Page 104 of Reverb
A snort and a shake of his head. “I’m supposed to be your bodyguard, Mish. No one’s supposed to get that close to you. Both events were entirely my fault.”
“Technically, you were hired to provide security for the band.”
“We both know why I was hired.” His voice was flat. “And I fucked up that job. Over and over again.” He rubbed at his beard and finally looked like he had lived more than forty years. “I shouldn’t have gotten so close.”
There it was. “That’s bullshit. All of it. First, you’ve done your damnedest to keep me—and us—safe. Second, we’ve chosen to continue interacting with fans. Doing the signings and the encounters and all of those things.”
He started to argue, but she cut him off. “And third—the ring would have been stolen and that necklace would have been stolen regardless of whether we were involved or not.”
He leaned his head back and looked up at the ceiling. “Maybe,” he whispered. “Maybe not.”
The pain in his voice and the lines in his brow were symptoms of something else—and the words came out of Mish’s mouth fast and hard. “You were thinking of ending things before tonight, weren’t you?”
David closed his eyes, and the truth cut through her hard and fast. She nearly dropped Marly. “Were you even going to talk to me about it?”
“I wanted to. Wanted to talk. But there was never any time. Tonight only drives home how much this isn’t going to work.” He gestured between the two of them. “No matter how much I want it to.”
Anger finally wormed its way into Mish’s veins, thank goodness. It hardened her bones and drew a shield around her fragile, shattering heart. “So, since you’ve got it all figured out, you wanna tell me why you’re dumping me on my ass? Why this—” she repeated his gesture “—won’t work?”
She was glad for David’s flinch. “Because this tour’s going to end. Then what? What happens?”
Mish wracked her brains. “I figured we’d keep seeing each other. I’ll be in the city, you’ll be in the city. Why wouldn’t we see each other?
“Sometimes my jobs take me out of the city.” David rubbed his hands on his thighs. “This one is a perfect example. If I take a gig with another band, or an executive who travels, or someone like that, I won’t be around.” He paused. “And when you go out on tour, I’m not gonna be security for you all. I’m too close now. I’d turn down the job even if Ray offered.”
This didn’t make sense. She held Marly a little tighter. “So?”
He rotated in his seat and stared at her. “Our lives won’t intersect. You’ll be off being a rock star and I’ll be back working the jobs I had before I got...” He let the statement drift off, his skin blanched. “Being a rock star’s significant other is...a detriment in my line of work. I’ll be famous. No one’s gonna hire me.”
That wasn’t at all what she expected and it made her blood run cold. “So you’re dumping me because I’m a liability to your income?”
“God, you make me sound like a fucking asshole,” he said. “How are we going to date if we never see each other? You’ll be off doing your thing, and I’ll be off doing mine, ’cause yeah. I still have to eat, Mish.”
Except she could support him. Even as the thought slipped into her mind, she knew he’d reject it and why. She’d have done the same—they were alike in many ways. Fiercely independent. Fighters. People who’d learned to rely on no one but themselves for years and years.
She’d found Twisted Wishes, though, and learned that she needed Ray and Dom and Zavier and Adrian—and now Marcella—as much as they needed her.
Still, she felt compelled to offer the notion, at least in a roundabout way. “There’s a place for you here, David.”
“Doing what?” He raked a hand through his hair. “I know what you’re thinking. I wouldn’t have to work. It’s not the money. It’s—me. I need to be useful. And if I’m—If I’m not much more than a groupie because I happen to be dating you...” He shook his head. “I can’t, Mish. I love every fucking second with you. You’re the best woman I’ve ever met. But you’re you and I’m me.”
“I have no idea what that means.” The pain slipped past the anger, dragging sadness in its wake. “There’s a ton of things to do on tour. You wouldn’t be a fucking groupie...” And the anger sprang back. She shoved Marly into David’s hands. “Shit. I can’t believe you said that.”
Standing felt better, so she did, and paced a few steps down the aisle before turning and stomping back. “I get wanting to be independent. Isounderstand that. But if you hook your life up to someone, things give way. You make compromises. You do it out of love.”
“You don’t have to. You hold all the cards.”
She froze in place, heart shattering like glass, eyes locked on his. What he said was true from a certain point of view. “Do you want me to give up the band?”
He stared back at her, his face ashen. “What?”
“Do you want me to give up the band?” she repeated. “Because it sounds an awful lot like the only reason you don’t want to be with me is that I’m a rock star.”
“No!” Exasperation changed his voice, tinged it higher. “I don’t want you to quit the fucking band! You’ve worked your entire life for this!”
“Yeah, I have.” She stood still, watching and waiting.
David looked away first, absently hugging Marly tighter. “I love you. It’s way too soon to say that, especially since I don’t know how to be with you and still be me. I fought my entire life to be me.”
