Page 7 of Fallen God

Stepping out into the rain, I squinted, thankful that at least his arm gave me some protection from the downpour.

“Let her get a word in edgeways, Tate, and she might answer you.” Elodie was two steps ahead, tottering along in her heels.

“How did you know where to find us?” I gazed up at his big, gorgeous face.

“Elodie text Jax. Said to bring him to hers. That he could lay low for a while…” Tate trailed off as I ducked from beneath his arm. I stood there in the middle of the road, unable to move anything but my jaw that swung up and down. Because I could see now who he was talking about.

The band were standing on the pavement in front of the door that led up to our flat. Chance as well, if the leather cut was anything to go. But most importantly, between my brother and Jax was the familiar dark head of the man I had sworn never to see again.

Dion.

And he was wasted. His head lolled like he had no bones in his neck. His knees buckled.

Shaking my head, I took a step backwards. “Oh, hell no.”

DION

There was a glass of water by the bed which wasn’t mine. The sheets smelt fresh and there were tiny little daisies on the bedspread. I didn’t own anything like that. It was clearly a woman’s bed. With a groan, I rolled over to my side, my needy hands grabbing for the water.

I’d felt rough more times than I wanted to admit, but it had been years since I had felt this bad. My tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth, which actually felt like something had crawled inside and died. Gulping down the water, which was probably room temperature but felt like the clearest of spring waters against my furry tongue, I tried to remember what had happened last night.

And came back blank.

I remembered everything that had gone on with Isla, and I could recall stumbling into the first bar I had come across after leaving the hospital, and then... Nothing. Although I was pretty sure Jax and Tate had been with me for at least part of the night. Glancing around with the almost empty glass in my hand, I took stock of my surroundings. Definitely a woman’s bedroom, which must mean that at some point I had left my band mates and gone home with some random girl. And I’d been too drunk to leave when I’d done the deed. That could be a problem. Especially if she’d recognised me before luring me into her home. It meant I had to make idle small talk, kindly refuse any offer for a repeat performance and go straight to the office to tell Erik in case she had taken photos or planned to sell her story to the press. And with the way my luck was lately, that’s exactly what she was going to do.

I sure as hell didn’t need any more bad publicity. Not after the stunts Isla had been pulling for the last few months. Even the thought of her name made me clench my fists. Isla hadn’t just been my girlfriend – she was supposed to be my friend. Hell, we had known each other for years and yet she had been so desperate to trap me into a relationship that she had been prepared to chain me to her with a baby that wasn’t mine. Or at least, that might not be mine. No, the reasonable part of my brain butted in. No, she hadn’t. Not really. She had told me that the kid wasn’t mine, that she had strayed from our already doomed relationship. It had been me who had felt something when I realised the baby could be mine. I had wanted him to be mine. Not because I wanted to be with Isla. That chapter of my life was over and done with, and I hoped we both now knew it. No, I hadn’t been planning on playing happy families, but that little boy…I would have loved him. I would have been a good dad. He could have filled a hole in my life.

With a groan, and no more water to quench my thirst, I rolled from the super soft mattress and onto my feet, which sank into a fluffy pale cream rug. I stood there for a second, my toes curling into the softness of it as I swayed. I might feel rough, but I was betting it was going to get worse before it got better because if I wasn’t mistaken, I was still drunk. Comically so. God, I realised I hadn’t had a blow out like this for years. And for good reason. Taking a step towards the ajar door, I glanced down and froze.

Not naked.

Arching an eyebrow, I stared down at the smiley face covered boxers. The fact that I wasn’t naked in some chick’s bed was interesting indeed. Had I been too wasted to get it up? Had I fallen asleep before I could even give it the good old college try? Those kinds of headlines would do more damage to my reputation than the other type. After one last look around the obsessively neat room to try and locate the rest of my clothes, I padded barefoot out into the hallway. There was a closed door next to the open bathroom one, and it was that way I headed first. In all the confusion of waking up in a stranger’s bed, I had pushed to the back of my mind how desperately I needed to piss. But I could feel it now. My bladder felt like it was going to explode.

