Xander_Part 2_The Present Read online

"I know." I reach up to touch his cheek and he leans into my hand. He's got a few days' worth of stubble on his face and it tickles my thumb as I rub it across his cheek.

  He pulls me close, into a hug, and I hold him tight. My body begins to shake from the memory and from the knowledge that everything that was done to me, he experienced, too.

  "Are… are you okay, now?" he asks, not letting go.

  I shake my head. "No. I don't go outside and, if you'll notice, the crowd is very thin in here. I don't handle larger groups of people well. Even for this I needed anti-anxiety medication."

  He nods, his cheek resting on top of my head now.

  People begin murmuring about us, staring, more flashes going off. Angelina comes over.

  "The last of the pieces sold, Tera. You're free to leave, if you wish." Her expression is one of concern. All the pieces but this one. This one isn't for sale.

  "Thank you, Angelina. You're a godsend. I wouldn't make it through these things without you," I respond honestly.

  "You and your talent—you make it easy." She gives me a small smile and walks away.

  I turn to Carter, who looks so lost. "C'mon. Let's go up."

  He doesn't say anything, just follows along blindly as I lead him up the stairs to the apartment. I close and lock the door with the keypad and the reinforced chain, knowing no one is expected to come up.

  "It's quiet up here," he murmurs, still holding my hand like a lifeline.

  "Yeah. Linc's out of town until tomorrow."

  "He still lives with you, then?"

  I nod. "Want something to drink? Beer? Tea? Soda?"

  "Tea, if it's not too much trouble."

  "No trouble at all. With just a half-teaspoon of sugar, right?" I ask.

  He nods. "Perfect."

  "Make yourself comfortable," I urge.

  Carter wanders the apartment aimlessly, stopping to look at the photographs—laughing at the one with us sticking our tongues out at one another and crossing our eyes. We were so silly back then. Silly and carefree. Right now, he looks like the weight of the world just fell on his shoulders—and I hate that it’s because of what happened to me.

  I bring the tea in the living room and we both sit on the sofa, the only light coming from the kitchen, leaving the room dim and calming.

  "What's going on in there, Carter?" I ask quietly.

  He sighs and tips his head back, staring at the ceiling. "That night… I didn't know what was going on, at first. I only knew you were in trouble. I immediately went to my dad and he called 911. The cops tracked your phone and, Jesus, they didn't make it in time."

  He scrubs his hands over his face, then leans forward to grab his tea before resting his elbows on his knees.

  "I knew what they were doing, too, Tera. They laughed and joked about it, so I knew. I was paralyzed in fear for you. I didn't know if they were just going to hurt you or if they were going to kill you. One of them mentioned a gun. Another mentioned a switchblade. I sat in a corner in the hallway while my dad frantically spoke to the police. He kept reassuring me it would be okay, but I knew it wouldn't. Nothing was okay."

  I stay silent so he can continue to purge anything he needs to. Hearing this from him isn't an easy thing for me. It's tearing me in half again. He mentions something they said or did and I feel it, I hear it.

  "You stopped talking. I thought you were dead. I couldn't stand it, but then something even worse happened. You started mewling out this awful sound of distress, and you screamed in pain. It sounded like an animal being abused, but I knew it was you. That, to me, was worse than death. Hearing you suffer like that…" He pauses, wiping the tears from his eyes then taking a drink of his tea.

  He leans back against the sofa again, turning his head to look at me.

  "I was still in love with you, and hearing you hurt, hearing them hurt you, it was as if they were delivering the punishment directly to my heart. Then you went silent again and I didn't know what happened—if they killed you, or if you just… broke. Eventually, I knew you were alive. They talked about how it was pissing them off to not hear your crying, even though you were crying. They wanted to hear you suffer. Seeing it wasn't enough."

  I nod and wipe my own tears, my body beginning to shake. Carter reaches out and cups my cheek.

  "I wanted to kill someone that night. I would have killed them all if I'd been able to get there in time. It felt like hours, I'm sure it did to you, too. In actuality, it was only like twenty minutes or something—if that."

