Just One Week (Just One Song) (26 page)

She wrinkles her nose at me. It’s her clue that she doesn’t like what I’ve just said. Like she’s just tasted sour milk and it doesn’t sit right with her but she’s way too out of it to talk to me about it.

“I wish I could stay here and help you out.”

She shakes her head and presses her hand to her forehead. I almost feel bad for bringing it up … again.

“You need to go. I’ll be fine.”

She’s smiling but it doesn’t meet her eyes. There’s so much I want to say and there’s no way I can say it now. I want to apologize, again, for being such a prick in L.A. Had I known she was dealing with this alone I never would have let her leave.

At least not without me.

And now I’m the one leaving her.

“I’ll call you. And come visit when we get a break.”

She shakes her head again, but this time her eyes are clearer. Like she knows exactly what she’s about ready to say and I know I’m not going to like a single word.

“Don’t.”

She blinks slowly and rests her head against the pillows.

“I don’t want to argue about this again, babe.”

Her breathing is so slow I almost think she’s fallen asleep, but then she softly murmurs, “I’m not the woman you need. Just go, Chase.”

A lump jumps into my throat and it pisses me off that she’s not nearly coherent enough for me to argue with her.

To tell her that she’s all I ever need. That I don’t give a shit what she looks like or what the risks are, I just want to love her.

I’ll love her forever.

But I can’t because her breathing evens out and she snores lightly, just once, and I know she’s out.

That was my good-bye and I get the same cagey feeling I felt at the concert when I knew something was wrong with her. Like there’s some animal in me who wants to break from my skin. Claw its fucking way out and demolish everything in sight.

I want to hit a wall. Or punch someone. Again.

Fucking cancer.

I suppress all my rage though to sit and watch her sleep for just a few more minutes. She’s beautiful even though I know she’s in pain and I know she’s upset about her surgery. Having to have it done and what she thinks she’s lost. But if she could see herself in my eyes she’d know it doesn’t matter. It’s her eyes I love. They sparkle as bright as the ocean when she’s happy. And I love her attitude. Her smart-ass mouth that always has a comment to make someone laugh. It’s how she loves everyone around her deeply … except for maybe me, which pisses me off, but challenges me to be the man she needs at the same time.

When I can’t take it anymore, the doubt of whether she’ll truly ever be mine, and my anger with the disease that she thinks has wrecked her, I press a gentle kiss against her forehead, her lips, and each cheek.

She doesn’t stir at all, but I need just those few minutes to breathe her in and touch her soft skin. It’ll be weeks, maybe months before I see her again. And I will. Because regardless of what Mia says, we’re not done. Not if I have anything to say about it.

I hit the stairs and slap Elijah’s arm when I see him in the kitchen. I need to get out of this house before my anger and frustration boils over the top.

“Thanks for everything, man.”

He nods and gives me the look. The same one I imagine I’d have if I ever had a younger sister to watch out but I see the respect he has too. Not that I need it. But it’s good to have it.

“Take care, Chase.” He lowers his voice and dips his head down a little bit without letting go of my hand. “I know Mia can be a brat, but I think you’re good for her. She’ll see it eventually.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from saying something stupid and nod once. “I love her. Keep me updated if you can, yeah? And tell the band I had to get to the bus.”

“Will do.”

I don’t say another word as I walk out the door to his house. The humid air hits my lungs like I’ve just hit a cement wall. Fuck it’s hot here.

Maybe I should feel bad for not telling the guys where I’m going, but they’ll figure it out. It’s not like I have options. Mostly I just need to hit the bus and grab a beer and maybe I can forget all this shit.

“Good show tonight, guys.” Scottie slaps me on the shoulder as we walk through the Arena in Dallas.

I’ve just taken a quick shower and am on my way heading the backstage area to meet up with the rest of the band and the fans.

I thank Scottie and head straight back to the bar for a beer.

Screw that, I need something stronger. I wave my hand for a shot of whiskey and a beer chaser. It’s been two weeks since Mia’s surgery and I haven’t heard from her.

I haven’t heard if she likes the flowers I’ve been sending to bring some color into that white room I know she’s spending almost all of her time in.

She hasn’t responded to a single text message and I haven’t bothered calling her.

My texts aren’t anything special. A simple thinking of you or how are you doing?

Nothing that should send her running, but it’s almost like I can feel her retreating back behind the walls that she was just starting to let me into.

Pisses me off. And makes me want to try harder. Ten weeks. I have ten more weeks until I can get to her.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket right after I throw back my shot and a small glimmer of excitement hits me. And makes me feel like a dumb ass every time I get my hopes up that Mia will respond to me.

I take it out anyway and see that it’s a text from Elijah. Thank fuck for him because he’s been the one keeping me updated on everything just like he said he would.

Secretly, I’m hoping he’s putting a good word in for me too.

Eli:
Mia is off the worst pain meds and awake more. In pain still. Stop sending the damn flowers. My house reeks.

I laugh. I don’t blame the guy but no way in hell am I stopping. I promised her color and she’s going to keep getting it.

An arm wraps around my waist as I’m smiling at the text from Elijah, my only close lifeline to the woman I want.

“Hey Chase.” I turn my eyes to the soft buttery voice, slipping my phone back into my pocket and am pulled back into the real world.

