Page 50 of Only for the Moment
A half-hearted smile tugged at her lips. “Do you… Would it help to talk about it?”
Probably. Not that he wanted to. But then he thought back to last night and the trust Kennedyhad shown him.
Leaning back on the pillows, he drew her over him until she sprawled across his chest, needing her grounding him as he ventured back into the darkness. “It was a nightmare.”
She gave him a look, one he imagined sent her subordinates in the office scrambling to please. “I kinda figured that out. Wanna try again?”
How could she make him smile right now? “Watch it, Sassy. You knowwhat happens when your tongue runs away with you.”
“You come?”
He managed to keep his amusement controlled long enough to throw the covers back and land an openhanded slap on her bare ass. Only then, when she was sputtering and rubbing the offended spot, her eyes sparking with promised retribution, did he let the laughter out. Gripping her chin, he consumed her outrage with his kiss.
She flashedhim a look when he finally let go. “What happened to Mr. I Don’t Do Morning Kisses?” she asked, keeping her tone carefully neutral. Probably to avoid another spanking.
He hadn’t even hesitated. “It seems like you’re the exception to a lot of my rules, Ken.”
Pleasure softened her eyes, her mouth. “Then talk to me. I want to be here for you as much as you’re here for me. That’s allowed despitethe big bad Dom-ness, right?”
“In D/s? Of course it is.” He took the curl that lay on her shoulder between his thumb and finger, rubbing the silky-smooth strands over and over. “And even if there was some rule we had to follow—which there isn’t; BDSM is as individual as the people who practice it—it wouldn’t affect us. Our relationship will be what we make it. So yes, I want you to be here forme too.”
Which meant he had to follow through with responding, didn’t it? At least Kennedy’s playfulness had eased the tightness in his throat, his heart. “For the past few months I’ve been having nightmares about Oliver.”
“Your friend? Why are they nightmares?” she asked quietly.
“Because they’re of him dying, only it’s not Oliver. It’s me. I’m dying, drowning just like he did.”
Kennedy’sbreath hitched. Her arms clutched at him, as if by sheer force of will she could keep him with her, away from the dreams, away from death. He had no doubt she was strong enough to do just that.
“That’s awful. When did they start?”
He had to think back; so much of the last few months had been crowded with tour dates and traveling and the worry over not being able to write music. “Around the timeGrace first started talking about the benefit, I think. That’s the first time it truly hit me that it had been five years since Oliver…”
Kennedy rubbed a warm hand along his ribs. “It’s normal for grief to come back around anniversaries, isn’t it?”
True. And some of what he was feeling was grief. Tear-your-heart-out, can’t-do-anything-but-scream grief. But the rest…
“I’m not just grieving;I’m angry. How fucked up is that? Sometimes, when I think about losing him, I’m just so angry it burns up everything else inside me.” The distinctive burn of tears tingled at the back of his eyes, but he blinked it away. “It wasn’t like that when I first lost him. My parents had thrown me out just after, and I was trying to move to a new country, trying to find a place to live, start a new career.But the past few months…”
A shot of pain zinged through his jaw—he was clenching his teeth. Kennedy must’ve seen it too, because she brought a hand up to massage his jawline. “Hey.” She pushed up onto her elbow to stare down at him. “You have every right to be angry. People don’t like to say it out loud, but it’s there. As much as you loved Oliver, what he chose to do, what he took from you,from Grace…” She shook her head. “There is nothing wrong with being angry.”
“With who? There’s no one to target, no one to fight it out with. Oliver is dead.” As much as the words stabbed a knife through his heart even now, they were true. “He can’t say he’s sorry.”
“No, he can’t.” Kennedy crawled up until her head was level with his on the pillow. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t do somethingabout it on your end. Before it eats you up inside. Before these nightmares lead to something worse.”
She was right; he knew she was right. He just didn’t know what to do about it.
Except that wasn’t totally true. He did know; he just didn’t want to face it. Hadn’t for five years. “Grace called.”
A vee formed between Kennedy’s brows. “When?”
“Yesterday. Her headliner for the benefit quit.”He dug his fingers through Kennedy’s thick hair, playing with the strands, untangling them, giving himself a focus. “She told me in no uncertain terms that she expected me back for the concert. No excuses.” He stared into her eyes, the sympathy staring back at him hard to take, but he forced himself to anyway.
“Maybe it’s time,” she said. “Maybe that’s what your heart is trying to tell you.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can go back. All this time it was like, if I just stayed away, it hadn’t really happened, you know? He would still be there at the cove, waiting for me, giving me shit for being five years late.” His breath hitched in his throat, nearly choking him. “If I went back—
“And what, am I supposed to stand up on a stage in front of thousands of people and talk abouthim, about how he was a brother to me and left me behind? How suicide isn’t the answer?” Things he could no longer say to Oliver because his friend was gone?
