Face the Music Page 26

  “I told you what happened.” Leaving out the parts I don’t want you to know.

  “Come here.” He holds open his arms.

  I go to him willingly, sit on his thighs, and he cradles me to his chest, his nose in my hair. I hear him breathing me in. “Tell me.”

  “I walked to my car. Anthony was waiting for me. He didn’t look right, like… he wasn’t drunk, I’ve seen enough to know that, but he was on something. Anyway, he asked me to hang out with him. I said no, he pressed, I pushed back, he wouldn’t move, so I hit him, and he moved. I drove off. That’s it.”

  His arms grow tighter around me. “You need to tell your manager what happened. You can’t be allowed to work with him anymore. He needs to be fired.”

  His deep voice—level, stable, calm—washes over me and I find myself wishing I could crawl inside him. “Yeah, well…” I nuzzle my face into his chest, loving the way his scent calms my racing pulse. “I doubt they’ll do anything. We’re short-staffed and it’s his word against mine.”

  “Quit.”

  I look up at him. He must be kidding. “I can’t quit. I have rent and bills to pay.”

  “You can move in with me.”

  I get up off his lap and stare down at him as if seeing him for the first time. “Are you drunk?”

  When he looks at me, I’m surprised not to see a bit of humor in his eyes.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper. “You’re serious.”

  His gaze is unwavering. “I don’t want you going back there.”

  “I have to. It’s my job!”

  “If that fucking prick Anthony is there, it’s not.” His eyes narrow. “Unless you want to continue to work with that asshole.”

  “It’s not a matter of want. It’s a matter of have to.”

  “I just gave you a way out. You don’t have to go back.”

  “My ‘way out’ is to move in with you? Isn’t you cohabitating with a woman on your list of pastoral restrictions?”

  “I’ve thought about this all night. We’ll say you’re my roommate. We don’t need to give them any more than that.”

  “You’d lie. To the church.”

  “For you? Yes.”

  What the hell have I done to this man? “Ben, that’s not you. Don’t compromise your values for me.”

  He leans forward with his elbows on his thighs, hands in his hair, and groans. “I don’t scare easily. My only fear is something happening to Elliot, or so I thought until last night.” He tilts his head to get my eyes. “Thinking something had happened to you? And I was too far away to help? It scared me. And I’m terrified to ask myself why that is.”

  Something inside me clicks and I finally recognize that look in Ben’s eye. This has nothing to do with me. He’s experiencing some kind of post traumatic episode, crazed with fear. Fear of losing someone unexpectedly the way he did Maggie.

  Well, shit.

  I crouch in front of him, crawl between his legs, forcing him to sit up, and I wrap my arms around him. He holds me so tightly, I can only take shallow breaths, but I give him the time he needs to hold on.

  When his grip loosens, I sit back on my heels with his hands in mine. “I’ll talk to my manager.”

  “Today?”

  “Yes, today.”

  He grinds his molars. “You’ll have security walk you to your car every night and keep me on the phone until you’re home safe.”

  “Yes.”

  “Will you at least consider finding a new job?”

  The desperate plea makes me smile. “I’ll consider it.”

  He reaches for me, but he doesn’t have to reach far because I meet him halfway and fall into his embrace. I close my eyes as what feels like the walls closing in around me threatens to steal my breath.

  I am in way too deep.

  No turning back.

  Heartbreak is inevitable.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ben

  As much as I didn’t want to leave Ashleigh’s house, she insisted she had things to do before she promised she’d leave for work early so she could have a word with her manager. She made it clear that she and Anthony would be working tonight, which I am not fucking okay with, but swore she’d ignore him if he wasn’t immediately fired after her talk with her boss.

  She said all the right things to calm me down enough to leave. I grabbed sandwiches and came home to sit on the back porch while Donna and Elliot have a picnic in the grass. I push my food aside, having no appetite.

  I’m short on sleep and out of patience when it comes to Ashleigh not taking her safety seriously. Does she not understand how quickly her life can be taken from her? How could she be so careless with something as valuable as her life?

  She doesn’t see her life as valuable.

  And why is that?

  If something happens to her, if she gets hurt in some stupid, avoidable way, I’ll never forgive her.

  My phone rings, and the caller ID says it’s Bethany.

  I answer it. “’Bout time.”

  “You left me a message thirty minutes ago.”

  Has it only been thirty minutes? “I need some information.”

  “You sound weird,” she says cautiously. “Is everything okay? Is something wrong with Elliot?”

  I try to relax enough so my voice doesn’t shake. “Fine. Tell me about Anthony.”

  “Anthony? Why? He’s a scumbag.”

  “Yeah, I get that, but what is his history with Ashleigh?”

  I thought the worst response I could get from Bethany would be her telling me that they were a couple once, that they were hopelessly in love until the fucker cheated on her or something. I was wrong. Her silence is worse. Because in her silence, I read that the history between Ashleigh and Anthony runs deeper than something that can be summed up in a phone conversation.

  “You’re not going to tell me.” Not a question.

  She sighs. “It’s not my story to tell.”

  “But there is a story there.”

  “Yes. And I don’t think Ashleigh will talk about it.”

