Chapter 29
CATHERINE
I’d never seen so much fucking blood. Liam appeared out of nowhere, knocking Rocket to the floor and breaking the bottle in his hand as they landed. The cut on his hand was huge and while I was incredibly worried about him, I had no idea how to respond. Luckily, Ian jumped into action and took charge of the situation before I had to do anything at all. Which is good, because all I could do was stare dumbfounded at the chaos in front of me.
The aftermath was not pretty. Blood from Liam’s hand was all over the kitchen, and Rocket’s eye was swelling quickly. Rhys put ice on it, and sat him down on a couch in the living room, while Rhone cleaned him off. He wasn’t cut at all, which meant all of the blood was Liam’s. Once we’d figured that out, my worry for Liam grew.
I wanted to run to him, to make sure he was okay, but after his behavior this afternoon - the way he had shut me out so quickly - I knew I needed to just stay away. Ian was his family, and he would take care of him. It was not my place.
At this point, I had no idea what my place was. I was incredibly confused. Everything was going amazing, and then in a flash, he’d changed and grown cold. At first, I thought he just needed some space, but then with every hour that passed where he wouldn’t even meet my eye, I knew something was terribly wrong. I tried to chalk it up to pre-performance nerves, but he didn’t talk to me after the show either. By the time we’d gotten to the party, I’d given up trying to figure out what to do.
He’d have to come to me, I wasn’t going to chase him, no matter how I felt about him.
And now he pulls this? He was like a ticking time bomb ready to go off at any moment. Rocket was the target this time, for whatever reason. Liam hadn’t given any warning, he didn’t say a word, he just attacked.
Who would be his target next time?
I didn’t want to stick around to find out. There were just a few more days left of the week, and then I’d be gone. Back to my quiet life. Back to my friends and my apartment in New York. Back to peace and quiet.
After everything had calmed down in the suite, I made my way back to my room for the night and crawled into bed. I was exhausted, and even though it had all been so amazing with Liam, I was reminded of why I shied away from relationships. Who had the stamina for all this drama?
I’d been lying there for over an hour, unable to get to sleep despite everything, when I heard a knock at the door and Liam whispering my name.
“Catherine, are you in there? Open the door, luv. I want to talk to you.” His voice was slurred and my heart broke as I lay there quietly. It would be so easy to just open the door and pull him into my room. It would be so easy to open up my legs and pull him back into my body. It would be so easy to open my heart, and let him inside.
But that would be like inviting a tornado into my life. If I wasn’t careful, he’d sweep me up into his lifestyle and never put me back down.
If he was anyone else, I’d have flung open the door in a second. But he wasn’t. He was chained to this life and he’d never change. I’d never survive in this whirlwind.
I lay there quietly, listening to him knocking with tears running down my face. It took all my strength, and I had to fight against every instinct I had, but the door stayed firmly closed between us.
***
Of course, I felt like shit the next morning, and I tried to call him to check in with him. He didn’t answer his cell phone, though.
I’d woken up with a renewed sense of purpose, vowing to finish out the tour and get the story done and be on my way. Sleeping with Liam, while absolutely mind-blowing, was a huge mistake. I was determined to classify it as research for the story and move on, in order to pretend he hadn’t gotten into my heart and under my skin.
I’d focus on the story, and nothing else. I had an hour before we had to be downstairs and I was not looking forward to the flight to San Francisco today. It was sure to be an awkward piss-fest after last night. I was looking forward to getting through the next few days and moving on.
But first I had a story to write.
I picked up the phone and called Callum again. I had several questions for him and was hoping to be able to draw something out of him that would be useful for the story. Liam still hadn’t expressly asked me not to use the story about Ally. I didn’t want to, because it wasn’t a flattering story at all. But the charity was, and if I could play that part up enough, maybe I could leave out the reason for his connection to Callum.
He answered on the third ring.
“Callum, it’s Catherine, is this a good time?” I asked.
“Sure, I guess so,” he replied.
