STONED (Wrecked Book 1) (33 page)

“Not a fucking chance, rock star.”

Lips lifted in a smirk, “Didn’t think so.”

Parked outside Willow’s place, I pop a lolli in my mouth. I found out from my new friend Bear that Wills has a class and that Cora has Lyric today visiting her mom. It’s something she does regularly which gives me a couple hours to spend with Birdie. As soon as she pulls up, I hop out of the truck and make my way over.

“What are you doing here, Stone?”

“You know, you say that a lot. If I was a weaker man it would probably hurt my feelings.”

“You’re right, I do, and I think I’ve even apologized for it once before. Maybe,” she says thoughtfully, walking toward her house. Before she makes it to the door I snag her arm.

“Come for a ride with me, Birdie.” My request has her whipping her head in my direction.

“You have the truck here?” Her voice holds reverence and a little bit of excitement that she can’t hide. There are a lot of memories in that old truck.

“I do.”

She shakes her head no and looks away. “I can’t go. I have to go and get Lyric.”

“You’ve always been shit at lying. You know that, right?” I tease. “She’s with Cora visiting her mom and all of the old folks. I already talked to Bear.”

“And he told you? That traitor,” Willow mumbles.

“Come on, Wills. Come for a ride with me,” I coax, tugging on her arm again. My hand tingling where it lies against her soft skin. “Just come with me, Birdie?”

“Where, Stone?”

“I don't know. For a ride. Like we used to before shit got crazy.” I see the memories dance across her face. We used to drive with no destination in mind. Just get in the truck and go. Willow’s feet on the dash and the wind blowing in our hair. We'd find secluded places, quiet lakes, fields of wildflowers, abandoned barns. And we'd just be. Or we’d fuck like we weren’t out in the open. Up against those weathered barns, after skinny dipping in the lakes. And sometimes we made love lying among fragrant flowers, their scent mingling with ours. They were some of my favorite fucking moments. And then the band hit big and we couldn't get away by ourselves like that anymore because people recognized me. I didn't miss those drives so much then. But fuck if I don't miss the hell out of them now. Toronto couldn’t give zero fucks about who I am. And who I am is a man who wants to take a ride with his woman. Thankfully, I’m allowed to be that guy here.

It only takes a moment, but I see it in the softening of her features, the relaxing of her shoulders, the biting of her bottom lip, that I’ve won. When I let my fingers run down her arm to her hand and tug once again, she lets me. Before she can change her mind I lead her to the curb. Without releasing her I reach with my other hand and open the passenger door and help her in, reluctantly letting her go in order to close the door. I walk around the hood of the truck and glance through the windshield to see her watching me. My lips lift in a half smile on their own accord and I toss her a wink. She’s right where she needs to be. Where I need her to be. My rhythm.

Willow

BEING BACK IN THIS TRUCK
brings so many memories flooding back. Some smack me in the face with their intensity, some soothe over me like a caress. All of them make my heart race.

“Do you have any idea where you’re even going?” I ask him when he heads down the road.

“Nah. We never knew where we were going in Austin though either,” he reminds me. It’s true. We didn’t. We would just drive and talk and sing and laugh. Every one of those rides always ended with him and I naked. Sometimes only partially so, but naked where it mattered. I flush at the thought and it of course doesn’t get past him.

“Whatcha over there thinking about, Birdie?” he drawls. His voice has always held his Texas roots but only slightly, which suited him. Nothing about Stone screams Southern gentleman or good ol’ boy. He’s reckless and looks it. With his tattoos and piercings and the way he dresses like a legit rock star. Worn jeans, boots, t-shirts, and even a leather jacket most days. He’s no cowboy. But he’s perfect. Beautiful. Stone was born to be a star. He looks the part and he for damn sure acts it. He’s everything you can’t control and I never wanted to. Until it was too late. But I see now that even then I didn’t want to change him, just to help him find his way back to who he was. The man he was meant to be.

“Nothing. Just wondering where we’re going.”

He scoffs. “Oh my beautiful, girl. You really lie like shit, baby.” Stone smirks that smirk, and I squirm in my seat, pressing my legs together until he points at them. “See, that right there is another one of your tells, Birdie. The first one was that pretty blush just across your cheeks and the second is when you squeeze your legs real tight like that,” he mocks in that sexy rasp of his. “Like you’re either trying to will yourself not to get wet or you know there’s no chance of that so you need to find some relief.” Before he goes on, he glances over at me quickly then brings his eyes back to the road. “I can help with both; all you have to do is tell me which memory has you so hot.”

I want to hit him for knowing me so well. “The memory where you shut up.”

He throws his head back and laughs, drawing my eyes to the strong column of his neck and the ink dancing with the movement of his laughter. I can’t deny what he said. Being around him again has been a constant reminder of just how potent my body’s reaction to him is still. All he has to do is smile, speak, breathe and I want him. Even though my heart is telling the rest of me that it’s not ready to get
Stoned
again. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss this. We always had so much fun together, all except for that dark time in our lives where Stone wasn’t Stone. I don’t want to dwell on that anymore though. I need to make a decision. I’m either going to forgive him and move forward, or I’m going to hold on to the painful memories and use them to keep my heart safe and my walls erected. I’m just not ready to make that decision yet.

