Page 50 of Hold Still

I place my hand on his forearm. “Wherever you’d like. I’ll catch up.” I offer a slight smile, which he returns.

He inhales, his chest expanding by half. “I think I’m ready for you to know about this. I’m not sure why.”

I maintain my posture, afraid if I move a muscle wrong, he’ll be scared off. “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want.”

He chuckles. “Believe me, I don’t want. But I have to, if I’m going to complete this song.”

The way he’s talking unnerves me. What does he have to share with me? I give him a slight smile of encouragement.

Stormy eyes meet mine. “I appreciate you, McKenna.”

My tummy somersaults at his admission.

“I’m ready to let you in.”

I swallow over his choice of words. I don’t want to know. I’m not deserving of them—Matt made sure of that. Before I can voice my protest, he begins, “I already told you about Luis, my ex-best friend and writing partner for all of the songs on my first album.”

Because I can’t form a syllable, I nod.

“What I didn’t tell you is—” He clears his throat and chuckles. “This is more difficult than I thought it would be.”

I place my hand on his arm, my index finger tracing the intricate tattoos there. “You don’t have to.”

“I do.” He removes his arm from my fingers. I mourn the loss, until he continues. “You see, before this all started.” He gestures toward the inside of his house. “It was just Luis and me. We wrote songs together. Hell, we went all through school together. Got into trouble. Shared women.” He glances at me.

I shrug. His sexual past doesn’t impact me.Right, keep telling yourself this, McKenna.

He continues, “We put a band together with a couple of guys from the neighborhood and picked up gigs around the island. Our songs were well received. And there were plenty of groupies.”

He rubs his arms and sighs. “One night, I hooked up with this young woman. Teresa.”

His words stop. A buzzing starts in my belly at the way he says her name.

“A few months later, Teresa and I became exclusive.”

The buzzing travels up through my torso and lands somewhere around my heart. I place my hand there, unsure of what it is but not wanting to interrupt his story.

He clears his throat. “She was in her second year in college, and came to all of our gigs. That summer was the best. Even though my mother didn’t approve, I asked Teresa to marry me—because no thirty-one-year-old wants to listen to his mother. We did the deed on the beach a month later.”

The buzzing turns into needles piercing my heart. So what if he’s married? I haven’t slept with him. This time. Oh God, I slept with a married man!

My thoughts are cut off when Ozzy says, “We were living large. The band had gigs all over the island and we were gaining a following. Teresa and I were inseparable. Luis and I wrote new material. Life was good.”

“Sounds idyllic,” I whisper.

He nods. “It was. Then, a year or so later, a guy from Platinum Records asked to see me backstage. I didn’t know who he was at first, but when he gave me his business card, my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. He said he wanted to sign me.”

“And only you.”

“Sí. Only me. I told you this part. The other guys in the band were okay with it and Luis said he was, too. Teresa had decided to change her major at The College of Puerto Rico to business. She was going to become our business manager.”

He falls silent. My heart continues to beat, somehow, over the pain. His words, his tone, scream bad things happened.

I don’t have to wait too long before he continues, “You know I took the contract and went out to LA to record. The label thought it best if I didn’t wear my wedding ring because they wanted to play up my image as a single, available party guy. Of course, I did what they told me and Teresa said she understood. During this time, I flew home a couple of times to see my wife.” He chokes on the last word.

I’m dying to know what happened, but need to keep my mouth shut. Besides, I have no right to know anything about his personal life. So what if we hooked up before? He’s not mine and never will be. He belongs toTeresa.

“Then the tour started. I couldn’t get back to Puerto Rico often, but I talked with Teresa every night. Calls with Luis became less and less frequent, though. I wanted to go home, but now I had obligations. When there was a break, I hopped onto a plane and had Teresa meet me in a hotel by the airport. We didn’t surface until I had to leave a couple of days later. That’s how things went.” He stops talking.

---