The Problem With Heartache (Crazy in Love #3) Page 6

  “Whatever it is, just tell me. You can tell me anything.” I shook my head. “I know my contract said no scandal, but shit, guys. You’re pretty clean-cut.”

  Silence coated the room. Down below, a car horn honked. A siren wailed. More lights stopped and started, caught in the humdrum of big-city traffic.

  “Your father and I … we met at a very early age,” Mom started.

  “We fell in love,” Dad blurted out, and he looked up at her with that look again.

  “We did.” Mom studied her hand, linked with Dad’s. “We met at fifteen, and we just … it was like the stories say. When you find the one, you know. You just know.”

  “And you guys did.” I grinned. I’d heard this story before, and it had shaped my views on romance. My folks were the kind of parents who held hands at my school concerts, who made a big deal about going on date nights as soon as I was old enough to be left alone. The kind who would stay together forever. “The perfect romance.”

  “We … there might have b … been some things we haven’t told you, s … son,” Dad stuttered. His hands worked circles over my mother’s stockinged knee, and my shoulders tensed. If he was getting worked up about it, this must be serious.

  “We met when we were fifteen. It was at a church barbeque at your grandma’s friend’s house.” Mom’s blue eyes glassed over. “Your father was there, a friend of one of the other families, and I still remember to this day the moment I laid eyes on him.” She looked down at Dad and I saw their hands squeeze together. “His eyes met mine across the yard. I was playing tennis, and straight away he drew my attention. He was the handsomest boy I’d ever seen …”

  She got a faraway expression on her face and I raised a corner of my lips in a grin. My phone beeped, but I didn’t check it. It was probably just the boys, hurrying me along.

  “He mouthed the words ‘You’re beautiful’ to me, just as I served the ball … and hit him straight in the head with it.” At this both Mom and Dad giggled, and I managed a laugh. “I knocked your father out cold. He came to with me pressing a bag of frozen peas to his forehead …”

  I shook my head and laughed, imagining my usually quite proper mother’s awkwardness. “But you hit it off, right? Then you dated, got married, and had me?”

  At this, Mom paused. “Not exactly.” She swallowed. “We’ve always encouraged you to follow your own beliefs and dreams, do your own thing, right?”

  “Yes,” I said slowly, angling my head to the side.

  “And you know that I grew up in a very religious household, right?” This time I just nodded, and made a movement signal with my hands. Get on with the story. “Well, the first time we had sex was not actually on our wedding night.”

  “Mom!” I frowned and leaned back. I did not need to hear about this.

  “Lee, just hear me out. It was there, at that party, that day. The first time I met your father.”

  My eyes widened. Now that was weird. My up-until-that-point virgin, religious mother lost it to my dad instead of waiting for marriage?

  “Wow,” I muttered. “I mean, that’s fine, but I really thought you would have waited. With your upbringing, and all.”

  From the way she bit her lip, I could tell this was no random sex confession. In my head, I was doing the math. Is this the story I think it is? That instead of being nineteen, I was actually twenty-four, and they’d lied to me about my birthdate to hide the truth from Mom’s zealously religious family?

  “We didn’t. And much to our surprise, we fell pregnant.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, I guess I’d always been taller, a little broader in the chest than a heap of guys my age in school, but—

  “We had a baby. A little boy.” I nodded. What a mind-fuck. “And then we put him up for adoption.”

  What?

  I stared at my parents, the same mother and father I’d always known, with fresh eyes. It was only a few minutes in that I registered my mom’s mouth was still moving. She was telling me more.

  “My parents, they didn’t support me. Didn’t support us, and I couldn’t really blame them.” A single tear fell down her cheek, and I’d almost have thought it was poetic if it were anyone but her. Dad reached over and gave her a hug. His hand shook so badly, it was as if there were an earthquake inside his body. “They sent me away, and I had the baby … and then let it go.” A full-blown sob escaped her mouth, and I walked over and put my hand on her shoulder.

  My folks were the kind you saw holding hands in the street. Sharing kisses in the snow. They were good people, the kind who went out of their way to help others, who always look out for their family.

  They were not the type of people who made mistakes. They were not the kind of people who had secrets.

  Not child-sized secrets that could rip you apart.

  I couldn’t imagine that; so alone in the world, a kid at fifteen, and with a baby to a guy you’d just met, who you’d presumably—

  “You guys did still lose your virginity to each other though, right?” I asked through narrowed eyes.

  “Yes!”

  “Of course!” Mom and Dad replied at the same time, and air whooshed through my lips. I mean, nothing wrong with having sex with a few people in your life. But probably not when you were fifteen and younger, was all. Or specifically, if you were my parents. Because, ew.

  “So I have a …”

  “A brother.” Mom nodded, and she smiled. I gave a small shake of my head. This? This was a lot to take in. But it wasn’t the end of the world. I mean, it was hardly the scandal they’d made it out to be.

  “It’s …” I nodded. “… a lot to take in. But, you know, cool.” I gave a weak smile. It was a heap of news, and I was overwhelmed, but I really had to get to this party. I stood up, checking my towel was still secure, and turned to head to the bedroom in the suite.

