Текст книги "Rock Redemption"
Автор книги: Nalini Singh
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
“No.”
Kit’s gaze met his as he closed the distance to their table. There was a pinched look to her eyes that didn’t fit her, wasn’t her. As he watched, it smoothed out, her expression settling once more into that of Kathleen Devigny, the A-list actress dating a rock star, not Kit, the woman who was friends with Noah.
Chapter 22
Kit had never been so glad to get away from a crowd. The strain of pretending had turned into a throbbing pulse in her left temple, her skin stretched thin and tight over her bones. But the flip side was that she was now alone with Noah in a very small space.
“I think I’ll go to bed,” she said as soon as Noah pulled the door shut. “Been a long day.”
“I’ll just grab the airbed and the sleeping bag.”
She went into the tiny bathroom to clean off her makeup so they wouldn’t be in the bedroom together, and when she came out, it was to see Noah in the living area pumping up the airbed. He was down on one knee, his T-shirt stretched over his back and his hair falling over his forehead.
“Good night,” she said, her heart bruise growing darker at the sight of this man who could’ve been hers forever. Only of course that wasn’t true. Noah had never given himself to her, never asked her to be his.
I don’t want to push you away, but there’s stuff inside me that just screws me up sometimes.
Yet other women put their hands on him without concern. He allowed it, would do so again as soon as this charade was over. Kit had tried so hard to understand, to move past the way he’d flinched from her, but she wasn’t superhuman. Rejection hurt. And watching another woman so casually touch him? It eviscerated.
He looked up, storm-gray eyes holding her own, all those words forever unspoken between them. “Good night, Kit. Dream sweet dreams.”
“Always,” she said, but when she got into bed after changing into a camisole and pajama pants, she twisted and turned and slept in snatches. The dreams she had were filled with music and with a man whose smile she couldn’t forget.
She woke at six a.m. Rubbing at gritty eyes, she walked out into the living area to see the airbed deflated and folded up in a corner, the sleeping bag neatly rolled up beside it. No sign of Noah. In the bathroom, she threw cold water on her face, came fully awake with a jolt.
She’d just stepped out of the bathroom when the bus door was pulled open and Noah jumped inside. His hair was plastered to his head, his T-shirt and running shorts to his body. Water ran down his face.
That was when Kit realized the fine drumming she could hear was rain hitting the bus roof. “You’ll freeze,” she said, grabbing a towel from the little built-in cupboard next to the bathroom. “Get those shoes and socks off.”
He obeyed, bending his head so she could rub the towel over the blond strands of his hair. “This’ll wreck the festival if it doesn’t stop,” he said, the words muffled by the towel.
“What’s the weather report say?” She knew he’d have checked; Noah did things like that.
“Forecast to clear by eight. Cross your fingers they’re right.”
Having dried his hair so it was no longer dripping, she ordered him to strip off his T-shirt, then went around and dried his back. It wasn’t until she came around to his front, his eyes looking down into hers that she realized what she was doing. Her camisole was thin and he was bare to the waist, all golden skin and ridged muscle and ink. He didn’t want her, but that didn’t matter to her body.
Her nipples tightened.
Shoving the towel at him, she turned away. “Dry off. I’m going to grab a change of clothes for you.” She barely resisted the urge to wrap her arms protectively around herself.
Kathleen Devigny did not hide.
It took her only a couple of minutes to find him some clothes, the closet was so small. After putting them outside the bedroom, she shut the door and got changed herself. She’d intended to wear a dress, but with the rain, she hesitated. In the end, she decided to hope for the best and pulled on the summery yellow strapless sundress that had a cute blue print. She’d pair it with her ankle boots and a hip-length leather jacket she left on the bed for now.
A deep breath, the mask firmly back on, she opened the bedroom door.
Noah was at the kitchenette, damp hair roughly finger-combed and body clad in the old blue jeans and black T-shirt with a faded silver print on the back that she’d found in the closet. Looking up, he smiled. “You want some cereal?”
God, that smile. “Yes,” she said as her stomach dipped despite all her admonitions to the contrary.
Picking up a large box, he poured a multicolored waterfall of sugary rings into a bowl.
“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you just give me a candy bar and be done with it?”
A wink. “That’s for me.” He put a smaller, unopened box on the counter. “This is for you.”
It was her favorite kind.
Gripping the butterflies in a tight fist lest they escape and forget all the painful lessons she’d already learned at Noah’s hands, she opened the box and poured the flakes into a bowl. He poured milk over it, and the two of them ate in silence. Pretending there wasn’t this great pulsing thing between them, this unfinished promise that hurt so much. Pretending they were normal.
