Текст книги "My Soul to Keep"

Автор книги: Kennedy Ryan

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SITTING IN THE WAITING ROOM OF a hospital while my dad is dying behind swinging double doors is purgatory. Hell would be knowing my last words to him were “cold, heartless, mercenary bastard.”

The acrimonious words we flung at each other over Christmas pile up in my mind like stones until my head is too heavy to hold up. I drop it into my hands. I’m exhausted, but it isn’t just fatigue weighing me down. The guilt, the regret, the anxiety. Shit, the fear. They are all bricks tied around my neck, pulling me under. Even though I sit here in this uncomfortable chair, perfectly still to the naked eye, inside I’m flailing. Gasping. I can’t breathe.

“I’m gonna step out and get some air, Bris.”

My sister nods, but doesn’t look up from her focus point on the floor. I don’t look at her before heading out of the waiting room and toward the cafeteria. I haven’t been able to look her in the eye since my mother called. We were just about to board the flight for Los Angeles, Bristol maintaining a constant flow of shit I didn’t want to talk about. The interviews I did in Chicago. How well the shows went. What we should keep for the tour later this year. What we might want to reconsider. How to work Petra into a few cities.

All I could think about was getting home to L.A. and bee-lining for Kai’s apartment. I was prepared to sit on her stoop until she got home if she was working.

Grady may be right. Kai probably does need space to sort out her feelings. To figure out what our next steps should be, but I can’t leave it all up to her. A week with no word was long enough to show me I’m not that guy who does the wise thing when something I want this badly is slipping through my fingers. I’m the kamikaze who flies in knowing he may not come out successful, but dammit I go down blazing for the mission.

And, no, I wasn’t planning to apologize. Fuck no. I was actually going to make sure she knew I’d do it all again. I’d pay her mother’s measly medical bills off a thousand times. If anything, I would have done it months ago. And I sure as hell wasn’t planning to apologize for having sex with her. I planned to force my way past that door and figure out how to do it again, only slower and in a bed this time. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not giving up. “Relent” is not a word I allow myself in anything, definitely not with Kai. It’s been long enough. If there was any question about us staying in the friend zone, the Richter-busting sex should have answered it.

I was going to say all of that. Do all of that. I had a plan, but that apple cart got tipped over with my mother’s frantic phone call. Shit’s been rolling at my feet, out of my reach and control, getting away from me ever since.

And now I cannot fucking breathe. My lungs constrict, and the air I keep pulling in through my nose and blowing out of my mouth doesn’t help. Doesn’t relieve this suffocation of guilt and desperation. They wrap around my face like a clinging plastic bag.

“ . . . cold, heartless, mercenary bastard.”

Those words pound in my head like hard rain. Like a hailstorm of things I wish I’d never said, but can’t take back. That I may never get a chance to apologize for.

I wander into the cafeteria, not really even remembering how I got here. Maybe a cup of coffee will do me some good. I’m studying the menu up on the wall when someone squeals behind me.

“Oh my gah!” A brown-haired girl wearing—I kid you not—a T-shirt that says “Mrs. Rhyson Gray” on the front, explodes into my personal space. Her hands are on my shoulders. She’s kissing my cheeks and chin and any part of me her eager body can reach. I’m too tired to freak out. Between the physical exhaustion of the trip and the emotional turmoil of the last few hours, she could shank me where I stand and I’d barely muster enough energy to bleed.

“Jillyyyyyyyyy!” The girl bounces on her toes. “Jilly, come here quick!”

Jilly rushes over, phone already aimed at me.

“Hey, could you not take my—”

Snap and flash before I can finish my request.

“I am your absolute biggest fan,” Mrs. Rhyson Gray gushes. “I saw you in Philadelphia last year and I drove to Boston too. I’m so excited about the tour. I already have my tickets for your show in New York. Would you sign my T-shirt? Jilly, a pen! A pen!”

Jilly is so handy with the pen, I want to ask if she has a paper bag somewhere on her person I could borrow to breathe into. The pen is in my hand and poised over the girl’s nipple. I give her my “are you kidding me?” face before raising the pen a few inches to sign on her shoulder.

