Mended

CHAPTER 14 Underneath It All

Morning had stretched into afternoon and before I know it, it’s evening. I spent the morning trying to convince myself not to turn my back on her like I did before. She loves me—or I thought she did. Fuck, for twelve years I’ve been flirting around, never finding anyone else who could light up my soul like her. I never paid much attention to it, either. Then once she was back in my arms, it was all there—she was the one I’d always needed. She brings out parts of me I never thought I had. I had spent the afternoon talking myself down off the ledge—I wanted to kill him, with my bare hands, strangle every last breath out of him. But then who would win? I have to keep my cool.

We’re huddled together for our drink and a prayer. But no one is praying tonight. I regard them all steadily as I sit in a chair and lean over. My head throbs, my nose hurts—the painkillers Leif gave me are wearing off. I’m starting to feel more than a little bit agitated and annoyed. The show begins in minutes and she’s not here yet. What the hell is going on? Did I imagine what we had? Why would she marry him? The questions are on constant repeat in my mind and I feel like I’m going to puke again.

The feeling gets even worse when I hear Damon’s voice taunt me. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Fuck you,” I say, not bothering to raise my head.

They walk in together, with the ninja right beside her, but I already felt her nearness. My body has come alive and her presence gives me the strength I need. I flick my eyes toward her. She looks just as sad as earlier. I need to talk to her—alone. But it’s too late—the music sounds and the band is announced, so she makes her way onstage with the guys. Thank fuck Damon disappears, but he forgot the ninja and the guy stays front and center at the curtain.

Since backstage is as empty as I feel, I watch for a bit and then suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. I’ll be back before the show ends. The outside air is hot, muggy, almost suffocating, and I try to block out everything as I make my way back to my small cubby on the bus. The walk feels like miles and when I look up toward the sky I see thousands of stars there to light my way, but the darkness is everywhere. The bus doors are open and John is asleep in his seat. I finally make it to my bed and throw myself down, then call my brother. I want to check on Dahlia, but when he asks me what’s wrong, I tell him. He tries to persuade me to keep my cool and not do anything stupid, but at the same time I’m sure he knows he’s talking to the wind. I want to kill that son of a bitch, I want to scream at Ivy and ask, “What the fuck are you thinking?” I want answers. And I’m going to get them.

An hour or so later I’m back in the empty area backstage and she’s announcing her last song. “How about ‘Sorry’ by Buckcherry?” she asks the crowd. They go crazy, like they always do whenever she sings a cover.

Vamping chords, then a wailing bass introduce the song. “I’m sorry I’m bad,” she croons into the mic with her eyes closed. Her voice goes even lower and she sounds raspy, beautiful, inspiring, as she continues with “I’m sorry about all the things he said to you.”

And there it is—he. She said he, not I, like the song is written. What the fuck is going on? She turns slowly, fixing her gaze on me. She swings the mic gently and she sings the song to me.

With each verse, her voice grows stronger and louder and the ache in it more pronounced. Her passion and the love heard within the lyrics of the song infect everyone in the audience, but no one more than me. I want to wrap my arms around her and feel her body against mine, tell her we can fix whatever it is he did. Because I know it’s something he did. This time I will take care of her—I will not set her free. She needs to know this. I have to tell her. And now I know I’ll do whatever I have to to get her back—I’m not going to let her go this time.

When the song ends, the crowd explodes. Whistles, cheers, and yells fill the air as she walks offstage toward me. Before she reaches me, Ninja steps between us. Her demeanor changes as she approaches. “Johnny, Damon said not to let him within five feet of me. But he didn’t say we couldn’t talk. I need to discuss our upcoming shows. I’m sure Damon would never jeopardize the performance.”

I’m actually impressed at the way she turns the charm on and works him. Shit, did she do that to me? No. Now I’m only second-guessing myself. My mind is so fucked right now.

Ninja nods at her. Is he hot for her? I’m going to kill him right after I kill Damon Wolf. He steps back and I stay where I am. I consider grabbing her and making a run for it, but what good would that do. She’s married to the bastard.

In a low whisper she says, “Leave this alone, Xander. Leave us alone. I wanted to marry him. He makes me happy.”

Fury courses through me. My pulse races and my blood pounds.

“Why are you doing this?” I practically spit out the words, angry, repulsed.

“I’m not doing anything. Just move on. You’ve done it before. You can do it again.”

“Bravo. Bravo,” the bastard’s voice calls from behind me.

I turn around. I want to rip him into a thousand pieces and let him spend his days putting himself back together.

“Since we’re all here now, you’ll save me the time of having to call you tomorrow. Look, Ivy doesn’t need you to manage her—that’s my job,” he says, and his words rock my body with a jealousy I’ve never felt before.

Once I can focus again, I look straight at him and say, “I manage the band and she’s in the band, dickface.”

Ivy moves to stand next to him and he tries to grab her hand. If that happens, I know I’ll lose all control. Thank fuck she pulls her hand away. But she’s still standing beside him.

“Listen. Let’s make this simple. I see it like this. Your whole band is Ivy. Keep your name for now, since there’s less than six weeks left on the tour. But you need to disappear. I’ll give you until after Bristow to arrange it. We don’t need you around causing trouble and chaos. This is our honeymoon after all,” he says, this time wrapping his arm around her waist.

I rip my gaze from him in time to see the tears escaping her eyes, but I can’t feel anything right now but hatred. I fight the urge to tell them both to fuck off. I glare at her as she frees her body of any contact with him. I don’t want to leave, but I have to. I can’t take it. I can’t take his grimy hands on her. I can’t even think about his hands on her. I inch a step toward him, ready to tear his wagging tongue right out of his mouth, but the ninja is up my ass within a nanosecond. Like I didn’t see that coming. I shrug my shoulders and push past them both. I’ve had enough of this. Turning around, I walk toward the door. When I reach it, I punch it hard, wishing it were his face. The pain pulses through me and it feels like such a relief.