When he’s finished laughing at me, he reaches for the glove box and pulls out a lolli. I’m almost certain he’s doing it on purpose. “I don’t want to smoke with you in the truck,” he says as he unwraps the sweet treat and pops it in his mouth.

“Since when?” I ask baffled.

Rolling the ball to his cheek so he can talk around the stick, “Since I read somewhere that it’s not good for Lyric. Even though she’s not here you can have the chemicals and shit on your clothes and they can rub off on her.” He’s so matter-of-fact about it. So serious and informed.

“You read up on it?” That’s the part that stuck out to me the most. I heard everything he said, but it’s that part that grabbed a hold of my heart.

“Yeah. It’s been quiet at the house with the guys gone, and just me and Dane there, so I’ve been reading.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. He doesn’t realize just how much of a big deal it is.

“About babies?”

Not looking at me he nods. “About babies, and other things.” His voice drops an octave, the playfulness gone, and his face becomes pinched. I shake my head confused about what else he could be reading about to put that look on his face and that tone to his words.

“What other things?”

Watching him closely I notice when his hands tighten on the steering wheel, twisting over the wrapped leather, causing it to creak. I see his jaw tense and his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. It all falls into place.

Removing the lolli from his mouth he tosses it into an empty cup sitting in the console. “I’ve been reading about what happened to you. How people are expected to live with the aftermath in their everyday lives. How it affects them,” Stone says, glancing at me before he switches lanes and slows down to pull into a parking spot in front of a row of eclectic shops on Queen Street. Slowly he shuts off the ignition and turns to look at me.

“Why?” My brows are drawn down, trying to understand.

“Because if it affects you, it affects me, Wills.” When I start to shake my head, he interrupts. “For just a minute do your best to forget about the asshole I was while I was using and remember the guy I was before all the bullshit. Wouldn’t that guy care about something so fucking important? So serious and life changing?” He waits for my answer and I can’t deny that he’s right. That Stone would’ve been by my side every step of the way. Helping me to heal and learn to live with what happened that night. Cheering me on and encouraging me as I became the woman I needed to be so that I could love myself again, and more importantly, love Lyric without conditions. I did all of that, but I did it without him. That he’s reading about it now brings tears to my eyes. “It never should have happened, but it did. I will never forgive myself. As long as I live I will carry it with me. There’s nothing I can do to change any of it though. God knows I would if I could, so I need to be able to understand because I want to be able to help you if you need me. It’s not enough to love you. I want to know what you might need from me. I want to be able to lift you up if you fall.” Stone swipes a tear from my cheek and then places his rough hand on my thigh, squeezing slightly. “Not that I think you will ever fall. You’re the strongest person I know. Always have been, Birdie. I just want to be the one picking you up if you ever falter for a change, instead of you being the one dragging my ass to my feet.”

I don’t know what to say. With his hand on my leg, tears running down my face, his scent surrounding me, the sound of my heartbeat in my ears, I’m overwhelmed. It’s all so much and yet not enough. The urge to walk away from him and all of these contradicting feelings is just as strong as the desire to crawl into his lap and let him hold me tight. All my broken pieces wanting to cling to him, begging to be made whole. We sit quietly, him watching me and me trying to rein in my emotions and the chaos he always manages to stir up inside me. “You’re right and I’m sorry. It’s going to take some time for me to learn to separate those two versions of you. They’re so different, yet they wore the same face.” Sniffling, I look up at him and admit, “I hated who you became, but I’m learning that you’re not your addiction, Stone. Your mistakes aren't what define you. That you can be more than your demons and you’re doing just that. You are digging in deeper than the scars you've left behind. On both of us.” My eyes are drawn to his hand as he presses his fingers to his mouth, tugging gently at his bottom lip. “You're not your addiction,” I repeat for both of us. “You're so much more. It’s just hard for me to remember that.” Taking a deep breath, “I’ve blamed you for so long. I didn’t blame
him
when I know I should have. It was easier for me to blame you. It made staying away from you a little more bearable.”

Stone makes a strangled noise low in his throat, “Birdie—”

“I don’t blame you anymore. I don't blame you,” I repeat in a breathy voice. I'm surprised at this revelation and feel the need to repeat it again, taste the truth in the words and let him do the same. “I don't blame you,” I say with conviction.

Stone gives a stiff nod and takes the key out of the ignition. I watch, slightly dazed and a little confused as he gets out and walks around to my side and jerks open the door. I'm just about to ask what he's doing when he gathers me into his arms and pulls me from the truck. He holds me suspended in the air, tight against him, his face buried in my hair. Without hesitation, I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him even tighter. I can feel the trembling, but I'm not sure which one of us it is.

“I blame me, Birdie. You don't have to. I fucking blame me,” Stone swears into my hair, never loosening his hold.

There's nothing I'll be able to say to change his stance, so I just squeeze tighter, hold him harder. Let our broken bits meld together and hope that just a few more of them will come out whole. And when the rain starts, he doesn’t let go and neither do I. We just stand wrapped up in one another’s arms, chest to chest, our hearts beating as one. Finally beating in
rhythm.