Washing up after what felt like the longest piss on record, I stared at my reflection in the mirror hanging over the sink. The moment I did, I wished I hadn’t. My eyes were bloodshot and ringed with dark circles so purple black that they looked like black eyes, which, of course, I couldn’t rule out. Someone could have punched me in the face. I wasn’t exactly known to be civil with a few too many drinks inside of me. I looked as rough as I felt. Splashing water on my face, I scrubbed at my cheeks and prepared myself to face whatever was waiting for me. Or more specifically, whoever. Hopefully, whoever the random had been last night, she hadn’t recognised me. And if she had, maybe I could get away with the promise of a free ticket or some merchandise. One last splash of water and I straightened my spine. I couldn’t put it off any longer. As I walked the short distance between the bathroom and the living room, I prepared my speech in my head. It was great to spend time with her, but my schedule didn’t leave much time for relationships, blah, blah, blah… It was cold, I knew that, but not as cruel as leading the poor girl on.

Something on the side table caught my eye, and I reached down to pick the frame up. I knew both people in the picture behind the protective glass. One I’d known for years. Kick ass talented musician and a brother from another mother. Our guitarist Jax. And next to him, dark curls framing her face, his woman, Elodie.

With fresh eyes, I looked round. This was Elodie’s home. The one none of us, apart from Jax, had ever been invited to. Somehow, in the chaos of last night, I had made my way to the girl who had helped me get sober the first time I’d spiralled out of control. It kind of made sense that Jax would bring me here. He sure as hell didn’t have the patience to deal with my shit like El did. I let out a sigh of relief. Anywhere Elodie was, it was a safe space, and she would listen, actually listen, to my rambling whether she was being paid to do it by the band or not. Because that’s just the kind of woman El was.

“Elodie?” Faintly, I could hear the sound of a kettle being boiled in what I could guess was the kitchen. There was also the sound of rumbling and clacking. I headed in that direction. “El?” Pausing to lean on the open kitchen door, I took in the sight in front of me. Someone was making coffee and the clanging rumble that was piercing my brain like a blunt knife was coming from a washing machine that had clearly seen better days. “El, any idea where my clothes are?” I grumbled and the woman in front of me froze. Under the oversized hoodie which she had pulled up over her head and the baggy sweats, I could see her spine stiffen. It made me wonder what else I had done last night. Had I pissed off Elodie enough that she was no longer talking to me as well?

It sounded like something I would do.

“If Jax finds me walking around your place in my pants, he’s going to throw a fit, so…”

“Your clothes are in the wash. They had vomit all over them.”

I blinked. The voice wasn’t Elodie’s. But it was familiar. I knew it. I had heard it call my name in the most gorgeous breathy tones as she came against my tongue.

“Elodie and Jax aren’t here. They will be back soon, though.” She turned and even though it had been months and her face was half shadowed from the drawn up hoodie, I knew who she was. “I hope,” she added.

“Lola?” Taking a step forward, I reached for her. My hands were eager to push down the hood so I could see her face more clearly. She stepped away easily. “Jesus, woman, is it really you, or am I in some alcohol fuelled dream?”

God, I wanted to touch her. To run my fingers down her cheeks and see if they were as soft as I remembered. I’d dreamt of this moment. Our reunion. I’d pictured it in my head in minute detail. Even when I knew the chances of me ever seeing her again were slim. Little sister of our drummer or not, it didn’t matter. Louis had said she didn’t want anything to do with me. And I couldn’t blame her for that. But never in a million years had I thought she was so close. At Elodie’s, of all places. How that had come about I didn’t know, but I was going to be asking Jax as soon as I saw him again. Had she been here the entire time, and no one had thought to tell me? Or was she just visiting? I hadn’t even known they knew each other, let alone were friends.

“Nightmare.” Her words cut through my inner monologue. “It's not a dream. This whole situation is a mother–fucking nightmare.”

LOLA

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