Between Breaths (The Seattle Sound Series Book 2) Page 11

  Desire bloomed hotter as he pumped into my body. His eyes narrowed as he leaned down to kiss me. My nipples chafed against his chest hair. I tilted my hips and wrapped my legs high on his back, locking my ankles.

  He bit my lip before rearing back to his knees. His hands slid to my hips and he pounded into me again and again, driving me up, up, up. And over.

  Chapter 17

  Hayden

  Briar’s face as the orgasm took her—I’d never forget her look of raw pleasure. That, more than the tight clench of her body, pushed me into my own release. I gritted my teeth, but the moan still ripped from my throat as I slammed into her as deep as she could take me.

  The release quivered through my muscles in long pulls of pleasure. After I caught my breath, I rolled off her, surprised that my arms had collapsed and my full weight must be crushing her.

  Her blue eyes were still dazed.

  “Good for you then?” I asked, unable to keep the grin from flitting across my lips.

  “Never orgasmed like that. Let alone twice. I figured multiples were like unicorns. A myth we tell women so they’ll keep striving for that moment.”

  I kissed her. A soft one full of thanks. Her fingertips caressed my bristly cheeks.

  “Maybe it’s you,” she said, her voice soft. “Maybe it’s this way with all women.”

  I smoothed her damp hair back from her forehead. “No, it’s us. Together.”

  She smiled, her eyes shining through her insecurity. I couldn’t decide what she was worried about. Unless her ex told her any sexual dissatisfaction came from her not being enough instead of his not taking the time, slowing his pleasure, to love her properly. From what she’d told me, he was that kind of man.

  “You sure?” she asked.

  I didn’t like her tentative. I kissed that spot I’d quickly become addicted to, just beneath her eye. “About this, yes. Now, time for a shower. Gotta clean you up, dirty girl.”

  “Someone has ideas. Great ideas.”

  I laughed, wrapping my arms around her narrow waist, pulling her tight to me as the stirrings of desire ignited once again within my body. I couldn’t worry about anything but this moment. Even the dread of visiting my mum was dulled because Briar was going with me. She’d hold my hand and hold me up if I needed the help. Where I should feel fear, I only felt a deep, deep peace.

  “Don’t you listen to music when you drive?” I asked.

  “All the time. But I’m nervous about you seeing my preprogrammed stations. What if I listen to music you hate? Is that a deal breaker?”

  Laughing, I leaned forward and pressed the On button. Rachael Yamagata’s soulful voice filled the small space, offset by a soft piano melody.

  “Nice,” I purred, leaning my head back and mentally playing the keys with her.

  “She’s no Jackaroo,” Briar said, lips quirking up. Her shoulders loosened.

  “Save the flattery, love. After this morning, I’m plotting how to get you back in my bed.” I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, watching that blush sweep up her neck. “Or in the shower as quick as possible.”

  “Behave,” she said, but her voice was breathy, making me want to pleasure her again. Instead, I leaned back into the seat and let the music wash over me.

  I’d never much preferred being a passenger, but I didn’t mind Briar taking the reins. I shied away from why that was, focusing instead on what I’d say to my mum. Had she talked to my father over the years? Why not contact me later, when I was older, more established? When she couldn’t hurt me, at least not physically.

  Dad had been circumspect about Mum’s leaving and, really, about their relationship in general. I could count on one hand the times he’d mentioned her after we’d moved to Melbourne. He’d said that she needed time to get well.

  But if he’d paid for her treatment at the center after her arrest, there’d be documents somewhere to prove her story. I would find them.

  I squeezed Briar’s fingers as I left her at the door to Rosie’s room. She put her hand on the back of my neck and pulled me down for a kiss. It was just what I needed—soft and full of caring.

  Buoyed, I walked into my mum’s room. She was asleep, so I pulled out some notes on a new song I was working on. Mum stirred after an hour.

  “Hayden?” she mumbled.

  “Yep.”

  “Are you real or a dream?”

  “Real.”

  She stared at me hard, her eyes unfocused. “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. I wanted to.”

