Текст книги "Last Second Chance"

Автор книги: Caisey Quinn

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

Chapter Ten

Van lay in his bed that night trying for the life of him to figure out what it was about her that had him so intrigued.

He tended to find women like Stella Jo Chandler boring. With their five– and ten– year plans and their refusal to step outside the lines. He liked his women a little edgier. Easier. Liked to watch them crawl to him on all fours and beg. He had a feeling that would never be something he’d get to see the beautiful brunette do, except in his fantasies.

His dick twitched as the image flashed in his mind. Despite the temptation, he didn’t take care of himself. Aching for her felt necessary. Restraint was a small price to pay. He didn’t even allow himself to imagine how wet and willing she’d be for him. Nothing his mind could conjure could possibly compare to the real thing.

Her warm, sweet vanilla and honey scent enveloped him as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Dreaming of her—her slow, sensual walk, the small smiles he had to work so hard for, the determination in her eyes that wavered only when he got too close—kept the nightmares at bay.

Pulling himself from an excruciatingly vivid dream involving tasting her, he woke with knowledge he almost wished he could forget.

Stella Jo Chandler was beautiful. And she was intrigued by him. That much was obvious. But as she teased and taunted him in his dreams, he realized how very similar they were.

I belong here. I want to be here.

Her words echoed around him. Distracted by the bruises she was inflicting upon his ego, he’d missed it. Missed the hollow longing in her eyes, the carefully masked loneliness she carried.

I’m happy here. I feel at home. Wanted. Needed. I’ve never felt that way before.

It was the last part that struck the deepest chord. She’d never felt happy, or at home, or needed.

Christ.

He was broken. He knew that. His childhood made the most horrific depictions of Hell look like paradise. The angel who’d rescued him from his living nightmare had abandoned him, shattering him into a million fragmented pieces. That combined with the fame and the drugs had ultimately twisted him into a destructive monster of a man. One who inflicted pain and damage and felt no remorse for it.

He was broken beyond repair, and Stella Jo Chandler was empty inside. The dangerously compelling need to see her, to look into the endless depths of her eyes and confirm what he already knew, almost sent him outside in the middle of the night.

She wouldn’t be able to fix him, and he couldn’t possibly give her the kind of love she needed, but a new brand of torture descended upon his already decimated soul.

He wanted her to try to fix him. And he had no idea how he was going to stop himself from at least attempting to fulfill the lust-drenched need that lingered in her eyes when they were together. Since he’d lost his angel and taken on the world alone, he’d never been denied a single thing he’d wanted. Because when Van Ransom wanted something, he didn’t ask for it.

He took it.

“You don’t look well, Mr. Walker. How have you been sleeping?” Dr. McLendon frowned at him as if she were disappointed.

He settled into the plush chair in her office and shrugged. “I haven’t been. Not much, anyways.”

“Any particular reason why?”

He cleared his throat. “You tell me, Doc.” Feigning nonchalance he did his best not to think of the reason why. His new strategy was to force himself to focus on his recovery—or at least learn how to fake it so that he could get out of here and back on the road with his band.

An empty woman couldn’t fix him and neither could any of these doctors.

“What do you think about when you’re lying there not sleeping?”

He shrugged and gave her the obvious answer. “Getting high. Getting the hell out of here.”

She wrote something down quickly before raising her eyes to meet his. “That all?”

He shrugged again and took a long look around the room. Bookshelves full of thick books, probably about why fuck-ups like him did what they did. Shiny degrees in expensive wooden frames perfectly lined up along the walls. Everything perfect, even, and in its place. He was the one thing that didn’t belong. Just like he didn’t belong in a world with someone as beautiful and graceful as Stella Jo Chandler.

He inhaled and took a moment to appreciate the scent of the leather. Which reminded him of the riding crop and the saddles down at the barn. Which reminded him of Stella Jo Chandler.

His hands tightened on his knees and he returned his gaze to the doctor. Despite the attractive blonde sitting in close proximity, it was a brunette who might as well have been a million miles away who prompted him to speak.

