Consumed (26 page)

Nick studies my face carefully, and I feel large splotches of embarrassment heating up my skin. The muscles in his neck tighten. “Which car?” he demands.

He follows me over to the glass door, and I point at it. “Can you go check it out, Nicky?” I hear Ashley ask from behind us. I spin around, giving her an appreciative look that borders on the edge of desperation.

“You got it.”

While Nick goes outside, Ashley grabs my wrist and leads me over to a back table. “You don’t need to watch that,” she says. “It’s broad daylight and Nicky deals with shitheads all night long. He can handle whoever this asshole is.”

Resting my elbows on the table, I bury my face in my hands, inhaling deeply before running them back through my hair. “I’m a fucking mess.”

Ashley’s back stiffens. “Dude, you got beat up by some psycho in a parking lot less than four days ago. You’re not a mess. You’re normal.”

The front bell clangs, and both of our heads fly up to see Nick stomping towards us with a familiar face in tow. David. My hand flies to my chest as I stumble to my feet and they both stop short in front of me.

“Tell this dickhead that I’m not harassing you,” David snarls, and I nod my head quickly at Nick.

“No, he’s fine! This is one of Your Toxic Sequel’s security guards.” Noticing the questioning glare that I shoot at David, Ashley takes this as her cue to leave. She wiggles off of the chair she’s sitting on, and motions her head to the back of the bar. 

“Let’s give them a little bit of room, Nicky,” Ashley suggests, and Nick begrudgingly follows her toward the bar counter where Ashley pretends to be checking inventory while keeping a cautious eye on what’s happening out here between David and me.

“Lucas?” I ask and David answers with a grunt.

“He said you needed some time. Asked me to come off the tour and keep an eye on you for him.” 

And he’s probably paying you both arms and legs
, but I don’t say that to David. “Thank you.” I place my hand on his forearm, giving it a little squeeze. “It means a lot to me that you’ve been making sure I stayed safe.”

David’s dark brown eyes are apologetic, and he bows his head. “I should’ve let you know it was me.”

“Yeah, probably. I would’ve been a lot less terrified.” 

The awkward conversation between David and me continues for another few minutes before he excuses himself from the bar, shooting a dark look at Nick as he ducks his head to walk out the door. 

Ashley comes back out onto the bar floor, slinging a dishtowel over her shoulder. She sighs and stares out at the front of the room. “Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe and the shit he’ll do for his woman,” she sighs, sending a chill down my spine. 

“No kidding,” I whisper. 

Once again, the black car is parked at the top of my driveway for a few minutes tonight, but this time I don’t freak out as I sit on the front porch with my legs stretched out on the swing. 

My phone buzzes from where I left it on the outdoor table, and when I peer over at the screen, I see that it’s Lucas.

This is the first time that he’s called me since visiting me in the hospital on Saturday. I grab the phone, weighing it in my palm like I’m considering my options before I suck it up and hit the Accept button. I hear his sigh of relief as I place the receiver to my ear.

“I’m sorry, Red,” he whispers. “I should’ve warned you about David.”

I wrap my arm around myself, shaking my head. “No, it’s comforting that you—”

When I don’t continue, he takes a breath. “That I’m not there myself, waiting around to kill the next person who tries to touch you?”

I groan. “No, Lucas—”

“What? Don’t admit that that’s what I wanted to do to that motherfucker who hurt you? That this time, it wouldn’t have been an accident?”

“Where are you?” Fear slices through my heart thinking of whom he could be saying all of this in front of. “You shouldn’t talk like that?”

“I’m on the bus. Alone,” he growls. “On my way to Nashville.”

He was coming here. Lucas was coming back here. Then I close my eyes—of course he’s coming here. He’s got a show to play twenty-four hours from now. “Where’s Sinjin?”

“With Zoe. He’s meeting us there.”

“Ah,” I whisper. 

“I’ve been doing the shows we didn’t have to cancel but all I can think about is you. The way you taste and smell. The way you laugh. I don’t care if I do sound like a pussy for admitting this, but I’m fucked up without you, and I don’t know if anything can fix it this time.”

“I just needed time to catch my breath.” I tighten my grip around my still-sore body, and the memory of being punched in the stomach comes back to me full force. “I should have told you about Sam’s threats earlier.”

He makes a harsh noise. “What the fuck would I have done? Told you that I would handle it by talking to that crazy bitch? I dragged you, blindfolded, into the most fucked up situation possible.”

“I followed you.” I stand up and begin to pace the length of the porch, biting on the tip of my thumb as I walk. “I followed you because I love you, and I still love you. Now I just know a little more than I did when I walked in.”

Much, much more.

A long, drawn out noise comes from the back of his throat. “And where does that leave us?”

I hesitate. Where
does
that leave us? “I don’t know, but I think we have to figure that out.”

“I need to see you.” He swallows hard and then I hear him inhale and exhale. “We’ll be pulling through in about five hours.” Then he gives me the venue, which I immediately know of. When he’s through, he asks me in a low voice, “Tell me you’ll be there, Sienna. Just . . . I need you.”