“What time did you go for your run?”
A shrug. “Around five maybe.”
“It must’ve still been dark.”
“Best time to run. Everything’s quiet and most of the vultures are asleep.”
Fox’s warning vivid in her mind, Kit said, “How much sleep did you get?”
“A few hours.” Nonchalant words.
She put down her bowl. “Now you’re lying to me?”
His jaw got that hard line that never augured anything good. “Leave it, Kit. I told you I have bad nights sometimes.”
“Leave it? Noah—”
“Leave it.”
Noah had never yelled at Kit. Never. He still hadn’t. But the cold whip of his voice made her flinch. She’d heard him use a similar tone against people he didn’t like or those who were getting in his face, but he’d never used it on her.
At first she was hurt—and then she got mad.
Coming around the counter, she stood half a foot from him, arms folded. “You think you can do that to me?” she asked, her fury as hot as his was cold. “Just freeze me out with the famous Noah St. John temper?” So angry it felt as if her skin glowed red-hot, she shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. Friends care. I care.” He knew that; what use was hiding it? “You’re running on a razor-thin edge.”
His eyes glittered, unrelenting stone and icy mists. “What’re you going to do? Hug me and make it better? Wave a magic wand to make the insomnia disappear?”
Kit gritted her teeth, but she couldn’t quite control the scream that wanted to erupt from her throat. “I sure as hell don’t intend for you to give yourself a heart attack from sleep deprivation or endless running just so I can get a part!”
She slashed out a hand. “We’re done. We’ll break up in a big dramatic deal, and you can pick up one of those women who allow you to get some sleep.” Yes, that hurt, that fucking hurt, but this was Noah’s life they were talking about.
“No.” He grabbed her upper arms, hauled her close. “I promised you I would do this.”
Shoving at his chest, Kit tried to pull away, but all she succeeded in doing was taunting herself with the muscled heat of him under her palms. “I’m releasing you from the promise.”
Noah wanted to shake her, but he’d never chance hurting Kit. “I won’t release myself. I need to do this.”
“This isn’t your redemption, Noah,” she said, her eyes so passionate with emotion that they seemed to glow. “You don’t need to do this to save our friendship. I’m being your friend now.”
“If you’re my friend, then you let me do this.” Even if I can’t give you anything else, I can give you this. “You damn well let me do this, Kit.”
“I won’t watch you drive yourself into the ground!”
“I won’t. I’ll take a pill tonight. I’ll sleep.” The nightmares would ravage his drugged mind, but it’d be worth it. “I’ll sleep. I promise.”
Her expression altered, the anger suddenly intermingled with so many other emotions that he couldn’t separate them out. “Why won’t you talk to me, Noah?” she whispered, placing one hand against his cheek.
The touch was hesitant and he hated that, hated that he’d made her afraid of touching him in friendship, in affection. Raising one of his own hands, he held hers against the stubbled roughness of his cheek. “You know me better than anyone else in this world.” Fox knew the details of one thing Kit didn’t, but Fox didn’t know his heart, not like Kit.
“I don’t know why you hurt.” A harsh whisper. “Why you hurt so much that you do things that make you deeply unhappy.”
Sliding his hand into her hair, he tugged her against him, held her stiff, angry body close. And didn’t want to let her go. Not today. Not tomorrow. Never. “Be with me,” he whispered, knowing it was the most selfish thing he’d ever asked of anyone in his entire life. “Be with me.”
Kit froze against him, a flesh and blood statue.
“I can’t be what you need,” he whispered against the side of her head. “But be with me anyway.”
Kit’s body stayed rigid, her breathing so quiet he wasn’t sure she was breathing. Noah knew he should release her, call back the words he should’ve never spoken. But he stayed silent and he held her tight, right against the twisted, scarred, selfish heart that beat only for her.
Fifteen minutes later, and Kit didn’t know what she was going to do. Being with Noah, having him for her own, it was all she’d ever wanted, but not this way, not when he couldn’t even sleep from the strain of being faithful. It sounded so stupid to put it that way, but how else could she explain it? Noah seemed to get a kind of peace—fleeting though it was—from his random hookups that she couldn’t give him.
“Kit.”
Glancing up from where she was sitting on the edge of the bed, having just put on her boots, she saw him in the doorway. He’d thrown on a leather jacket over his black tee, and it just intensified the rock-star vibe. But his eyes… his eyes were vulnerable.