“Girls, my dad’s here sick.” I give Jilly her pen back and hope they’ll cooperate. “I kind of want some privacy for my family. If the media finds out I’m here, it’ll just be a circus. Could you not post that picture or say anything about seeing me here for a while?”

“I’m so sorry.” Jilly looks contrite, yet proud. “I’m really fast. I already tweeted it.”

“Well, that just happened,” I reason. “You could delete the tweet, right?”

“I cross post.” She holds up her bedazzled phone. “It’s such a pain when you have to do all the platforms individually, you know? So I’ve connected all mine.”

“All?” I slide my clenched fists into my pocket. “What we talking here?”

“Just Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, and tumblr.” She snaps her fingers. “Oh, and Pinterest.”

A few years ago, I would have ripped these girls a new one. My space, my privacy, my choices were out of my hands so young that I take as much of it back as I can every chance I get. Used to be when that was violated, I’d lash out. It only took Grady witnessing one such episode to change all that. That lecture on humility and how I owe all my success to my fans, well, it’s an hour of my life I’ll never get back. Nor do I want to relive.

“I gotta go, girls.” I manage a smile for Mrs. Rhyson Gray. “See you in New York.”

I need to get back and let Bristol know we may have a situation. We got here without much fanfare, but there’s no way I’ll get out the same way. Not with little Miss Cross Post on the job. We had a small security detail in Chicago, but didn’t bring them with us home. We should get someone down here fast.

I’m just about to turn the corner back into the waiting room, when Bristol’s voice reaches me. It’s sharp and heavy like a butcher knife. Whoever she’s talking to is lucky to still have a head.

“This is a family matter.” Bristol’s voice is slightly louder than it should be.

“Bristol, you can’t—” Grady says, but Bristol cuts into his words.

“Why is she here? She should leave before Mother lands. It will only upset her having an outsider here.”

My mother wasn’t with my father when he collapsed. Bertie alerted her, and she caught a flight from the conference she was attending in Amsterdam. She’ll be here soon. So who’s the outsider? Paps? Jilly couldn’t have gone viral that fast. I hang back until I know what I’m walking into.

“Look, I don’t know what I did to make you dislike me,” a soft but firm voice says. “But it’s obvious something about me bothers you. We can deal with that another time. I really don’t much care.”

I’d know that voice, that accent, as thick and sweet as molasses, anywhere. When I round the corner, Kai and Bristol face off. It should be no contest. Bristol is several inches taller than Kai, but Pep isn’t intimidated. Not backing down. She has her hands on her hips, and her dark eyes hold steady and hard like flint.

“I’m not here for you, Bristol. I’m here for Rhyson. He can tell me to go. If he . . .” Uncertainty briefly flickers across her face. “Well, if he doesn’t want me here, of course I’ll leave. If he wants me to stay, then I’m staying.”

I walk fully into the waiting room, and Kai catches my eyes just over Bristol’s shoulder. The last time we were together, we argued, we had sex, and she pushed me away. Maybe I handled things the wrong way. Maybe she overreacted. Truth be told, right now I don’t care. I’m just glad she’s here, and I make sure she knows that immediately.

“I want you.”

I walk up to her, ignoring Bristol’s frown and irritated sigh.

Kai reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck, tucking her head into my shoulder. She’s like the eye of the storm. Chaos all around, but right here, in her arms, at the center, peace. Unreasonable, undeniable peace. I grip her tightly like my lungs grip air, because for the first time since my mother called, I can finally breathe.

I see Grady standing there and mouth “thank you.” He had his doubts about me pursuing Kai in the beginning, but I think I showed him over the last few months that I don’t just want a quick screw. Do I even know what I want with her? I’m not sure. I know it’s more than what I’ve ever had with anyone else. I know that even with my father fighting for his life beyond those double doors, just having her here where I can touch her and see her, makes me feel better.

“Are you okay?” She settles back down on her feet, her slim fingers pushing my hair back and her eyes worried on my face.