He wouldn’t ruin this for her, this place where she finally felt at home. But he would do his best to let go of some of the darkness he carried so that when he got out of here, he could maybe, just maybe, be worthy of at least getting to know her.

“No, that’s not all,” he said evenly. “When I’m alone, sober, and it’s quiet, I can’t sleep because…because all I can think of is her.”

The office around him ceased to exist—the books and the framed degrees disappearing from his view. The screams and pleas rose in his mind. An unforgiving wind whipped in his ears while heavy metal chains clanked against one another, almost drowning the doctor’s response. He stood on the riverbank, helpless under an overcast sky.

“Her, who? Mr. Ransom? Mr. Ransom, can you hear me?”

He could hear her, but he couldn’t respond. He was unearthing the memory the same way they’d dragged up her body—slowly and steadily, feeling every excruciating moment.

The storm grew in his soul as he met the doctor’s worried eyes.

“The woman I couldn’t save. The one I watched die.”

Dr. McLendon shook her head. “I don’t understand. What woman? There’s no mention of a woman in your chart or in the—”

“There wouldn’t be.” He stared at his hands, clawing his way back to the present. They were trembling so hard it was like they were vibrating. “No one knows about Val. Not my manager, not anyone.”

“Val was your…”

“Sister,” he informed her quietly.

“I see,” she said, setting her notebook aside and relaxing into her chair. “How long ago did she—”

“It’ll be ten years this summer. I was sixteen. It was her nineteenth birthday.”

She nodded. “I don’t want to push you. Just tell me as much as you’re comfortable sharing and stop when you need to.”

She was using kid gloves on him. Maybe he should’ve appreciated that, but for some reason, it only added fuel to his already raging fire.

“As much as I’m comfortable sharing?” He glared at her, standing and spreading his arms wide. “Do I fucking look comfortable to you?”

Her eyes widened but she kept her composure. “Fine. Then tell me what makes you uncomfortable. Push yourself until you can’t. You’re safe here.”

He huffed out a harsh breath. “Safe. Right.” He shook his head and turned to the door. “I can’t do this right now. I’ll destroy this whole fucking room. You’ve got a lot of breakable shit in here, Doc.”

People said that the truth would set him free. Those people were wrong. The truth was that he’d failed the one person who’d protected him, who’d saved him. Lost her in the darkness. And no matter what he did, even if he adopted a dozen children from third– world countries, donated all of his money to charity, and lived the rest of his life as a monk, there was no escaping the truth.

She’d never hurt a soul. She’d been good and perfect and kind. The world had been a better place when she was in it. But now she was gone. And he was here, still damaging and destroying. It was the most fucked-up injustice he knew of.

“Van,” a female voice said so softly he barely heard it. He didn’t know if it was the doctor who’d spoken or the ghost in his head, but he didn’t stop either way. He walked out of her office and right out of the building.

Chapter Eleven

Her first day off since starting her new job and Stella Jo found herself working anyway. She suspected this would be hard to avoid since she lived where she worked.

She’d made a trip to the local bath and bed store and bought a few things for her small place and taken a three-mile jog around the property before giving in and checking on the horses. Well, mostly on Shadowdancer. Van had spooked him the night before, and she wanted to make sure she hadn’t completely lost his trust.

The hollow chill she’d tried to shake off the night before still remained. She hoped some time with the big warm bodies and beating hearts in the stables would help.

Surprisingly, Shadowdancer’s dark, oblong head was poking out of his stall as if he was waiting for her.

“Well hello there, handsome. You still mad at me?” She scooped up a handful of sweet feed from the barrel and offered it to him. He took it readily, keeping his eyes on her as he did.

After she’d loved on him and checked on the others, she wiped her dusty hands on her shorts. Shadowdancer’s saddle sat on the ledge between his stall and the empty one that separated him and Mother Maybelle. Running her hand along the rich, worn leather, she let herself remember for just a little while. What it was like to ride, that moment in the final stretch when it felt like they were one, like she and Angel’s Breath were flying. It was the only time she’d felt truly alive.

