STONED (Wrecked Book 1) (39 page)

I love you so much.

Love,

Stone

Already there are tears making it difficult for me to see. Blinking them back rapidly, I neatly fold the letter and slide it back into its envelope, reaching for the next.

Willow,

I hate it here. They treat me like a criminal. Where the fuck are you? I need you. I can’t do this shit without you. Nobody knows where the hell you are. Or if they do they’re not telling me. Where are you????

Stone

Birdie,

We had to cancel the last leg of the tour when I ended up in here. I didn’t care at the time because I was so fucked up. Now though, it bothers me. I let everyone down. I let myself down. I let you down so long ago and I continued to do so day after day. I’m so fucking sorry.

I love you

Love,

Stone

Wills,

I feel muted. Like I’m in a fog. Everything is happening around me but it’s like I’m just watching it from this dulled out place where the colors aren’t bright enough and the sounds are too loud. I hate it. I hate myself and I miss you. I miss you so much it hurts.

Love you.

Love,

Stone

The third has me swallowing back a sob that by the fourth I can no longer contain. Crying openly, my tears drip from my chin on the paper, leaving ink stains as I push forward.

Glad that I was so easy to quit. That all the promises you made were bullshit. I needed you and you fucking bailed. Whatever.

I knew the real reason I left. He didn’t. And for that I feel just the smallest twinge of guilt. No matter that people would call me stupid for even feeling a modicum of guilt, I do. Reaching for the next and then the one after that, I sit for forty-five minutes reading letter after letter until the doorbell rings, startling me. I place the letter I had just pulled out aside and swipe at the tears sliding down my face. Looking out the side window, I see that it’s my takeout and open the door. The delivery man does a double take at my appearance. I had since thrown on leggings and a baggy shirt to go with my top knot and puffy, tear-stained face.

“Umm, are you okay, miss?” he asks nervously.

I nod at the poor guy and hand him the money for my food including a fat tip and take the bag from him. “Thank you,” I mumble, closing the door and going back to my forest of pillows. Balancing a container of spicy curry on my lap, I pick the abandoned letter up eager to see what this one will say. If it will be hurtful and blaming like some or sincere and heart wrenching like others.

When I finish reading it I take a deep even breath and reflect on his words. The way I could feel his pain leaping from the page as he described what it was like to have to sit through sessions filled with loved ones baring their souls and seeing me. The clarity he gained from being in rehab was in every line, every word and my heart felt lighter even as it sank.

Careful not to wake a peacefully sleeping Lyric, I weep silently into my hands. I cry for me, I cry for Stone. I cry for us and all that could have been and for all we endured at the hands of the other and still came out on top. Stronger. Better. More resilient versions of us. I cry until my throat is sore and my eyes are gritty and then I cry just a little bit more. When there is not a drop left for me to cry, I pick up my phone and text him.

Me: Can I see you tomorrow?

Stone: You can see me anytime, Birdie.

Me: I don’t have classes or anything tomorrow so whenever.

Stone: I’ll bring breakfast.

Sighing deeply, I put the phone down and look at the stacks of envelopes around me. I made it through all of them and while some of them were downright painful, others were eye opening. Heart lightening. If I wasn’t so emotionally spent right now I would have begged him to come tonight, but I’m just too raw for that. I need the night to process everything. To accept my feelings and what they mean moving forward. Am I ready to forgive him completely and move on, put it all in the past and build a life together? The life we had always planned on? I’m not sure. I do know that I want, more than anything, to be in his arms right now. Somewhere I never thought I’d be again. So for now, I’ll just start there.

Stone

HOW EARLY IS TOO EARLY?
I wonder, standing in front of my dresser, a towel slung low in my hips, water dripping from the tips of my hair onto my shoulders. Pulling clothes out of my closet, I toss the towel on the bed and dress. I’ve been up since seven, just killing time until it’s a decent hour to go over there. I’ve done my workout, fucked around with some music, made some phone calls to Austin. There’s not shit else to do so, eight thirty will have to be late enough. I jog down the stairs and out to my truck, practically skipping like a little bitch I’m so stoked. I’m not sure if she read the letters and that’s why she asked to see me or what, but I’m taking it. Grabbing my hat at the door, I pull the brim down low and dip out without Dane. I’ll hit the auto parts store first and grab whatever I might need to fix her headlight and then over to Spun to grab some breakfast stuff.

