Page 57 of Tortured Tones

“Cole, you can’t keep pushing yourself like this.” She grabbed some snacks from the pantry and filled a water bottle for Charlotte. After placing them in the bag, she slid it toward me. She never let her condition stop her from doing anything, but her shakes seemed worse today. I hoped she was okay. “I’m not saying stop living life and doing what you love, but you need to pace yourself. Slow down and get some rest. You have this huge tour coming up. You must take care of yourself.”

I didn’t do slow. I didn’t like sitting around doing nothing. I ate well. I exercised. I drank a bit too much. But I had to keep busy, and my brain occupied so I didn’t have time to think about the mistakes I’d made and the pain I’d caused.

“I’m fine, Hannah.”

“You’re not. Maybe I’m the only one who has the balls to tell you that.”

“No. You’re about the third.” Flint, Ava, and now Hannah had all voiced similar concerns. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yes. Just don’t let it be a once-off occurrence.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Good.” Her dangly earrings jiggled as her shakes worsened. I didn’t know much about Parkinson’s disease other than it attacked the nervous system. Hannah’s condition was mild, but her tremors became more obvious when she was concerned. Fuck. I didn’t want to give her any reason to worry. She leaned against the counter. “Your world won’t end if you take a break, smell the roses, and spend some time with your daughter.”

“I’m working on it.” Somehow. “I’ve got so much on, I don’t know what can give, but I’ll find the time. I will.” I’d thought this kid wouldn’t change my life, yet there I was, trying to find time in my schedule to be with her. Fuck.

“Excellent. Now enjoy your morning. Ava’s just arrived.” She pointed at the lit video security intercom on the kitchen wall. “I’m going to get changed and head out to see a friend. I’ll be back here around noon in time for you to go to rehearsal.”

“Thanks, Hannah. For everything.”

“You’re welcome.”

Ava was another thing on my list I had to deal with. I’d been so fucking tired yesterday on the drive to and from rehearsal, I hadn’t had the energy to apologize for what I’d said to her when I’d brought Lola home. But my drunken proposal still skipped through my mind.

What if Ava had agreed to join us?

What if she wanted a romp between my sheets?

A lopsided grin tugged the corner of my mouth. Oh yeah. I would’ve pushed Lola out of the bed, sent her home, and given Ava all my attention. It had been Ava’s pussy I’d pictured licking when I’d gone down on Lola. Images of Ava had filled my head when I’d buried myself inside Lola. What was with that? Clearly, I was more fucked up than I’d realized and was obsessing over things I couldn’t have. Shouldn’t want. Needed to leave well alone.

But Ava walked through the front door in her casual uniform, and my dick jerked to life. What was it about her fitted T-shirt, tactical belt, baseball cap, and shiny heavy-duty shoes that turned up the temperature of my blood? Maybe I just wanted her to rough me up, throw on the ground again, and have her way with me.

I’d be down for that.

She stood by the door, holding her jacket and bag of gear in front of her. “Morning, Mr. Tanner.”

A soft groan rumbled in my throat and reverberated through my chest. Every time she called me that, my pulse surged...and my cock hardened. The end of her eyebrow always flicked upward in a challenge I wanted to answer, and the saucy glint she got in her eyes raised my body temperature a fraction too much.

There was no denying there was a spark between us. It was just one that could never be ignited.

“Morning, Ms. Matthews. Come in. You don’t have to wait by the door.” I waved her over to the kitchen. “How do you always look so damn fresh in the morning?”

“I get sleep.” She dropped her bag at the end of the island and leaned against the counter.

“Oh...that’s why.” I clicked my fingers and pointed at her. “I don’t get much of that.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“About that.” I winced. “Sorry about the other night with Lola. Asking you upstairs was inappropriate and out of line.”

She shrugged. “You were just drunk and messing around.”

Did anything ever faze her?

Why was I so compelled to apologize for having fun? Oh, because I’d been a dick...and I wanted us to get along. I wasn’t about to change my ways, but I could be more considerate. “Yeah. That’s all it was. It won’t happen again.”

Hopefully . . . maybe . . . no guarantees.

---