  “Then why didn’t you?” I asked.

  “I was afraid.” Her face crumpled and tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. The oxygen pumped in a harsh, steady rhythm, overriding her muted sobs. “You had every right to be angry with me.”

  I swallowed past the emotion building in my chest. “Thank you.”

  “I hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you but I did. I did.”

  I was silent, unsure how to respond.

  “I was sure you must hate me after that last time,” she said, a quiver filling her voice. “I wasn’t a very good mother.”

  Kelly popped her head in.

  “Okay if I take some vitals?” she asked.

  It wasn’t, but I didn’t know how to tell her that. So I leaned back against the window ledge while Kelly talked to Mum, who was less coherent.

  “Can you get him the box, Kelly? I want him to have it. I saved it for him.”

  I followed Kelly to the door. “Why’s she so loopy?”

  “We increased her pain meds. Arlene—the night nurse—said Miriam had a rough night.”

  “What does the higher dose of pain medication do? Why up them?”

  Kelly touched my shoulder, something she did automatically, not out of comfort. “She’s dying, Hayden. We’re trying to keep her comfortable. I’ll get that box. Be right back.”

  I grabbed her elbow as she turned away, took a deep breath, and forced myself to ask the real question. “So what’s the timetable?”

  Kelly shook her head. “Not long.”

  I went back into the room. Mum’s eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. I leaned over her, caught the faint whiff of some scent I didn’t like. “You can’t do this . . . tell me you didn’t contact me again for my sake and leave it at that.”

  Nothing. Disappointment slithered through me. I stared at her, willing her for an hour to open those nearly translucent eyelids. Like she had so often in the past, my mum chose to ignore me.

  “Sorry it took a while. Emergency with another patient,” Kelly puffed. “Here’s that box.”

  It wasn’t big. Which was its own disappointment somehow. Not much bigger than a shoebox. I eyed it, once again willing my mum to wake. She didn’t.

  Much as I wanted Briar here to steady me, this was too personal—something my mum’s broken mind wanted me to have. I lifted the lid with an unsteady hand.

  Two photo albums. I opened the first and stared at a familiar picture of my mum, her belly large with me. The photo must have been one of my dad’s favorites to have made it into both their collections. The rest of the spread showed me at birth and within the first days of life. My life, each milestone, each year, meticulously catalogued. I blinked back the moisture building in my eyes when I got to a photo from my eleventh birthday. That was the first one I celebrated in Melbourne. I flipped by each of my school pictures, the newspaper articles from my concerts.

  I set aside the book and opened the next. My high school self stared back. Flipping the page, I found a few candids of me heading off to college, home for a long weekend my sophomore year with my hair dyed blue and a piercing through my eyebrow.

  I rubbed the spot absently, shocked at the memory. Dad had hated the piercing so much I’d taken it out just to get him to stop complaining. God, I’d nearly forgotten.

  Ten pages in and the pictures stopped. My life—my mum’s knowledge of it—ended with a write-up in the Sydney paper. We’d just signed our first record deal. Within two years I�
�d be here, a rocker at the top of the world stage, trying hard to keep his emotions together as he held his mother’s pitiful attempt to stay connected to his life.

  I flipped through the rest of the pages in quick succession. Not a note. Nothing to apologize for beating the shit out of me that day or for leaving my dad to raise a child alone. No mention of her bipolar disorder. Not a whiff of concern at the possibility of passing the disease on to me.

  I shut the book and leaned my head back against the uncomfortable armchair. Crikey. She’d thrown me with this.

  Because within the albums, I sensed her love, her need to connect, just as she’d said yesterday. But she hadn’t done the one thing I needed—contact me. Let me know she cared.

  She didn’t wake the rest of the time I stayed there.

  I stood, stretched my stiff joints, and walked down the hall. Briar was laughing with her friend. My smile was instantaneous and caused me to pull up short of the door.

  Briar had managed to burrow deep inside me so quickly. We probably wouldn’t last, because this much emotion would flame out. Wouldn’t it?

