Mended (Connections #3)

Mended (Connections #3) Page 21

“Xander, there you are,” she squealed. “Ivy called. She said you and Tessa can have a nice life. What’s she talking about?”

Her words told me everything. I walked out of the kitchen without answering Bell. Why would Ivy assume that was me with Tessa? I would never do that.

But in a moment of both anger and clarity, I decided to seize this chance. To use this to my advantage, that maybe what happened would be for the best—it would get her to Chicago. That stupid poem came to mind. I didn’t know the whole thing, but the part I knew was enough—If you love someone, set them free.

And I did. She ended up going without me—it wasn’t the way I planned or wanted. But once it happened, I let it. I let her go. How was I to know I’d be left feeling like half of me was missing after I did it?

As I exit the club, the smothering night not only suffocates me, but also threatens to steal what I have left of my composure. I’m tired, worn, and seething with anger. I’ve had enough. I’m pushing my guilt aside and letting all of this go. As of right now, I don’t give a flying f**k what any of them do—Ivy included. I move from the shelter of the awning above me. It’s still pouring, but I decide to walk back—letting the rain cool me off.

CHAPTER 10

All I Want

Ivy

Everything is closing in on me—my mother’s constant calls for more money, Damon’s harassing texts about my career, Xander’s unyielding scrutiny. It’s all too much. Tossing back drink after drink, I let myself go. I surge into the crowd and sway my hips. And as the music starts to breathe life back into me, all I want to do is forget the world. I think about the outdoors—the sound of the never-ending rain, the strength of the wind, the ominous color of the sky—I focus on those calming things. But Xander’s features that draw together in a dark triangle whenever he looks at me tonight, that’s all I see and I want so much to be the one to smooth them out.

Leif moves close and together we find the beat. We dance to forget—two friends who need each other. We’ve been companions for so long, he’s really the only person besides Xander who I’ve ever really confided in. I’d have been lost without him to talk to these last few years among the stresses of album production, demands on my career, and the need my family has for more and more money.

I try to push all my stresses and worries away, but I can’t push Xander from my mind. I don’t want to. Spending this time with him has me questioning everything. I feel like we’ve grown close, reestablished that friendship we once shared, but I’ve kept it on the surface. I’m afraid to let it go any deeper. He’s tried to talk to me, but I can’t handle talking about him with another girl. I know he wants me and I want him so badly, but I can’t let go of the past. Whenever he gets close, I see him with her. And I also can’t handle a casual relationship with him. He seems to have that with Amy, and who knows who else— That’s not what I want from him.

Everything is hazy, the room is hot, and I’m sweaty, so I excuse myself to use the bathroom. I splash cold water on my face and try to wipe him from my brain. I found the strength to forget him before and I have to find it again. I have to fight these feelings I have for him that just won’t go away. But when I follow the crowd back into the room, I can’t help but look for him. I scan the area. I see people drinking, dancing, groping. I spot the band. But I don’t see him anywhere. My gaze flickers around and finally settles on Leif, who’s talking to Nix and Phoebe. Popping over to him, I stand in the circle, but don’t really listen to the conversation. Instead, I continue to search for Xander.

When a sweat-clad Garrett taps me on the shoulder, he interrupts the conversation. “Hey, there you are. I think it’s a good idea for us to get out of the club before everyone else starts to leave. To avoid the crowds as everyone exits.”

I nod at Garrett, and he motions toward the door with his chin and takes my elbow. “Come on, this way,” he shouts over the music.

I’m not really ready to leave, but since he seems to have decided it’s time, I follow him to the car. When we start to drive away, I become alarmed. Turning around toward Nix, I ask, “Where’s Xander?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since the band started playing.” His lack of concern just pisses me off.

But Garrett seems to know. He mutters something about him being in a shitass mood and leaving, telling him to stop by and pick up the materials for tomorrow’s show when we got back.

“Why? Is he not coming?”

Garrett seems annoyed and just throws his head back. “Who the f**k knows?”

Since I’m pretty sure Xander’s foul mood has something to do with me, I tell him, “I’ll stop by his room. I need to talk to him about something anyway.”

“You’re the one opting to walk into the ring of fire. Just remember, I’m not the one who sent you.”

I give him a halfhearted grin as I think about how Xander hasn’t changed. His temper, his mood swings—they’ve only intensified. I need to apologize to him for snapping when he asked me about Damon. I think I should explain my financial situation and how important it is that I work things out with Damon in an amicable way. And now is probably the best time. I can tell he doesn’t care for Damon or trust him, but that rush I felt over his protectiveness that first morning on the bus has kept me from discussing Damon with him. I don’t want him to make any trouble for the band because just like Xander, Damon can be hotheaded. And since Damon’s demands keep coming and his calls get more frequent, I’m just not sure what he wants from me, but I know he wants something.

As soon as the car parks in front of the hotel, we make a run for it through the rain, none of us waiting for the doorman or an umbrella. Leif and Garrett decide to hit the hotel bar for one last drink, and Nix and Phoebe head to their room. I ride the elevator with them and exit at Xander’s floor.

