To experience the darkness that surrounded him.
Okay, maybe that was a problem, too. A flicker of worry traipsed through my spirit. Just because I was struggling didn’t mean I should turn around and go after things that I shouldn’t.
Choosing danger rather than allowing it to come after me.
I blinked through the images from last night, trying to process. I pressed the heel of my hand to my eye as if it might offer some clarity. My brain was a muddled, hazy mess.
No big surprise there.
But that didn’t mean it wasn’t ingrained with the perfect imprint of that unforgettable face.
Ugh. I needed to shake off the encounter. Accept that fixating on it wasn’t going to make a difference.
Like I’d told Nile, what was done was done. That went for the stranger, too. I’d be gone this morning, and I wouldn’t be seeing him again.
A chance missed.
Or maybe it was one of those blessings after all. I was pretty sure the sunlight pouring in through the window was casting a spotlight on my bad judgement.
I knew myself well enough to know I would have regretted it.
No one-night stand was going to fill up this hollowed-out vacancy that throbbed inside of me, and it sure wasn’t gonna heal the cracked, brittle pieces that I was barely holdin’ together.
Pounding thundered from my hotel door.
My heart jumped into a riot.
I wasn’t sure I was ready to face my brother and the rest of the band after what I’d done last night. And I was more than certain I wasn’t ready to answer their questions or succumb to the pressures.
God, maybe I really should pack up my things and make a run for it.
All the way back to South Carolina. Curl up in the warmth of my mama’s house and the safety of her arms. She’d know what to do. That was if I ever garnered the courage to confess it, which hurt all the more considering it wasn’t even my own sin.
But I’d kept it as my own.
Bottled it.
Let it fester.
Last night onstage, it’d almost burst.
Another round of pounding echoed from the door.
Groaning, I shut down the disturbance of thoughts and forced myself out of bed. I padded barefoot across the posh room and out into the living space.
My attention caught on the glass table where he’d had me pinned.
Redness streaked across my flesh, as red as the dress. Maybe I wasn’t gonna get over the memory so easily.
Another bout of impatient knocking.
“Comin’,” I grated, voice scratchy from sleep, wary of who was going to be on the other side.
I popped up onto my toes and glanced through the peephole.
Relief blew through my body, and I quickly worked the lock and opened the door.
“Mel.”
With a smile that was partway a frown, she shoved a paper cup of coffee in my direction. “I figured you were gonna need that this mornin’. My keycard didn’t work since you had the deadbolt engaged. What’s that all about, anyway? You know I should have access to you twenty-four-seven.” She issued the last like a tease, edging right in without an invitation. It wasn’t like she needed one. She was my best friend, my closest confidant, but I’d done a bang-up job of keeping her at bay, too.
Why was it we hid our hurt when those who cared about us would gladly hold some of our pain?
She eyed me with her dark brown gaze as she passed, her voice held low, as if she were letting me know this was just between us. “Where in the hell did you run off to last night? I was worried about you. I called at least fifteen times and texted what had to have been a million. And what did you give me? Zip. Zero. Zilch. I thought you were dead in a dumpster somewhere. Not cool, Em, not cool. You’re lucky I didn’t have the cops out lookin’ for you.”
Cringing, I blew at the steam escaping the sip hole, focusing on that rather than the warranted anger I could feel radiating from her. “I just . . . needed to get some air.”
Her brows disappeared behind her bangs, and a slew of incredulous words started tumbling from her mouth. “You needed air? You ran off the stage in the middle of a song . . . which is like . . . the biggest WTF you’ve ever hit me with, and I had to spend the entire night dodging questions about what went down. I’m pretty sure the gossip columns are having a field day, half of them claiming you are sufferin’ from morning sickness and the other speculating you’ve got a thing for little white pills and we have to make the hard decision of checking you into rehab.”
Frustration twisted up her expression. “And then you took off without a word, and that’s all you’ve got? You needed air? What is goin’ on with you, Em? And don’t you dare tell me you actually have gotten yourself messed up in that shady business because I will personally kick your ass from here to the Betty Ford Center.”