reminded me that family loves unconditionally. I understand what Gage is saying.

“I’ve been sorry every day after his death.”

My fingertips comb over his jaw, soothing myself as I scratch at his stubble. “I’m sure he knew you were sorry, and you loved him. If you’d already been there every step of the way, good and bad, he knew it.”

He nods once. “I just try to make sure the guys know how I feel. If we fight, we apologize. We say we’re sorry, so no one walks away angry or hurting over a misunderstanding. I don’t want them questioning anything about the three of us. They’re my family.”

“I get that,” I say, offering him a soft smile.

“That’s why I had to apologize before I went to bed. I didn’t mean to wake you, but I’m glad I did.” He turns his face and kisses my palm. I smile a little deeper and then pull back. “And on that note, how did I end up in your bed?” He winks again, teasing me.

“I worried you wouldn’t make it to the bathroom when a hangover kicked in.”

He chuckles. “First, I don’t get hangovers. Second, you worried about me? I’m so touched,” he mocks, holding his hand over his heart.

“Yeah, well…” I don’t have a retort, but I smile even bigger at his lighter mood.

“So, Ivy, tell me all your secrets.” He rolls to fully rest on his front again and lowers his chin to his folded hands. I chuckle as I don’t have any secrets. At least, not any I’d share with him.

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