With You (Tear Asunder 0.5)

“I like that, Mouse. I like that a lot. Means you’ll only ever be mine.”

Sculpt ended up playing me three more songs as I sat astride his legs and watched. He wasn’t nervous at me staring at him so closely; instead he seemed to thrive on it. I wondered if this was what he felt on stage. Did he love the fans, the screaming girls, all the attention? I really had no idea how popular he was, but Matt’s bar was well known in Toronto, and I suspected Torn did well enough.

When the sun started to sink behind the city buildings, Sculpt put his guitar away.

“So, you know Deck?” I wanted to know more about Sculpt, and since he never talked about his family then I figured I may get a glimpse of his past through his friends.

His hands stilled on the latch of the case then proceeded to lock it. “Yes.”

“And Georgie?”

“Yeah.”

I was getting the impression that expanding on the subject was going to be like pulling a horse from quicksand. “Why are you trying to get a hold of Deck?” Georgie said Deck had a company involved with tracking down not-so-savory men. I wasn’t sure what he did with them after he caught them, and Georgie was pretty close-lipped about it.

“It’s not something I’m talking about, Emily.”

“But Deck is—”

“No.” He cupped my chin, eyes delving into me. “I’m not talking about it.”

He looked really serious, and I knew Sculpt enough by now that if I pushed when his eyes were dark like that he’d shut down, and I hated when he did that. I felt locked out.

“When are you leaving? To go on tour?”

I knew he was saving money from fighting to pay for the band to go on tour, but I was uncertain how long before he’d have to leave. We really hadn’t discussed it past him telling me he’d be eventually leaving. But “eventually” could mean anything and I wanted a timeline. I needed to be prepared for the hurt that’d come with it.

“Soon.”

Oh God, I wasn’t ready to lose him when I just found him. “Soon when?”

“Not sure. Depends on how many fights I get.”

“But you have an idea?”

He nodded. “Couple months, maybe sooner.”

“Oh.” He put his hands on my hips and tugged me in closer. I tried to act nonchalant as I said, “Well, that’s good then.”

“Mouse.”

“No, really. That’s great. You should be out there. Your voice is . . . It’s truly stunning, Sculpt. You’ll be a huge hit one day.”

“Mouse.” His hands tightened.

I barely noticed his frown as my mind whirled with uncertainty. What was I doing? Sculpt was a fighter. A soon-to-be rock star. I was just plain Emily with a dream I couldn’t reach. I shouldn’t even be thinking about more than today with Sculpt, but I couldn’t help it. I was thinking what would happen in two months. Would he just leave and that would be the end?

“Emily.”

I jolted, and his hands were now cradling my head, and he was staring intently at me. “You need to get it in your head that you’re something special. I don’t know how you got this bullshit about being a nobody in your head in first place, but I’m tempted to hire a plane with a banner saying how special you are.”

“Sculpt! That’s ridiculous.”

“You thinking you’re not special is ridiculous.” Sculpt ran his thumb over my lower lip then leaned in and kissed the same spot. “I’m a fighter, Mouse. And I know what I want in life, and I’m not scared to take it. I want you. I’m not walking away from you. When I go on tour and you’re here, then you’re still mine and no one touches you. Okay?”

I nodded, because really when his voice got all low and scary, I wasn’t going to argue. Besides, I only wanted to be his.

“These lips are mine.” He leaned in and kissed me—hard. So hard it stole my breath and made my body tremble.

“Will you promise me something?” I asked when I caught my breath.

“You don’t need promises from me, Mouse. My word is always good.”

“If you’re leaving, don’t just leave . . . I mean will you come tell me? To, you know, say goodbye?”

“Eme.” He roughly took my chin in his hand and made me look at him. “You’re getting the plane with the trailing banner.”

I huffed.

“If a guy ever treated you like that, I’d kill him. Then I’d give you a piece of my mind for going out with a piece of shit.” His fingers tightened on my chin. “I’m not letting you go. Okay?”

I nodded.

“Good.”

~ ~ ~

When Sculpt dropped me off at home, I hadn’t expected Matt and Kat to be waiting up for me. And I knew as soon as I walked into the living room and saw Matt’s tense jaw, pursed mouth, and messed hair that he was upset.

Kat sat on the couch, her short blonde hair swaying forward to cover her brilliant sea-blue eyes as she watched me. She was a classic beauty; smooth and flawless skin, thin brows, and sharp features. But her classic look was opposite of her personality. Kat was spontaneous, reckless, and she’d had numerous men in the last two years, none of whom stayed longer than a few weeks.

Kat mouthed, “On the burner.”

Shit.

“You’re working late. Again.” Shit. I hadn’t told him about Sculpt yet. Matt’s arms were crossed, and his legs were braced. “You going to explain to me why Sculpt is talking to me about you?”

I awkwardly sat on the edge of the couch, and glanced at Kat beside me who quirked a smile and rolled her eyes at her overprotective brother. “Well . . . we’ve been kind of—”

“Tell me you’re not fucking him.”

“Jesus, Matt,” Kat said and reached over and squeezed my hand. “It isn’t any of your business who Emily’s with.”

“Like hell it’s not. Sculpt’s bad news, and I don’t want you anywhere near him.”

Kat slapped her hand onto the leather couch making a loud smacking sound. “Bah. Matt don’t be absurd. You said so yourself a few weeks ago that Sculpt is a good guy.”