Belonging (30 page)

Zan grinned embarrassedly, looking
down at our joined hands, and Eddie said, “Have you ever sung it
for him, Zan?”

“No, never. It’s news to me that
Gianni even knows any of my songs.”

Eddie said, “Do you think you might
consider playing that song for us? That would be a really nice way
to end this interview. I mean, only if you want to. No
pressure.”

“It’d be a pleasure,” Zan said. He got
up and led me to the grand piano in the corner. Eddie grabbed his
gear and followed us, setting up a new shot as our little audience
turned their chairs ninety degrees. “Do you play?” Zan asked me
once we were seated at the bench.

“Very, very badly. Nana made my
brothers and me take piano lessons when we were growing up. I was
woefully inept.”

Zan grinned at me as he began playing.
It was utterly effortless, as much a part of him as breathing.
“Wow, you’re incredibly good at that,” I murmured, then tacked on,
“I mean, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“I’m too good at it, to the extent
that it forever determined the path my life would take. I was
labeled a child prodigy at age four, and by six I was playing
concert halls throughout the UK. I sometimes wonder what would have
become of me if my Gran hadn’t had that old, tinny piano in her
house in Croydon, and if I hadn’t sat down at it one day and begun
playing along with the radio. If no one ever discovered I could do
this, what would I be now? A lorry driver, perhaps? Or maybe I’d be
managing a chip shop. I loved nothing more than chips as a
kid.”

He smiled at me and I said, “It’s
impossible to imagine you doing anything but this.” His graceful
hands continued to fill the space around us with music, the tune
vivid and evocative. “What’s that you’re playing?”

“Nothing. I’m just improvising,
stalling a bit if I’m being honest.”

“Why?”

He looked down, his thick lashes
shielding his green eyes. “It’s an odd thing, singing for you. I’ve
sung for royalty, and presidents, and before crowds of tens of
thousands of people. None of that made me nervous. This
does.”

“Why would singing for me make you
nervous?”

“Because you matter so much more than
all of that.” I wrapped my arm around his waist and rested my head
on his shoulder.

After a minute, Zan transitioned into
the song I’d mentioned, the familiar tune washing over me. Then he
began to sing, his voice astonishingly beautiful, clear and
resonant. I sat up so I could watch him, and tried to reconcile the
two Zans in my mind. Somehow, I never thought of the man I knew as
this person, as the international pop star, the incredibly famous
performer, as a legend, but he was all those things.

Seeing him perform was wonderful and
heartbreaking at the same time. Zan was so much more than me. I’d
always known that, but all of a sudden it was as glaringly obvious
as a spotlight right in the eyes.

He had to know that too, and now that
he was back out in the world, he’d find someone so much better than
me. I’d been his sole option when he’d been sealed up in his house,
literally the only man in the world for him, simply because I’d
been the only person to come along in a decade. It wasn’t that I
was something special, I’d just been at the right place at the
right time. He’d realize that soon enough. There were thousands of
people that would give anything to wind up in his bed, and there
was absolutely no way I could compete with that.

I pressed my eyes shut, the words he
was singing cutting right through me. “I’m yours alone,” he sang,
“Forever and always.” I was stupid to think I’d be able to hold the
attention of a man like Zan Tillane, any more than the subject of
that song had been able to.

When he reached the end, Zan turned to
me. I composed myself immediately, but a little frown line appeared
between his eyebrows, telling me he’d seen something in my
expression. I smiled at him, then picked up his hand and kissed his
fingers. “That was beautiful,” I told him. The last thing I needed
was to drive him away even sooner with my insecurity, so I tried
really hard to act like everything was fine.

Meanwhile, our little audience was
cheering and applauding. Eddie came up to Zan, shook his hand, and
gushed, “Thank you, sincerely, not only from me but on behalf of
your fans. I have goosebumps! Oh my God, that was so
great!”

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Zan said
modestly.

