Page 125 of Reverb
He twisted his face, and his gaze dropped to his hands. “Should have realized a hell of a lot sooner.”
There it was. “What did you realize? Will you tell me?”
Those deep brown eyes met hers, and even in the dim light of the bar, his apprehension was almost a second skin, tightening everything. He was shaking. “So many things. But mostly that you’re far more important than a job or my own damn pride.”
He flattened his hands onto the table. “I’ve been on my own for most of my life. Taken care of myself. But that doesn’t mean I can’t...let someone else call the shots. Especially if I love them.” He paused, and his gaze never left hers. “And I love you. I do. I gotta go with that, you know?”
Mish’s chest hurt and her head was a mess. But for once, her eyes didn’t betray her with tears, which was good, especially since their beers appeared, in chalices, no less. Fancy.
When Mish thanked the server, she caught a woman at the bar snapping a photo of her. The server, though, said, “Your fries’ll be coming soon,” before walking off.
David looked positively stricken, so Mish nudged at the coaster under his beer. “Have a drink.”
A weak smile, but David did as told, which was nice. She’d always liked that about him—he didn’t balk when she suggested something that was reasonable. When he put the glass down, he looked more steady.
The beer helped her as well. Loosened the knot in her chest and coated the sandpaper in her throat. “I didn’t want you to leave your job. You decided that was what I wanted all on your own.”
David’s lips twisted again, but he nodded. “I couldn’t see how anything between us would work if you were on tour and I was—I don’t know. On tour with someone else. Or working some corporate gig following bigwigs, or whatever I found.” He took another sip of beer. “How can we be together if we’re apart?”
It was a legitimate question, and one he’d raised before. “Other people manage it. Long distance for a time, and together when schedules mesh.” His expression was dubious, which she hated. “You know, when you pull that look—that one right there—you make me feel like I’m not worth the effort to even try.”
That made him sit back. “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh.’” She shook her head. “I don’t want to change you or make you less than you are. I want to be withyou.”
The fries finally came. Mish grabbed two and stuffed them into her mouth. It was angry eating, but she didn’t give a fuck. The fries and gravy were hot enough to burn, and as salty as her mood.
David peered into his beer. “I’m not good with long distance, but you’re right. I shouldn’t have discounted it. Should’ve tried.” He turned the glass, but didn’t drink. “The really fucked-up part was the answer was there. It’s always been there, but my damn pride kept me from considering it.”
“Keep going.” It came out harsh, but she didn’t regret that. Needed that. Hell, he did, too.
David’s shoulders dropped. “You said it. Ray said it. I could find a place with Twisted Wishes. Be a part of your life. All your lives.” He met her gaze again. “And I turned that down.”
“You turned me down.” The fries hadn’t taken the edge off her anger at all, and the verbal blow hit David hard. He flinched, but didn’t look away. His nod was a shaky mess.
Mish ate a fry, then another. Her lipstick had to be gone by now. To hell with everything. “Why?” It came out gritty and low.
“I didn’t want to get a job with the band because I was your boyfriend.” He worked his jaw, as if he were trying to decide if he should spit out his next words. “Didn’t want to be a glorified groupie.”
Part of her understood. Could even see his point. The other part wanted to toss a soggy, gravy-covered fry at his face.
Beer. Beer would help. She took a long drink, and it was cool and full of flavor and somehow soothing, even though the alcohol couldn’t have gotten into her bloodthatfast.
She sat back. David was amess. Sure, he was holding it together, but the fissures were there, and his remorse and sadness shown through.
“See?” His voice cracked. “My damn fucking pride.” His turn to drink. He set the glass down carefully. “I’d ask for your forgiveness, but I don’t deserve it.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” Her fury was there, but it was abating. Slipping away into understanding. Frustration, too, because she felt a kinship with David’s brand of dense-headedness. She could be as set in her ways and opinions, too.
But the band and the fans challenged her to be better than she was.
“There’s a couple things you should know. First is that Ray would never hireanyonejust because they’re dating a band member. Don’t you fucking sell yourself short like that. You’ve got skills. Ones weneed. And I’ve got a pretty good idea where you’d fit in, ’cause the band talks about the future all the time. Second is that forgiveness isn’t something you deserve. It’s something you’re gifted.” She took a breath. “It’s a lot like love, you know?”
David gripped his beer chalice around the bowl so tight Mish feared he might crack it.
“Third is that there’s no way in hell I’m eating all these fries myself, so you better dig in.” She pushed the plate toward him.
After a moment, he let go of the glass and took a few fries. His hands trembled. “I should tell you something.”
