Rock My Love: A Steamy Standalone Instalove

“Is he in there?” Billie asks.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, heck. We can’t tell him now. Not like this.”

“Why?”

She stares up at me, her eyes glittering with the suggestion of tears. I know why. It’s because she simply can’t face it. The fear is evident in every inch of her expression, screaming from her.

“I’ll go and see what he wants. You can wait here. Or there’s a park around the corner. We’ll meet there. It’s up to you.”

“Are you mad at me?” she asks softly.

I reach down, gently brushing my fingers across her cheek. “I could never be mad at you. But I won’t deny this situation is screwed up beyond belief.”

She smiles shakily. “You won’t get any arguments there.”

I park, step from the car, and walk around to the sidewalk. I’ll approach his car from the passenger side. That way, when he and I are talking, Billie can climb from the car and walk in the opposite direction without him seeing.

I hate thinking like this. I hate plotting and scheming and looking for ways to outwit her father.

But it’s not like I can tell him without my woman’s blessing.

I glance behind me when I reach the car. Billie rushes down the other end of the street, her head bowed, her arms wrapped across her middle.

I sigh and then lean down and tap against the window of Andy’s car.

Andy turns. For a second I think he’s going to drive away, but then he nods at the door. “It’s not locked.”

I climb inside. “I thought we agreed on no skulking outside apartments.”

Despite everything, he laughs. It reminds me of when we were kids. When he was the only person I felt comfortable with. It was that way for years, me and my best friend, before everything went to shit.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I wanted to apologize.”

I’m sure I’ve misheard him. “What?”

He nods. “For back in the day, the way we left things. I wanted to say sorry for the terrible things I said, Aaron. I never should’ve said those things.”

“It’s ancient history. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, it’s not. It still feels like yesterday to me.” He lowers his gaze. “I never should’ve told you I wished… Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I ever said that.”

“You were angry.”

“Stop making excuses for me,” Andy snaps. “I said I wished you’d died in that car too. I said that to you, my best friend. And then I left it. For two goddamn decades, near enough.”

I reach over, placing my hand on his shoulder like I used to when we were kids. “Andy, buddy, I swear I let that go a long time ago. People say stupid stuff when they’re angry.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

I grin. “Why do you think it was so easy to let go? I know you didn’t mean it. What’s brought this on?”

“Seeing you again, I guess.” Andy shrugs. “And Janet has been trying to get me to see sense. My temper gets the better of me sometimes, far too often. I’m not saying this means I’m okay with what you and my daughter did backstage, but… but I’m sorry.”

I swallow, torn. He’s sorry for the way he and I left things, but it sounds like he still wants me to stay away from Billie.

What the hell am I supposed to say to that? What am I supposed to do?

“I forgave you a long time ago,” I tell him. “Honestly, I’m more annoyed at the way you left the band, rather than any particular words that were said.”

Andy lets his head fall back against the headrest. “Billie said you give a lot of money to charity.”

“That’s true.”

“I didn’t know that. I guess I’ve made a point of avoiding you. Even when Billie talks about you, I’m not really listening. I just get so… so filled with rage sometimes.”

“I know. You don’t have to explain.”

We pause, Andy staring into space. I watch him, wishing Billie was here, wishing we could tell him and get it over with. I can’t become friends with him again under false pretenses, but at the same time, I can’t tell him without Billie by my side.

“Would you do things differently?” I ask. “If you could?”

“I loved the band. I loved playing together. And you were right, what you said before, about how not every rich person is my stepdad. I see him everywhere I go, even at my age. How pathetic is that?”

“It’s not pathetic. I see my parents wherever I go too. Some things just stay with you.”

“I don’t know if I’d do things any differently,” he says. “I can’t afford to think like that. Anyway, that was it. I don’t want to keep you for long.”

If Billie wasn’t waiting for me in the park nearby– without a jacket to warm her in the night's chill – I’d invite him upstairs so we could talk properly.