“I think we should end the interview
there if you feel like you’ve said what you want to.” When Zan
nodded, Eddie thanked both of us, then addressed the camera,
thanking the viewers. After he stopped recording, he immediately
started watching the playback and murmured, “That’s a relief, it
looks like I got all of that.”

Jessie jumped up and came over to him,
saying, “I knew you were the right person to call. That was
perfect!”

“Do you really think I did okay?”
Eddie asked him, straightening his glasses. “Talk about being in
over my head!”

“It was awesome, seriously,” Jessie
told him.

Eddie smiled and said, “Thanks. Do you
think it would it be okay if I stuck around for a few minutes and
got this uploaded? I just need to edit out the parts where I’m
turning the camera on and off and add a title. I’m scared to death
that this funky old equipment will break down on me before I get
the video online.”

“No problem,” Jessie said. “Let’s take
your stuff into the kitchen and I’ll make us some iced tea while
you do what you need to.”

After those two cleared out, Christian
rolled up to us and pulled his dad down into a hug. “I was
surprised you revealed so much,” he said. “I’m proud of you for
being so candid. That’s going to answer a lot of questions for your
fans.”

“It was high time,” Zan
said.

After he and his son spoke for a few
minutes, Zan said, “I think we should go up and pack a bag before
Shea’s brother returns to whisk us away.” I nodded in
agreement.

As soon as we were up in my bedroom
with the door closed behind us, Zan drew me into his arms and asked
if I was alright. “I’m fine,” I said automatically, sinking into
his embrace.

“You sure? You looked upset earlier
when I got through singing. I hope you’d tell me if something was
bothering you, love.”

“Nothing’s bothering me.” It was a
lie, but what was I supposed to say, that the more I realized how
incredible he was, the more I felt completely unworthy of him? That
made me sound pathetic. I gave him a smile and said, “We’d better
pack. I’ll get our toiletries while you go see if any of my coats
and boots fit you. It’ll probably be cold up in Tahoe.” He frowned
again as I retreated to the bathroom.

Chapter Fifteen

The cabin was comfortable and
charming. It was also wonderfully private, with thick stands of
pines blocking off the cabins on either side of us, all of which
were some distance away and standing empty in the off-season. The
hillside location provided sweeping views of the sapphire blue lake
and the surrounding snowy mountains, and soon after we arrived I
went out onto the deck and took it all in. The only sound was the
wind rustling through the trees, which was also fairly brisk. It
felt good though, waking me up a bit after the long car
ride.

Leaving the city had been every bit as
crazy as we’d anticipated. The press and paparazzi probably would
have trampled us in their quest for a soundbite, if not for the
dozen security guards that helped us reach Officer Nolan’s
department-issued SUV. They then followed us, of course, in cars,
news vans, and even in the news helicopter, which seemed like
complete overkill.

Fortunately though, Finn Nolan had
planned everything well, pulling off a getaway worthy of James
Bond. With the assistance of two well-placed SFPD roadblocks that
only we were allowed to cross and a slick move where we switched
vehicles inside a parking garage to lose the helicopter, we managed
to get out of town undetected. Nolan had kept his cop face on
throughout most of that, allowing himself only one quick fist-pump
when he lost the last of our annoying caravan. He’d clearly enjoyed
himself, though. Our one-man police escort had taken off just a
couple minutes ago, after giving us a quick tour of the cabin and
making sure the water and power were operational.

My phone buzzed and I pulled it out of
my pocket. There were a few texts waiting for me, including
messages from Yosh and Chance, asking how we were. I wrote back
quickly, assuring both of them that all was well, then read a
longer message from Dante. He let me know that things had died down
considerably once we took off. Christian and Shea, along with Skye
and Dare, had gone the hoodies-and-sunglasses route and cleared out
anonymously after the majority of the reporters tried to follow
Zan, and all had made it home without incident. Dante and Charlie
stayed at Nana’s, both to help her clean up the front yard and
finish the paint job, and to assure that she didn’t do anything to
the few paparazzi that lingered on the sidewalk. A couple security
guards also remained to keep my family from getting hassled by the
stragglers.