“Rain’s stopped,” he said.
Unable to bear looking into those eyes that asked her for things that might break her, she got up and tugged at her own leather jacket. “We’ll look like those twin couples.”
“Yours is brown and sleek, mine is black with buckles and zippers everywhere. Totally different.” He shifted out of the doorway, angled his head toward the front of the bus in a silent invitation.
“Where are we going?” she asked as they stepped outside and he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. Around them, the festival grounds were damp and still sleepy. The first show wouldn’t kick off till nine, and Schoolboy Choir wasn’t on until four that afternoon.
“Just for a walk.”
He’d gone running and now he wanted to go for a walk. If she was with him, she wouldn’t need Macho Steve, the Evil Personal Trainer, Kit thought wryly. But walking with Noah in the cool morning light was fun. They went out back, behind the buses and the other vehicles. The fields seemed to stretch out endlessly, but once you got over a little rise about a ten-minute walk away, it turned into woods.
Into those woods they walked, just the two of them and the birds and the bodyguards who hung back enough that Noah and Kit had privacy. “Why are Butch and Casey following us?” Noah was more than tough enough to take on the coward who got his rocks off by stalking her.
“I’m not taking any chances with your safety,” Noah said, his body suddenly all hard edges. “I don’t ever want you in a situation where you feel helpless and alone.”
His words, his care, dealt another smashing blow to her already shaky defenses. No, she told herself, he’s not good for you. Yes, said her heart. Just yes. “My Spidey senses haven’t gone off lately,” she said aloud. “I don’t think he made it to Zenith.”
“Yeah, well, better safe than sorry.” He glanced back, lifted a hand in a wave of acknowledgment. “Butch and Casey are good guys—and they know not to get too close.”
Kit went to make a joke about getting caught in flagrante delicto, but then the reality of her and Noah stabbed at her and she couldn’t.
Be with me, he’d said.
There was no mistaking what he’d meant. He was asking her to make the pretense real, asking her to be his.
I fuck everything female that moves. I don’t want that with you.
He’d meant that too. He did not want to sleep with her. That continued to hurt, but she knew it wasn’t as simple as a lack of sexual attraction—their chemistry was as real as the brutal pain he’d caused. There was something else, the same something that kept him awake at night, that made him do self-destructive things like pick up women who cared nothing for him and about whom he didn’t care.
Be with me.
The memory of the raw words made her breath catch, her heart ache. “You looking forward to the show today?” she asked, needing time to understand him, understand herself, understand this.
In a way, there was only one answer. But that answer might destroy them both.
“Always.” Noah grinned. “I like performing—I’m a peacock at heart.”
Kit felt her eyebrows draw together over her eyes. “And that’s why you once hung out with me in my garden for an entire week, without the least desire to go show off?” That had been the best week of her life… though Noah hadn’t spent the nights at her place. He’d gone home, probably picked up groupie after groupie while she was building cotton candy romantic dreams.
Another stab of pain, another reminder that if she agreed to be with him, she’d live in constant fear that he’d break, go back to his promiscuous ways. But then he nuzzled at her with a smile lighting up his face, and her stupid, irrational heart melted again.
“Yeah well, even a peacock needs the occasional break.” He pointed out an eagle overhead, its wings majestic. “Seriously though, I like the rush of performing, but it’s good to have the downtime. That’s when the music comes.”
Kit nodded. “It’s the same with me and acting.” She loved being in front of the camera, putting on another skin, but then she needed to be herself, to be “quiet,” to recharge and find her center.
That morning they talked about music, about drama, about so many things except the three words Noah had spoken that changed everything.
Be with me.
Chapter 23
Things were hopping in the backstage area by the time Kit and Noah returned. After grabbing coffees from the catering truck parked outside the marquee where the festival organizers had put on a breakfast spread, they headed toward Molly and Fox’s bus, figuring the other couple would be up.
“Kathleen!”
Kit froze, that sultry female voice with its faint trace of a Venezuelan accent intimately familiar. “Mom?” Turning, she stared at the leggy woman with masses of expertly tousled black hair striding toward her.
Adreina Ordaz-Castille was dressed in black leather pants that appeared painted on, spike heels that left sharp little divots in the rain-wet earth, and a designer black shirt that hugged her body and was unbuttoned enough to expose the upper curves of her breasts. Her jewelry was chunky silver and turquoise. She was exquisite and sexy both.