“Great. So, Liam told me a little about the charity and your involvement with it.”
“Yeah? I’m sure he didn’t tell you everything,” he replied, to my surprise.
“Well, if you mean Ally, he did tell me about her. I’m sorry about the loss of your sister.”
“Thanks,” he muttered. “She was a great kid. She just went down the wrong path. Had a lot of pain in her life.”
“Yes, I understand. Liam had nothing but wonderful things to say about her.”
“Is that so?” he replied, and I detected a slight thread of anger in his voice.
“Yes, I think he has a lot of regrets about that time in his life.”
“Well he should,” he replied curtly.
“So, I mainly wanted to talk to you about the charity. Can you give me a list of organizations you’ve donated to?”
“Yeah, sure. I can email you a list, if you want.”
“That would be great, thank you. And an amount donated, as well, please? I think this will be a main part of the story, and a great opportunity to show the world Liam’s charitable side.”
“Right, uh huh,” he replied, hesitantly.
“Do you see a lot of promising progress going on with the research organizations?”
“I guess so. I just give them the money and then let them do their thing. I don’t like to interfere with their work too much.”
“So, you basically just donate and sit back, waiting for a cure? I’m assuming you actively seek out new, cutting edge researchers?”
“Yeah, we have a person who does that.”
“Oh, okay,” I replied, wondering exactly what Callum’s actual job was other than doling out the checks. He was obviously very hands off.
“When did the charity start?”
“It’s been almost a year.”
“And how much has been raised and donated?”
“Look, I’ll email you all the info this afternoon, okay? This is too much to go into right now.”
“Oh, sure, that’s fine,” I replied. I rattled off my email address and he ended the call quickly.
I put the phone down, having not learned one thing from that call. Hopefully, his email would shed a little more light on the situation, or this was going to be one very short story.
Unless I wrote about all the sex. As fun as that sound, I was sure that wouldn’t fly with the folks at Rolling Stone. To my surprise, my computer notified me five minutes later that I’d received an email from Callum.
I opened up the attachment and my whistle echoed through my hotel room. Millions of dollars were listed, going to at least a dozen charities. I was impressed. Liam and Ian were not stingy when it came to their charity, and I was happy to see so much money being funneled into such a good cause.
I forwarded the email to my office for verification and packed up, bracing myself for the shit storm I was about to enter for the next few hours. Hell, the next few days, actually.
I took a deep breath, repeated my vow to just focus on the story, and headed downstairs. If I could get through the day without fucking Liam, everything would be just fine. Considering his behavior yesterday, I was feeling pretty confident about achieving that goal for the first time.
Chapter 30
LIAM
Matt had to bang on the door forever to get me out of bed. Sharp pangs of
brutal throbbing pain shot through my head and my hand, and as the memories started flooding in, I tried to turn them off. After I’d punched Rocket and fallen on the bottle, Ian had taken me to his room, and called the medic we kept on staff to stitch me up. It hadn’t hurt last night, but it was screaming this morning. Ian had allowed me to leave, after promising to go right to my room. Instead, I’d stumbled to Catherine’s room and then back to my own room when she didn’t answer.
But I didn’t want to remember any of it. I didn’t want to see it all play out in my head over and over. I didn’t want to feel like such a fuckin’ prick, but I just was, for fuck’s sake. If everyone didn’t piss me off so much, maybe I wouldn’t have to lose my shit all the time.
Rage raced through my veins as I showered and dressed. I tried to avoid getting the stitches wet, but it wasn’t easy, which just pissed me off even more. Rage had been my closest companion since Lennon had died and had continued throughout losing Ally and now this huge responsibility of constant touring - sometimes it’s all too much to fuckin’ handle.
And then they push me. Over and over.
But that was no excuse for my fuckin’ violent outbursts. I felt like shit for hitting Rocket. I hadn’t hit an actual person in a long bloody time. Fuck, if I was him, I wouldn’t put up with this shit, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he had bailed on the tour by now. Who could blame him? I have no idea why any of them stay.