“What did you mean when you said you’d never felt wanted before?”

His voice startled her and her hand jerked, knocking the saddle onto the floor. Shadowdancer huffed and snorted beside her.

“God. You scared me. You’ve got to stop sneaking up on me—”

“Tell me what you meant, Stella Jo.”

Her blood warmed from the heat in his tone, purging the bone-chilling cold and making her body feel as if flames were consuming it. She swallowed hard as she righted the saddle and turned to face him. Her breath caught when she saw him. The shirt and jeans he was wearing accented his ample muscles perfectly, but that wasn’t what left her breathless.

His eyes were practically glowing, his fists clenched at his sides, and barely contained rage radiated from where he stood.

“What’s wrong?” She took a tentative step in his direction. “What happened?”

Her words were gasoline on his embers. Sparks flew as they both stepped into the charged space between them.

“She left. She fucking left me. That’s what happened.”

Stella Jo had absolutely no idea what or who he was talking about. But his confession seemed to break him. His head fell forward and a sob racked his broad shoulders. His pain bled into her, pulled her closer to him and she gave him everything she had to give.

“Who left you, Van?” Reaching out gently, just as she had done with Shadowdancer, she allowed her fingertips to stroke the short, dark stubble on his jaw. He was rough where she was smooth, and touching him that way, intimately on his face, sent a shiver through her.

His intense gaze met hers, and they were connected in that moment in a way she’d only ever felt with horses. She didn’t see Van Ransom’s face, his tattoos, or the anger he carried. She looked at him with her heart. And she saw his soul.

It was as dark as the short black hair on his head. Bruised and beautiful.

She had no idea how anyone could ever leave him. She couldn’t have pulled away from him in that moment if her life had depended on it.

Instead of answering her question, he gave a gentle shake of his head.

“Stella.” Her name was a breath, a plea, a confession of a deep-seated need she had no idea if she could fulfill. She was instantly seized with terror. She’d failed her family. Failed to be what they needed. What if she failed him? Couldn’t give him what he needed and made everything worse?

“I don’t know how to do this.” She pulled her hand away, but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her roughly to him.

“What do you know how to do, Stella Jo? Hide down here with the livestock? How’s that working for you?”

Her eyes narrowed. He made her angry. Made her feel things she had no idea how to feel or process. But with his pain still so close to the surface, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. So she did the only thing she could do. She told him the truth.

“Horses can be broken. You can’t.”

“Can’t I?” He released his hold on her wrist, but neither of them moved. “Feels like I can. Feels like you break me a little more every time I come near you.”

She shook her head. “What do you want from me?”

“I don’t know.” Mercifully, he backed up a step and gave her some space to breathe. The reprieve gave her a second to think logically. “But I do know that five minutes ago I was sitting in a room with a stranger spilling my guts and the only person I actually wanted to talk to was you.”

Logic flew right out of Stella’s grasp. He needed her. It was a heady and addicting sensation. This powerful man with the world at his fingertips needed her. And she didn’t know why or how or what it meant, but she needed him right back.

The ground gave way beneath her as she made her way toward him. “The first step in breaking a horse is gaining its trust,” she whispered. “Can you trust, Van? Could you ever trust me?”

Pulling her in his arms, he rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes. She took advantage of the moment to admire his long, thick lashes and his raw beauty up close.

“I could try,” he rasped.

“Ahem.” The sound of someone’s throat clearing nearby sent them both backward. “Don’t mind me. I just came by to drop off the feed.”

Every single cell in Stella’s body jolted as if she’d been hit with a live wire while soaking wet. Her face went numb, assaulted by thousands of invisible needles. The fleeting fear that she might be going into shock raced across her mind.

Jesse Ramirez leaned in the entryway. His eyes met Stella’s and he raised a questioning brow but said nothing as he carried feedbags into the storage stall.

“Here. I’ll give you a hand with that,” Van offered, moving away from her.

