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An uneasy feeling floats around in my sloshing stomach. It’s either the booze revolting against my stomach, or it’s the creep standing before me.
Not much has changed since I left him all those years ago. Same hair. Same stupid face—as if he could change that. Not to mention that sickening grin I once thought was the best thing on the planet makes my stomach knot. How in the hell did I fall for this jackass when I was a teenager? Was it the thought of dangerous dating?
The last words he ever said to me before he fucked right off have haunted me since the moment he walked out of the record store I used to work at.
“I have every arsenal in my pocket for us to have a better future. You, me, and the baby…”
It’s like I’m back in that record store, listening to him tell me all that bullshit about him going to Europe for an internship. And how delusional he was in thinking that Lyric was his.
“I just wanted to say how sorry I was for all the things I said and did. You know, back then,” he grimaces, obviously still talking as I silently freak out. What else has he said since I’ve drunkenly stared at him with a blank look, lost in my thoughts? “I was a real creep, and I…just never got over you, I guess. I saw everything as an opportunity to get the girl I loved back. But I went about it all wrong. Sorry, I was such a fucking chump.”
Chump doesn’t even begin to describe what I feel for him. “Um… Yeah, sure. Nice to see you, but I’ve got a date with a bottle,” I grumble, shoving past him.
“Nice bumping into you, Rivey,” he says in passing, waving as he walks away from me without fanfare.
“So not nice bumping into you,” I mutter under my breath, watching his every move. He stands at the back of the crowd with no expression lining his face as the guys continue their performance. He doesn’t sway. He doesn’t fucking move. He’s a goddamn statue. Tension lies in the backs of his beady little eyes, raising the tiny hairs all over my body.
“The fuck is Donavan Drake doing here?” Ode asks in alarm, guiding me to the bar by the elbow.
“Being a creep as usual,” I grumble, staring over at the place he stood and startling. “He’s gone,” I say with a shrug, blowing out a breath.
That was a close one. Shit. That’s the last person I ever wanted to come face to face with, especially in this condition. I’m liable to say whatever the hell is on my mind. Like, fuck off, Van. Eat a snake, Van. Or my favorite, drop dead, Van. In fact, I should race over there and say that to him. He distributed our damn sex tape like it was a movie. Fucker.
“I’m going to sue his ass,” I mutter under my breath.
“I haven’t seen that asshole since he left Central City for work. Wherever that was,” she says, shaking her head.
“In Europe, right? Veritas has been tracking his ass since my whole stalker fiasco started.”
Her brows furrow. The color slightly drains from her face at the thought of my stalker. Thank fuck, that dickbag is dead and gone. I no longer have to look over my shoulder, wondering if some sicko is taking pictures of my every move.
“Yeah, I think so for the first year or so. Not sure what he did after that, but he got a job with his company. I think he travels or something. Fuck, I don’t know. As long as he’s not around here,” she says with a shrug, handing me my bottle.
“Thanks,” I say, taking another swig of the burning tequila, drinking the memory of Van away.
He’s here doing his own thing. He can’t hurt me anymore. Not when I’m living for the future. Not the stupid past.
Damn the consequences. I’ll deal with them later. Naked. And freshly fucked. Because any man who writes a song clearly dedicated to me and their daughter deserves a little love between the sheets. A reward, if you will. And then, I’ll get a nice reward.
“It’s going to rain,”I whisper, staring out the dark window of our SUV, traveling down the road near Callum’s home.
It’s in the air. The smell of sweet rain floats through the breeze, infiltrating all my senses. My hair stands on end. My aching heart pounds rapidly against my ribs. All in tune with the weather changing at the drop of a hat. My eyes widen in awe as the wicked sky lights up, showing off the darkened clouds miles away, heading straight for us. There’s nothing that compares to a Midwest storm on the horizon.
Soon we’ll be soaked.
My head leans lazily on Callum’s shoulder with his hand clutched tightly in mine. Every so often, he gently squeezes my fingers with his. Three times. Over and over. Conveying a message unlike any other—he loves me.
There’s no denying the love we have for each other. All five of us. In some weird and twisted way, we care for and deeply love one another. Like we’re meant for each other. No matter what we went through in the past. No matter how long we were apart, basking in our hate for one another.
This was always meant to be.
Some would say, it’s way too quick. Way too soon to shout it from the rooftops. I’m so damn tired of living in the past and reliving the hurt I experienced. It changed me for the better. Helped me grow into the woman I am today. I’ll never forget the way their betrayal hurt. I’ll have my doubts. I’ll cry and question them until I’m blue in the face. As long as they’re there to ease the pain and constantly reassure me that we’ll be okay, then I’ll believe them.
But tonight, I want to live. Dance in the icy rain. Forget all my inhibitions for freedom. Freedom from my crippling thoughts of doubt. From the pain. From my stalker. From every little thing bogging me down.
Tonight, I want to fall into the arms of the men redeeming themselves for me. The ones who wrote that song. Who pulled me on stage, kissed the oxygen from my lungs, and told the world I was theirs.
I need this.