  Probably. I rubbed my eyes. I didn’t know what to think about any of this. I stepped forward, needing to get out.

  “Hey,” Briar said from the chair across the room. My chest compressed with a thick ache at the sight of her. She waved me in. “Rosie, this is Hayden.”

  “I saw you perform in Melbourne years ago. That’s when I still traveled, obviously.” Her eyes sparkled, yellow edged into her healthy complexion.

  My mum was further along this same path. I swallowed as the realization struck: my mother mightn’t wake back up.

  “G’day, Rosie. Hope you liked the show, then. Met your cat, Princess. She’s prickly as.”

  I glanced over at Briar, still unprepared for her searching look. I didn’t need that now. The ache in my chest was building into a burn. If I didn’t do something soon, the pain would consume me.

  “Mum’s not waking and I need a bite. Can I grab you something?”

  “Briar was just coming to find you. It’s my nap time,” Rosie said, her voice full of sardonic humor. “Dying people have similar schedules to toddlers. We don’t always act much better, either.”

  Her eyes were full of understanding and sympathy as they met mine. I didn’t want a person I’d never met before to feel sorry for me.

  “Right-o. I’ll be out front,” I said to Briar. “Come out when you’re ready.”

  Briar nodded, but hurt crept into her big blue eyes. Dammit. I’d already fucked this up.

  Briar leaned down to hug her friend, undeterred by the wires and the frailty of Rosie’s body. I shuddered.

  I strode through the building, needing away from the stale, antiseptic air. Shoving through the doors, I didn’t bother to stop when I hit the light mist.

  My mum could’ve figured out a way to make spending time with me happen. People with bipolar disorder developed and maintained strong, healthy relationships with their kids. One of my friends in high school struggled with the disorder until she was properly diagnosed and treated. I’d looked her up on social media during the interminable wait for those bloody photo albums. Now, Julia was a doctor with a six-year-old son. That’s what medication did—gave Julia a life. My mum could’ve chosen that route, too.

  But she hadn’t, so she couldn’t have wanted me. Not if she’d never contacted me. No matter how painstaking her collection of my life’s work—she hadn’t tried once to contact me.

  I was a bad mother.

  My fingers tangled in my hair. She ruddy well was. Deathbed confessions and changes of heart were too little too late.

  Briar’s hand slid up my shoulder to tangle in my hair. I pulled her into my arms, my nose buried in her neck. My shoulders shook.

  What. The. Hell?

  “They happen,” Briar said, voice low, soothing.

  “What happen?”

  “Bad days. Especially here. Shows you just how unfair life is.”

  “She drops that shit on me yesterday, and she can’t even wake up long enough to explain her reasons. Not that there’s one that’ll make sense.” I stepped back. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her toward her car.

  “Maybe it’s just as well, Hayden. You’re really upset.”

  “She left me a box. My bloody inheritance to show she’d kept up with my musical career. As if that’d make up for her lack of interest for nearly twenty years. You drive. I’m still trying to remember which side the steering wheel’s on.”

  She shook her head as she clambered into her car. I slammed the door shut, catching the faint glint of a telephoto lens. I turned from the paparazzi, refusing to give them more than they’d already managed to take.

  Briar waited until I was buckled into my seat before starting the ignition. “What’s your eating pleasure?”

  I discarded the idea of telling her about our photo tail. Not much I could do about it.

  “You’re the Seattle expert. Surprise me.”

  “I know the perfect place.” She pulled out her phone. Her thumbs moved over the screen with surprising speed. A moment later, her phone beeped with the distinct ding of an incoming text. She smiled. “Perfect. The pap won’t be able to follow.”

  “You saw him.”

  Briar rolled her eyes. “You can call it reporter instinct. Now, let’s see if I can lose him.” She touched the side of her nose, and for some unknown reason, I smiled.

  Briar drove through the city, eyes intent on the traffic around her. After many twists, turns, and last-second u-eys, she pulled into the lot behind a rambling wooden warehouse. No signage. She opened her car door, so I did, too. Getting out, my arms prickled with the faint chill from the light breeze. So different from Sydney’s muggy, drugging summer warmth.