  "They did maximum damage in minimal time," I whisper hoarsely, my voice cracking.

  Carter sets his mug down on the table, doing the same with mine, before pulling me onto his lap and holding me tight. I know this is more for him than me. Whatever he needs…

  "Then they were gone. It was a few minutes before I heard you whimpering. I was going crazy being in Chicago when you needed me in LA. I knew I should have gone along on that trip. Something told me I needed to go but I didn't listen. I mean, you had Xander. I thought he'd have been there," he tells me desperately.

  "But he wasn't," I whisper.

  "No. He wasn't. You were alone because you took the time to talk to him without distraction before you left. You sacrificed so much for him at that time, what with the band and touring," he reminds me.

  "I did. I didn't mind. Not until that night," I reply.

  "Do you—" He shakes his head.

  "Go ahead and ask. It's okay."

  He gives me an uncertain look. "Do you… did you ever blame him?"

  I nod. "Oh yeah. It's only natural. I mean, like you said, I stayed late and alone for him. If I hadn't, none of that would have happened. If he'd been there for my big night, like I'd been for him countless times, none of it would have happened."

  "I blamed him."

  I look at him in surprise.

  "I did. I still do. If he'd fucking been there… if he'd just once put you first, you wouldn't have been attacked," Carter bites out with anger.

  I nod. "I know. I thought that so much, but can I blame him, really? I was the one who wanted to talk to him without interruptions, so I stayed at the gallery alone. I could have talked to him on speaker in the car, but I didn't want to have to deal with traffic and talk at the same time."

  "Are you really blaming yourself for this?" he asks, clearly pissed.

  "No. God, no. I never blamed myself, but all the 'what ifs' went through my mind while I recovered in the hospital. I spent a lot of time sedated, and all a person does then is sleep or think. I didn't want to talk to anyone so I pretended to be asleep even when I wasn't. I didn't want to see them. They could be there for this but not for the biggest night of my life? You see, I've thought it all. I've told them all every one of my thoughts. It's part of therapy," I tell him.

  He nods. "When I saw you…" He clears his throat. "When I saw you lying in that bed, I didn't know if death would have been better. That's a fucked up thing to think. I know that now, but then, you were so broken and lost. I'm glad you didn't die, Tera, but I am so fucking sorry you had to go through all of that."

  I wipe his tears. "I know, but don't you be sorry. You saved my life, Carter. There's no way anyone would have found me in that alley. It was dark. I would have likely bled to death."

  He hugs me tighter and I hug him back.

  "I wish I could have done more. I've never felt so fucking helpless in my life and I never want to feel that way again," he admits.

  I nod against his cheek. I don't know how long we sit like that, just holding one another while we purge the grief. All I know is, we both needed this.

  "What the holy fucking hell is going on here?" Lincoln bellows.

  I blink my eyes open and meet Carter's amused ones. We must have fallen asleep. Carter arranged us so we were lying face to face and he covered us, too.

  I wink at him and he smirks.

  "Oh, Carter, right there," I moan, with a sassy grin.

  He grunts for effect, trying like hell to not lau
gh.

  "God damn, Tera," Lincoln chides.

  I let the laugh loose and so does Carter.

  "That was awesome," Carter declares.

  "I'm not amused," Linc replies.

  "I don't care," I tell Lincoln with a snicker as we sit up—still fully clothed. "As you can see by the lack of nudity, no funny business went on here last night."

  "I see that now, but the photos of you and Carter at your show last night look like something entirely different," Linc tells me, handing me his phone.

  "Ah, the press," I murmur.

  Carter whistles at some of the intimate-looking images that have hit the Internet. "We look hot, like we're gonna rip each other's clothes off right there."

  I laugh. "We do. Sadly, it was quite the opposite."

  "Sadly?" Linc questions.

  I shrug. "If I'm going to be accused of banging Carter Winters, I'd really like to do it so I can enjoy all the pleasures I know he can deliver."

