Redemption (Tattoos & Tears - Brody Book 1) Page 19

  “Kitten, it’s me, let me in, please, we need to talk,” Brody says softly, and I pull the door open.

  He is a sight to beholden, he is wearing loose fitting jeans, biker boots, a v-neck, heather grey t-shirt, which showcases his chest tattoos and that leather jacket I love so much. He leans in the doorjamb, which causes his t-shirt to ride up, emphasising the tight, sculpted muscles in his tattooed abdomen.

  “Are you going to let me in, or are you going to leave me standing here like a dickhead?” he says with an amused tone to his voice.

  I step out of the doorway, dumbstruck that he’s here, but happy that he is. I let him in and close the door behind him. Instead of looking tall and awkward, he looks at ease, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to be here. He tucks his hand casually into his pocket and takes in his surroundings, clearly impressed at what he sees.

  “Nice place, babe, Sam told me you’d be here. I promise, I’m not a stalker!”

  We both laugh. He’s definitely no Joe Goldberg.

  “Look…”

  We both go to speak at the same time, and he chuckles softly. “Ladies first.”

  I steel myself to say what I need to say to him, but the way he looks at me with those intense eyes of his, almost shatters my resolve. The words almost get stuck in my throat, but they need to be said, they need to be out there in the world, he needs to hear them.

  "I’m not looking for an argument, but you need to hear it. You're still so lost in your pain and stuck in the past, that you refuse to let people in. I love you, isn't that enough? I'm still here, I won't give up on you. I’m willing to try for you. I won't leave, I promise. Please, just give us a chance. That's all I'm asking. I didn't want to fall in love with you, but you made it near impossible for me not to. Bit by bit, piece by piece, we’re healing the damaged parts of each other, can’t you see that?” I explain as he rubs the nape of his neck and squeezes, clearly agitated.

  "I didn’t come here for a row, Raleigh,” he says with an exasperated sigh, and I pause for a few moments, as he starts to speak again.

  “You don't get it, do you? I was ten years old when my mum died, I was just a fucking kid! I found her in a pool of her own vomit with a needle in her arm! That image haunts me, that's why I'm a fucking insomniac! Because that image is burned into my fucking retinas and it’s the only thing I see when I close my eyes! I don't know how to love because the one person that should have taught me that, abandoned me when I fucking needed her! Everyone leaves eventually, what makes you so different? FUCKING EXPLAIN TO ME, RALEIGH! MAKE ME UNDERSTAND!"

  He raises his voice a few decibels louder and I can't stop the tears that fall.

  "BECAUSE I'M NOT YOUR MOTHER! I'M FLESH AND BLOOD, I'M LIVING AND FUCKING BREATHING!" I scream, swiping angrily at my tears. "What will it take for you to let me in, Brody?"

  I lower my voice to almost a whisper and he shakes his head, causing me to sob harder.

  "Don't fucking do that, please, that’s not why I came here. I warned you in the beginning not to fall in love with me. Why the fuck didn’t you listen?"

  He reaches out and wipes my tears away with the pad of his thumb.

  "I'm fucking damaged, can't you see that? Inside, I'm still that broken little boy, who found his mum dead. Part of me feels responsible for that, what if I hadn't acted out? What if I'd been the perfect son, the one who did his homework, the one who excelled in all his classes? Do you think it would have turned out differently?"

  I know they were rhetorical questions, but he needs answers.

  "No, it wouldn't have turned out differently, your mum still would have chosen the drugs over her son. She didn't deserve you. She neglected you. Why can't you see that? I'm trying to stay neutral, but it's fucking difficult for me. My mum hasn't been the best parent over the years, but she at least tried, your mum just gave up! She deserves to rot in the fucking ground for that because you're so much more. You are worthy and you deserve a happy ending. I'm asking you to take that leap with me, the one you mentioned when we first met."

  I take his calloused hand in mine and step closer to him. He presses his other palm to the back of my head, guiding me towards him.

  "You're my heart, Rae. Don't you get that by now? We’ve been over this, why should we have to put a label on what we are? I know how I feel about you, that's all that counts. That’s all that should count."

  Good god, his words shatter my resolve to pieces and makes me practically melt in a pool at his feet.

  As his thumb brushes across my full bottom lip, I'm totally lost. The glint in his eyes and the pressure of his hard, muscular body against me, reminds me that I belong to him and he belongs to me. We are two halves of the same coin. Even though, my love for him might not be reciprocated, I have no doubt in my mind, that we are made for each other. That has to be enough, for now.

  ***

  The months that followed, I found myself growing more in love with the enigma that was Brody Hart. He was funny, genuine, thoughtful, and even though he would never admit it out loud, he was just as in love with me as I was with him. The more time I spent around him, the harder I was falling for him. He was on a promotional tour with Rancid Vengeance and filming had almost wrapped for ‘Rocked.’ I was blissfully in love and life was great. The saying is true, that absence makes the heart grow fonder.

  Today in between filming, I have my weekly session with my therapist.

  "So, what's been happening on Planet Raleigh since our last session?"

  She smiles so wide, my jaw aches just watching her. Fuck me, this woman is always so god damn happy. She reminds me of one of those children's TV presenters, who is always so full of enthusiasm and energy. I cross my leg over my knee and my leg involuntarily starts to twitch.

  "Is there any particular reason my question is making you anxious, Raleigh?" she asks politely, and I ponder her question for a few moments.