  “Here we are. The original bottling location for Dogwash Brewery.”

  “I think you brought me here to kill me. Looks creepy enough.”

  She edged in closer, and I threw my arm across her shoulders, bringing her in tight to the line of my body. I wanted her closer, me inside her, but she hadn’t offered. Plus, we were out of the car, here in this hellhole of a parking lot.

  “I know Dan, the owner. I wrote a piece on him years ago, when he’d just started brewing. He has a small kitchen on-site. His club’s killer.”

  “All this talk of death. Let’s try something else for a mo’, shall we? But eating, I’m good with that. The muffin was great but not filling. I’m close to gnawing off your pretty fingers.”

  “It’s especially good when paired with their Golden Retriever Blonde.”

  “What is it with you Yanks and pets?”

  Briar shrugged. “We like animals in the Pacific Northwest. We also recycle everything that we can—and some things we probably can’t just to feel superior—and refuse to fluoridate our water.” She led me around some crates and to a back door. She knocked twice, hard. “It’s part of our charm. Along with gray skies, cool temperatures, and some of the most vibrant greenery in the country.”

  We waited. The alley was clean but narrow. Too dark and secluded, especially for a woman alone. Briar slammed her fist against the door again.

  “This better be good,” growled a voice. The door flung inward, revealing a large man. He must’ve weighed in at one hundred and fifty kilos, maybe more. I edged in front of Briar when he frowned. She elbowed me back and fell into the man’s arms.

  “Good, it’s you! I haven’t seen you in months,” the man howled, a grin splitting his wide, jowly face. “So glad you let me know you’re back in town. How’s your sister? What’s Abbi up to? Simon—he and Ella good?”

  I cleared my throat, feeling like an arse, standing here while Briar was mauled by a guy with a good fifty kilos on me.

  “Dan, this is my boyfriend, Hayden.” Briar pulled out of the hoss’s arms to beam at me.

  Boyfriend. The title settled with surprising ease, especially when I wrapped my arm around her waist.

  “Briar’s got herself a m
an.” Dan clapped his hands, rubbing them together like villains do in movies. My stiff shoulders tensed more. “Oh, this is too good! Wait. You aren’t a doctor, right? No God complex?”

  “No, mate. I’m a musician. Very human. Probably neurotic.”

  “And you’re foreign. You play country music?”

  “Some influences, sure, but mostly alt rock.”

  “Meh. Not my thing. Still, glad you’re not a doctor.” Dan pulled me into a bear hug that was even tighter than some of my wrestling matches in school. More like the full body plaster I loved to give Briar. He leaned down and I worried the yobbo was going to kiss me. Instead, he whispered, “Hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

  I nodded the little bit I could manage against his massive chest. “Got it, mate. How about a little less manhandling? I prefer the women. Well, one lady, anyway.”

  Dan released me. I stumbled back. The man was as high as the koalas that nibbled Eucalyptus leaves all day.

  His laugh rumbled across the room. I turned wide eyes toward Briar. Why the hell did she bring me to meet this nutcase? She smiled and shook her head.

  “Relax.” She took my hand, and, damn me, I did. I trusted her. The weight in my chest eased, but my brain fired a million reasons why trust was stupid, making me dizzy.

  “Like I said in my text, we could really use one of your sandwiches.” Briar batted her long lashes over those big blue eyes, and Dan melted even faster than I did. Good to know I wasn’t the only one, but, at the same time, I didn’t like the way he reacted to my girlfriend.

  “Beer first. I’ve got a new one you need to try, Bri.”

  Dan pirouetted—something I never would’ve believed possible if I hadn’t seen the move with my own eyes—and trundled across the room, weaving between about ten battered oak tables. The chairs were sturdy, clean, but the faint smell of spilled beer leached from the floor.

  “Dan’s part of the Northwest’s microbrew movement. I met him about eight years ago just after he’d leased this place,” Briar said as we followed Dan, her fingers entwined with mine.