I just knew the first time we saw each other would be awkward. I’d have to convince her that I was right and she was wrong. We’d circle each other warily, and then I’d convince her we should be together. I can’t entertain any other option. We’d end up in her bed savoring all the things we missed about each other the first time we made love on the pool table. But this situation with my dad eliminates the awkwardness. It means so much that even though she needed space, she set that aside when I needed her.

“I’m dealing.” I set my hands around her tiny waist. I’ve missed being this close to her for the last week. I lean down and pull her up onto her toes until I lose myself in her one-of-a-kind scent, and my lips brush her ear. “I missed you so damn bad this week.”

She goes still against me, gripping the lapels of my jacket. She nods her head against my chest without looking up. Now isn’t the time for what I want to say. She knows it too. I force myself to focus on what we have to get through before I can dive into Kai and drown for a while. I step away, even though my body misses hers right away.

“Bris, we may have some press on us.” I force myself to look away from Kai and refocus on what we’re dealing with.

“We’ve been pretty careful.” Bristol reaches for the laptop stowed beneath her seat.

“No, we’ve been pretty lucky.” I glance around the empty waiting room. “It’s a miracle no one is in here now, but they could be. I ran into some fans in the cafeteria. They took a picture.”

“Why’d you go in there?” Bristol pushes a frustrated breath past her lips. “Okay, let’s see if there’s anything out there.”

She types for a few seconds, her brows bunching then clearing.

“Let me guess.” She raises and rolls her eyes. “Mrs. Rhyson Gray?”

“That’s her.” I grab Kai’s hand so she doesn’t drift off. “Maybe it’ll be nothing.”

“This already has a hundred retweets.”

“It was five minutes ago. What the hell?”

“That’s an eternity these days.” Bristol pulls out her phone. “I’ll arrange a security detail and get a statement prepared for why you’re at the hospital.”

I scratch the back of my neck.

“Uh . . . I kinda told them my father was sick.”

“Wow, did you give them the house security code too?” Bristol twists her lips into a grimace. “Maybe they’d like to pick through your trash or rustle around in your underwear drawer.”

“I wasn’t thinking.” I sit down, pulling Kai beside me.

“It’s okay. I’ll handle it.” Bristol stands and starts walking away. “I actually prefer a problem I can solve instead of all this waiting.”

As Bristol starts her conversation with the security company we always use, I lean back in the seat, pulling Kai back with me until her head rests on my shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re here.” I look at Grady, who sits across from us. “You too, Grady.”

“Where’s Angela?” Grady looks like he left half of himself in a different time zone.

“Mom will be here soon.”

I haven’t spoken to either of my parents since the Christmas bloodbath. If it hadn’t been for my dad’s heart attack, considering our track record, it probably would have been years before we connected again. I don’t know how it will feel to see her again so soon. Circumstances like these often supersede strife, at least temporarily. Look at Kai and me. I thought I’d have to beg her to even let me into her apartment, and here she is curled up against me. I pull her closer and kiss her hair. She looks up from my shoulder, her wide mouth drawing a sober line on her face.

“How you holding up?” she asks, her voice low. Her fingers lock with mine on her knee.

“I honestly don’t know. I think I’m blocking it. If I let myself think too long about my dad dying . . .” I don’t finish, swallowing the fear scaling the walls of my belly and making its way up my throat. “I was such an asshole at Christmas.”

“From what you told me, you all said things you didn’t mean.”

I shake my head, unable to let myself off that hook.

“I meant every word, Kai. I bet they did too. I just wish I hadn’t said them. I wish we didn’t feel them, that we’d worked through our shit before something like this happened. What if . . .”

I can’t even voice it. If my dad dies, there’s no second chance. There’s no redemption.

“You know what’s crazy?” The small laugh I manage tastes bitter on my lips. “I had this idea that one day we’d make things right. It’d be years from now. Maybe he’d come to one of my concerts. You know. Come backstage or something, and tell me that he . . .”

I’m not saying it aloud. The weak words that would admit the ten-year-old boy who almost pissed himself the first time he played in front of thousands but did it because Daddy said he could is still inside of me. Waiting, begging, for approval from my father that’s never come. That now maybe never will.