About a half an hour later I’m walking into Spun trying to not make eye contact with anyone. I was recognized twice at the auto parts store but thankfully made it out of there with everything I needed without it becoming a fucking circus.

“You trying to blend? Because I’m not sure it’s working,” the chick from the other day, Kim, I think, teases.

I chuckle, “I’m doing my best and failing epically.”

With a sympathetic look she asks, “Are you meeting Willow here?”

“No, I just need some of her favorites to go and whatever other shit you throw in there. I told her I would bring breakfast.”

Kim nods and smiles, “Sounds good. Here are your coffees. I’ll get your stuff together while you fix ‘em up.”

Cups in hand, I walk over to the coffee station and put seven sugars and seven creamers in Willow’s, same as she’s been drinking since she was in high school, and just two and two for me. I like my tea sweet, my coffee not so much. Sliding those little sleeves on the cups, I go to the counter and wait. Within a few minutes she has me all set to go, wedging my coffees in a cup holder and placing it inside a huge paper bag. “There. That’s on me. Enjoy your breakfast,” she beams. I look in the bag and see all that she’s put in there and pull out two crisp one hundred dollar bills and put them in her tip jar.

“Have a good one, Kim. Thanks for breakfast.” I toss her a wink and stroll out. Next stop, Willow and Lyric.

When I pull into her drive I see another car there, a Mercedes with a French flag dangling from the rearview mirror, and instantly I’m on edge. Snatching up the bag with our food, I climb out of the truck. Just as I clear the drive, I see Joaquin walking down the pathway from Willow’s house. I stop him with a stiff hand to his chest and glance up at the house and then back at him. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He pushes my hand off him. “I came to see Willow and Lyric. You just missed the baby by the way; Cora came and got her.” Smiling smugly, like he has inside information. “And you can drop the whole jealous boyfriend act, she told me you guys aren’t together,” the prick says, pleased with himself.

“Yet.”

“What?” he asks confused.

“Yet. We aren’t together yet,” I explain, staring him down. A thought occurs to me. “You knew who she was when you sought her out, didn’t you?”

“Not at first, no. But I figured it out really quick,” he admits.

“So you knew she was mine and still you went after her?”

“I knew you two had broken up. Just like I knew you were in rehab on the other side of the world, and I knew that she didn’t want you to know where she was.” Cocking his head thoughtfully, “You really think you’re what she needs, Stone? What Lyric needs? Some druggie rock star who can’t keep it in his pants?” he scoffs.

Tightening my hold on the paper bag in my hand, I take a step forward and get right in his face. “I’ll let that shit slide because you’re all pissed off because I was right about Willow never being yours to begin with, but know this, next time you talk about shit you don’t know anything about, you’ll be singing through a wired jaw.” He blanches. “Try me,” I dare between gritted teeth. Rocking back to glare down at him.

“Stone?” Willow calls out cautiously from the door.

“Coming, Birdie,” I answer. Smirking at his face pinched in irritation. “See ya around, Joaquin.” Whistling, I amble up the walk to where Willow waits, looking apprehensive. I kiss her softly on the cheek. “It’s okay, I didn’t hurt him,” I assure, slipping past her into the house. I’ll wait to drill her about why he was here after she closes the door and we don’t have an audience with a hard on for me to fuck this up so he can swoop back in and save the fucking day.

Walking into the kitchen I calmly start removing the stuff from Spun, placing it all on the counter. “That looked pretty intense out there,” Willow says from behind me.

“What’s he doing here at nine in the morning, Birdie?” My voice is laced with more accusation than I intend.