When they finished, she was standing awkwardly by Shadowdancer.

Jesse thanked Van for the help and turned to face her. “Stella, can I talk to you privately for a moment?”

I am so fired. Fear stole her hold on her center of gravity as she took carefully measured steps toward where his truck was parked. She could feel Van’s steady gaze on her but she didn’t so much as look in his direction. Not that it much mattered now. He’d seen them.

She wasn’t sure if Jesse had the power to fire her, but she knew he would be completely justified in reporting what he’d witnessed to his father, which would almost certainly lead to her termination.

And then… She didn’t even want to think about it. She’d have nothing. Just a cold home to return to with her tail between her legs because she’d screwed up. Her mother had been right. She couldn’t make it on her own.

“What you saw in there… Um, I don’t exactly know what to say about that,” she began.

Jesse’s hazel eyes went wide as he put a hand up between them. “Look, it’s really none of my business. I just wanted to tell you to be careful and make sure that you were okay.”

“I’m fine. And thank you.” She smiled gratefully. “I wish I could say it wasn’t what it looked like, but I don’t know what it looked like. And I don’t exactly know what it was. Maybe it was nothing.”

Jesse gave her a small smile and tipped his cowboy hat. “I’m no expert, darlin’. But I think we both know it was something.”

She nodded, trying her best to ignore her racing pulse. If Jesse hadn’t interrupted them, she had no idea what would’ve happened. But she could guess. And fantasize.

Before her heated imagination ran away with her, she glanced over her shoulder to check that Van was still out of hearing range.

“I know you probably think I’m like all of the other women here, wanting a piece of Mr. Rock Star. But I promise, even though I don’t know what it is exactly… I want you to know it’s not like that.”

Jesse removed his hat and ran his hand along his forehead before replacing it. “Stella, I don’t know you very well. But from what little bit I do know, I already knew that much.” He frowned at her. “Don’t go putting words in my mouth, lady. I’m not one to judge. Believe me.”

Stella Jo eyed him thoughtfully. At first glance, Jesse Ramirez was the perfect specimen. Exactly the kind of man she should be attracted to. But something was…different about him. She heavily suspected that Jesse might be gay. Certain things he did, the gentle way he dealt with the animals for one, in addition to the fact that he wasn’t married, hadn’t mentioned dating anyone, and from what she could tell, hadn’t given anyone other than the horses a second look, made her wonder. His nonjudgmental nature indicated he might’ve been judged unfairly himself a time or two. She hoped not. But it was Texas. Not exactly the ideal mecca of acceptance. He was sweet and kind, and she liked him. Considered him a friend already due to their shared love of animals.

“Jess, I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’d really appreciate if you didn’t say anything to your dad about this. I know fraternizing with the pat—er, clients is against the rules and I love it here. I don’t want to lose my job.”

He frowned at her. “Fraternizing, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

She smacked him lightly on the arm. “Stop.”

He grinned widely and then sighed. “Your secret’s safe with me, Stell. I got plenty of my own to deal with. No interest in giving out other people’s.” For a split second, he looked forlorn. But then his grin slid back into place. “Plus I kind of like working with you. You’re the only one Shadowdancer will let near him and I’m grateful for the help.”

Stella smiled warmly. “I’m grateful to be of help.” She winked and thanked him again for not ratting her out.

Once he’d left, she turned back to where Van stood. Their gazes collided, desire warring with apologetic remorse.

“Think he’ll say anything?” Van asked as she approached.

“Say anything about what?”

“We’re back there again? You gonna pretend the last ten minutes just didn’t happen?” Van’s face contorted into a mask of disgust.

“No,” she said, letting her own anger edge her tone. “I just meant all he saw was a hug. And he’s not going to run and tell his dad I hugged you. Jesse’s a decent guy.”

“Agreed. But that was a hell of a hug, Stella Jo. Can I have another one?”

In spite of her frustration at the entire complicated mess, she grinned. “Do you really need one?”