“We all want our parents to be proud of us, Rhyson. Even when they’re crappy, sometimes we still want them.” Kai angles her head on my shoulder until her soft, dark eyes plumb mine. “Can I tell you something?”

I nod, lost in the brief respite her company offers. Things don’t feel as bad when she’s close, and I want to handcuff her wrist to mine in case she gets it into her head she should leave me.

“Remember that step you fixed at Christmas?” I can’t even call the little breathy sound that escapes her lips a laugh. It’s too short. Too harsh. “I told you I used to sit on that very step every birthday wondering if my daddy would come home.”

My fingers tighten around hers, sharing the little strength I have left with her.

“And he never did.” Tears pool in her eyes. “No cards, no presents. Nothing after he left. Now, he really was an asshole. You were right. I hated that Mama still wanted him and still needed him after he cheated and abandoned her, but on some level, I still wanted him too. It doesn’t make sense, but I can’t change it.”

She rubs her thumb over my hand, soothing me more.

“So I get it. Your dad was awful to you, but you can still love him. Just because he can’t manage your career doesn’t mean he can’t be a father to you some day. That relationship may not look like what I had with my mom, but it can be something. You both have to want it, and it’s okay that you still do. ”

How do I tell her I have no frame of reference for that man fathering me? I don’t even remember when we realized I could play the piano the way I can. I was too young, and as soon as they knew, my parents started plotting to capitalize on it. So I don’t ever really remember feeling like anything to them but a meal ticket. Like a business they had to run. Even though Bristol and I have gotten closer since she started managing me, I’m a business to her too.

The only one who has ever felt truly like family is Grady. I glance across the waiting room to see Grady’s head buried in his hands. He always wanted to reconcile with my father. Rescuing me ruined his relationship with his twin brother. I know Grady took Emmy to New York for Christmas as a peace offering, but I don’t know how much peace they made. I’m not the only one wondering if we’ll ever get the chance to be a family again.

I’M NOT SURE WHEN THE SILENCE we’re all soaking in becomes sleep, but it does. My body finally surrenders to exhaustion, even though my mind wants to remain alert and available for Rhyson as soon as his father is out of surgery.

I blink away the last vestiges of sleep to consider the quiet waiting room. Grady is contorted into a sleeping pretzel on the chair across from us. Bristol is stretched out on a love seat. Rhyson and I lean into each other on the couch we’re sharing, his arm around me and my head on his shoulder.

Waking up in Rhyson’s arms is better this time. I know him differently, intimately now. I’ve wrapped my legs around the curve of his butt as he pushed into me. I’ve taken him into my body, and now I not only know his scent but also his taste. In the last week, my heart has missed him, but my body has been haunted by the pleasure we shared. I can’t lie to myself. I want it again. I want him again.

I lean back, pressing into the waiting room couch so I can get a better look at him. Long lashes rest on his cheeks and his wide mouth is relaxed. I know as soon as he wakes up, all of that will change. Regret and anxiety have been boring a hole in him ever since he got the call about his father. I want him to rest as long as he can. I ease myself out from beneath his arm, careful not to wake him.

“Who are you?”

The quiet question comes from a few feet away. A woman with auburn hair and Rhyson’s eyes stands there calmly considering me. I stand, glancing down to make sure Rhyson is still asleep.

“I-I’m Kai Pearson,” I whisper, moving closer to her so I won’t have to speak any louder. “Rhyson’s friend.”

“Hmmmm.” Just a sound that moves her eyebrows up in disdain or disapproval. I’m not sure which, but it doesn’t feel good, what those rising brows do to me.

“Mother.” Bristol yawns, extending her arms and legs fully. “You made it.”

Angela Gray nods, her eyes softening and warming only a little as she considers her daughter.

“I just spoke with a nurse who assured me your father should be out soon.” Angela walks over to Bristol, gesturing for her to make room on the couch. “He’ll pull through this. I know he will.”

I look for a hint of vulnerability, concern, fear. She shows none of it. She doesn’t reach for Bristol’s hand. There is no hug. No kiss. In a situation like this, my mother would have been smothering me with touches and kisses and assurances. Nothing. The thought of this cold woman raising Rhyson with her own interests in mind sets my teeth on edge. Mama always taught me not to be quick to judge, but I can’t help it. I’m not sure I’ll like her.