A trail of slack-jawed men gazed after her in hopeless want.
Kit couldn’t quite keep herself from glancing at Noah to gauge his reaction to seeing her mom in the flesh. Males tended to forget themselves in the orbit of the magnetic sexual allure that was Adreina Ordaz-Castille.
Noah’s eyes were wide, his muscles bunched, but not with worship.
Kit blinked. “Why are you freaking out?”
“It’s your mom,” he said under his breath. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to shoot me.”
A silly, turbulent twisting in Kit’s stomach at the realization that he looked at Adreina and saw only her mom, she said, “No, my mother loves rock stars.” Adreina had dated plenty of them before settling down with Kit’s dad.
“Mom, what are you doing here?” she said when Adreina reached her.
Her mother kissed her on both cheeks before answering, the scent of Adreina’s perfume a familiar embrace. “Your father and I are here for the festival.”
“Oh, right.” Kit didn’t know why she was surprised; her parents were very active on the celebrity circuit, and this edgy festival was starting to gain serious media cred. And Adreina did still love rock stars, even if only to watch them perform. “Where’s Dad?”
A familiar silver head appeared around the corner a second later. Parker Ordaz-Castille had two cups of coffee in hand from one of the festival trucks. “Hello, honey,” he said, drawing Kit into a hug after giving Adreina her coffee. “Noah, good to see you again.”
The two men shook hands. Following that, Kit’s mother put one hand on Noah’s shoulder and leaned in to brush her lips over his cheek. Adreina touched easily. The boys Kit had dated in high school and college had often taken it the wrong way, believing it a come-on. It wasn’t.
Noah, however, still had that wary look on his face, clearly braced for parental disapproval.
“How did you get backstage?” Kit asked her parents, the funny, twisty feeling inside her refusing to subside.
“We know people.” Parker winked.
“Oh, look!” Adreina waved at someone. “There’s Naomi. We’ll see you later, darling.”
“Sure, Mom.” Relieved it was over, Kit turned to Noah. “See, no biggie.”
He was scowling. “What the hell? If I had a daughter and she was dating a guy like me, I’d take him out back and threaten him with a shotgun to make sure he treated her right.”
Kit’s mouth fell open. “You?”
“Yeah.” He folded his arms, his scowl growing heavier. “Jeez, Kit, he didn’t even tell me to be good to you. That’s bullshit.”
Realizing he was dead serious, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. “Where did you pick up this chivalrous instinct?”
“My father,” he said, the sneer that usually accompanied any mention of Robert St. John missing from his voice. “He’s a son of a bitch, but he brought me up to look after any women under my care.”
“Under your care?” Kit raised an eyebrow. “Chauvinistic much?”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well, maybe it is, but I’m not changing. My imaginary daughters are never dating musicians. Ever.”
Stomach somersaulting at the idea of little girls with Noah’s features and talent, she shook her head. “Noah St. John, bad boy of rock and concerned father of imaginary daughters. Hell hath frozen over and become an ice rink.”
“Come on, smart-ass.” He slung an arm around her shoulders again. “Let’s go find a seat out front so we can watch Esteban. Maxwell has rug things we can use since the grass won’t have dried out yet.”
Kit fell in with his plan. Not only did she like Esteban’s music, she knew he was a good friend of Noah’s. She had a feeling Schoolboy Choir and Thea had had a great deal to do with getting him on the bill at the festival. Yes, he had a morning slot, a time when people were still getting themselves together after a late night, but he had a slot. His performance would be reported on by the bloggers and other media here, clips would be posted on social media, and so on.
Grabbing a spot beside a wild-haired guy sitting up in his sleeping bag, Noah pulled her down between his legs. She settled with her back to his chest and tried not to sink into his warmth, his scent, him. Whispers and camera clicks sounded from around them, but no one tried to intrude into their space.
Part of the draw of Zenith was that the musicians blended into the crowd, hung out and danced like regular people. It was an unspoken rule that they weren’t to be mobbed. Kit didn’t know how long that would last with the festival getting bigger and bigger, but it held today.
Then Esteban walked onstage. Just a dark-eyed singer and his guitar and his voice. Listening to the smooth, heart-tugging cadence of it, Kit felt herself becoming boneless against Noah. “He’s a real musician, like you guys. No tricks.”
“Yep.” Noah’s lips brushed her ear as he spoke. “I was thinking—that song I wrote. Esteban would do it justice.”
