This One Moment (15 page)

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The unexpected memory tore down the dam of emotions I'd been successful so far in holding back.

A sob broke free. I buried my face in my hands.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard the distinct clicking of a camera but ignored it. I stared at the blurry words on the gravestones, still unable to talk beyond telling my mom and Sarah I was sorry.

Those few simple words might not have sounded like much, but they represented everything I wanted to tell them yet couldn't.

“Don't you have any decency?” Hailey said, her voice low but fierce. She was no longer kneeling next to me. She was standing in front of a man several yards away. Based on the massive telephoto lens on his camera, he wasn't here visiting with a dearly departed.

Hailey looked ready to introduce his face to her fist or to snatch the camera away from him and hurl it against a gravestone. Most sane guys would've backed away, not wanting to experience her wrath. But when it came to the paparazzi, their level of sanity was questionable to begin with.

“This is a public place,” the douchebag said, leering at her. “Which means I have the right to take photos if I want.”

I scrambled up from the snowy ground and, before the situation could escalate, placed my body between Hailey and the asshole.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I recognized him and was positive he was responsible for the photos that had shoved Alyssa and me into the spotlight as a romantic couple. Just one more reason for me to want to slam him against a gravestone and tell him where the hell he and his sleazy lies could go. But I knew better. Experience was a bitch.

The leer on his face transformed into an ugly smirk. “Does Alyssa know about you cheating on her?”

“There's nothing going on between Alyssa and me,” I ground out, purposely avoiding the question about Hailey. I didn't want to drag her into his twisted lies.

Before I could stop myself, I launched my body at him. But he was quicker and eager for the lawsuit shot. He lifted his camera and before I had a chance to yank it away, he snapped photo after photo.

Hailey threw herself between us. It was too late. Unless I was willing to destroy his camera and memory card, there was nothing I could do—other than make things worse for Hailey. She didn't need me dragging her into this, destroying her career along with mine. My career would bounce back. Hers might not. The media would always be in her face and business, rarely giving her a moment of privacy, constantly putting her and those she worked with on guard, disrupting her life.

“Does Alyssa know you're the son of a mass murderer?” the asshole taunted. “Does she fear for her own safety when she's with you?”

As much as I wanted to pound on him, I kept silent and turned away, doing my best not to react to his questions.

Does she fear for her own safety when she's with you?
His words echoed in my head, twisting with my own fears.

“Hailey, is your recent attack linked to what happened to Tyler's family?” he called out.

I froze at his comment for many reasons. First, the asshole knew her name and knew what had happened to her. Second, was it possible the two events were linked? Third, I wasn't sure what game he was playing by using my fake name, but I had a feeling it wasn't good. This was his way of telling me he was content with the idea of destroying my career and the life I'd built for myself since moving to L.A.

The asshole must have gotten everything he'd come for. He didn't follow us. Hailey was so pale and visibly shaken, I wanted to hug her and tell her it would be okay. But I also didn't want to risk that he was still lurking around, taking photos of us, so I kept my arms plastered to my sides.

“How did he know my name?” Hailey asked as we drove away, her voice bordering on panic.

I gripped the steering wheel, imagining it was the scumbag's neck. “You'd be surprised at what these guys discover. Nothing is sacred to them.”

“But how did he even know where to find you?”

“I have no idea. But don't underestimate these guys. Their hunting skills put the CIA to shame. I'm sorry you got dragged into this, Forget-Me-Not.”

She shook her head. “He hasn't done anything to me. I'll be fine.”

“It's not that simple. Based on his reaction back there, I wouldn't be surprised if he plans to use you to drive a wedge between Alyssa and me.”

“But…but I thought you said there was nothing going on between you two.”

“There isn't. But because of assholes like him, it will look like I cheated on her with you.” I checked the rearview mirror to make sure we weren't being followed.

“Me? Why? Because I was with you in the cemetery? That's crazy.”

“Doesn't matter. And I wouldn't be surprised if those weren't the only photos he took of us today.” I quickly glanced at her to see if she was putting it all together.

Her eyes widened. “Oh, God! He saw us kissing at the sports center?”

“There's a chance he didn't.” A fairly nonexistent chance. “Or he might just focus the story on my father and leave you out of it.”

“But you don't think he will, do you?”

“I think he'll find an angle to twist both together. I don't know how he'll do it, but by the time he's finished, it will be as far from the truth as possible, yet at the same time very believable.”

“But if you're not dating Alyssa, his story will fall apart. No one will believe it.”

“I wish that was true. But the reason tabloids are still around is because their readers do believe everything they read.” But maybe now Alyssa would finally issue a statement confirming what I'd been saying all this time—she and I weren't romantically involved and never had been.

“Why do you even put up with it?” Hailey asked.

“There's not much you can do about it. It's part of the business. All I can do is ignore it. In a week's time, someone else's news will upstage mine, and the lies about me will be forgotten.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“I'll talk to the record label.” And see what they could do…after they killed me for screwing up.

But that was if the guys didn't kill me first for fucking things up for them.

