The Complete Rockstar Series

Abby has a gleam in her eye that lets me know she’s torturing me on purpose. “I just,” I drop my head and rub a hand through my hair. “I wanted to make sure she was alright. You know, that she was doing okay. I’ve been checking up on her here and there ever since she was assaulted.”

“What?”

Abby’s sharp tone makes me whip my head away from the game to find her shocked expression.

Okaaay. I’m confused by her reaction. “What do you mean, what? That bastard who sexually assaulted Kate two years ago. I’ve been looking out—”

“Oh my god.” Abby goes pale, her mouth hanging open. “You know?”

I suck in a sharp breath and a knot forms in my stomach.

Oh shit.

“Fuck. I’m not supposed to know.” Christ, I’m such a fucking prick. “I’m sorry. I… shit.”

Abby glares at me, which loses some of its potency due to the fa

ct that she’s still gaping like a fish. “Come to think of it, how did you find out? I sure as hell know she didn’t call you up to talk about it.”

Fuck me, again! I’m really putting my foot in it today.

The referee’s whistle catches my attention. I spot Kate running onto the pitch. Number eight. Same as it’s been since we lived in Hackney.

“Dax.” Abby pesters. “Who told you about Kate? I mean, she didn’t even want to tell me. Oh my god, don’t tell me that Hawke knows. I’ll kill him if he does.”

“No. Stop, Abby. Hawke doesn’t know anything. Shit. I’m not supposed to know. Kate called Adam, if you can believe that.” I huff in annoyance.

It still stings that Kate turned to Adam instead of me. But hell, why would she turn to me? I’m the bloke who had just broken her heart.

“Adam? Adam Reynolds? All this time, she’s been talking to Adam?” Abby is talking to me, but her gaze is far off. Almost like she’s taking apart everything Kate’s done over the past two years and fitting the pieces back together with the knowledge of the assault.

“Yeah. Adam. They don’t chat anymore. Adam won’t tell me anything about the conversations they used to have. Made me want to scream back then. But that’s Adam. If nothing else, he’s loyal to a fault.”

I shrug and continue watching the game while Abby processes the news. A girl passes the ball to Kate and she does an incredible fake, spinning around and kicking it right into the upper corner of the net.

Bloody brilliant.

She’s the best striker I’ve ever seen. Hands down. I want to stand and cheer and scream her name, but can’t risk the attention.

“It bothers me that she wouldn’t tell Adam who the bastard is that did it,” I say casually, my eyes still on the match. “She didn’t happen to tell you, did she?”

Abby eyes me suspiciously. “No. She didn’t.”

“Hmph. It’s for the best, I suppose. Because if I knew who he was…” I stop to control the rising fury. “I’d bloody well be in jail by now.”

“We can’t have that, now, can we?” Abby chuckles. “I wanted to find him and do terrible things to him as well.”

I bark out a laugh. “You would too.”

“I feel like the worst friend in the world,” Abby says sadly. “I’m a psychology PhD candidate for god’s sake! I can’t get her to talk to me. About anything. I could have helped! I could have done something.”

Abby’s voice is rising, the sharp tone of hysteria bleeding through. I put a hand on her shoulder.

“Abby, calm down. How were you to know? It happened…” I pause, the familiar nausea welling up when I think about my role in the attack. “It happened right after Kate and I broke up. Then… that happened. It’s my fault, you know. For dumping her. She never would have been at a party drinking herself into a stupor if I hadn’t been such a stupid idiot.”

“What? That’s ridiculous Dax. Hell, I might not be a licensed psychologist yet, but even I know that you can’t blame yourself for what some asshole did to Kate.”

I turn away from Abby, watching Kate run down the pitch. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest, knowing that this is as close as I’ll ever get to her again. I can’t answer anymore of Abby’s questions, the hurt is still too intense.