His clothes mostly back in order—though his shirt was still unbuttoned and giving her a breathtaking view of a narrow strip of his chest—he leaned against the counter beside her.
“I have to ask, even though I already know your answer,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest.
She met his eyes and saw the same anguish over parting that she felt in her own chest and belly.
“Come to LA with me,” he said.
“I can’t. I want to.” And for a few seconds she almost faltered and told the world to fuck off. She didn’t need a career or friends or to do the right thing. But she couldn’t be that kind of person. “You have no idea how much I want to.” She squeezed his forearm. “You could stay here with me.”
“I’m enough of a selfish asshole to do just that,” he said.
She grinned. “No, you’re not.”
He opened his arms, and she stepped into his embrace, settling her face against his beating heart. He hugged her close. His voice rumbled deep against her ear as she snuggled even closer.
“Can’t you get away this weekend? Or even one day? Sed’s getting married. My invitation says plus guest. Don’t make me look like a loser by forcing me to bring Zach.”
She chuckled and squeezed him tight around the waist. “I’m sure the tabloids would love to print that story. How’s Zach doing? Did he get things sorted out with his boyfriend?” She still couldn’t believe Enrique Sanz was gay. He’d dated a fair number of A-list actresses over the years. Roux had had quite a crush on him at one time.
“Zach’s heartbroken. Refuses to get out of my bed.”
“Um . . . I’m sure the tabloids would love to print that story too.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’d rather them print the one about how I ran off and eloped with the sensational keyboardist of the up-and-coming band Baroquen.”
Her breath caught, and she pulled away to gape at him. Was he serious? His grin told her that he couldn’t possibly be. She slapped his arm. “Don’t joke about stuff like that.”
“I’m not joking. I have a jet at my disposal. Say the word and we’re in Vegas getting hitched in a matter of hours.”
Her heart thundered out of control, and she stepped away. “You are moving way too fast for me.”
“I’m moving way too fast for me too,” he said, capturing her upper arms in both hands. “I just don’t want you to get away.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re sure?”
She nodded.
“You seemed pretty freaked out about saying I love you.”
“That isn’t what freaked me out.” But she didn’t want to discuss her silly, irrational fears. “Is Exodus End really going to play at Sed’s wedding reception? That’s crazy.”
“Don’t change the subject. Tell me what had you so afraid.”
She shook her head and turned her back on him, fingers automatically going to the bullet dangling from her old bracelet. “It’s nothing.”
His arms slid around her waist from behind, and he rested his cheek against the top of her head. “It isn’t nothing. Tell me.”
Having those thoughts return now caused the familiar panic to rise up her chest and into her throat. She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out of the bathroom. There was no good place for them to hide in there. She pulled free of his grasp and bolted for the door, opening it and almost crashing into Jordan who had a fist up ready to knock on the heavy wood.
“Oh good,” she said, “you’re done. We have to get in the air if we’re going to make it back by morning.”
Roux dashed past her, sadness over Steve’s leaving crowding out her silly panic. She didn’t know whether to scream or cry, so she hurried to the huge window that faced the airstrip and clutched the waist-high windowsill, settling her forehead against the cool glass and sucking deep breaths into her lungs. She knew the instant that Steve stopped beside her. She could feel his presence.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to try to get away.” His tone was teasing, and she was glad he was trying to lighten the mood, because she couldn’t take any more heaviness pressing in at her from all directions.
“I’m not trying to get away from you.”
“You just won’t tell me something as important as why you’re afraid. You don’t think I can handle it?”
She could see him struggling not to reach for her. He went so far as to shove both hands into his pockets.
“I don’t want you to think I’m silly,” she admitted. “My fears are completely irrational. I know that. But it doesn’t make them feel any less real.”
He watched her closely but didn’t crowd her or say anything. Maybe that was why she couldn’t keep quiet.
“When I realized that I love you, my first thought was that my father would shoot you too. Take you from me like he took everyone I loved. I couldn’t stand to lose another person I love that way.”
Steve wasn’t so special in that regard. Sometimes she still worried that some asshole with a gun would kill her sisters or Mama Ramona, but she hadn’t experienced crippling panic over those kinds of thoughts for years. It must be because loving Steve was so new. She simply hadn’t had time to convince herself that the chances of him falling to the same tragedy that had taken her family were slim.
Steve took one step closer, but still held himself stiff, listening closely to what she was saying but not interrupting. He must think she was a fucking lunatic. She didn’t want him to think of her that way, so why the hell couldn’t she shut up?
“There was no good place to hide in that bathroom.” She pointed toward the dimly lit hallway that led to the bathroom. “If someone came in there, we’d be sitting ducks.” The fear of huddling in that dark closet, the sound of Daddy’s gun firing again and again, the feel of his hand wrapping around her ankle and of being dragged out into the open, the strange acceptance of knowing she was about to die—all those sensations were as vivid and real to her now as they had been when she’d experienced them over a decade ago. She covered her chest with her hand, as if that would have stopped the bullet that almost ended her life, stopped it from affecting her life to this day.
“Good point,” Steve said.
Huh?
“I didn’t think of how something like that might affect you.”
He wasn’t going to tell her that no one would have tried to attack them in a million years? Not tell her she was being irrational and not to worry, that they’d been perfectly safe? That was what she was used to hearing, and none of those words made her feel more secure or less panicked. Mostly they just made her feel stupid.
“Are there certain places that make you feel vulnerable?” he asked, taking another step closer.
She licked her lips and shook her head. “It wasn’t the place,” she said. “It was a feeling.” She huffed out a laugh. “And not a feeling I’m willing to give up now that I recognize it.” But a feeling she’d been avoiding for years. She just hadn’t realized why she never allowed herself to fall in love in any of her past relationships. Steve hadn’t given her a choice. She had to love him. She would have to find a way to cope, because she refused to let her father’s actions take love from her now that it was hers. “I love you. That feeling is what makes me feel vulnerable.”
“I can’t just stand here and not hold you right now,” he said.
Her heart twisted, and a tear leaked from her eye to course down her cheek. She remembered the first time he’d said that to her out on the balcony when she’d tried to scare him away by telling him about her past. Was that the moment she’d started falling for him? She took a step closer, and he threw his arms around her, pulling her securely against his chest. Here she felt safe. Only here.
After a moment, Steve stiffened and looked over his shoulder. Jordan was standing behind him, tapping him on the back. He had to leave. Roux knew he had to, and she forced herself to be grateful for the moments they’d stolen rather than bitter that the time had
already slipped away from them.
“It’s only a week,” she said, more to herself than to him.
“But we can’t see each other on tour either,” he said. “Your rule.”