I knew things had changed for me the moment the reporter insinuated I was nothing more than a hussy bent on destroying Tyler and Alyssa's golden relationship. I wouldn't be surprised if I was blamed for her losing the fictitious baby that was supposedly Nolan's. What then? Would the world turn on me even though none of the rumors were true? Would fans of their relationship hunt me down like the paparazzi and try to hurt me? Or would Alyssa finally issue a statement and set the record straight about their relationship?

But while I was nervous about what might happen if an upset fan confronted me, I was even more nervous about my future. To get into the physical therapy program, I needed a reference from the therapist I worked with in the playgroup for kids with special needs. Without it, my chances of getting into the education program were much lower. But a scandal like this might hurt me when it came to the reference.

We rode the rest of the way home in silence, both lost in thought over what this could mean for us. And by us, I meant our careers. Nothing had really changed when it came to what Nolan and I had between us. He hadn't indicated if there could be a him and me if I moved to L.A. Nor had he indicated he wanted me to move there. As far as I could tell, what we had between us was only short-term.

I almost expected to see photographers gathering outside my building when we pulled up. When I didn't spot any, I let out a relieved breath. The one at the cemetery had been bad enough. I couldn't imagine having to deal with more than that.

But as much as I didn't want to imagine it, I wasn't deluding myself into believing no one else was interested in Nolan's real past. He already had the bad-boy reputation, so why walk away from the possibility of even juicier secrets in his past? And once his story hit the tabloids, it was guaranteed to be the end of my privacy, at least until the next news story broke about another celebrity.

Nolan was still tense when we walked into the building. He held my hand the way he had in the cemetery. But unlike then, his grip was tighter. I didn't think he realized just how tense he was. He'd never be able to write lyrics in his current state.

I needed to help him relax and forget everything. If his label didn't dump him because of all the controversy that would soon suck him into its vortex, it certainly would if he wasn't ready in time to record the band's album.

I let us into the apartment. Before I could say anything, he stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door. Less than a minute later, I heard him talking to someone on the phone. The conversation lasted a few seconds and was followed by a long silence.

The muffled sound of him pacing slipped from under his door. He was so tightly wound from what happened at the cemetery, he couldn't focus on his work. This wasn't the Nolan I knew.

It was all my fault. I had insisted that Nolan visit his sister's and mother's graves so that he could take a step toward healing. As long as he kept away from their final resting place, he'd never move on. He'd never live the life they would've wanted him to have.

I knocked on his door but didn't wait for him to answer. I opened it. As expected, he was pacing back and forth. Not an easy feat in the room's small confines, even with the lack of furniture.

“Have you told the record label what happened?” I figured that was whom he'd been talking to on the phone.

“I left a message with the band's PR person. It's the weekend, so she gets to have a break from me and my stupidity.” His jaw tightened. He really did believe this was all his fault.

I entered the room, my movements slow and cautious. “This isn't your fault, Nolan. None of it's your fault. And the people at the record label are idiots if they believe otherwise.”

“But if I'd stayed in L.A. to work on the songs like I was supposed to,” he said, “none of this would've happened.”

I tried to block the sting in my heart from his words. I hoped he didn't mean it. I hoped that the words had been said in the heat of the moment and not because he regretted coming here when I was in a coma. And not because he regretted what was happening between us.

I must have failed to keep the pain from his words off my face. One second I was staring at him, doing my best to blink away the burning tears, and the next I was in his arms.

“I'm sorry, Forget-Me-Not. That didn't come out right.” He kissed the top of my head and tightened his hold on me. “I don't for a second regret coming back here for you. I couldn't have worked on the album not knowing how you were doing. I needed to be here for you.”

“I know, but maybe it's time you return to L.A.” The sting in my heart shifted to a dull burn. I did my best to ignore it, and pushed on with what I needed to say to convince him to return home, for all our sakes. “I'm no longer in a coma, and whoever attacked me hasn't tried to hurt me again. It was just a random attack. You don't need to be here anymore. And as long as you are here, the media will constantly hound us. All they want is a story. As long as you stay in Northbridge, they'll have one. And they won't stop there. They'll keep digging into your old life here, hunting for secrets to damage your reputation.”

They'd be wasting their time. There were no more secrets. But who knew what other people would say about him, all for their fifteen seconds of fame.

“I'm not going back yet,” he said, his tone the same stubborn one I remembered from years of being his best friend. “And even if I did return to L.A., nothing would change. Then the media would wonder what I was running from and would still dig deep.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “Fuck. All I wanted was for people to hear my music and not think about my past. I wanted to keep the two separate. And I didn't want them questioning whether some part of my father was also part of me. I should have known better. You really can't escape your past.”

I didn't want to talk about this anymore. He needed to forget what had happened this afternoon, and I needed to help him so he could go back to what was important to him—his music.

Without saying a word, I grabbed hold of his hand and pulled him out of the bedroom. He didn't ask where I was taking him and he didn't resist. His eyebrow did jerk up when I led him into the bathroom. A hint of a smirk touched his lips. I turned the shower on, needing to wash away the ugliness of what happened in the cemetery. Steam quickly filled the bathroom.

