Sweet Ache

But fuck does it feel good.

“I’ll take care of him,” he says. And I know he will; it’s just that I feel guilty for making him. Fuck that, Hawke. Fuck the guilt. It’s not on you.

Well, shit. Guess there’s not going to be any calm before the next storm. I look at my brother and sigh.

I hit the road, drive for what feels like hours. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m looking to find, but as long as I keep moving, my past can’t catch up to me.

At least it’s a good idea in theory because I can’t outrun this shit. The stuff I want to and the stuff I don’t want to.

I end up the one place I used to go to be alone, to think, and as I stare at the Hollywood sign from my seat on the grass at the Griffith Park Observatory, I love the feeling that I’m this little person in this big world. The idea comforts me some. The notion that on the grand scale of things my problems are minute. Someone out there has it way worse.

And no one expects a rock star to be here so with my hat pulled low on my head, I’m able to disappear.

I stare down below to the city where as a little boy, scared and traumatized, I wondered how all of the dreams inside my head could ever see the light of day when I felt like I had the responsibility of the world on my small shoulders. But I did. And I made it.

So why do I feel like I’m still not enough? For my brother? To make my mother better? For Quinlan to even want me beyond the killer sex we have? For the fans who scream and sing my lyrics like they live them when they have no fucking clue the meaning behind those words and the damage within from them.

I scrub my hands over my face, needing a drink, craving an ice-cream cone, and wanting the feeling of Quinlan’s arms wrapped around me as she silently sits there and just is with me.

My mind veers to Hunter. To the look on his face as I threw my punch. I push the guilt away, hold on to my gut-check rationalization that he deserved it, and realize that’s the trouble I’m having here. Going with my gut versus going with the bullshit promises I’ve lived by forever.

My stomach churns and my head feels like Gizmo’s banging the hell out of it with his sticks. I shove up off the grass, needing to get the fuck out of here, my heart and head in conflict, and for the first time in forever I dare to think what could happen if my heart finally won for once.

After I start my car, I sit there for a moment, trying to figure out where to go next. I feel like nothing has changed in my day to day, absolutely nothing, so why when I look back do I feel like everything is different?

I exit the parking lot and begin the long descent down the hill to reality. And I know without even directing the car that I’m headed to Quin’s house. She may have told me she needed to work on her thesis to get the space I saw in those panicked eyes of hers, and I might be heading there with a head fucked up and a heart still in tumult if it can actually love without ruining me, but I need to see her.

Chapter 25

HAWKIN

When she opens the door, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in forever. Her lips part in surprise and then turn upward in a slow smile, but I also can see her hesitancy, the guard that’s up in her eyes. A shudder of panic darts through me and I feel lost, unsure what has changed between the two of us. The world beneath my feet seems to be shifting—beliefs, promises, truths, all of it in doubt—and I can’t have whatever is causing these changes—her, us—not be okay.

“Hey,” she says and motions for me to come in but then holds her hand up in the air in a one minute gesture. I see the phone in her hand as I follow her into her family room. She motions for me to sit on the couch but I’m too restless to sit because all I want to do is pull her toward me and kiss her senseless. It’s like I can’t get enough of her, and I need to abate this burning in my gut.

She leans against the kitchen counter with a smile on her face from whatever the person on the other end of the line says. “Well, that sounds like a great idea. I’ll have to take you up on that,” she says before falling silent while the person speaks again. She laughs affectionately, and I can’t tear my eyes away from her. “Well, I’ve got to get going—someone’s here…. Uh-huh, but I’m glad you called. Bye, Luke.”

What? Talk about whiplash. I stare at her as she takes her time setting her phone down before she walks toward me. “What a nice surprise!”

I don’t know if it’s all of the shit in my head and my fight with Hunter mixed with my sudden want for her to be only mine, but my temper flashes without forethought. “Who the fuck was that?”

“Luke. Is there a problem?” She stops and places her hands on her hips.

Quin has every right to be annoyed by my question. Hell, she’s probably playing me and pushing my buttons on purpose, but I’m not in the mood for games. I’ve dealt with enough shit as it is today and am at that point where my confusion and emotional turmoil and need for her all crash together into a perfect storm waiting to explode.

“Yeah, there is. I thought we … I mean we … What are you talking to him for?” I grit the words out, frustrated at myself for being so flustered and playing into her game if she is in fact playing one.

“Because I want to.” And the way she says it, challenge mixed with what are you going to do about it, has me angling my head and questioning myself again.

“Not when you’re with me, you won’t.”

She stares at me, arms crossing over her chest and that fuck-you lift to her chin. “I’m with you? Because unless I’m mistaken being with someone means that you don’t hide shit that’s a need-to-know. We’ve never talked about being exclusive so I’m free to do what I want, right?”