Jessie had texted as well to let me
know that Zan’s video had gone viral instantly and was one of the
top news stories on a lot of the networks. As soon as the video
went live, Eddie himself had been inundated by reporters who wanted
to interview him about Zan. He’d assured Jessie he wasn’t going to
talk to them.

A lot of the wind had been taken out
of the sails of the reporters, all of whom had wanted to scoop the
story of Zan’s disappearance and return. They were left with little
to do besides getting reactions from the crowd in Golden Gate Park,
which had been overwhelmingly positive and supportive. The fans
were sympathetic and seemed more devoted than ever, now that the
full extent of Zan’s breakdown had come to light. We’d read some of
those reactions on my phone on the drive to Tahoe, and Zan had said
once again that he was determined to figure out how to give
something back to his fans.

After a couple hours, the crowd in
Golden Gate Park had begun to disperse. The footage of Zan and me
getting in the SUV and being driven away had been aired repeatedly
on television, and a spokesperson for the SFPD issued a statement
saying they’d helped escort us to an ‘undisclosed out-of-state
location’. They’d put a PR spin on it, making it sound like they’d
stepped in to save Zan from the horrors and pressure of the
paparazzi, out of the goodness of their hearts.

I texted Dante and Jessie, then went
inside to see what Zan was up to and found him unpacking a big ice
chest that we’d brought with us. It was stuffed full of the
groceries Yosh had bought for him, as well as several homemade
frozen meals that Nana had insisted we take along. “It all
travelled well,” he said as he put a zip-top bag of ravioli in the
freezer. “I’m surprised, given the fact that the security guard
that carried this for us stopped just short of using it as a
battering ram to get through the crowd of reporters.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said
as I hurried over and took the last couple bags from the ice chest.
“You should have waited for me to come back inside and I would have
put everything away.”

“It’s not your job to handle it, love,
I’m perfectly capable,” he said, taking the bags from my hands and
fitting them into the freezer.

“You must be so tired though, after
yet another long day.”

He closed the freezer and took me in
his arms. “It was just as tiring for you.”

“I’m fine,” I told him. “I’m really
not tired at all.”

Zan smiled and said, “That’s very good
news,” before kissing me and running his hands down my back. The
kiss heated up instantly and we began stripping off each other’s
clothes, my cock swelling as he slid his hand into my briefs and
took hold of it. I rubbed his hard-on through the denim as he
grabbed my ass with his other hand and pulled me against him, his
tongue sliding between my lips. I moaned as I unbuttoned his jeans.
When I’d freed his cock, I dropped to my knees and sucked him until
he was hard and leaking precum.

Both of us were shaking by the time I
stood up and pulled my sweatshirt over my head, then pushed down my
jeans and briefs and stepped out of them. Zan spun me around and
bent me over the kitchen table, and I grabbed the backpack I’d left
on the tabletop and fumbled for the lube, dropping it twice before
I managed to squirt some onto my fingers and work it into me. I
spread my legs wide, wiping my hand on my discarded sweatshirt,
then rested my arms on the worn oak tabletop.

Zan took hold of his cock and pressed
the tip to my opening, then slid it into me. I gasped, my body
adjusting to the sudden invasion as my cock swelled and jumped. I
absolutely loved the way he took me, as if being inside me was
vital and urgent. He fucked me the same way, thrusting forcefully,
his body slapping my ass with each down-stroke as he grasped my
hips.

I clung to the edges of the table with
both hands to brace myself and cried out incoherently as he pounded
my prostate, overwhelmed with pleasure, my cock throbbing. Again
and again he pushed himself into me, his moans mingling with mine,
a primal chorus in the otherwise quiet cabin. Zan bent over,
wrapping his arms around my body as he fucked me wildly, pulling me
onto him even as I drove myself back onto his big, thick
cock.