Next I pushed my hands under his T-shirt, appreciating the valleys and smooth muscle. I peered at him through hooded eyes, my heart beating an eager rhythm. “I want you,” I whispered. I didn't just mean I wanted him now. I meant I wanted a forever with him. But if this was all I could get of him, then I'd make the most of it.

I slipped the button free on his jeans. My hand purposely brushed against his thickening length. He groaned.

Needing to see him without his T-shirt on, I pushed the hem up, exposing his tight abs. Being the wise man that he was, he got my not-so-subtle hint. A moment later, the T-shirt was making nice with the floor.

The corner of his mouth jerked up. “Am I the only one who's getting naked here? Or are you planning to join me?”

A shy smile slipped onto my face. “You want me naked?” I asked, voice husky.

“Fuck, yeah. I want to see your beautiful tits.” He leaned in and said, voice low and with just the right amount of huskiness to make me melt inside, “And I want to see your beautiful pussy.” His warm breath teased my cheek.

It wasn't as if I'd never heard a guy I'd had sex with say “tits” and “pussy,” but somehow hearing them from Nolan, and the way he said them, set every nerve in my body on fire. Moaning, I leaned back against the bathroom counter. My T-shirt joined Nolan's a second later.

I slowly unhooked the back of my bra. Doing my best not to laugh, I performed a slow sensual dance, my hips swaying side to side, and peeled the plain white bra from my body. An exotic dancer I was not. My bra wasn't the sexiest of bras either. But wearing my sexy underwear while working with young kids just seemed wrong.

Nolan didn't care that my underwear wasn't satin or lace. From the way his gaze consumed me, none of that was important.

The bathroom grew steamier, the mirror foggy. Moments later, the rest of our clothes joined the party on the floor, and I opened the shower door.

I stepped into the small space. Delicious hot water rained on my body. Nolan watched me, a hungry expression on his face.

I crooked my finger, indicating for him to join me.

He did exactly that, and his lips were instantly on mine. Our kiss deepened as I heated both inside and out.

My fingers brushed against the light growth on his jaw. Usually he went for the clean-shaven look, but he hadn't bothered to shave this morning. It looked good on him, and it felt great against my skin.

I moaned at just how great it felt against my skin.

His lips left mine and moved along my jaw and down my neck. Unconsciously I let my head drop to the side, opening up the area for him to explore. I could never get enough of this from Nolan. All the guys in my past paled in comparison, and all the guys in my future would fail to compare too. I already knew that much. Sucked to be me.

My hands wanted to do their own exploring. They traveled his body, mapping out my favorite parts, memorizing them so I could remember this moment once he returned to L.A.

My fingers caressed his jutting length, and I bit back a giggle. Nolan and I might have changed a lot since he'd moved away, but he was still the same guy who used to be my best friend. Even though I felt slightly awkward intimately touching the guy I used to share my deepest secrets with, it also felt natural. Like this was the way it was meant to be.

Nolan made a low, guttural noise as my fingers teased the most sensitive parts of him. He was definitely relaxed now, his thoughts about this afternoon long since forgotten.

Wanting to give him something new to focus on, I knelt in front of him and slipped my lips over his tip. I wasn't big on going down on a guy. I'd only done it once before with my ex, which might be why he'd cheated on me. He was big on being the recipient of blow jobs. The gifter? Not so much.

I took in as much of Nolan as I dared while my hand worked the rest of him. To his credit, Nolan didn't force me to take in more. Using my tongue and my hand, I entertained myself, grinning at the erotic sounds coming from Nolan's mouth. Those same sounds boosted my own aroused state. He didn't need to touch me, and I was certain if he did at this point, I'd come in three seconds flat.

The fingers of my free hand reached for his nuts and gently squeezed them. “Oh, God,” Nolan moaned.

Before I could do anything else, he wrapped his hands around my biceps and tugged me up. “I want to be inside you.”

I stood, my hair wet from the water that had found its way around Nolan's body as he shielded me from it. His mouth was on mine again and our kiss deepened, the time for talk long since forgotten.

Just as I was wondering how we were going to do this, Nolan squatted slightly, hooked my thigh with his hand, and moved my leg to wrap around his hip. The tip of his cock rubbed against the most sensitive part of me and the aching throb between my legs screamed,
Yes, please.

Then my legs were around him and he was inside me, thrusting hard, driving our bodies wild with desire. My back pressed against the cool bathroom tiles and I jerked forward, taking him in deep.

The moment before I came was like rushing over the rapids—that singular moment when it was too late to turn back. All I could do was hold on tight and enjoy the ride.

And as my scream joined Nolan's satisfied grunt, I was sure my neighbors didn't doubt for a second that he and I both enjoyed the ride.

Later I'd be mortified at just how noisy we'd been. Later I'd be mortified when my neighbors realized I'd fucked Tyler Erickson—like the tabloids would confirm.

But for now, I wanted to enjoy what we'd shared. For now, I wanted to hold on to him for as long as I could, before I had to let him go.

Before I had to walk away.