Page 120 of Between Never and Forever
I spin around and face him.
“And how did you want it, Tor?”
His eyes search mine, and I leave myself open for him. I don’t hide my anger. I don’t hide my guilt. I wish I could make this how he wants it. I do. I wish I could love him. But I can’t, and I don’t, and that’s just how it is.
“I just wanted you, Savvy,” he says finally. “I’ve always just wanted you. But fuck, you’re like trying to bottle lightning.”
I smirk, but it’s sad, and his lips curl up into something similar. He reaches up and runs a strand of my hair through his fingertips, then takes my left hand and runs his thumb over my emerald.
“It really is a beautiful ring, Tor.”
He laughs and brings his eyes back to mine.
“I thought if I’d gotten it perfect...” He trails off, and then shrugs. “I’m sorry the label is making you do this. We all think it’s fucked up. I think even Hammond hates it. It’s just...it’s not cool, and you shouldn’t be forced to play along.”
I scan his face and purse my lips. What happened to,just take the four months?What happened to, think it over, you’ll see?
Torren sighs.
“Don’t look so suspicious, Savvy. I meant it when I said that show was the best I’ve felt in a long time. I miss it. You guys are my family, you know? So, if there’s any chance at all that...well...You can’t bottle lightning, can you?”
The emotions in his tone are enough to break my heart into tiny pieces. Loss, hope, defeat. Even a little self-deprecating humor. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for letting our relationship get so messy. It’s caused us both so much pain.
Torren takes a step back, dropping my hand and fixing his face into a genuine yet subdued smile. I know what he’s saying. This band, whatever magic we might be when we play together, isn’t something just anyone can achieve. It’s rare. It’s worth sacrifice, even if the sacrifice hurts. But can we heal from the damage we’ve already caused?
Immediately, my thoughts go to Levi.
Levi, Brynn, and that little town on the east coast nearly three thousand miles away.Where do I belong? Who do I belong with? Which sacrifice am I willing to make?
“You look gorgeous. Ready to rock the red carpet?”
Torren sticks his arm out for me, so I smile and hook mine in his.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
I follow Torren into the main room of the suite where Mabel and Jonah are already waiting. Mabel’s wearing a pink silk pantsuit with an open suit jacket and a black bra adorned with silver metal spikes, so it looks like Ham has evaded the grave for tonight.
I glance at Jonah. He’s in a white suit with a Black Sabbath band tee under the jacket. He looks good. He looks sober, and it loosens one of the Jonah-related bands of anxiety that stay wrapped around my chest.
“Look at us,” Mabel says, clapping her hands together. “We look like real fucking rockstars.”
The drive to the venue is short, and the red-carpet walk is too long for my liking but still not as long as it usually is because Ham told everyone that we’re not answering any questions. Photographs, yes. Interviews, no. Apparently, the label doesn’t think they can trust me to not say something to make them look like assholes.
They’re right.
When we reach the end of the carpet and step into the building, away from the larger crowd, I catch a rare moment where Red is distracted with his guard down, and I strike. In two practiced moves, I have him on his back in the middle of our group, and I don’t bother trying to tame my triumphant smile. I really am getting faster with my sobriety. I fling my finger at him with a laugh as I loom above him.
“That’s for the country music serenade, you assho—”
I shriek as he swipes my legs out from under me, and grunt when I hit the ground. Fast as ever. I didn’t even see it coming. Damn it. I should have stepped back out of reach. Rookie fucking move.
“Ouch, fuck.”
I reach out blindly and jab Red in the gut as he chuckles, tuning out the laughter coming from my band and the gasps from the few people milling about inside.
“What the hell are you doing? That isGivenchy,” I hear Hammond seethe, quiet enough not to make any more of a scene, but loud enough that I can tell he is livid right now. “Jesus Christ, Savannah, if you ripped that dress I swear to god—”
“Oh, can it, Ham.” I groan.