He followed her back into the barn, keeping close behind her as she straightened up blankets that were already plenty straight enough.

“I don’t know what I need. I have no idea what it will take to fix me,” he said, keeping his voice low and intoxicating. “But I have a feeling you’re a part of it.”

Her mouth went instantly dry as she tried to lick her lips. “What if I can’t be what you need, Van? What if I’m not enough? I mean, I don’t even know what happened and we can’t just—”

“Calm down, cowgirl. You’re doing it again.”

She turned to face him. “Doing what?”

“Getting all worked up.”

She threw both of her hands up, startling Shadowdancer. She cast an apologetic glance in his direction. “Well,” she began, purposely lowering her voice. “I’m scared. I’m nervous and afraid and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Van leaned toward her, resuming their position from before Jesse Ramirez surprised them. “That makes two of us.”

Chapter Twelve

It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed to walk away from her the night before. To walk her to her door like the gentleman he could never be. But he’d done it. The small inches of progress they’d made would have to tide him over. For now, at least.

After his group session, Dr. McLendon had checked in with him to see if he was okay. He’d reassured her that he was perfectly fine and would try and restrain himself from trashing her office like so many tour buses and hotel rooms before it. But when he walked into the Atrium, where his manager was meeting him for lunch, his determination to behave like an upstanding member of society vanished.

Stella Jo Chandler stood near a table on the edge of the expansive sunlit room. The white shirt she was wearing clung to her skin and was open just enough to draw his eyes to her barely visible but definitely ample cleavage. A skirt that matched her skin tone almost exactly hugged her perfect curves. And damn him straight to the fiery pits of Hell, shiny black stilettos nestled her petite little feet. He’d never been the type to get all hot over something as mundane as feet, but he had a feeling Stella Jo’s would be just as adorably sexy as the rest of her.

The woman was captivating on a level he’d never experienced. She was so many thing—things he didn’t deserve and would never be worthy of. Intelligent, beautiful, alluring. Mysterious at times. Guarded almost always. Which was why when she did open up to him, he lost all control of himself.

But it wasn’t the outfit, or even the heels, that sucker-punched him and left him seething where he stood. It was the fraternity-looking fucker standing with her. Smiling at her, nodding along as she spoke. Van knew he was probably watching her perfectly pouty lips, imagining how they’d feel around his cock.

Or maybe he already knew.

Dude looked awfully familiar with her, but Van didn’t recognize him. Hadn’t seen him around the facility before.

“Over here, Mr. Walker,” his manager called out.

Reluctantly tearing his gaze from where Stella continued chatting with a man he’d already pictured murdering eight different ways, Van made his way over to Sid.

Without bothering with a greeting, he slumped into the chair. His body angled toward the man across from him but his eyes kept wandering over to her. She’d touched his face yesterday. Her gentle caress of his face had felt like sex. Soothing, satisfying, and a sweet taste of how good it would be to let her touch him anywhere she wanted.

“Van,” his manager said, interrupting his thoughts. “That the same woman from last time I was here?”

“What?” He did his best to look confused. Was there any other woman in the room? On the planet? It didn’t feel like it.

“Look, whatever’s going on with you and her, it needs to stop.” Sid’s pale blue eyes narrowed. “This isn’t like the other times. I can’t impress upon you how serious Epitaph is about you completing this program successfully.”

“I get it.”

His manager shook his head and leaned forward. “Do you? Because it looks to me like you’re one wrong blowjob away from flushing everything we’ve worked for right down the—”

“She’s not like that,” Van nearly shouted in the other man’s face. Composing himself, he glanced around. Thankfully no one else had paid much attention to his outburst. “It’s not like that. With her,” he finished with a forced calm he didn’t feel.

“Okay. Good. So then why are you staring over there like another mutt is pissing on your property?”

Van raked a hand through his hair. Hard. “No idea what you’re talking about, Sid. What are you doing here anyway?”