  Lincoln groans. "More than I needed to know."

  Carter laughs. "Coffee?"

  "Cabinet on the right by the fridge," I tell him.

  He nods and heads to the kitchen. With the open concept of this apartment, there isn't much privacy when Linc gives me a look.

  "What?"

  "Your husband is pissed."

  I laugh. "Are you serious right now?"

  "As a heart attack. You know Winters is a hot topic for Xan."

  "That's his problem. Whores and groupies are a hot topic for me, but that didn't seem to stop him from being photographed on a regular basis, and it certainly didn't stop him from making a sex tape of a threesome with Jesse and one of their sluts, now, did it?" I bite back.

  "Don't shoot the messenger. I'm just saying."

  "I know what you're saying and I don't give a shit. He didn't care that I had to see all the disgusting images and gossip after that sex tape hit the airwaves, did he? Nope, sure didn't. So I don't give one single fuck how he feels about this."

  Lincoln nods. "I hate this shit. You two need to figure this shit out."

  "I thought we already had."

  He points at me and raises his brows. "You know better than that."

  "Whatever," I reply when Carter hands me a cup of steaming coffee.

  "I think it's fantastic. It's about time that asshole gets a taste of his own medicine," Carter tells us with a grin.

  "Yeah!" I agree. "What Carter said."

  Linc rolls his eyes. "It's like high school all over again."

  I laugh.

  "Not funny, little sister."

  "It is for me," I tease.

  "Yeah, yeah. You're not stuck in the middle—again."

  Carter cocks his head. "Again? You mean, he was like this back then, too?"

  Linc nods.

  "I thought it was one-sided," Carter mutters. "I should have known." He pauses. "What a fucking idiot! Again!"

  Lincoln nods and points at Carter. "Exactly, and she's no better."

  Carter looks at me thoughtfully.

  "What?"

  "Why?" he asks.

  "Why what?"

  "Why are you wasting time, Tera? You know as well as I do it can all end in a split second," Carter questions.

  I sigh. "I can't be what he needs me to be."

  "And what's that, exactly?"

  "His wife. Standing next to him in the spotlight. I can't do that. I can't even step outside of this building without panicking so bad I hyperventilate," I admit quietly.

  "You're still in therapy, right?" Carter asks.

  I nod. "I'm working on it. I'm just not there yet."

  "Ah. So you're not wasting time. You're using it to heal and get strong again. I get it."

  I wrap my arms around his neck and hug him.

  "Finally," I whisper. "Someone understands."

  "You're really not that complicated," Carter mutters.

  "You keep right on thinking that, pal." With that, Lincoln walks out of the room with luggage in tow.

  Carter gives me an amused smile. "You giving your brother a hard time?"

  I shrug. "Isn't that what sisters are supposed to do?"

  Carter chuckles. "It's what mine does. I didn't know you could be so evil."

  I wiggle my eyebrows. "What you don't know won't hurt you."

  "Truth. I can live without knowing."

  I nod and take another sip of coffee.

  "Thanks for last night," Carter voices quietly.

  "Thank you, too. We both needed to talk it through. I hate so much that you suffered as much as I did," I whisper.

  "I'll admit I suffered, but nowhere near as much as you, baby doll. You went through something too horrible to put into words. They broke you, yet here you are, putting the pieces back where they belong. I admire the hell out of you, Tera."

  I shake my head. "Don't admire me. It's been a constant battle and a lot of the time I think I'm losing."

  "You're not. You're winning. Some of those cracks are going to take time to heal and reinforce, but I have absolutely no doubt you'll get there. When you do, I'll be there to help you celebrate."

  "Promise?" I ask.

  "I promise," Carter answers.

  I hug him again. "I'll hold you to that."

  9

  XANDER

  Nine months later…

  (Four Years Before Lucy)

  * * *

  “It’s been over two years. We missed our five-year anniversary. I can’t take this shit anymore,” I tell the guys, pacing out on the patio where we're drinking some beer and relaxing after having just finished a long-ass tour.

