Page 25 of Rock On

“Oh, but it’s okay when you do it?” I shot back.

“No! It’s not. That’s the whole fucking point.”

“It never stopped you before!”

“I never left marks other than hickeys before!”

We glared at each other.

“This was a mistake,” I muttered. “I have to go.”

He released my hand. “Well, that’s what you do, right? As soon as things get uncomfortable, you walk away.”

“Is that what—” I abruptly cut myself off. I couldn’t do this now and certainly not here.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but you can’t be in here. Visiting hours were over a long time ago.” A stern voice spoke behind us, and I yanked my hand away from him.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, turning to see if it was someone I knew. Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

“My ex-wife,” Tommy supplied. “Coming to see if that eighteen-wheeler finished me off for her.”

“Tommy!” I gave him a dirty look.

He gave me a quirky grin and wiggled his eyebrows. “As you can see, I’m still ticking, so you’re going to have to work harder to take me out.”

“He’s being an ass,” I murmured to the nurse.

She smiled as if she understood. “Well, then it’s probably a good time for you to go.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Tommy, who was watching me with an inscrutable look on his face.

“See ya!” he called after me.

Asshole.

For some reason, his easy dismissal broke my heart, and I held back the tears until I got on the elevator.

Then they exploded in the torrent of emotion I’d been holding back ever since Presley had texted me about his accident.

I hated the smug bastard so much.

But I still loved him.

And it still hurt as much as it had the day I’d left him.

NINE

Tommy

I got out of the hospital the next day and Z strongarmed me into going to his place instead of back to my empty condo. Having help was nice but it was at the expense of my privacy, so it was a balancing act not to lose my temper. He was one of my closest friends, and I loved the guy, but ever since he’d married Presley he’d gotten way too in touch with his feelings for my taste.

The irony didn’t escape me, since I’d recently realized how few people I had to talk to in my life, but talking to Z about Carter and Harley didn’t feel right. I wasn’t sure if it was because I was afraid he’d take their side over mine, or some other imaginary issue, so I just kept everything bottled up inside.

They’d sent me home from the hospital with crutches and a walker, and I hated both, but my knee hurt like a motherfucker so I needed to use them. The doctors had told me to be careful, because the more times the knee popped out of joint, the easier it would be to happen in the future. I needed to let it heal and then start strengthening the leg and knee as soon as possible. Especially if I wanted to be able to leave on a world tour in approximately nine weeks. Luckily, I was in pretty good shape, so we didn’t foresee any delays.

The band hadn’t yet figured out how rehearsals would go, but we were a well-oiled machine that could practically play with our eyes closed and hands tied behind our backs. We had a system that had been working for a decade, so we didn’t need a lot of practice. What we needed was to figure out the new set list, with new songs, and learn new choreography. Luckily, very little of the choreography had anything to do with me. No matter what the others did, I was almost always behind my drum set. They dealt with dance moves, spinning guitars, positioning of the piano, and other things that had nothing to do with me.

They could rehearse without me, too, but we all hated that idea, so we were going to wait two weeks. I’d wanted to do another take on the drums for one of the new songs, but after Z played me one of the tapes, I had to admit it was good as it was. Another take was basically for vanity, because we were all perfectionists, but there was honestly nothing for me to improve on.

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