Casper has been trying very hard with me since that blowout we had in the studio over him ambushing me. He’s been trying to make amends. He’s missed a lot over the past couple of years, and I think he’s just now starting to realize and understand how hard it was for me.
Other than that, I haven’t been returning Florian’s calls or texts. I haven’t been encouraging him. If anything, I’ve been insanely blunt about my relationship with Gus.
But that hasn’t stopped him from pushing.
From calling and texting and trying to find me places he knows I’ll be.
“I’m not planning on it,” I tell him, knowing it’s the only truth I can give.
We’ve been over to Jasper and Viola’s house a couple more times. I thought seeing Gus with Viola would bother me now that he and I are together, but it hasn’t. That genuinely seems to be behind him, and Viola and Jasper are nothing if not very openly in love with each other.
But I know Florian lurking about bothers Gus.
It bothers him a lot.
Sitting up, I straddle his chest, staring down into his beautiful gray eyes. His sandy-colored hair glows in the firelight. “I don’t want Florian, Gus. That part of me is gone. It died the day I woke up in that hospital room alone. Hell, it was likely gone before that. Me wanting him was not what my sadness was about. It was about loss and loneliness and fear. Please know that. Please trust in that.”
A small sound leaves the back of his throat, almost like a sigh of relief. Gus takes my hands in his, intertwining our fingers as he holds my gaze steady. “I believe you. And I trust you. I do. I couldn’t be here with you if I didn’t.”
“Then what is it?”
“It’s not you who I don’t trust. It’s him.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Naomi
* * *
My fingers slide across the black and white keys, playing out a melody that’s been swimming in my mind all evening. My head is bent forward, tilted to the side with my eyes closed as I play it, thinking each key and note through because something still feels like it’s missing with it. It’s frustrating me endlessly—and I start to rethink Gus’ offer of skipping the party to come here instead.
I could likely use his help. He’s so good with melodies.
My finger lands on E flat and I screech out, slamming my hands on the keys and dropping my head onto the next. “Crap.” I growl out a frustrated breath, sitting up and running a hand over my face before I let out a loud yawn. I’m suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion.
How long have I been working?
I yawn again, this one even louder, and check my phone.
It’s almost two in the morning.
Jesus. I’ve been sitting here for four and a half hours.
Gus was supposed to come by after the party, so I text him, checking in to see if he’s having fun, while I drag my body off the wood bench.
The muscles in my back spasm after being stuck in the same position for far too long, so I twist and bend, trying to work it out as I walk across the house, flipping off lights.
I pause by the kitchen light, wondering if I should leave it on for Gus.
I stare at my phone, but he hasn’t responded yet, which isn’t like him. Even though it’s only been a couple of minutes, he’s usually really quick to text me back.
It’s probably just loud at the party. He had promised Keith he’d go with him since Henry has been battling a cold and couldn’t go, and lord knows Jasper wasn’t going.
I grab myself a glass, filling it with water, and giving Gus a few more minutes to see if he responds. But after another five minutes, I text him again, telling him that I’m heading up to bed and asking what his plans are.
I don’t want to wait up for him and though he knows the code to my house, he doesn’t know my alarm code and I never go to bed without arming it. Setting my glass down on the counter, I hold my phone in my hand, debating.
I haven’t seen much of Gus this week.
Not since Monday night and today is Friday.
He’s been working really long hours in the studio, trying to finish up this album with the guys, and I’ve been doing nothing but writing and working on my own music. Our timing never seemed to sync up, and tonight I told him to go so I could finish this stupid fucking song.
But now…
I expected to hear from him by now. At the very least with a yes, I’m coming or no I’m not. I also don’t want to be that needy girlfriend who continues to send text after text, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t at least a little annoyed.
Just as my phone starts to go dark and I resign myself to just setting the alarm and going to bed, my phone pings in with a text from him.
Crashing out at my pad. I’ll hit you up tomorrow.
I stare at it, my eyebrows pinching in. Gus never says pad. Nor does he say, hit you up. He must be trashed.
I roll my eyes, set my alarm, finish shutting off all the lights, and head up to bed, disappointed.
An incessantly loud, piercing sound startles me awake. I bolt upright, my hair falling across my face, and I quickly scoop it back. My eyes search wildly around, blinking repeatedly against the harsh daylight. I glance toward my bedside table, reaching out and grasping my phone, but that wasn’t what that sound was.
Checking the time, I groan when I realize it’s well past eight in the morning.
Did I dream it?
Staggering out of bed, I search around my room only to find it exactly how I left it when I went to sleep and sigh out harshly. Pivoting on the balls of my feet, I head toward my bathroom only to freeze mid-step when the sound blares again.
My doorbell. Gus.
I toss on a pair of cropped yoga pants and leave on my ratty gray tee and run down the stairs at top speed. My head is still a little fuzzy and I stub my toe on the bottom step. “Ow!” I hop up and down across the room in the direction of the front door. “Crap. Shit. Ow!”
The bell sounds once more, forcing a series of expletives from my mouth.
“I heard you,” I yell out. “I’m freaking coming. Hold your shit, Gus.”
I tap in the alarm code on the touchpad, and when it’s fully disarmed, I fling the door open, a rush of warm wind brushing across me.
Only…it’s not Gus. It’s Florian.
“Hi,” I squeak, taken completely by surprise. “What are you doing here?”
His expression is serious and somber, and my heart starts to beat a touch faster.
“Can I come in, Nai? I know you told me not to come back here, but I have something to show you and it can’t wait.”
“Oh.” I stumble back a step, waving him in only for a zap of pain to shoot up my foot. Glancing down, I see blood all over my toe. Awesome.
Florian’s eyes follow my lead and when he spots the blood on my foot, he steps in, taking me by the hand. “Jesus. What happened?”
“I stubbed my toe.”
“My cute clumsy girl. Come on. Let’s get that cleaned up.” I frown at the indulgent tone of his voice but allow him to lead me back to the main part of the house and into the kitchen. “Does it hurt?” he asks, still holding on tight to my hand.
“Go sit, Florian,” is my only reply. “I need to clean up my mess.”