  “What’re you gonna do?” Kennedy asks.

  “I don’t know, but I can’t stand being without her.”

  “Dude, I don’t know what’s taken you this long,” Ben says. “Get your ass out there and fix your shit.”

  “What the hell are you waiting for?” Jesse asks.

  “A written invitation, I think,” Ethan adds.

  “If that’s all it would’ve taken, I’d have sent one a long time ago,” Kennedy declares.

  “Funny fuckers. All of you. We were touring, in case you forgot. It's not so easy knocking on her door when we're touring Europe and the UK." I pace some more. "You all think you know so much, tell me. How the hell do I fix this?”

  Kennedy leans forward. "You might wanna start by… "

  10

  TERA

  I’m deep into my work when there’s a knock on the door. Which one of them is it? With the way things are set up, the only ones who can get through this level of security are the people on the list.

  I wipe my hands on the paint rag and look through the peephole. My heart plunges into my stomach.

  “Holy shit. Holy fucking shit,” I whisper. I turn around and pace. What’s he doing here? I don’t want to see him, not when a year ago a sex tape of him and Jesse and some slut was released. That was one hell of a threesome.

  Yeah, I tortured myself and watched it. It made me really glad I never went public about Xander and me. Watching him parading a different chick around before the cameras every night was one thing, but a sex tape took it to a whole new level. I wanted to file for divorce or legal separation, but somehow Lincoln talked me out of it.

  He pounds on the door again and I press a hand to my stomach to try and calm my nerves.

  God, why did he have to come now, of all times? I'm painting. My hair's up in a messy bun, I'm covered in paint, and I'm makeup-less. Plus, I've been working nonstop on this piece, so I'm plagued with dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep.

  Maybe he'll go away.

  Ugh.

  I unlock the deadbolts and the chain before opening the door. I keep my pissed off in place in spite of how fucking delicious he looks right now. Oh God. I've missed him so much.

  I want nothing more than to run my fingers through his messy dark curls, pull his face down, and kiss him stupid. But I don't.

  I don't say anything. I just wait with raised
eyebrows.

  "Tera," he says softly, with such reverence I nearly drop to my knees—nearly.

  "Yes?" I ask.

  "I brought you a coffee," he replies, holding out a large cardboard cup from my favorite coffee place.

  I really want to accept that coffee. I could use it, and I bet it's my favorite. What I really want is to invite Xander in, but instead, I give him an eye roll and close the door, relocking the chain and deadbolts.

  I stand there and wait, knowing he's on the other side. I hear a thump, and I can picture him resting his head against the door.

  I walk away because if I don't, I'm going to do something stupid and open the door, take the coffee, let him in, share the coffee, then take him to bed—and I can't do that. I won't. I can't.

  I think about everything that’s happened. I think about his showing up out of the blue. Who the hell does he think he is? The anger inside me explodes.

  "How dare he show up here," I mutter to myself as I pace the length of the kitchen. "I mean, the nerve! After that sex tape and no apology," I growl.

  "What's going on?" Linc asks, leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed, feet crossed at the ankles—the perfect image of someone who's very comfortable in their own skin. It seems to be his favorite pose.

  "Xander is what's going on."

  "Huh?" Linc asks.

  "He showed up."

  "Here?"

  "Yeah."

  "Just now?" He turns his head toward the door.

  "Yeah!"

  "Why?"

  "I don't know. I guess to bring me coffee since he had a big cup and offered it to me."

  "You didn't take it?" he questions.

  "Do you see any cups of coffee around here?" I ask, exasperated.

  "Nope. Is that all he wanted?"

  "I dunno and I don't care, Linc. Why would he just show up like that?" I wonder aloud.

  "Probably because you won't take his phone calls."

  I scoff. "He should be used to that by now. I don't want coffee from him. I don't want him to show up on my doorstep out of the blue. I don't want anything but to finish this piece I'm working on."