She knew he was talking about “Sparrow.” “No.” Scowling at the idea that he’d even consider giving it to anyone else, she twisted around to look at him. “That’s meant for you.”
“It’s not a Schoolboy Choir type of song,” he said again.
“Have you even talked to the others?”
Hauling her back against his chest, Noah wrapped her up in his arms. “Stop fighting with me and listen to the music.”
She did, but she wasn’t finished. She didn’t know why Noah was being so stubborn about “Sparrow” when he and the other guys messed around with all kinds of stuff as they put together an album. Maybe, another part of her whispered, because the song was so close to his heart. If it didn’t make it onto the next album, or if the other guys didn’t like it, he’d be devastated.
Kit knew Abe, Fox, and David would like it; she just had to convince Noah to sing it for them.
“I like this one a lot.” Noah’s lips brushed her ear again, his breath warm and his body so strong and powerfully male around her own.
Breasts swelling against her bra, Kit fought off a responsive shiver as her battered heart begged her to stand firm on one beat… and to give in on the next.
Be with me.
Schoolboy Choir’s afternoon performance went off with a bang. Dressed in rock-appropriate knee-high boots and a strapless dress in glittering gold that barely covered her butt and had caused Noah to suck in an audible breath when she walked out of the bedroom, Kit had just as much fun this time around as she’d had the night before.
Beside her, Molly cried when Fox sang the song he’d written for her, the one with which he’d proposed onstage during the tour.
Kit couldn’t help but feel a stab of envy.
Molly and Thea were so lucky. Their guys were theirs—no questions or doubt. Totally devoted. Fox saw no one else when Molly was in the room, and David’s face just lit up when he found Thea in the crowd.
Kit wanted that for herself. And she wanted it with the gorgeous man onstage who wanted to be with her… without being with her.
“Hey.” Molly, her curvy body clad in a sexy halter-neck dress, wrapped an arm around Kit’s back as the band segued into another song. “What’s the matter?” Gentle words, a tone that held infinite care. “The situation with Noah?”
Kit nodded and left it at that. The rest was too painful, too private, to share. “Noah said there was going to be a party tonight.”
“Yeah.” Molly spoke against her ear to be heard over the thumping pulse of the music. “Plan is to party with the crowd a bit, then move on back to the marquee.”
That was exactly what they did when night fell. Kit laughed and danced with the concertgoers and her friends… and Noah, his hands possessively on her hips as he danced behind her. Heart in her throat and skin so sensitive the tiniest brush of his arm against her own made her inner muscles clench, Kit was barely aware of Butch and Casey’s watchful presence.
When their group did finally make it to the backstage marquee, the party continued on.
“Oh, shit.”
Noah’s quiet but vehement exclamation had her looking up at him. They were standing against one “wall” of the marquee, her back to his chest and his arm around her waist as she nibbled on the hot, salty fries she hadn’t been able to resist—dancing was exercise, right?—and he drank a beer.
“What is it?”
A nod. “Sarah.”
Her eyes widened. The only Sarah she knew who’d get that kind of a reaction from Noah was Abe’s ex-wife. From whom Abe had parted in a very, very messy divorce. She’d come after him with the kind of anger a woman only showed when she was either a vindictive money-grubbing bitch or she’d been terribly hurt.
Kit’s bet was on the latter. Because while Sarah had always been a little standoffish, Kit had also seen the other woman looking at Abe with a hopeless, painful longing in her eyes. That didn’t explain why she’d hooked up with some other guy only months after their separation. To hurt Abe? Or maybe to try to get over a man Kit would bet Sarah hadn’t truly wanted to divorce. Then again, you never knew what went on inside another couple’s relationship.
Following Noah’s line of sight, she spotted the tall woman with lush brown skin speaking to Esteban. Of mixed Puerto Rican and African American descent with a Japanese ancestor thrown into the mix, Sarah had highly distinctive features. Kit had always found her to be one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen—it wasn’t cookie-cutter beauty, but striking. You remembered Sarah.
Her hair was all wicked curls that Kit loved, but Sarah often wore it straightened, as it was tonight. As for her body, it was a knockout. She had both serious curves and serious tone to her. In modeling terms, she’d be a plus size. In real-world terms, she was the kind of woman who, in another time, would’ve been a pinup.
The last photo Kit had seen of Sarah had featured her with a baby belly, but then had come the sad news of a stillbirth. Hurting for her, Kit had sent a condolence card and flowers. She hadn’t been sure Sarah would welcome a visit since they’d never been as close as Kit already was to Molly, despite the fact she’d known Molly for a shorter period. It was as if Sarah had always had a wall around her, a cool, remote distance that made getting to know her difficult.
