Page 26 of Everything I Crave

He looks exhausted, worn out from a bad night that started because I didn’t just stand up for myself. A pang of guilt shoots through me.

“Night didn’t get better?” I ask.

He places the rest of the boxes on the island and leans against the counter. He stretches his arms over his head, revealing a sliver of the washboard abs under the tee he wears for work.

I practically salivate at the thought of running my hands over those abs.

“You could say that. The other half of that group didn’t leave, and I had to cut them off, and then call Brad to get them out. They were pissed we kicked their buddy out, and pissed we cut them off. They were hellbent on causing trouble tonight. Brad didn’t help their anger either.” He scrubs his hands down his face.

I sidle up next to him and bump him with my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault they’re jerks.” He looks down at me. “I made your favorite, buffalo chicken salad and a side of sweet potato fries.” He reaches across the island, handing me two boxes. “Well. To be honest, Mack made it, not me.”

I brush my hand against his when I take the box, and he pulls his hand back as if I’d shocked him.

“Thanks.” I walk back to the couch. He follows.

We eat in silence for a few minutes, letting Gilmore Girls drone on in the background. I sense that he needs the quiet first. His eyes are stuck on the TV and since I know he doesn’t love Roryand Lorelei the way I do, he is thinking hard about something.

Gunnar breaks the silence first. “What happened to you in Nashville?”

I freeze at the question. It’s not exactly a secret, but it’s not public knowledge either and it’s damn embarrassing. I definitely don’t want to spill it all to Gunnar. He’ll probably think I’m a weak woman who can’t fight for what she deserves, and he’d be right.

“How about you tell me why I can’t drink, and then I’ll tell you the story of Nashville,” I counter.

I know there’s more to that rule than he lets on, especially after how he acted tonight with those guys. That anger is something I haven’t seen before from him.

“You can’t drink because I know firsthand what it does to you when you’re only drinking to keep the pain at bay. The pain comes back and with the added bonus of the regret for what you’ve done when drunk. The cycle just keeps on going and it only digs you deeper into the pain.”

“And how do you know that?” I whisper back.

He sighs, readying himself for the conversation.“When I got out of the military, I spent a lot of nights drinking to avoid dealing with what we saw on deployments, the friends we lost. But one of my best friends, I lost him one night on patrol. It was the four of us, my brother, Hernandez, Smith, me. A sniper took Hernandez out before we even knew there was danger in the small village.” A painedlook passes his rugged features, softening his face. “Anyway, after that there was a lot of gun fire, and one of the villagers stepped on an IED right next to me. I was thrown and took a lot of shrapnel to the back. I got out shortly after that. It was the end of our last deployment. And I couldn’t bear to stay in without Hernandez.”

I reach out to place my hand on his. “And then you came home and drank yourself stupid to forget, like I was doing.”

He nods. “It took me about a year of fucking up my life, an arrest for assault that got dismissed in court, and a lot of disappointment from my parents. My Pops sat me down and told me how it was going to go, kind of like Lorelei does with you girls. But instead of listening, I grabbed my keys and drove. I ended up here when I ran out of gas, and saw this old place just sitting. Darlene from the diner told me about how the owner had passed recently and his wife hadn’t wanted to keep it going. I bought it the next day with no plan or place to live, but here we are. Once I bought this place, I never drank to forget again.”

I place my hand on his thigh. “Gunnar, I’m so sorry. You must think I’m such an entitled brat, crying over music.” Unshed tears well in my eyes thinking of his pain.

He pulls me into his lap, holding me close to his chest. “Of course I don’t think that. Pain calls to pain. I’d never judge what caused it. But if you’d liketo share with me now, it might help to get whatever it is off your chest.”

“That’s what the scars on your back are? From the -”

“Yes.” He places me back on the couch, turns and lifts his shirt over his shoulders for me to see. His back is riddled with puckered skin.

“Oh, Gunnar.” I softly run my fingertips over the skin. I think back to all the times I’ve seen him without a shirt on. I was too busy ogling his muscles that I never paid attention to how badly the scars mar his skin.

He pulls his shirt back over his torso and turns to face me, leaning with one arm draped over the back of the couch.

“I guess it’s my turn now, huh?” I gulp. “My manager, Jake, was stealing money from me. He negotiated all my contracts with the venues I sang at, and I never questioned him. He was always a little sleazy, making sexual jokes, inappropriate touching. I chalked it up to it being the industry. But when I learned that others were making almost triple what I was at the same gigs, I started pushing. He got pissed, and started dangling bigger gigs in front of me. Like opening for Calvin Taylor. Something I thought was already in the works. Then he told me that I would need to sleep with him if I wanted this job. Obviously, I refused. But the damage was done. Everything clicked into place, it wasn’t normal industry standard, it was sexualharassment.” I shifted in my seat under Gunnar’s gaze.

“Is that all?” he asks when I don’t continue.

“No. There’s more. I started digging. I found more than a few other women who he had done this too as well. I told him that he’d go down for what he’s been doing and I wasn’t going to allow him to do this to any other women.” I sigh deeply.

“You’re a firecracker, so I can imagine the threat didn’t go over well.”

“Unfortunately for me, I ran out of money long before attitude, and since Jake has more connections in Nashville, I got nowhere with what little money I had in savings. He paid every single woman I had on my side to not say anything against him. No manager or agent would take me on after that. I lost my case without anyone else coming forward. He spun some story of a jilted lover trying to ruin his name. Said I was trying to get on Calvin’s tour to ruin his marriage, and since Calvin and his wife are America’s sweethearts, everyone believed him, and turned on me. Since then, I really have lost any and all respect for the people in the music industry. I love singing but now that it isn’t an option, I just -”

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