  “Does she talk to you about it?”

  “Never. The only reason I know is because I lived with her and I’m pretty observant.”

  I drop my head back and stare at the puffy white clouds that pepper the sky. “You’ve got to give me something. Please.”

  “Why are you asking? What does Anthony have to do with you and Ash?”

  Nothing. And everything. “Have you talked to her today?”

  “No, but she called about an hour ago. I plan to call her back but wanted to reach out to you first.”

  “Call her back, then call me back.”

  “Why can’t you tell me what’s going on?” she asks. “I’m getting a little freaked out over here. Not so much because of Anthony, although he’s a slimy bastard, but because I feel like you’re keeping a secret about my sister from me.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that.” I stare blindly at Elliot and Donna laughing. “I just… I get the feeling she needs someone to talk to, and as much as I wish that she’d talk to me, I know she’s holding something back.”

  “I’ll call her, but, Ben?”

  I grunt.

  “Anthony and Ashleigh were years ago. You have nothing to worry about.”

  I hope you’re right. “I know. Just call her.”

  “I will. Bye.”

  Ashleigh

  After Ben left, I tried to go back to sleep but was left staring at my ceiling with a mean case of over-analysis paralysis. What exactly am I hoping to accomplish by being part of Ben’s life? I suppose part of me felt safe spending time with him because I knew he’d never fall in love with me. With Elliot and Maggie, there’s no room in his heart for one more.

  What I didn’t count on was my falling in love with him.

  The sickness that rolls through my gut at the idea that Ben might actually see me, the real me, goes well beyond lust or some temporary crush. For the first time in my entire life, I want to be so
meone he deserves. I regret every one-night stand, every careless sexual encounter that led me to choices I can’t take back. Choices a man like Ben, with his religious convictions, could never accept.

  So what now?

  Do I ride this out as long as I can, take what I can get because I know a man like Ben only comes around once in a lifetime and once he’s gone, I’ll be left with a broken heart and series of relationships where I’m forced to settle? Or do I end this now and save myself from further heartache? Because every minute with Ben, I find myself more attached. More entwined. More in love. And I have to consider Elliot. What happens with her when I walk away? Will she feel abandoned?

  I curl to my side, gripping my pillow to my chest to try to squelch the ache of my circumstances. Anthony’s cigarette burns ache, but the physical marks he left on me aren’t nearly as damaging as the emotional.

  The day slips away as I soak in the pool of my own making, and when I jump in the shower to get ready for work, I’m convinced of what I need to do. On autopilot, I go through the motions of getting ready, making sure to wear a shirt that comes above my cleavage, where burn ointment is covered by a Band-Aid. For a second, I appreciate the wounds, thankful for the reminder of why I have to do what’s best for Ben. What’s best for me.

  On my drive to work, I call Bethany, knowing she’ll reach out to Ben if I don’t return her calls.

  She answers on the second ring. “Hey, Ash. What’s up?”

  “You tell me.” I’m pulling out of the parking lot at my complex, the sun setting in the distance. “I’m returning your calls.”

  “Oh yeah, I figured you were probably sleeping. I know you’ve been crazy busy.”

  I hum in response.

  “Are you all right? You don’t sound like yourself.”

  No shit. “Just tired.” Of my thoughts. My doubts. Living in my own head.

  “How’s Ben?”

  “Good.”

  “All right, that’s it. Now I know something is going on. What happened?”

  It’s not so much what happened; it’s about what’s going to happen. Can I trust my best friend with the truth? History proves I can’t. Everything I say gets back to Ben eventually.

  “I’m fine, really. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” After this thing with Ben is behind me, I’ll tell her everything. “I have to go.”

  “What’s up with Anthony?”

  My hand grips my cell phone tighter. “You talked to Ben.”

  “I did, but he won’t tell me anything. I’m worried about you.”

  “Well, don’t be. I’m fine—”

  “I know,” she says quietly. Tenderly. “We never talked about it, but I knew. Two years ago?”

  I pull my car over, throw it in park, and close my eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”

  “You were so happy, then one day you weren’t. I wasn’t sure what was wrong, but then Anthony brought you home one day and you looked so sick and you stayed in bed for five days.”

  “Shit—”

  “You told me you had the flu, but you never took any of the flu medicine I brought you. And I’d hear you crying in your room when you thought I was asleep…”

  Silence stretches between us.

  She clears her throat. “It didn’t take much for me to figure it out.”

  I tilt my head back in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I figured if you wanted me to know you’d tell me.”

  The first tear falls. “This whole time, you knew? And you still, you—”

  “You’re my best friend. You always will be. Nothing can change that.”

  “You have strong feelings about… that. Your religious beliefs. I thought you’d hate me.”

  “Never.” Her response comes so fast and powerful, it brings more tears to the forefront. “I could never hate you. And neither would Ben.”

  I shake my head even though she can’t see me. “You don’t know that. If he knew, if he knew everything—”

  “He would still love you. Maybe even love you more, because you should know, Ashleigh Kendrick, the more people know about you, the more you let people in, the more you are impossible not to love.”