His manager glanced over at Stella before returning his attention to Van. “I’m checking up on you, for one. Somebody’s got to. And your therapist contacted me, said something about family day coming up. You want me to call Nessa?”

Van felt his eyes go wide. “Why in the ever-loving fuck would you call her?”

Sid shrugged. “You were engaged to her, Van. She’s about the closest thing to family you have left.” He rubbed his goatee. “Well, except me. And I care about you, kid, I do. But I’m not sitting through some head-shrinking session for anyone. I didn’t do it for my ex-wife and I’m sure as shit not gonna do it now.”

Propping his elbows on the table, Van glared at Sid with all of his powers of pissed off. “Listen to me. Do not—I repeat, do not—call that crazy bitch. I mean it. The farther she is from me, the better.”

“Okay, relax.” Sid held his hands up. “I won’t call her. But I gave the lady who called her number. So you might want to talk to them.”

Jerking upright so quickly his chair nearly fell backwards, Van felt his blood pressure rising to a dangerous level. A breaking-shit level.

“Thanks a fucking lot, Sid. ’Preciate it.”

He didn’t even glance in Stella Jo’s direction as he stalked out of the Atrium. He had bigger problems to deal with than whether or not the purple Polo-shirt-wearing piece of shit actually meant anything to her.

“She isn’t family,” Van told Dr. McLendon once she’d let him into her office. “We were involved for a while. Then we weren’t. It’s been over for a year, and she’s done nothing since but try and make my life more difficult than it needs to be.”

“Can I ask what happened?”

“What do you mean?” He exhaled in an attempt to alleviate some of the tension from his chest.

Nessa had made his life fucking miserable, even more miserable than usual, in every way possible. He didn’t want to rehash all the shit she’d pulled for a multitude of reasons. But mostly because even the thought of her gave him a migraine.

“I mean, between the two of you. You were involved for a while. Then you weren’t. Why did you stop being involved?”

“Because she was a psychotic bitch.”

The doctor frowned and he felt bad for having snapped at this woman who was only trying to help.

“Sorry.” He shrugged. “I guess you want me to be more specific, huh?”

“It’d help.”

He leaned back on the couch, looked up at the ceiling, and then rubbed his hands over his knees. “She was friends with my… She was a family friend.” Taking a few breaths to steady himself, he focused on the facts, not the emotions tied to them. “We got engaged right after high school and moved to LA together. When the band started to take off, she became…”

He wasn’t sure how to explain it. Vanessa Reeves had always been a bit unstable. Hell, for that matter, so had he. For a while, it was what had made them so perfect for each other. Van and Vanessa. Vanessa and Van. Though he was pretty sure their relationship would most likely have ended in a murder-suicide mystery no one could solve. And that was on a good day. But once the band had hit it big, she’d started to behave like she was downright insane—in more of a literal sense than an exaggerated one. It had been more than even he could handle.

“Difficult,” he finished, though that didn’t cover the half of it.

Dr. McLendon raised a blond eyebrow. “In what way?”

He sighed. “She partied hard. Sometimes even harder than me.” A few blurred images of incidents involving Nessa appeared behind his eyes. “If I didn’t pay enough attention to her or she thought I made eyes at another woman during a show, she’d make a scene. Threaten people, throw herself at another guy—sometimes even one of the guys in my band.”

“That sounds like a volatile situation. How did you deal with it?”

Van met her imploring stare. “Got high. Wasted. Whatever. Blew her off for a while.” He shrugged. “Then some time would pass and she’d come back, saying she was going to off herself if I didn’t take her back.”

It took every single ounce of self-control he had to remain calm. Nessa knew about Val. Knew about the way everything went down and had still used the one thing she knew would hit him where it hurt to get him to forgive her crazy ass.

“I see. I’ll talk to a care coordinator and make sure she isn’t contacted.”

He was thankful that the doctor didn’t ask any additional follow-up questions. Between seeing Stella with some random dude at lunch and Sid dropping the atomic bomb that was Nessa on him, he was done talking. But he did have a burning desire to see a certain care coordinator himself.