I barely recognized the intoxicating boy he’d once been. It was as if the years had zapped him of his originality. He looked like a neglected flower pulled from the dirt and tossed in the trash. His hair, once the most vibrant and unique part about him, was long and soiled, dangling over his handsome face like a curtain, the only openings where the strands caught in his overgrown beard. His normally sun-scorched skin was so pale it appeared almost translucent under the harsh florescent lighting. And his eyes—his beautiful, soulful brown eyes—were nothing but sunken, red-rimmed misery. I thought I’d seen him at his worst—a streetwise runaway surviving with only the clothes on his back—but I was wrong.
He was worse off now. So much worse. Yet despite his obvious unraveling, he’d still come for me, and I knew why. He’d seen what happened on the news. He was checking up on me, making sure I was alive. Because he loved me. He always had. We could’ve been so good together had he not chosen her over me. But I was willing to overlook the past because I needed him now. Not Elliott. Not my mom or my dad. Not even Jake and his love taps.
No, I neededhim. Rory Higgins.
My drummer boy.
2
GRACE: THE COUNTDOWN
Idon’t even remember getting to the door. My sole focus had been the guy on the other side of it, the one who disappeared from view the second our eyes met. I should’ve expected it. Rory never stayed in one place for long. He’d never really trusted me; not fully. I knew it in the way his body tensed when I hugged him or the way his eyes would leave mine to scan the perimeter behind us. He was always watching. Always preparing for the fall. Maybe he’d known something I didn’t because the fall did come. And it wiped us both out.
Skidding out into the hall, I whipped my head around looking for him, but he wasn’t there. I stood in the center of the wide, sterile corridor, my pulse racing as I turned in circles, scanning every closed door in my search. I cursed under my breath. Had he really come all this way just to dodge me now? The coward.
“I swear to god, Beats, you have ten seconds to show yourself before I start screaming.”
I waited. All the doors remained frustratingly closed.
“I know you’re here,” I called out to him, understanding that if Rory didn’t want to be found, there was little I could do to unearth him. He was damned near an expert at disappearing. A life of running had prepared him well. But I knew Rory. He was always contemplating his next move. Always ready to bolt or hunker down, whichever benefitted him in the moment. But if his current plan was to wait me out, my ex would be sorely disappointed because I had plans of my own, and they included flushing his ass out.
“Ten. Nine.” I started the countdown, my voice shrill with indignation. “Eight. This isn’t gonna be pretty, Rory. My screams will be so piercing they’ll bust the windows off their hinges and set the fire alarms shrieking. Good luck escaping unseen then, Houdini. Seven. Six. My brothers are in the waiting room. They’re going to berealunhappy to see you.”
A door cracked open down the hallway, just a sliver, but I knew it was him. I could feel his magnetic pull.
“Five. Four…” I continued my countdown ultimatum for no other reason than it made me feel like I was in control, when in reality, he held every bit of my sanity.
A hand emerged from the door and I stepped forward, laying mine in his open palm. His fingers, long and nimble, closed around mine and the familiarity sent a wave of heat through me. My god, it was Rory Higgins. These hands were the first to ever touch me. They’d awakened me. The things he’d done, the way he’d made me feel… it wasn’t an exaggeration to say he’d ruined me for all others. I might have moved on, but my body never did.
Rory pulled me into the family-style bathroom, locking the door behind us. And then there he was, an arm’s length away, the talented boy who’d managed to shake the ordinary right out of me. My blustery countdown came to an abrupt halt. The air between us stalled as we stood staring. He’d managed to pull the hair out of his face and secure it into a knot on the back of his head, but that only served to highlight the deepening creases in his forehead. His intense gaze dragged over me, rendering me immediately insecure. What was he thinking? Did he not like what he saw? I wasn’t the trusting, wobbly colt he’d once loved, but whose fault was that?
Painfully self-conscious, I slid my thumbs under my eyes and wiped away any mascara residue in a last-ditch effort to preserve what was left of my dignity. I hadn’t been good enough for him once, and this current state I was in would not bolster my chances now. But then, time had hardened Rory too—maybe even brought him to his knees—so he really shouldn’t be casting those deep creased forehead wrinkles at me.
Rory closed the distance between us, his proximity made all the more shocking when his fingers skipped across my skin. It took me a second to realize he was performing a full-scale physical, frantically checking me for injury. If I’d been of sound mind, I would’ve slapped his hands away, or at the very least, his worry. He didn’t get to be my protector anymore. That was Elliott’s job, and tonight, my boyfriend had proven he was up to the challenge even if I’d given him no credit for it.
Yet Rory’s fingers felt so familiar, so comforting, and I stood motionless as he surveyed my brows, my cheeks, the nape of my neck. But his newfound interest in my flesh must have been driven by fear for my safety rather than lust for my body. My heart sped up as his hand moved downward, past my collarbone and over my bloody arms to my trembling hips, where his probing fingers sent trembles cascading through me. I hated that my body reacted to his touch like nothing had ever happened.
Anger reared its aggrieved head. How dare he rev my heart for no good reason? This time I did slap his hands away, but like a pesky fly, they immediately returned. I shoved Rory back. He barely moved, his long, solid frame more than a match for the exhaustion in me. But my anger evened the score. I advanced upon him, slapping the remainder of the countdown into his chest one rage-filled word at a time. “Three. Two. One. Where. The. Fuck. Have. You. Been. Rory. Higgins.”
The object of my animosity batted his way through my wrath before grabbing my wrists and holding them steady. I fought free of his restraint, spewing obscenities. Hitting. Accusing. Someone needed to pay for this. For Quinn’s undoing. For Elliott’s unreturned devotion. For Rory’s long-ago betrayal.
Someone. Needed. To. Pay.
Rory kept his composure through the barrage of my rage.
Finally, mercifully, I burst into tears, dropping my head into his chest. So tired of the fight. Rory’s strong, capable arms wrapped around me, offering me the rest I so desperately needed.
“I’m here,” he spoke in a heartbreaking whisper. “I’m here, Grace.”
Yes. Rory was here, towering over me, so gentle as he murmured sweet everythings in my ear.I’m here, Grace.Did he have any idea how long I’d waited to hear those words? Pressed against him, I could feel his heart speed up for me, and I squeezed tighter. We stood there for the longest time, no words passing between us. Eventually, my tears subsided, and only then did the reality of our clandestine meeting take hold.
Oh god. Elliott. My boyfriend.
I unfolded myself from the hug and took a giant step back. This was wrong. The man I was supposed to take my comfort from had been banished and humiliated. What would he think if he found me here in another man’s arms? And not just any man, but the one I’d never been able to let go of. The one I’d never even told him about because the memory of our last parting still tore at my heart. This secret rendezvous with Rory made me wonder if Elliott and I had been doomed from the start. The whole thing tonight, our fight, my behavior… I’d pinned it all on him. Yet it had always been me. Me and Rory and our promised life together that he’d thrown away. I knew he’d been lying to me that night—that he didn’t want to go—and yet he’d still walked away. Rory had done this to me, stunting my growth and seeing to it that I could never fully love another.
Perhaps sensing I was pulling away, Rory swept me up in his stare, his deadened eyes roaring back to carnal life. Ours had always been an animal attraction. A primal urge. He was forbidden fruit, always had been. I’d wanted him from the very first time I’d watched him drum. I’d been too young and naive to fully comprehend what it all meant, but he’d shown me. Oh yes, he had. And in the process, he’d set in motion an obsession that still lived inside me today.
“Grace…” he said, so alluring with his broken tenor.