  That’s it. I lose it. A sob rips from my throat and tears stream down my face.

  “Oh no…” she says with so much sympathy, my chest aches. “What happened? Talk to me.”

  “I… I…” Another sob rips through me.

  “Tell me, let me help you.”

  And so, in my weakness, I tell my best friend everything and pray she keeps my secrets.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ashleigh

  After my talk with Bethany and having to redo my makeup in the car, I was twenty minutes late for work. I slipped into the club without my manager seeing and told him I was in the stockroom when he asked where I’d been.

  I did not talk to him about Anthony.

  When I see Anthony, he’s pulling glassware from the dishwasher. He freezes and looks at me apologetically, but I ignore him and push by him, sticking to my side of the bar. For a minute, I think I’ll be able to pull off ignoring him. He seems just as eager to keep his distance from me.

  When my hands are busy refilling the paper in the well bar printer, he comes up behind me. He doesn’t touch me, but I feel his presence at my back.

  “I’m really sorry, babe—”

  “Don’t.” I turn around calmly and look him in the eye, noticing the slight bruising around his nose. Good. I’m glad I left a mark. “Don’t talk to me. We aren’t friends. We never will be. And do not call me babe. Don’t even call me Ashleigh. Just leave me alone.”

  He shifts on his feet, hurt on his face. “Are you okay?” He nods toward my chest.

  “Leave. Me. Alone.”

  He sighs and nods. “All right. I’m really sorry—”

  I turn back around, my skin practically vibrating with anger and all I want to say, all I want to scream. Like, do you realize what I’ve lost because of you? The man I have to give up because of what you did? Because of what we did?

  But I say none of those things because it’s not Anthony’s fault. Not entirely. I am the only person responsible for my circumstances.

  I bury myself in work and tell myself I’ll pull my manager aside at my break, but that time comes and goes and I can’t bring myself to do it. The fact is, Anthony has been at the club longer than I have. If I put my manager in a position to choose, I’m not completely confident he’ll choose to keep me.

  Look for a new job first, then tell management what happened. If they want to fire me, they’ll find a legitimate reason to do it—I’ve been caught drinking a little too much on the job and I’ve had countless tardies. I head back to my shift early, needing to stay busy so I don’t think about what I have to do.

  The throbbing music is enough to drown out my inner voice that tells me this is my life and I better get used to it. I pour myself a double shot of tequila and throw it back before I can change my mind. The bar patrons cheer and order their own shots, and I smile and laugh, pretending I’m the girl I was before I met Ben. The girl who can still find joy in her miserable life.

  Keeping away from Anthony, I find a small slice of peace at my corner of the bar.

  When I look up and see Ben with his elbows braced on the bar, his eyes looking black under the lights, and his jaw so hard it looks as though it might crack, I freeze where I’m standing. His glare tightens. He tilts his head. And then, he does what most men do every night. He takes me in, studying me like a specimen under a microscope, undressing me with the heat of his gaze, and I’m powerless against it. I stand dumbly, watching him pick me apart with his eyes and feeling a surge of lust at the heat that flares in his eyes.

  I’m drawn closer by some invisible tether that he tugs with the power of his gaze until I’m pressed against the bar opposite him. He leans in. I follow suit, unable to resist his silent demand for my lips. Our mouths are close,
and we’ve yet to say a single word to each other. I close my eyes, waiting for the gentle press of his lips. Then I feel a tug, a simple pull on the neck of my shirt to draw me even closer. So lost in my desire to kiss him, I don’t move fast enough, and my eyes snap open at his quick release of my top.

  Ben is over the bar. I see his back. Then his cocked arm.

  “Ben, stop!” I yell.

  But it’s too late.

  Anthony turns right into Ben’s left hook, which sends the bartender back into a stack of clean glassware. The shatter comes seconds before the next hit. This one harder than the first. Anthony’s head falls to the side, his eyes rolling back in his head, and he’s down. Out cold. But Ben reaches for him, either not noticing Anthony’s been knocked out or not caring.

  My hands are over my mouth and I can’t catch my breath enough to scream.

  Two bouncers spring from the crowd.

  They pull Ben back just as he releases his third punch, the hit barely grazing Anthony’s jaw. These guys are huge, but Ben manages to wrestle them off of him to lunge after Anthony.

  I dart between the bouncers and grab Ben’s shirt. “Ben, please, don’t!”

  His body jerks at the sound of my voice. That split-second pause gives the bouncers enough time to grab him and drag him out from behind the bar. I follow them until they get to the back door and shove him outside.

  “Cool the fuck off, asshole.” That comes from Billy, one of the bouncers.

  Ben doesn’t yell, doesn’t tell the guys to fuck off. He’s terrifyingly silent as he braces his hands on the back of his head and walks down the alley, breathing heavily.

  “Can you guys give me a minute with him?” I ask Billy.

  He studies me and Ben for a minute and then nods. “Make it fast. If he runs that shit is on you.”

  “He won’t run.” I watch until the bouncers are out of earshot and look at Ben, his hands on his hips, his back to me. I walk toward him, and his shoulders tense at the sound of my boots closing in. I stop a few feet from him.