“Are you insinuating something, Stone? What is it that you’re really asking?” she huffs out, stalking into the living room, angrily picking up pillows from the floor, leaving me no other choice but to follow. “Are you asking me if he spent the night? If I fucked him knowing that I asked you to come here?” Now she’s pissed.

“Don’t put words into my mouth,” I tell her lamely although that was exactly what had been racing around my fucked up mind. Probably born of guilt.

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” She crosses her arms tightly across her chest, making a little shelf for her tits to set on, drawing my attention. “He came here, if you must know and since you asked so nicely, to assure me that he wouldn’t tell anyone about Lyric and to ask if we were going to have to make other arrangements about his song rights, you dick. I c—”

“Say it again,” I cut her off.

“What? Say what?”

“Dick. I always loved when you said dirty shit.” My intentions aren’t to throw her off, but fuck me if I can help it. With that one little word, her pissed off little rant, and those perfect tits of hers, I was done.

“Oh my God. Did you hear anything I even said?” she demands but she’s not bullshitting me. I hear the fight in her voice, but it’s not her fighting with me anymore. It’s her fighting me. Her reaction to me.

“I heard every word. I’m just done talking about it.” I shrug. “I’d much rather talk about how I’m dying to get in between your thighs and have been for the last two years.” I watch as she swallows, shifts from one foot to the other. Just slightly. But I notice. I notice everything about her. I notice how her breathing has changed since our conversation took a turn, how her leggings leave no room for her to be wearing anything underneath, how every movement causes her tits to jiggle around under that too big Wrecked tee, letting me know she doesn’t have anything on underneath that either.

“Did he see you like this?” I ask, suddenly.

“No, I had a robe on. Why would it matter? I’m covered from head to toe,” she says.

“You’re naked underneath my shirt and those tights,” I tell her, mostly to get her worked up again.

“They’re not tights. And how do you know?”

“Because I look. I watch you move.” Walking around the couch I put myself right in front of her, grinning when she takes a deep breath. “Every time you bend down to pick up a pillow and chuck it, these sway,” I say softly, running a single digit from the slope of her breast down, letting my nail catch just slightly on the rapidly hardening nipple.

“Stone . . .” She doesn’t finish her sentence. She doesn’t move away from my touch. She stands there. Still. Waiting.

I let my finger finish its descent ending at her waist, causing her to inhale sharply.

“Don’t be afraid of me, Birdie.” The words are more of a plea than any I’ve ever said. I honestly don’t know what I’d do if she were afraid of me after what happened to her. “You weren’t afraid with Joaquin . . .” It’s more a question than a statement and it kills me to say.

“We never . . . he never . . .” She trails off shaking her head. My back straightens.

“You didn’t fuck him?” I’m alert, watchful. I’ve been driving myself insane since the moment I first saw them together and all this time they hadn’t been sleeping together?

“No. I couldn’t do it,” she murmurs, glancing away. Hooking her chin, I bring her gaze back to mine.

“Why?” My eyes locked on hers I wait, my breathing rapid.

“He wasn’t you,” Willow whispers. Letting her eyelids flutter closed in resignation she repeats, “He wasn’t you.”

Without pause, I yank her into me, her hands flying to my chest for balance, and cover her lips with my own. The sense of relief flooding me is so overwhelming. All the longing and jealousy, taunting and teasing all bubbles over into this kiss. My hands are everywhere, sliding up her sides and under her shirt, skimming the sides of her tits before meeting at the smooth skin of her back. Tongues lashing and teeth nipping, I rock into her. When she meets my thrust it’s all I can do not to come in my pants. Little more than a kiss and she has me hard and so fucking ready. I need to slow down for her, for me. Catching her bottom lip in between my teeth I pull back, taking it with me for a beat before letting it go. With glazed over eyes she watches me, trying to bring me into focus. I feel a confession coming on. Pressing my forehead to hers, I take a deep breath, wishing like hell I had a cigarette. “Wills, I want to tell you something.” It’s very near a pant, I’m so breathless from kissing her. She stiffens in my arms and I immediately feel the walls going up.