The Rocker Who Savors Me (The Rocker 2) - Page 35

“She didn’t forgive you?”

“Nope. She did. Spent the rest of the day with her and Lucy.” His words were getting a little slurred now, but I had years of experience learning how to understand drunk Drake. “One of the best days of my life,” he muttered so low that I almost didn’t hear him.

I frowned. “So why the fuck are you drinking?”

Drake’s eyes were about to close when they snapped open and he glared up at me. “Because I want her so fucking much! Because I feel like I need her to breathe. Because she’s seventeen fucking years old!” he shouted at me.

I dropped down on the edge of his bed, facing my friend who was so troubled with himself. “Dray, she’s beautiful. A blind man could see how beautiful she is. And it isn’t just on the outside. She’s really sweet, man. Lana is special.”

A tear leaked from the corner of his eye. “I know that,” he whispered.

“And I think she has some strong feelings for you too.” The few times I had actually seen them together I had witnessed the way Lana looked at Drake. I had worried about her feeling too much for my friend. That she would get in over her head with an infatuation that she would quickly outgrow. But after talking to Layla until the sun came up that morning, I also knew that the girl was more mature than most thirty-year-olds I knew. She was wise for her years.

But to Drake her age was a major problem. There was a reason why he always ended up with the cougars that followed us from city to city on our tours. He never looked twice at the younger girls that tried to get into our beds. He was scared to death of being labeled a pedophile. “What are you going to do?” I asked after we had both been quiet for a few minutes.

Drake scrubbed a hand across his damp eyes. “Nothing.”

I bit back a curse. “Nothing? So you just go on being friends, but slowly killing yourself with alcohol to numb your pain?”

He shrugged. “I can’t touch her. I won’t touch her!”

Frustrated I ran a hand over my head, hating the stubble that I felt under my fingers. “Have you at least talked to her about this?”

“No. She’s too young to understand. I’m not going to burden her with it all.” He closed his eyes, already drifting off to sleep. “Thanks for taking care of me man,” he muttered as he passed out.

I glared down at my friend. He looked at peace in sleep now, but soon the nightmares would invade that peace and I would hear his screams from my room. I was sure that the alcohol made the dreams that much worse, but there was no explaining that to Drake. Muttering curses under my breath, I tugged the comforter up around him and left the room.

There was nothing more I could do tonight, perhaps nothing more I could ever do. Drake refused to talk about his nightmares with any of us, especially Shane. And I wasn’t going to tell his secrets to Lana. If she was to ever truly understand him, then she would have to know all of it, but I wasn’t going to be that person.

Instead of going back downstairs, I went down the hall and fell onto my own bed. It was late, so I couldn’t call Layla. I ached to have her lying beside of me, and not just to soothe the ache in my dick. Thinking about Drake and his nightmares had put my cock into hiding. But I still ached to hold her, talk to her about all of this.

Would she understand and know what to do? Should I confide in her? I was at a loss. If I told her, she could possibly turn away, even refuse to let Lana see Drake again. That would only hurt Drake more, not to mention break a confidence that I had made almost thirteen years ago. But if I didn’t tell her…

“Ah, fuck,” I grunted. “I’m screwed either way.”

Somehow I fell asleep only to jerk awake around two thirty. Drake was having it rougher than usual tonight while he fought with the demons from his past and his own conscience regarding Lana. I sat up in bed, my fist clenched in the covers beside of me, while I listened to him sobbing. I was just about to go wake him up when I heard Emmie.

I jumped out of bed, not bothering to put on pants over my boxers I walked down the hall to Drake’s open door. Emmie was lying beside of him with his face buried in her neck while she rubbed his back. “It’s okay, Drake,” she whispered softly. “You’re safe. Shh. Shh. You’re safe.”

I stood there until Drake had slipped back into a restless sleep while Emmie continued to soothe him. After a while she drifted off to sleep too, and I moved into the room to cover them both up. Turning, I was surprised to see Shane standing in the doorway. He was covered in sweat telling me that he had been out for a run. I grimaced.

The brothers handled their disturbed past differently: Drake with his alcohol and Shane with sex. When he couldn’t get that readily, he would run until he couldn’t feel his legs. I met my friend’s blue gray eyes, and Shane quickly looked away. “Maybe we should make him see a specialist again.”

“That didn’t work out so well last time. Or the two times we talked him into rehab,” I reminded him quietly. Drake had lasted a week the first time in rehab. The second time he had put a male nurse through a window and they had kicked him out. The psychologist hadn’t fared much better. He had gone too far too soon, and Drake hadn’t been ready for that. For a month afterwards, Emmie had slept almost every night with him because the nightmares had been too much.

“He seemed like he was getting better,” Shane whispered, looking over at his sleeping older brother. “I thought Lana was helping.”

“She was. She is.” I grimaced. “But he’s also fighting himself and his feelings for her. Maybe when she’s older…”

“Yeah, maybe.” Shane turned to go. “If he lives that long.”

…Emmie…

I was startled awake by the feel of strong arms lifting me. Blinking open my eyes, I looked up at Nik who was holding me against his warm, bare chest. In the background, I vaguely heard gaging and realized it is Drake throwing up and remembered that I had spent part of the night in bed with him.

Warm lips brush across my forehead and I leaned into his kiss. “What time is it?”

“Still pretty early,” Nik murmured softly as he carried me down the hall to our room. The door was already open, and he kicked it shut behind him before putting me in the middle of the bed.

I glanced at the clock to see that it was barely after six and grimaced. Any hopes of snuggling in bed with Nik for a little while were lost. Sighing, I arranged myself so that I was lying on my side and wrapped my legs around the body pillow so that my hips wouldn’t ache as bad. The baby was getting bigger by the day, and my hips seemed to do nothing but hurt anymore.

Tags: Terri Anne Browning The Rocker
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