“Where’s Abe?” she asked, putting the rest of her fries aside on a nearby table.
Noah swept the room with his eyes. “On the other side.” He looked down at her.
She nodded. “You go make sure he stays there, and I’ll talk to Sarah.” She would’ve gone over to say hello anyway, but now she’d be running double duty. No one wanted Abe and Sarah to meet up. The last time that had happened, it had been in divorce court, and from what she’d heard, the atmosphere had been both volcanic and glacial.
Noah swigged back his beer. “If you see the others, give them a heads-up.”
“I will.” She left with a brush of her fingers against his.
Making her way to Sarah’s statuesque form, the other woman dressed in a gorgeous red dress that hugged her curves, she smiled at Esteban when he spotted her first. “Your set was wonderful,” she said to the darkly handsome man.
“Thank you.” A glance from her to Sarah and back. “You know one another?”
“Of course.” Kit held out her hands. “It’s good to see you, Sarah.”
Esteban was pulled away by Thea at that moment, the other woman smiling at Sarah and Kit both before she led the singer toward a group of people Kit recognized as industry heavyweights.
Sarah returned Kit’s squeeze of her hands. “I kept meaning to call you,” she said in her lovely contralto. “Thank you for the flowers, the card. It meant a lot.”
“I was so sorry to hear about the baby.” Giving in to instinct, Kit hugged the taller woman.
Sarah stiffened for only a second before hugging her back. “Sorry,” she whispered hoarsely when they drew apart, her dark brown eyes wet, haunted. “I’m still raw about it.”
Kit just squeezed her hand again.
“They did too, you know.” Quiet words. “David, Noah, and Fox. They sent me flowers.” She shook her head. “I didn’t expect it, those four are so tight. I know they think I’m a bitch after the divorce and everything, but they still…”
“They knew you for a long time.” Sarah and Abe had been married for two years before their separation and eventual divorce.
A smile that wasn’t a smile. “I don’t think we ever really knew one another. My fault, but none of that matters now. Please thank them for me when you see them. And… thank Abe too.”
Accurately reading Kit’s surprise, Sarah said, “No, I wasn’t expecting it, either.”
“I’ll tell them,” Kit said when Sarah didn’t continue, obviously done with the topic. “Sarah, I have to ask—what are you doing here?” Schoolboy Choir was the headlining band, no way to miss that piece of information.
Sarah wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing at her bare forearms. “My fiancé, Jeremy Vance, is backing Stir Crazy.”
A band that wasn’t as big as Schoolboy Choir but that was starting to make its mark. “Oh.” It hadn’t been a surprise to Kit that Sarah had ended up with someone else in the industry. After so long with Abe, she must’ve formed deep friendships of her own. “Well, I guess you and Abe can’t avoid each other forever.”
Sarah’s smile was tight. Lowering her head and the volume of her voice, she said, “I heard about Abe’s drug overdose on tour.” Lines fanned out from the corners of her mouth, her shoulder muscles stiff. “Is he back on them?”
Kit shook her head. That “drug overdose” had actually been extreme alcohol intoxication, but she didn’t know if she had the right to tell Sarah that since the band had kept it out of the media. Abe’s problems with drugs were old news and no one paid it much mind. “He’s clean,” she told Abe’s ex-wife. “You know how I am about drugs—I wouldn’t tell you that if it wasn’t true.”
A visible relaxation in Sarah’s features. “I’m glad. I—” She cut herself off. “I tried to be there for him for so long, Kit.”
“I know.” Kit touched Sarah’s forearm. “No one thinks you gave up.” Sarah had gone through the wringer with Abe, had helped him through relapse after relapse. Kit didn’t know what had finally caused Sarah to walk away, but she knew it had to have been brutal to break the will of a woman so strong.
Taking a deep breath, Sarah said, “You were incredible in Last Flight. I read online that you might be making another movie with the same team?”
Kit nodded, and they spoke about the movie business for a bit. Sarah wasn’t involved in it except on the periphery, since Jeremy dabbled as a producer of teen-oriented movies when he wasn’t backing bands, but she had a keen interest in all aspects of the entertainment industry. Kit was just starting to think disaster had been averted when she felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck.
Turning, she saw Abe coming toward them with Noah behind him. Catching her eye, Noah shook his head. Abe, it seemed, was hell-bent on seeing Sarah.
