We all exit the studio together and make our way to Creed’s room, where we all fall into a heap on the mattress. Riley and I are still trapped together in one shirt, and Creed has entangled himself around us. And that’s where we all stay for the next several hours—just because we can. Listening to the new song on repeat, talking, telling stories, laughing, and just basking in one another’s company.
Things feel good right now, and that scares me.
Because the last time I felt like this, it was all ripped away.
Chapter 31
Collins
“YOU’RE KIND OF MY HERO.”
It’s been weeks since Riley finally came home. He’s been diligent about his therapy and has even started working out with Wilder a few times a week in addition to his therapy sessions. Zero complaints from me on that front. He’s getting that soft definition back that I love so much, and seeing his progress has me equal parts proud and turned on.
We’re celebrating his incredible progress by taking a trip downtown to thefancyrecording studio so that he and Creed can piece together some tracks with Bear and Blair. It feels more like a family reunion because Ayla will be there, too.
Failure isn’t a part of Riley’s vocabulary, especially when it comes to his aversion to disappointing those he loves. While he still uses smaller silicone grips on his drumsticks, his grip strength is incredible. He’s improved so much, and it seems as if he’s gotten out of his own head ever since I invaded his drumming session and had him play while I straddled his lap.
I shift where I’m sitting cross-legged on the vanity in the bathroom. Creed is showering, singing a’cappella to some song byPink Floydwhile Riley is downstairs after offering to try and make chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.
I miss Riley’s cooking, so it made my heart flutter in my chest to know he’s at least trying to get back at it.
Carefully, I peel the protective paper layer from the silicone gel sheet and turn my shoulder towards the mirror to inspect my scar. It’s pink and puckered in several places, but some of the former gashes are much more shallow and have smoothed out, taking on a pale, shiny hue. A sharp kind of sorrow pricks at my heart to see just how badly Guy marred my skin. He’d always hated my tattoo, and it pains me to face the knowledge that he finally got what he wanted and got rid of it himself.
My vision dims, and faint auditory memories resurface from that day. I remember the pain, the tears that gathered and inevitably fell. Riley screaming and begging. Guy’s laughter. It’s all muffled, but it’s still there. I wish I could erase it all, erase the feel of his venomous, vile touch?—
“Do you want me to help you place that, Stardust?” Creed’s voice cuts through the memories and darkness until his impossibly handsome face comes into view. He does so well with masking the concern in his expression, but I can feel it radiating from his bones.
It’s not his fault, but that pity and concern invoke an all too familiar kind of guilt. Guilt that I am the cause of this extra stress. My therapist tells me that it stems from childhood trauma—my parents fighting, me wanting to make myself as small and as non-problematic as possible—and she taught me some ways to try and rewrite my internal code to kick the people-pleasing…but clearly I’m still struggling with that.
Though right now, my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth for a whole other reason. The silicone strip slips from my fingers, but Creed catches it with a quick hand. A flush takes over my body when the jolting motion causes his loosely tied towel to fall free. His body has always been my very own definition of perfection.
“You’re so fucking pretty when you blush for me, baby.” Creed crooks his finger beneath my chin, encouraging my eyes to peel away from his gloriously pierced cock. “Be a good little patient for me now, and I’ll give you something sweeter than a lollipop later.”
I pull a sour face, and Creed barks a laugh.
“That snap you out of it?”
I huff. “Like a rubber band,Doctor Love.”
“Okay, brat, show me your muscles so we can get you patched up.” He smiles, holding his hand out for my arm. His eyes meet mine with a playful smirk firmly in place. “I was talking about Riley’s pancakes, by the way.”
“Mhmm, sure you were,” I quip. “
“You caught me.” He teases, carefully placing the bandage. He’s still gloriously and unashamedly naked…and it’s taking all of my self-control not to ogle every inch of his inked skin so proudly on display.
The cool touch of the silicone gel makes me shiver, but I force myself to hold still for him. I’m feeling brave today, so I opted to wear a crop top with a longer skirt. I’ve come to some sort of internal peace treaty with the long scars on my inner forearm, but the slices that mar my legs? I’m not ready to show them in public yet.
“You’re a stunner today,” Creed says so matter-of-factly while focusing so intently on my dressing that it catches me by surprise. He’s complimented me plenty every day from the moment I woke up in one way or another. Maybe this time it’s the fact that I’m wearing makeup and have my hair pulled up into two messy space buns, some hairs hanging loosely and framing my face. The effort I put into my appearance feels like more of a rarity than it used to.
Because I can’t help myself, I ask, “What makes you say that?”
I hate the amount of self-consciousness that bleeds into my question. I’ve never been overly aware of my looks. I was just comfortable in my skin. My scars have dimmed that confidence I once wore so proudly.
Creed’s smile is slow, with sweet adoration coating his expression, and it has my heart skipping a beat before kickstarting in a renewed, rapid rhythm.
“Because you look likemyStardust.Mygirl. You just look like…you.” His eyes look glassy. Reverent.
“But I’m not—I’m notme,”I rasp, a lump forming in my throat. “I don’t know if I could ever be her…the old Collins again.”