Walking down the hall, I notice the slide bar of his dead bolt holding the door ajar. I knock lightly and swing it open. “Xander, it’s me. I don’t want to fight with you. And there are some things I think you should know . . .” I’m stunned into silence. I stop for a heartbeat as my gaze tumbles over him. He’s standing in the hotel room, his long, lean body turned to the side, as he shrugs out of his unbuttoned shirt. My eyes graze his body—he is still the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. My breath catches at the sight of him. Seeing the lines in his muscles makes my heart beat so fast, and watching the flexing of his biceps has me biting down on my lower lip. The way his abs ripple down into the waistband of his jeans causes my body to clench with need. My memory of him isn’t nearly as powerful as the real thing.

I savor the sight, trying not to pant. I make sure not to deflect my stare, but rather I make it clear that I’m studying every single inch of him. I even notice the fraying of his shirt, which on most men would make me think they should mend it or buy a new one, but on him the imperfection only makes him all the more appealing. When that shirt drops to the floor, I watch it intently, and as the hem skims the ground, a small noise escapes my throat.

His eyes sweep to mine and our gazes lock. He turns, leans slightly forward as if considering picking up the shirt, then decides differently. “Ivy.” He says my name not as a question, not as a statement, not in surprise. It’s sensual, full of longing; it’s a sound I remember from him, from before, and one I could never forget.

I feel pummeled by his rugged good looks—God, he has a face that would melt any woman’s heart. His pale but intense hazel eyes, the sprinkling of stubble across his chin, the lushness of his lips, and the wave of his thick brown hair that always had me itching to run my fingers through it—all features any woman would pine for. I take a step in, letting the door slam against the slide bar behind me. Neither of us says a word. The burn of his stare has me longing to escape the intensity of the moment. I let my gaze slip but feel my lips part—and his do the same. I lower my lids and immediately notice the way his jeans sit so low on his hips, and a shiver runs down my spine. Then something more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen catches my attention. At first it looks like a tribal design running vertically down his right side, but as I narrow my eyes on it I can see it’s a straight line of black inked letters.

Gasping, I slowly cross the room. I stand in front of him, trembling. I touch my shaky fingers to his bare skin, to the R right at the apex of his rib cage. It’s warm beneath the pads of my fingers, and my body is electrified at the feel of his skin against mine. Xander looks down at my hand, and I peek up at him. His face is completely unreadable. It’s filled with an emotion I’ve never seen. But when he nearly loses his balance from the contact, I think he’s feeling what I’m feeling—euphoric. Shuffling his feet, he recovers quickly. His head remains bowed and his chest rises and falls rapidly as I carefully trace each one of the letters. Every letter is a work of art, forming the phrase—

Tears fall and sobs I can’t control escape me as I place my trembling finger on the tiny ivy leaf, the mark used instead of an accent to stress the E. It’s only then that his gaze falters. His eyes flutter closed when I touch him there. Then I drop my hand and his eyes open.

“When did you get this?” My voice dips low, but I manage to get the words out.

He’s gazing down at me. His voice is deep and sexy in the dim room. “Right after you left for Chicago. If I couldn’t have you, I wanted to always have a part of you.”

“Why? Why would you do that?” My voice quavers as I ask.

He inhales a deep breath and sighs. “Because I loved you and knew I always would.”

All the tension I’ve been feeling. All the pain and anger I’ve held on to. I blurt it all out in what I believe to be the truth. “No, no you didn’t. You didn’t want me. You wanted her. This”—I say, drawing a line down his tattoo—“doesn’t make any sense.”

His hand grasps my waist. “Ivy, I have something to tell you.”

I pull away and he lets me. “Tell me what?”

“It wasn’t me that night.”

“Xander, this is why I didn’t want to discuss our past. Please don’t lie.”

Everything about him goes rigid. The intensity in his eyes grows even stronger. He pauses for a moment, then almost hisses, “I’ve never lied to you, Ivy. Ever. And I NEVER will.” He puts emphasis on the word never.

I take a step backward toward the door. Afraid—afraid he’s lying . . . afraid he isn’t. Everything about that night suddenly comes crashing back—everything I’ve fought so hard to forget.

His fingers tuck a piece of hair behind my ear as he says, “I was an ass**le then. I let you believe things I shouldn’t have.”

“Things like what?” I squeak out.

He pauses, then asks, “What did you see that night?” The question comes out quiet, sounding almost sad.

I move back. Certain about what I saw, but suddenly unsure about the facts, trying to remember everything. “I saw your car parked in the driveway, and when I went around back I heard voices. I looked in the window and saw Tessa’s face almost staring back at me, so I turned and ran.”

Xander let out a low, shuddering breath. “It wasn’t me with Tessa that night. That wasn’t me in the pool house. River took my car. He was the one with Tessa.”

I look at his face now, into his eyes—and truth is all I see. “Why would you let me believe it was you?”

He shrugs. “Fuck, I don’t know. I was confused. I didn’t know what to do and I was mad.”

I’m shaking from head to toe. “You were mad? Why would you be mad?”

He steps forward and runs his fingers down my arm. His mouth thins. “Why would you automatically think I cheated?”