“Yes?” I know what she wants. Me. She’s hot, too. But she has that look in her eye like a whole bunch of groupies do. All the women have a different look when you spend enough time backstage. There’s the innocent fans that are simply excited to be back here, who love our music and want to tell us how great we are and talk with us. Those fans are awesome. I’d do anything for those fans.

But then, there are the women who just want to screw a rocker so they have something to tell their kids about when they’re old. And women like this. She has that wicked gleam in her eye that’s manipulative as hell. She doesn’t want to screw a rocker.

She wants to trap a rocker. Get knocked up or fake it, or thinks one night of sex somehow causes a connection and before you know it, you can’t kick her ass off the bus and she’s trying to follow you anywhere.

Not happening. Ever.

“Can I get your autograph?” She’s well practiced at this seduction thing. And I can’t say that my body wouldn’t hesitate to take her wherever she wants to go. Unfortunately for her, Mia is the only woman who’s on my mind.

“Sure, darlin’,” I say with a slow drawl and set my beer on the bar. I’m not from the south, but somehow girls tend to like that shit. I flash my signature smirk, the one that’s been perfected after years of acting like you’re someone you’re really not, and take the pen from her fingers, careful not to touch her.

“What do you want me to sign?”

“These.” Before I can blink, she has her shirt lifted up and I’m staring at a large, gorgeous, rack. Really, this chick has the perfect body and my body knows it. She’s not wearing a bra, not that I’m shocked about this.

I look into her eyes and see the hope and the thrill of the hunt and a gleam in her eyes that says, “fuck me I’m yours.”

It makes me laugh. I chuckle softly and look back to her chest. I shake my head, laughing, only thinking of Mia and the fact that I can’t wait to get my hands on her tiny perfect little body again. This woman doesn’t have a chance, but I don’t want to piss her off either, so I take the cap off the marker and bite it between my teeth, smiling and playing the game.

And then I sign her stomach.

I snap the cap back on and hand her the marker, reaching around her to grab my beer. “There you go.”

She slowly lowers her shirt. “That’s all I get?” She moves closer to me and I take a step back. “I think you want more.”

“Yeah … I’m not interested.”

She purses her lips together and brushes her hair off her shoulder. As if that move has ever made a guy change his mind. I watch her stomp away, laughing to myself.

After years on the road, it amazes me that women can think they can throw themselves at us and we’ll take them up on it. Haven’t they learned yet that we’ve seen it all and had it all already?

“You’re making the girls sad, Chase.”

I grin as Nicole walks up to me, water bottle in hand and shaking her head back and forth in disgust. She’s seen so much crap backstage in the last few weeks and she’s been hit on her fair share, too. Being in a band is the best thing for your ego.

“It’s a gift.” I shrug my shoulder and take a pull of my beer, the text from Elijah not far from my mind. “You talk to Mia?”

She frowns. “Just a little bit. She was still drugged pretty heavily a few days ago and said something about rainbows in her room.”

I laugh. That’d be from me.

“Eli said she’s off those meds now.”

“He called you?”

I shake my head and take a drink. “He’s keeping me updated.” And then I sigh. He’s doing it because Mia won’t.

“You know,” Nicole begins with a thoughtful expression. “I never really understood how much her dad’s issues screwed her up until just a few weeks ago. I always knew she didn’t want to settle down but I didn’t realize the reason, I guess.” She shrugs and looks like she wants to say more.

I scowl but nod anyway because there’s nothing to say.

“You tell her about the baby?” That brings a smile to her face. After throwing up for the third time on the bus the other day, she finally admitted to Zack and then the rest of us that she’s pregnant. Zack is worried about her, knowing how difficult it is her for her to go through this again, but she seems to be handling it pretty well.

It makes me feel like everything with the band is changing. Garrett and Chloe are having their first child in a few months, Zack and Nicole are married and now pregnant, and from the phone calls I’ve heard from Jake, him and Sammy are trying to work out whatever their issues are. Which just leaves me, without Mia. God I miss her. I rub my chest pointlessly trying to ease the pain in my chest that hasn’t disappeared in weeks.

“Nope. I want to wait until she’ll remember it and healing a bit, but I will.” She rests her small hand on my forearm. “I know that once she gets the time to really figure out what she wants – she’s going to choose you, Chase. Just give her time to sort out her head.”

This conversation suddenly feels a bit too girly for me so I nod my head and take off for the bus. There’s a crowd of fans that won backstage passes from the local Dallas radio station, but I don’t stick around to sign anything. My skin feels raw and twitchy thinking about Mia back home recovering from her surgery and having all the time in the world to doubt what I feel for her and what she feels for me, even if she’s too scared to admit it. I’ve seen it.

Mia is sitting outside a house with a basketball court and a wooden swing set, a freshly stained wooden fenced protects the play area, and there’s two small kids running around the yard, swinging and yelling, “Mommy watch me!” I turn to her and she has a baby bouncing up and down on her knees, her hair tied back into a ponytail and the biggest smile on her face as she cheers on the kids running around the yard and blowing raspberries on the stomach of the baby dressed in a black tutu and a pink shirt with a guitar that says “My dad rocks it” in her lap.

I flip the burgers on the grill, take a sip of my beer, and set it down before walking over and kissing Mia’s cheek, then the baby’s, and then chase after the kids in the yard, growling and picking them up and spinning them around in circles when I catch them.