Page 47 of Creed

“Creed, I’m going to speak, and I need you to listen very carefully because I’m only going to explain myself one time, understand?” I say and he actually has the right mind to look a little nervous, but he nods once.

“Okay,” he responds softly. I square my shoulders and let my eyes bore into his, hopefully telling him just how fucking serious I am.

“First, I’m going to be really, really fucking brave here and tell you that that kiss was single-handedly the hottest fucking kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life, and I will not regret it no matter what you say or where we go from this point forward.” I glare at him, throwing his exaggerated words back at him, but he just nods in agreement. I watch, though, as he starts fidgeting with his hands, like he’s trying to keep from using them in some way. Like he’s holding himself back. Interesting. Filing that away for later. I take a deep breath and barrel forward on what could be a dumpster fire of a conversation. “Second, we are not characters in some romance novel where we—” I motion my hand back and forth between us, “—two consenting adults who have known each other for a long damn time—somehow need permission or approval of my absent brother to act on our desires, just because he happens to be your best friend with some bullshit unspoken ‘bro-code’ between you two.

“Third,” I hold up three fingers in front of his face as if it will help drive my argument home. It’s a pointless act but it’s a physical reminder that I need to keep talking before I completely lose my nerve and either bolt or sink into a dissociative episode from the anxiety I’m triggering. “I don’t think it’s very fair to play whatever fucking head game you’re playing with me right now. You can’t just say all that growly, possessive shit like ‘had to know what you taste like,” I mock in a deep voice, which makes his lips twitch, fighting a smile. “You’re the one who initiated the kiss, then told me it was a mistake. Though I don’t think it was.”

I take a deep breath and glance down at my chipping black nails, willing my tears and emotions to dry the fuck up and keep at bay. “But if that’s the case for you, then you need to say it again and mean it. But that’ll be it from me. You’ll need to let me go, Creed. Because like I said earlier, I’ve been ping-ponged around my entire life, having decisions either made for me or taken from me, and I won’t let you be another one of them.”

His head snaps up in my direction at my words and the look in his eyes is wounded. He swallows, his eyes searching between mine but the longer he looks, the harder his expression becomes and…I don’t like it. “Collins,” he says gruffly, “Let me start by saying that the last thing I will be in your life is controlling in a way that strips you of your freedom.” Funny, the way he worded that. “I always watched and waited for your letters. Every. Single. One. Even if what you wrote wasn’t positive, I had to know what was happening in your life, to know you were living, breathing, and fucking fighting.”

“You couldn’t have just called me?” I ask with a little too much snap to my voice.

“I didn’t even know you had a phone until you were nearly eighteen, when I got your last letter.” He swallows thickly, “I would’ve reached out to you way fucking sooner, had I known.”

I watch him as he speaks, remembering that day with so much clarity. The feeling of being let down, abandoned, and feeling so insignificant and unimportant in the world. Creed’s nostrils flare and his jaw tics when he continues. “Our manager was in charge of making sure all of our mail was delivered to us within three days of receiving it while we were on tour. He somehow fucked up and it took weeks to get it all delivered. I was so fucking livid. He didn’t understand why I’d be so pissed about mail, because he didn’t know. I didn’t tell anyone. I couldn’t risk you being exposed to the media by anyone on my team. So I kept your letters a secret, letting my bandmates believe it was just fan mail.

“That day, two years ago, when you cut me out of your life,” he pauses, and I wince at his words, but his thumb gently strokes my knee in reassurance, “I felt like a piece of me was cut out that day and walked away with you.” He looks at me without an ounce of remorse when he says, “I hired a PI to try and find you.”

I have to fight really damn hard to not snort a laugh at his admission because I knew about his PI. The moment I spoke to him and he didn’t have a clue as to who I was, I was as elated as I was furious that he cared enough to look for me, but not enough to come for me himself. He wasn’t touring at that time, after all. But then I remember how I’d blocked him and Asher in a moment of anger and kept it that way until last night all while trying to forget them and the way they had left me alone in the world. I’d had the stupid hope that I’d hear one of their voices for my birthday. Never did I expect to actually hear Creed’s voice with my own ears again, especially in a club like Viper.

“We actually just got back from our European tour tonight. Ri and I were fucking exhausted and ready to sleep for days. But Tony, the asswipe, has endless energy and had called, raving on about this club that was seedy as fuck but apparently the dancers were ‘hot as fuck’—his words.” His words are light with a joking tone, but his eyes dance over my face with a look that causes my face to heat, but he keeps talking as if I’m not at all affected by his words. “T is always finding these questionable places that majority of the time turn out to be just that, questionable and an instant regret that the rest of us back out of. But tonight, something in my brain was nagging relentlessly at me and urged me to go.”

I scrunch my nose at the thought and tilt my head at him, speaking out loud. “But, you had no idea I’d be there.”