  “Wait,” Dad called.

  There was something there, in his voice. Urgency, maybe.

  No. It was desperation.

  “We got an email from him this week.” Mom’s voice was trembling now. “When we gave him up, we left our details in the system in case he ever wanted to get in touch.”

  “And he … did?” Thu-thump. My heart pounded, loudly.

  “Yes.” Mom nodded. “He still has no interest in meeting us. But he wants to speak to you.”

  Present day …

  IT WAS waiting for me on my seat when I sat down on the bus. A small white envelope. My name scrawled in black pen on the front.

  “What’s that?” Lottie asked, leaning over.

  I shoved the letter under my arm. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing, huh?” She raised her brows, and I smiled. At least she was being nice.

  I scanned my gaze past her to the small boy sitting by her side, his eyes glued to the window. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s good.” Lottie gazed adoringly at her son. “I mean, touring’s a lot to get used to, but he’s getting there.”

  Silence washed over us, but she didn’t look away. Did she want something from me? “If you need to go grab anything at the next stop, you know I’d be happy to look after—”

  “Thanks.” She pressed her lips together, a smile curling them up at the sides. “That would be good, Lee.”

  I settled back in to my seat and she settled back into hers. When I was certain Lottie’s eyes were back on Jay, I turned my focus back to the letter. I ripped it open, eager to read the contents.

  Dear Lee,

  Thanks so much for your letter. It was really nice of you to write, and you didn’t have to do that. You know, I kinda thought you might have been some jerky rock star who, say, likes to take his top off to make young employees feel flustered, but maybe I got the wrong impression of you after all.

  I stopped my reading and looked over at Kate, but she was asleep, her head resting against the windowpane opposite me.

  Still, you need to know that you don’t have to do this. If you need me to leave, or if I’
m not pulling my weight, let me know. Just don’t jerk me around.

  It’s strange—I’ve never met anyone who has family problems similar to my own. I feel like we maybe … maybe have this connection, or something? Like I can trust you.

  Don’t be one of those dumb tortured artists who looks for an opportunity to make everyone else feel inferior. Who uses people for lyrical material. I know you apologised when Dave wrote that song about me, and somehow I don’t think you would ever do anything like it, but it still … well, it still stings.

  Trust is a big deal. Please don’t let me down, Lee. My heart has already experienced more than it can take.

  Kate

  I crumpled the letter up. The fact that she even thought for a moment I’d do something like that … it made me so damn angry. My muscles tensed, and my fists clenched.

  I was not that guy.

  I wasn’t the guy who hurt people.

  Not anymore.

  WHEN I’D sent Lee the letter, asking him not to use me for material, I’d felt a little like an idiot. But I just couldn’t really see why he’d wanted me on the road, why he was being so damn nice when I was just a kid from Australia.

  All I could think of was the parent connection. It made sense. And I so desperately wanted to believe it was that, rather than the horrid alternative.

  Still, when I found my next letter, this time sticking under my hotel room door a few days later, apprehension stirred in my veins, pumping my blood at double-speed through my body.

  Dear Kate,

  It’s taken me a few days to reply because your letter made me so damn mad. I would never do something like that dickhead ex of yours did. I would never treat a woman, an employee, and especially not a lover the way he did you, so don’t for one second think that I would.

  I know it seems strange that I hired you … let’s just say I have a debt to pay to society. And if I can help you, help your family … that’s gonna mean a lot to me.

  Anyway, enough of the heavy shit! You’re doing a real good job on tour at the moment, but I just thought I’d let you know that this morning, you’ll probably need to go in and wake Xander up. I think he took sleeping tablets last night.

  Lee

  Dear Lee,

  It’s taken me a few days to reply because I AM SO MAD AT YOU! You knew, didn’t you? When I opened Xander’s door and saw him with that woman—oh my God! Thank goodness I heard him first, so I was able to close my eyes before the image of him banging some random was burned into my retinas. I was just grateful that even though I lost my ability to form a coherent sentence, I was still able to yell ‘no’ when he asked if I wanted to join in.

  You know, this is kind of sexual harassment …

  Kate

  I shook my head, staring at my letter before I left it on Lee’s seat in the bus. It hadn’t really been all that bad. I’d seen no naked body parts, unless you count Xander’s back—to be honest, it was a really fine back, too.

  I hadn’t known how to respond, but after a few days I’d decided to have a little fun with it. After all, the guy was clearly asking for it.

  That was why I tucked a condom that I’d dosed in milk a few times and then let dry into the envelope. It mightn’t have look one hundred per cent believable, but it was close enough.

  Dear Kate,

  You are sexually harassing me. Did you seriously just send me a used condom? And dear God, please tell me it wasn’t one of Xander’s. No wait; I don’t think I want it to be one that you’ve used, either.

  Seriously, when I got that I pissed myself laughing. And then rapidly tried to hide the “balloon” from Jay, who wanted to blow it up. Lottie was not impressed.

