Tex grabbed the roll of paper towels they’d used for napkins. His comforting arm around Killy’s neck pulled him close, holding on through the worst while Tex dabbed at his damp cheeks. Man, it felt good to be held. With Mama and Elliot gone, and Killy’s father who-knew-where, he’d faced tragedy alone, with no arms to hold him, no one to tell him things would work out. No one to…
“Thanks.” Killy let Tex wipe his face.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
No one had ever spoken so kindly before. “I want to. I don’t have a clue why, but I want to.” Resting his head on the offered shoulder, Killian nuzzled into the embrace, drenching Tex’s T-shirt with three years’ worth of pent-up agony.
“The driver stopped the bus and ran to help. Rob jumped up and stormed past us. Elliot was so still. I couldn’t see him breathing.” Killy choked on the words, squeezing them out around the heart lodged in his throat. “I… I tried to help him….”
Elliot! Elliot! Don’t leave me, brother!
Tex clasped his shoulder, a solid tie to the here and now. Killian grasped that hand, hanging on for all he was worth. He took a deep breath. Time to exorcise his personal demons once and for all by sharing them with another. “I left it to the driver to stop that asshole. Next thing I know, we’re barreling down the highway, and… nothing. For a split second I didn’t hear a thing, no tires on pavement, no humming engine, nothing. Then we fell.”
Screaming, searing hot pain. “Elliot! Elliot!” Screeching metal, an explosion… silence.
“I woke up in intensive care. The papers already reported the whole band dead, and I decided….”
“If it weren’t broke, you weren’t gonna fix it,” Tex finished for him. Killian nodded against Tex’s shoulder.
“Rob, Ace, the driver, all gone. According to the coroner, Elliot died of traumatic asphyxiation. I fell asleep for a few minutes, and that’s all it took. The wreck didn’t kill him, Rob did with his bare fucking hands. Then finished the job with the rest of the band by driving us of a cliff. Son-of-a-bitch had enough meth in his system to keep us all partying for a week.”
“And you blame yourself for the whole damned thing.”
Killy released a long breath and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Most of it, anyway.”
Tex shoulder-bumped him. “If I told you it wasn’t your fault would you believe me?”
“Probably not.” Killy swiped at his nose with a paper towel. Damn but Tex’s arm felt good around his shoulder.
“Then it’s up to you to convince yourself, but Killy?”
“Yeah?”
“You stood by your brother. You did what you could for him. Never forget that.”
“I shoulda…”
“Shh…” Tex placed a finger over Killy’s lips. “You did all you could do. You’re just a man after all. You loved your brother and took care of him the best you could.”
“I tried. I really tried.”
“Is that why you keep moving? So, you’ll never get attached, never settle down, ‘cause then you’ll run the risk of losing someone else?”
How did the man get to be so damned smart? “I got tired of the legal mumbo-jumbo, folks wanting me to sign this and sign that, my manager wanting me to form another band, Rob and Ace’s families filing lawsuits, tying up assets. Everybody and their brother hoped to make a profit off of three good men losing their lives.”
Killy scrubbed his hands over his face again, day-old stubble rasping against his palms. “Makes me sick to my stomach. When I’d had enough, I hired the best lawyer I could find and got the hell out. Now I keep my head down, don’t live like a rock star, and avoid ATMs and such that might give away where I am. My name doesn’t trigger any red flags with those who know I’m alive, ’cause they’d never expect me to show up on stage in some out of the way bar, playing backup for little more than drinks and tips. Last I heard, there were at least four of us billing ourselves as Killian Desmond.”
“I knew it was the real you,” Tex replied. “Hell, sight unseen, I’da known it the second you started playing. Nobody rocks like you do. You play from the heart. And not many lead guitarists that I know of play electro-acoustic. It gives your music a distinct sound.”
Killian took a deep breath and barked out a bitter laugh. “For all the good it does me.”
A smile peeked through Tex’s scruff. “I’ve sung backup for you in the car more times than I can count. Funny, you’re alone, but you kept me from being lonely during the worst times in my life.”
He didn’t say another word, simply held Killian through another bout of sobbing that slowly gentled into weak, sniffling hiccups. Killy fell asleep to a softly sung melody.
20
What the hell had Killy done? Told everything to a near stranger. No, not a stranger. Hell, three weeks beat some kind of record for longest a man had spent in his bed.