“No, I didn’t. But that’s the crazy thing about fate. We have no idea why our instincts urge us to do or not do something, but we blindly follow that trust anyway.” Creed’s eyes bore into mine, his voice dropping to nothing more than a hushed tone. “I’d been searching for you everywhere for so fucking long, Stardust. But fate? That gut instinct? It led me to find you. Right under my own goddamned nose, too apparently. But it happened. Fuckin’ finally,” he mutters the last part under his breath and it makes me chuckle despite the intensity of the conversation.

I watch him closely while he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and hangs his head low between his shoulders for a moment. His throat bobs as he swallows, chest rising and falling with a few deep breaths before lifting his head to continue.. He looks across the room, but his stare is zoned out when he speaks. “I won’t lie to you and tell you I didn’t enjoy kissing the fuck out of you, Collins. Because fuck me, I did. I have been dreaming about what your lips tasted like for two fucking years.” He sighs, keeping his focus straight ahead of him. “I’m sorry I said it was a mistake. If I got a do-over with my words, I’d probably just label it as ‘poorly timed’. Collins, I just got you back. We haven’t even been calm enough to tell your brother that you’re alive and that you’re okay. We’ve been through some roller coaster bullshit tonight and I won’t make it worse by acting on reckless impulse. I’m really fucking trying to keep my crazy side leashed here to do the right thing.”

His icy blue gaze swings to me, and in this moment I see so much emotion in his beautiful, captivating eyes that I see him. Not Creed St. James The Rockstar, not Creed The Playboy, and not Crazy as Fuck Creed. Just the same sweet young Creed who I grew up with. “It’s been a fucking day, for all of us. And I think we need to take a step back, get some much needed sleep, and figure the rest out in the morning.”

I agree with him. I was so upset by his rejection, but after hearing what he had to say, I know he’s absolutely right. My feelings and long-term feelings for him aside, we acted on an impulse when a chaos of emotions were already running rampant through our minds. It still fucking stings now that I’ve finally had a taste, but I agree that we need to take a few steps back. I’m about to nod in agreeance when the last thing he said finally registers in my brain.

“Wait, figure the rest of what out tomorrow?”

He stands, offering his hand to me. I take it, standing and stretching my sore limbs. He ignores my question, nodding his head toward the staircase. “Come on. We need sleep.”

“Creed.” I admonish as he gives me his back, making his way up the stairs. “Figure what out?” I call out again.

When I realize he’s not stopping to wait for me, I shuffle around the couch and follow him up the stairs. I have long legs for being on the shorter side, but it takes more energy than I possess to keep up with Creed’s stride. I swear it’s like he grew several more inches even after graduation because he’s fucking massive. Well over six feet, considering my head stops at his shoulder. Walking behind him and not being thrown over his shoulder gives me a delicious view of the back of his body. Even with joggers and a t-shirt stretched across his torso, I can see the muscle definition in his shoulders as well as the tattoos adorning his triceps. A snake tightly coiled around a bleeding dagger on the left, and a classic black and white tattoo of a lighthouse surrounded by clouds and crashing waves on the right.

He stops in front of a door at the end of the hall and pushes it open before looking back at me over his shoulder and tipping his head, gesturing for me to follow him inside. “You can crash in here.” The moment I step inside I’m immediately wrapped up in the scent that is all Creed. This must be his room.

The walls are a dark charcoal gray with a dark oak modern bed on the left and a vintage matching armoire on the right of the room. The ceilings are tall and there’s a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows on the adjacent wall to the bed. Even with the dark walls and furniture, the space feels large, but homey.

I turn to him, confused. “I’m not taking your room, Creed.”

“This house may be big, but it’s surprisingly only got four bedrooms. Riley and I converted one into a mini recording studio and writing space, and the other is somewhat of a cluttered storage room. So unless you want to sleep in Riley’s room where he’s an absolute bed hog,” he huffs a laugh when I raise a single brow at him, wondering how he would possibly know this. He smiles a cheeky grin that’s entirely too sexy as he explains, “Charleston 2021, before we all had separate buses, the one I shared with Ri broke down and we had to get a motel room for the night. We thought we got a room with two beds but walked into the pleasant surprise of one damn bed in the room and when he passed out, he sprawled out so wide I ended up sleeping in a very questionably stained recliner all night.”

I can’t stop the giggle that turns into a full blown laugh at the imagery of Riley kicking Creed out of the bed. When my laughter dies down, I look up to see Creed watching me with a twinkle in his eyes, a lightness there that has replaced the heaviness that overtook them earlier. It fills my heart with some relief.

He clears his throat and rubs at the back of his neck, almost nervously. “So, yeah, that pretty much leaves this room as the only option for sleep tonight.”

“Creed, no.” I rub my forehead before letting my hand flop down against my thigh, ready to just end this fucking day. “I just need a pillow and a sheet and I’ll sleep on your couch.”

“Fuck that.” He counters. “You’re not sleeping on my couch, Collins. Get in the damn bed.”

“It’s one night. I’ll be f?—”

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