“Pep.” Rhyson opens his eyes and looks at the empty space beside him.

“Hey.” I walk back over to sit beside him, pushing his tousled hair back. “I’m glad you slept some.”

“I thought for a second . . .” He gives me a quick shake of his head. “I’m glad you’re still here.”

“Of course I am.” I squeeze his hand on the couch between us. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I feel Angela Gray’s eyes on us like snow, a light but persistent cold flurry. Rhyson must feel it too.

“Mother.” That guard he keeps close slips right into place, falling over his eyes and tightening his mouth. “When did you get here?”

“Just now.” She walks toward us, and Rhyson’s fingers contract around mine. Unreasonably, I want to place myself between them when he stands to receive her hug, forcing him to drop my hand.

“I’m glad you came,” she says.

I wonder why Rhyson merits a hug, but Bristol did not. By the way Bristol’s eyes narrow on them, maybe she wonders too. Or maybe she already knows. Maybe if she could play like Rhyson does, she’d get a hug.

Angela looks down on me, and not just physically, sitting on the couch.

“Kai and I just met.”

Rhyson looks over his shoulder at me, eyes warming.

“Yeah, Kai’s one of Grady’s students and . . .” He hesitates over the next word a second too long, the pause drawing Angela and Bristol’s attention. “A good friend.”

Before Angela has a chance to respond, the doctor walks into the waiting room, pulling down his mask as he approaches. If I thought we all looked haggard, we’ve got nothing on him.

“You’re Benjamin Gray’s family?” His weary eyes fix on Angela when she nods and steps closer.

“Yes, what can you tell us? How is he?” She squares her shoulders and watches him unblinkingly, as if afraid she’ll miss a detail. Even with the red hair, I see her in Bristol and Rhyson. Other than the eyes, it isn’t physical. It’s a subtle similarity I’ll have to observe to understand.

“I’m Dr. Anderson. We performed an emergency coronary bypass,” the doctor says. “It’s open heart surgery, which is why it took so long. I am guardedly pleased, but it’s too early to say for sure what happens next.”

All the Grays around me seem to release a collective breath of relief before diving in with their questions.

“How is he?” Angela demands.

Grady, just now coming fully awake and catching the tail end, inserts himself into the conversation, stepping beside Angela.

“Can we see him?”

“Not yet.” Dr. Anderson peels his green cap off, bunching it into his fist. “He had quite a few blockages and severe damage to his heart muscle during the heart attack. He’s in ICU recovering.”

“Is he awake?” Rhyson speaks for the first time, gripping my fingers almost painfully.

Dr. Anderson narrows his eyes on Rhyson before they widen with recognition.

“Mr. Gray, I didn’t know the patient was your father.” He offers a small self-deprecating smile. “Not that it makes a difference. I promise not to ask for your autograph. I just hope you haven’t been disturbed while waiting. We could have made arrangements for you to wait somewhere more private, had we realized.”

“It’s been fine.” Rhyson glances only briefly at Bristol, who spent an hour arranging for security and checking on media presence.

“To answer your question, no. He’s not awake,” Dr. Anderson continues. “Probably won’t be for the next few hours. And even then, he will be pretty groggy and unable to talk much. There will be lots of tubes, so prepare yourselves.”

“But he’s going to be okay now, right?” Fear and uncertainty mark Bristol’s face and voice for the first time. I’ve never seen her anything other than certain.

“He has a long road ahead of him. Maybe another week in the hospital and then as many as six of supervised recovery at home or in a facility. ” Dr. Anderson glances at his watch. “If you live nearby, I’d recommend you getting some sleep, change clothes, regroup, and then be here when he’s awake and ready to see you.”

“I’m fine.” Angela settles on a waiting room couch to prove that she has no intention of leaving. “I slept and ate on the plane. I want to be here if he wakes any earlier than you think.”

“He really shouldn’t, Mrs. Gray.” Dr. Anderson must see the stubborn tilt of Angela’s chin because he dips his head as a concession. “Very well, but if any of you need to freshen up, this would be the time.”

