Page 14 of Rock On

What was there to say?

As far as I was concerned, actions spoke louder than words and her actions spoke volumes.

I’d been pretending I was over it for three long years, and last night’s activities notwithstanding, I knew how to keep everything bottled up so I could do what I needed to do.

Today was technically no different, so I got something to eat and got dressed, pushing my melancholy thoughts away and gearing up for another day. We only had a couple of studio days left, and then our producer would work his magic while we started rehearsals for the tour. We were kicking off right after the New Year, with a handful of shows in L.A. From there, we’d be on the road until the week before Christmas, with a few short breaks built in. The sooner we got started, the sooner I’d forget about fucking Harley in a cemetery.

At least on tour there was zero chance of running into her.

I hated myself for the way I’d behaved last night but the reality was that I’d do it all over again given half a chance. As angry as I was, I’d never walk away from an opportunity to be with her. Next time, I’d force her to talk to me, and answer my questions.

Next time?

Yeah, right.

Like there was going to be a next time.

She probably hated me now, although I wasn’t the one who’d cheated and had a kid with someone else. There was no mistaking the timing—River was born six months after she left me, which meant she’d been screwing Carter before she left.

That was the part that got to me.

She’d already been sleeping with him.

Considering the threesome we’d had six weeks before she’d served me with the papers, they’d obviously planned it to cover up her pregnancy. The two people I loved and trusted most in the world had been playing me, and I still wasn’t over it. I might not ever get over it.

I hadn’t known what they were up to at the time, of course, and it wasn’t until I found out about River and did some backward math that I realized how they’d both duped me. But Carter was dead by then and Harley and I had been divorced for two years.

It hurt like hell but there was nothing to be done. From the outside looking in, it seemed simple, but nothing had ever been simple with us.

I’d found out after the fact that Carter had been taking care of her and River, but they weren’t a couple. I knew for a fact Carter had been fucking anything and everything that moved on tour, so if they’d had some kind of relationship, it wasn’t a serious one. I also knew Harley well enough to know she wouldn’t put up with that. That had been a hard limit for her in our marriage, so I couldn’t imagine she’d allowed Carter to sleep around if they were together.

None of the facts as I knew them made sense.

On top of that, Carter had always had a thing for me, and simultaneously had feelings for Harley. So once she’d divorced me, why the hell hadn’t they gotten together? Had they tried and broken up? Had she dumped him once she realized living with an addict would be a lifetime of misery? I had so many fucking questions. I knew Harley intimately, as well as I knew almost anyone, and I’d known Carter pretty damn well too. Nothing that had happened was logical based on what I knew, and after being with her last night, the partially healed emotional wounds had been ripped to shreds once again.

I’d tried so fucking hard to move on.

Until last night, I honestly thought I had.

Or at least I’d been close.

Now it felt like I was right back to square one.

As soon as I got to the studio, I was going to find the first willing groupie and drag her into the nearest bathroom. A blow job would put me in a better mood and force the memory of being inside Harley back to the dark recesses of my mind. Mindless sex with random women didn’t help the emotional scars, but it felt pretty damn good in the moment anyway. And something good was better than nothing.

I revved the engine of my bike and opened it up on the freeway.

I felt lighter now that I had a plan, and while it wasn’t perfect, it would get me through today. Maybe even long enough to put Harley out of my mind. Of course, I hadn’t managed to do that in three years, so there were no guarantees, but I had to keep trying before I drove myself insane.

I picked up speed, weaving in and out of the surprisingly light traffic.

Riding was one of my escapes when I wasn’t on tour.

Back in the early days, the band had ridden together. Hell, one of our videos featured us riding our bikes down the Sunset Strip. The other guys had professional models riding on the back, but Harley had ridden with me. We’d all had a blast shooting that video. So much so I couldn’t even watch it anymore because it reminded me of how good things had been between us back then.

She’d been an aspiring actress who took modeling gigs to pay the rent. I was already supporting us, but she’d been firm that she needed money of her own. Just in case.

Just in case what? I’d asked her once.

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