“Always.”

Sunlight is peeking across the sky when I pull my car into the venue’s parking lot at 6AM. Just as Lucas said, the buses have recently pulled in, and the early morning bustle is already happening. I take the keys out of my old Mercury sedan, shove them into my pocket and walk over to the bus we shared. 

One of the drivers is still inside, filling out a log, and when he opens the door for me, he gives me a sympathetic smile. “Welcome back.”

I don’t have the heart to tell him that I’m not continuing on the tour, so I give him a grateful nod. “Is Lucas back there?”

“Probably sleeping but that doesn’t matter if you’re here.”

Letting the driver’s words roll through my mind, I walk down the aisle and past Sinjin’s empty section until I reach the back compartment. I find Lucas face down on the full size bed that we shared, his long legs poking off the edge, and his fingers clenched into the sheets on the side of the bed I slept in. I sit down next to him.

“Lucas,” I whisper. He doesn’t budge, so I touch his back, running my fingers over the array of tattoos covering his skin. More than six months ago, I had decided that the stopwatch and queen of hearts tattoo was my favorite, but now I can’t look at it without my stomach pitching. 

It stands for Sam, for her disgusting hold over him, and I hate that he’s had to go through her shit alone for so many years. 

“Lucas,” I say again, shaking his shoulder. He rolls his head to the side, opening his hazel eyes to stare up at me. I slide off the bed and stand over him.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

I wring my hands together, rubbing each finger vigorously. “You must not know me very well.”

He presses his palms to his eyes and lets out a giant breath. “Come here, Red.”

I’m hesitant at first, but then he holds my waist on both sides and urges me to him. I climb on the bed, one knee at a time, sliding my body against his as I rest the side of my face on the pillow beside of him. He glides his knuckles across the bruise on my jaw that I’ve hidden with makeup. “I’m so fucking sorry, Si.”

“I know you are.”

“No matter what happens to me, I’m going to make sure that nobody ever touches you again,” he promises, his eyes hard. 

I move my head from side to side. “You make it seem like she’s tried to turn you in.” When he doesn’t say anything, I sit up abruptly and glare down at him. “Lucas? Is she?”

He lifts his shoulders. “And at this point, do you think I give a fuck anymore? I looked out for me and only me for years, and then you came along. You made me feel things. And when I laid here after I came back from seeing you beat up and broken because of me, I realized that I stopped caring what happens to me.”

Hearing him say things like this causes my stomach to harden. Because it makes me feel like this is the beginning of the end.

“Well, I care,” I say. “I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t.”

“I killed someone,” he growls. “And then, I threw money at his family like it would fix things.”

“He was stalking someone you cared about.” I think of Cilla. No matter what kind of conflict is between us, I would never want anyone to have to go through what Lucas said Bryce was about to do to her. “If Sam goes to the cops, your story has to count for something.”

He pushes himself up into a sitting position next to me. “My story is four years too late, Red.”

“Then we’ll figure this shit out together.”

His expression softens. “You’re sticking around?”

“On this tour? No,” I say, and he grins. “But with you? Always. Didn’t Kylie give you my message?”

“Yes, but I was convinced it was the pain pills talking.”

I spend most of the morning locked in Lucas’s arms. There’s very little talking, and no lovemaking, but this almost feels like the most intimate we’ve been since our relationship began two and a half years ago. After he falls asleep, I untangle myself from his body and go out into the bus lounge so that I can call Gram and let her know that I’m okay. By now she’s probably awake, and given the events of the last several days, she must be freaking out.

As I dial her number, another call comes through that I accidentally accept. I’m not in the mood to talk to anyone other than Gram right now, and I look down at the screen, wanting to just hang up and ignore the caller if they try again. But then again, they might not stop trying to get in touch with me. I put the phone up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Is this Sienna?” The voice is soft, female. “Hello?” 

I clear my throat. “Yes?”

“This is Sam. The woman who’s ex-husband you’ve been fucking.”

Like she needed that introduction. I know her well, and I grind my teeth together.

Clawing my phone, I whisper harshly, “Why the hell are you calling me? Haven’t you done enough? And how the fuck did you get my phone number?”

She takes a moment to process all of my questions before she speaks. “You’re easy to find. And you haven’t answered me back. I wanted to hear your voice before—” She stops herself. The little laugh that follows manages to evoke every fear, every amount of desperation, inside of me. 

“Before what?”

She answers me after a long pause, and each word is emphasized. “Before I put an end to all of this.”

Sliding down, my butt hits the floor hard, but I don’t even feel it as I hold my elbows close to my chest. “What are you planning to do?”

“What I should have done a long time ago.”

I tuck in my upper lip and shake my head. “You can’t do this to him. Not after he’s given you so much of his money.” My voice sounds strange to my ears, foreign. Nothing like anything I’ve ever heard before. “Not after you’ve put him through so much shit.”