“Rhyson, you look dead on your feet.” Angela turns to assess her son. “You came straight from Chicago, right?”

“Yeah, and he was already exhausted.” Bristol pulls out her phone. “The security detail is downstairs. They’ve arranged a safe exit for you.”

“I am pretty fried.” Rhyson squeezes the bridge of his nose, briefly covering the dark shadows under his eyes. “Maybe I’ll zip home for a quick shower.”

“And a cat nap.” Angela frowns, reaching up to grab Rhyson’s hand. I’m close enough to sense how Rhyson stiffens, to see how his lips tighten at his mother’s touch.

“Okay.” He takes a step back, and Angela’s hand falls away empty.

She glances down at her hand, biting her bottom lip before pulling her mouth into the firm line I’ve gotten used to seeing even in the five minutes I’ve known her. She turns that blast of icy grey on me.

“And where are you staying, Kai?”

“With me.” Rhyson grabs my hand. “Wherever I’m staying.”

Angela pauses, glancing at Bristol before looking back to her son.

“Well, of course you’ll stay at the house, Rhys.”

“Then so will Kai.”

“I don’t want to be an imposition,” I protest. I didn’t think things completely through before I hopped on that plane with Grady. I just knew I needed to get to Rhyson.

“You won’t be,” Rhyson says. “There’s plenty of room, right, Mother?”

“Of course.” She pulls her phone from the black Celine bag at her feet. “I’ll just call Bertie and ask her to prepare one of the guest rooms.”

Angela raises her brows, like she’s waiting for Rhyson to challenge the suggestion of the guest room. She’s still trying to figure out what Rhyson and I are to each other.

Me too, Mrs. Gray. Me freaking too.

“That sounds fine.” He turns to me, resting his palm at the base of my neck under the heavy fall of my hair. “You look beat too. Did you bring a change of clothes or anything?”

“No.” I look at Grady, who wears the same chagrined look I probably do. “Grady came to the restaurant to get me and we left straight from there. I can’t believe I brought nothing. I just wanted to get here.”

Rhyson’s eyes stay on my face until I grow warm under his consideration.

“You dropped everything for me, huh?” For the first time, he feels like the Rhyson who teases me by text and tortures me with his encyclopedic cinematic knowledge.

“Believe me, leaving The Note was no great sacrifice.” I return his smile, but am deeply conscious of his family watching us.

“We’ll figure out something for you to wear. Let’s go.” He looks to Bristol. “What’s the plan, Bris?”

“Gep is on his way.” She looks to the hall, a small smile surfacing. “Here he is. Gep, you have the route set?”

“Yeah, we’ll take the service elevator down.” Gep is a massive man wearing a long-sleeved, black T-shirt, black jeans, and boots. “Sorry about your dad, Rhys.”

“Thanks, man.” Rhyson presses his hand to the small of my back. “We’ve got an extra passenger. Kai, this is John Gephardt. Gep, my friend, Kai. She’s going with us.”

Surprise flits across the security guard’s face before he pulls the professional mask in place. Rhyson really must be telling the truth when he says he never brings girls around. Everyone responds like I’m from Mars or something.

“Go, dude.” Bristol steps forward and hugs Rhyson around the neck. He wraps his arms around her back and kisses her temple.

“Grady, you coming?” Rhyson asks, turning to his uncle.

“I’m gonna stay for a little bit.” Grady’s smile carries more than its share of sadness. “I grew up here. I think I can find my way to the house on my own, and no reporters will bother me.”

Rhyson looks like he’s not sure he should leave. Grady crosses the small space separating them and hooks an elbow around his neck. He bends to whisper something in Rhyson’s ear. Rhyson stiffens briefly, but then nods, pounding Grady’s back a few times before stepping back. He finally turns back to me.

“You ready?”

Every time he asks me if I’m ready, I think I am. Somehow I know for sure that when we leave this hospital, when we walk out those doors, when we go to his home, when we are alone, I won’t be ready for Rhyson. So I don’t say that I am. I just let him lead the way.