Eva’s small hands latch onto my biceps, clinging to me, holding me in place. Her body rubs against mine as if clambering to get closer, to burrow herself inside me.
I revel in our endless kiss.
“Jared. Eva,” someone shouts from the direction of Silas’s beach house.
She’s the first to break our kiss but remains plastered to me. Her cheeks are the prettiest pink I’ve ever seen and with Eva pressed up against me, unmoving, our hearts beat in sync.
My chest hurts to look at her. She’s alive and striking.
She isn’t mine, not like she once was. But I want her to be, more than anything. To make her mine, there’s more to say, and I don’t relish the thought of hurting her, but things can’t be left unsaid.
Silas shouts again, and this time Gray’s trotting down the stairs.
“We better go.” Eva steps away, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the house.
Gray chuckles, waving us in and turning on his heel to go back to the house. We follow the same path and at the top of the stairs, I nearly crash into Eva. She’s frozen, staring ahead, her lip curling in disgust as her sister slips outside through the patio door.
Silas groans, raking a shaky hand through his hair, and Pansy bounds to the door. Judging by their worried faces, they didn’t invite Bianca.
“We can go, if she stays,” I say to Eva, now standing beside her, hands entwined.
“Shit, she isn’t supposed to be here.” Gray comes to my side. “I’m not sure how she knew you’d be here.”
“Miguel,” Eva says, gaze never wavering from her sister.
Miguel. What the hell is up with that guy? I’m kicking myself for not asking sooner. He must be the same guy from all those summers she spent in Spain during high school.
Truth be told, I’ve been dreading the answer even though I want to know who he is to her. Now isn’t the time but soon.
Shit, so much still to talk about and I can’t shake the nagging feeling we’re running out of time.
23
Too tarnished
EVA
So this is what being bullied feels like. Bianca, Miguel, and my father have been at it for an hour. While I pack for New York, they spout nonsense as to why I shouldn’t go.
I didn’t want them here, but we need to talk. After Bianca showed up at Silas’s unannounced and refused to leave without me, I finally relented.
Jared wasn’t too happy, but I reaffirmed I’d go with him and that seemed to help. Once we got back, I started to pack and changed a few plans, and Bianca called Miguel and my father over.
“Stop. Just stop.” I zip my suitcase and reach for the handle to set it on the floor as Miguel jumps to my side.
“Let me get that for you.”
Always the gentleman, or at least that’s what he wants you to think. He carries it to the living room and we trail behind him. He deposits it near the door, and I consider it a good sign that he hasn’t run out of here with my bag.
“Listen. You are all relieved of your duties.” I place my hands on my hips, and they stare at me, confused.
“What are you talking about?” Bianca fails to curb her irritation.
“For too long, you’ve been orchestrating my life, and that’s over. I don’t care what any of you want. This is my life. I’m an adult and I’m competent in making my own decisions. And Miguel, you no longer have the right to be here.”
He chooses to ignore me—this isn’t new—and attempts to take my hand, but I step away. “Eva, it’s been thirteen years. You no longer know this man.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t,” Bianca is quick to add. “He isn’t the boy you once loved. Being a famous musician has afforded him a lot of opportunities in life. A lot of excess.”
She clamps her mouth shut as if she’s already said too much and folds her arms over her chest.
“If you’re talking about that lifestyle, I can imagine. I’m not going to hold his past against him anymore than I’d want him to hold my past against me.
Bianca snorts, looking to Miguel before coming back to me. “Eva, you’re a saint. Jared isn’t. Don’t kid yourself.”
“We’re done here. We’re going to have to agree to disagree. Now please leave. I’ve got a few things still to put together and I’ve only got a half an hour.”
I march past them and open the room door. Arching a brow, I wait them out, and Miguel is the first to relent. My father and Bianca follow and she pauses in front of me. “Can you ever forgive me?”
I don’t have an answer for her. It’s too soon to fully comprehend all they did to keep me from Jared. I can’t even think about forgiveness.
“Eva, Jared will hurt you.” Bianca is solemn.
“Just stop.”
She opens her mouth, and I glare. We aren’t in a good place. I tolerated her today, still not accepting her reasons for lying.
I’m trying to put myself in her shoes, but even still I’m not sure I could have lied to the love of her life to make my father happy. And saying things like that doesn’t make it easier to forgive.
“Goodbye.” I shut the door behind her, the other two already in the hall.
Resting my back against the metal door, I release an exasperated breath and collect my thoughts. My laptop is the last thing I need before the car arrives. Jared will meet me at the airport where we’re taking the record label’s private jet to New York.
I amble over to the island where the laptop is on and open. Bianca’s words skim through my mind about his life as a rock star. Before I can stop myself, my fingers do the work, and I open up a browser to do a search.
The Internet is a dangerous thing and just like doctor Google, delving into social media to unearth anything and everything about the hot bassist for Trojan isn’t smart. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out Jared’s popular with the ladies. Silas and Jared were the biggest draws for the groupies, and the magazine article even hinted at such.
So why am I torturing myself? Because my stupid sister planted the seed, and now my curiosity has the better of me.
I hit enter, and my stomach drops to my toes. All my fears splash across the screen. Picture after picture of Jared in various stages of undress with a variety of women.
Some look like publicity images at music events and things like that, and others are fan photographs. There’s kissing and groping. I click on a picture of a platinum blonde woman draped over him, her boobs in his face.
Bianca may be right. It looks like he lived up to all the hype of being a rock star. And I meant what I said—I won’t hold his past against him. It just hurts to see what he did to himself.
In most pictures, he doesn’t look like he does now. He seems to be high, completely out of it, and it breaks my heart.
The boy I fell in love with is still there. It’s evident in the images and even now in the reverent way he talks to me and how his eyes soften when he watches me.
Nauseous and sorry for looking, my gaze snags on my name. I click on the article and read. I’m blown away and near tears when the hotel phone rings. Dazed, having lost track of time, I answer and the front desk lets me know the car is here.