  You know, most employees we’ve had in the past just smile and say “Yes, Lee”. They don’t bite back when I put them to the test. You’re different, Kate.

  By the way, how’s your dad? Heard from him since you got here?

  Lee

  P.S. I like different.

  Dear Lee,

  First up, let’s get one thing straight: if most of your past employees let you play practical jokes on them, they were idiots. I’m nothing special, Lee. I’m just not gonna let you walk all over me. Gosh, have you met any Australians before? We don’t take crap!

  On a more serious note, though, I am sorry about Jay and Lottie. That’s actually seriously not cool of me, and I didn’t even think about it. I should have popped the note under your hotel door instead. Or maybe just taken a Polaroid of Xander doing the deed and left that for you to enjoy more discreetly …

  Dad’s okay. Mum sent me an email the other day, letting me know how he was. I just … I haven’t been able to write back yet, you know? I don’t know what to say …

  Do you ever find that with your parents?

  Kate

  Dear Kate,

  Do. Not. EVER send me a photo of Xander in any form of compromising position. The only naked photo you’re allowed to send me …

  You can probably still read that, but interpret it as you will.

  I actually do know what you mean. It’s—I’ve never been able to kinda say it to anyone else, you know? My folks are separated, and when I go to email Dad it can be kinda hard. How do you say things about your life when you know in comparison, theirs isn’t that great? And then I worry that he’ll get frustrated typing back. That the shakes will become too much, that he’ll feel this obligation when really, I just want him to be happy. I know that in the past, things I’ve done have upset him, and I have no doubt they made his condition worse.

  Now, I would give anything to make him healthy, Kate.

  Anything.

  Lee

  I read the letter one more time, then folded it up into a neat little square and stored it in the side compartment of my bag. Somehow, during my first week on the road, Lee-freaking-Collins and I had developed this friendship, this strange bond.

  It didn’t take away my pain.

  It didn’t help me sleep when thoughts of Lachlan danced in my mind, taunting me with their ever-growing elusiveness.

  But it did make me feel less lonely, and that made a difference.

  It was that little bit of something that made me have faith.

  I RECOGNISED the pain in her eyes. She wore it every day, a new mask trying to cover the grief that lurked underneath.

  The sort of grief that churned in your body.

  The sort of grief you couldn’t forget.

  That was why, after the first few weeks on the road, I’d decided to make it my personal mission to make this girl smile. I knew it was dangerous; knew I shouldn’t spend too much time with her.

  But sometimes, you don’t always do what’s right for you.

  And you don’t always do what’s right for other people.

  The problem was, the more I saw of her the more I was finding it hard to keep it professional. I felt this connection to her, for some reason. She was different to the usual team of women I saw, who were all too eager to give in to my requests. She fought back. Not only that, but I’d started to share parts of myself with her in those letters, parts I didn’t share with anyone. And given my current circumstance, that wasn’t good at all.

  I glanced across the aisle of the bus to her. She was resting her head against the window, her pale skin lit by the setting sun in the distance. We were on our way back to LA again after a stint up the coast in San Francisco.

  “Stop looking at me.”

  I frowned. “Your eyes are closed. How can you even see?”

  Kate’s lids blinked open, and she raised her brows. “You have this kind of penetrating stare thing going on. I can feel it.”

  I raised one side of my lips in a smile. Kate was not afraid of me. It was … weird.

  “You can penetrate me anytime.” One of the dancers, America, I think her name was, giggled, and I quickly checked the bus to make sure Jay was still down the back with Lottie and hadn’t heard. Sometimes those girls had no thought for others. Still, their attitude was what
I was used to. Blatant flirting. Innuendo. Not … indifference. Not like I was getting from Kate.

  I stood up and crossed the aisle, setting myself down into the seat next to her. She gave me a lazy smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

  Silence.

  And then …

  “Sometimes, until I was about fifteen, Dad would come into my room at night and just stare at me.” Her eyes stay fixed out the window at the passing traffic. “It used to really annoy me—sneaking out was that much harder when your father checked in so often.”

  “Is that creepy?” I furrowed my brow.

  “No.” Kate’s word wasn’t angry or shocked. It was surprisingly calm. “It was just … it was his thing, you know? And when I asked him why he did it, he’d say it was because sometimes he just couldn’t believe I was real. That he and Mom made me. And that he needed to keep me safe.”

  Safety. Family. I shuddered. They were on my mind a lot lately.

  “Of course, he doesn’t do that anymore.” Kate gave me a quick glance, and I saw the pain flash in her eyes. “But I can usually tell when people are staring at me, even if my eyes are closed, all the same.”

  “Do you miss that side of him?”

  “Yes. No. Everything.” She sighed, her head turning to face the window again. Cars sped past, the ocean a glimmer of turquoise in the background. It really was a pretty trip. “He’s still protective, and he still loves me. Sometimes it can just be hard to remember, when you have to protect him.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Not even … not even against physical things. But sometimes protect him against things people say, or do.” I’d sure had a lot of defending my dad from stranger’s looks since Parkinson’s had tightened its ugly hold around my father’s neck.