With You (Tear Asunder 0.5)

“Yeah.” The knot in my stomach grew tighter. I didn’t like hurting Matt, but I needed Sculpt, wanted him. Though I did understand why Matt wanted me to have nothing to do with him.

Matt nodded. “No going to his fights. That shit is bad news, and I don’t want you to be a part of it.”

“I want to see his band play.” Once. That was all I needed before he left. A memory of him on stage, singing to me with his sexy gravelled voice. Something to hold onto. The knot in my stomach intensified.

Matt ran his hand over the top of his head, back and forth, then groaned. “I can’t believe I’m saying this . . . I should be firing his ass for blatantly dating you after I told him not to.” Matt did know me; when it came to my mind being made up I was stubborn. “Fine. Come to the bar, but Emily please think about what I’ve said? Maybe if he told you something about himself . . .”

I nodded, then I stood on my tip toes and kissed his cheek. “Love you, Matt.”

I sat with my phone in my lap and watched The Walking Dead while my nerves shot off in all directions waiting for Sculpt to text me after his fight. Not even the blood and guts of my favorite show could stop my mind from thinking about the man who was stealing my heart . . . no, he’d already stolen my heart. It was in his grasp; the question was what would he do with it?

Chapter 5

Sculpt was tense, had been ever since the fight three days ago. He’d won, so it wasn’t an ego hit, because I knew damn well Sculpt would take a hit if he lost a fight. He was pretty casual when he talked about his fights—until now. I thought I was reading too much into it, but when he passed the ice cream parlor without stopping on the way to the horse farm, I knew whatever was bothering him was big.

Was he thinking about me coming with him on tour? Was he regretting asking me? Had it been a spur of the moment decision because he’d been put on the spot by Matt? No, Sculpt wasn’t the type to do anything because of someone else pressuring him.

He drove to our favorite spot, parked his truck on the side of the road, and grabbed his guitar from the back. He came around the truck, took my hand, and we slipped through the fence.

“No ice cream?”

He kept walking, lips pressed together, face tight. “No.”

I pulled back. “Is something wrong? You’ve been . . . I don’t know . . . off since your fight. Is it Matt? Are you changing your mind about us?”

Sculpt set his guitar case on the ground then bent his knees so he became level with me. He cupped my face, and his eyes softened while his thumbs stroked back and forth over my cheeks. His attention made my insides turn to mush. I was sinking further and further into him when he looked all sweet and concerned.

“Eme, I’m not changing my mind. Ever. This has nothing to do with you, okay? It’s just some shit from my past.”

His past? I opened my mouth to ask him but he kissed me, and any insecurity about what was bothering him went flying up into the wind with the dandelion puffs.

“I don’t want you worrying.” His finger traced my lower lip, and I nodded. “Come on. I have a song to finish writing before you see me play.”

We settled on the hill, and I went and spent time with the horses while he fiddled on his guitar. When I came back, I lay on my side in the grass while he played.

When I woke it was dark outside, and I was snuggled in Sculpt’s arms, sitting between his legs, his lean, hard body draped around me. His fingers slowly stroked my outer thigh while his other hand rested on my abdomen, one finger circling my belly button. I turned to look up at him over my shoulder. He was staring out across the moonlit field, observing the horses in the distance.

“Eme.” He leaned into me further and kissed the side of my neck.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep. It must have been your sexy, raspy voice.” I cuddled closer, and his arm tightened. “Did you finish the song?” His guitar lay in its case next to us.

“Yeah, Mouse. It’s good.”

I sat up, excited for him. He’d told me last week that he hadn’t written anything in a year. I had yet to see his band play, and I was excited to hear them, but nervous too. I mean, Sculpt was six foot three and all muscle. And he had ink running down his left arm to his elbow, which made the hot a scary, badass hot. Then put in that fact that he was in a band and did some illegal underground fighting . . . Well girls were no doubt all over him, and I wasn’t ready to face the reality of what dating Sculpt entailed.

I reached up and ran my finger over the slight indent in his chin. “Can I hear it?”

He shook his head, and despite his lack of smile, because he rarely did smile, I saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “No, Eme. You’ll hear it with the band on stage, and me singing to you.” The amusement left his eyes, and I felt him stiffen. “Did you think about what I asked, Emily?”

I knew exactly what he was referring to. I had a perpetual war in my head for the last three days. I wasn’t ready to have my heart blasted with porcupine quills when Sculpt left me to go on tour, but I also wasn’t ready to go on the road with a group of guys I hadn’t even met yet, and have Sculpt responsible for me. I planned on starting college in a month. I had a life here with Kat and Matt, and even though I didn’t want Sculpt to leave, I couldn’t see myself leaving either.