  "You do realise that the formalities aren't necessary, Mav’."

  I smirk and her shoulders visibly relax. She sags back in her chair and rolls her eyes animatedly.

  "Thank fuck for that, I was beginning to think you'd been abducted by aliens and replaced with a clone, Rae!"

  We both laugh out loud. Maverick Van Straten and I have been friends for many years, her and her parents were our neighbours when I first moved to the UK from Australia to go to theatre school. Liv and me rented this shoe box mid-terrace on the outskirts of Southwark. It was cosy and falling to bits, but it was ours. Maverick is one of my closest friends and like Liv, she keeps me grounded.

  Maverick qualified as a counsellor and therapist when she was twenty-three. I’ve had more therapists than I’ve had hot dinners over the years, but I never gelled with any of them. I found it hard to open up but when Maverick suggested I see her, I jumped at the chance. It’s unconventional and classed as a dual relationship, which is extremely unethical, but it works for both of us. We try to keep both parts of our friendship separate and I feel comfortable telling her my inner most thoughts and feelings. It helps that we’re close friends and Maverick gets paid substantially by my parents for the privilege.

  "So, are you going to tell me what's going on with you, or am I going to have to break out the wine?" she says sardonically, raising her perfectly groomed eyebrows.

  I find myself smiling at her bluntness.

  "I've met someone."

  She squeals and starts clapping excitedly. "Tell me more!" she says spiritedly, and I sigh dramatically.

  "I don't know, he’s-unpredictable, he's gorgeous, but he’s also fragile and he's got baggage. But I can't seem to stay away from him."

  Her expression changes and she narrows her eyes at me. "I know that look, Rae, out with it."

  I hate that I’m so transparent around the people that know me well.

  "He's in a band."

  I worry my lip between my teeth and Maverick starts bouncing excitedly in her chair. "Is he famous?"

  I drop my gaze a
nd nod, almost shamefully.

  "How famous?" She leans forward, practically bouncing up and down on her chair.

  "Famous as in, Brody Hart from Rancid Vengeance famous," I say, almost apprehensively and reluctantly as she launches herself out of her seat.

  She theatrically starts dancing around me.

  "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOOD FUCKING LORD! RALEIGH STORM!"

  She tries to compose herself. "Shut the front door! You're making the beast with two backs with Snake from Rancid Vengeance!"

  I roll my eyes at her fervent reaction. Typical Maverick.

  “What rock have you been hiding under, Mav?”

  Her mouth makes a perfect ‘O shape, and she makes the sign of the cross, ignoring my question. This woman is married to her job and doesn’t keep up with the news. She functions on caffeine, Red Bull and Pro Plus. Sometimes I wonder how she manages it.

  “Please, tell me he’s good in bed? Ooh, has he got any single mates?” she says in a rush and I shake my head exasperatedly at her.

  “A lady never kisses and tells!” I wink, and she rolls her eyes dramatically.

  “Oh come on, woman! Don’t leave a girl hanging! For God’s sake!” she shrieks, and I laugh.

  “Sam’s married, but Lucas and Jax are single.”

  She fists pumps the air. “Cha-ching! You must introduce us, Rae!” she practically squeaks as my phone buzzes, and she cocks her perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Is that the rock star?” she asks curiously.

  “Nosey bitch!” I counter as she pokes her tongue out at me.

  “Touché!”

  I turn my phone over and as I see Brody’s name; my stomach flip flops. Fuck me, I feel like a teenager again.

  Hey beautiful

  I have a surprise for you!

  Hope you’re not missing me too much!

  B xx

  My beaming smile must give me away because Maverick chuckles softly to herself.

  “Someone’s in love.”

  I idly twirl my ring around my finger and avoid her gaze at all costs.

  “Rae, it’s ok to admit you’ve fallen in love. You deserve a man who smears your lipstick not your mascara!”

  I chuckle. Maverick always knows the right thing to say.

  Unexpectedly, my laughter turns to gut-wrenching sobs. Maverick gets up from her seat and envelopes me in her arms. Her familiar scent of Britney Spears Island Fantasy comforts me, as the tears fall.

  “Hey, what’s bought this on, babe?”

  I sob.

  “It’s all such a fucking disaster, Mav. I outwardly admitted I’d fallen in love with him, and he rejected it like it meant nothing. I’ve never felt like this before, not even about Carter. He’s a huge trigger for me, but I went and fell for him anyway. I tried so hard not to, but it was totally unavoidable. Especially while we were on tour, we were around each other twenty-four seven. He’s reckless and he’s a pain in the fucking arse, most of the time…but he’s my chaos, in a world full of calm. I can’t stop myself every time I’m around him. He’s so full of charm and charisma.”

  She rubs her hands up and down my back in a comforting, reassuring gesture.

  “He’s covered in red flags and he’s…so damn complicated, but he made it impossible for me not to fall in love with him. He’s so easy to be around and he ties me up in knots. He just gets me, but I’m terrified…he fucking terrifies me.”

  She laughs melodically and sighs dreamily.

  “He’s…everything.” I exhale noisily.

  “And does he feel the same?”

  As she says those words, I sob harder and shake my head.

  “He reckons he’s not worthy of being loved, he’s more or less admitted he’s fucked up, he’s had a tough life.”

  Maverick rolls her eyes. “Oh please! Haven’t we all? I’ve seen enough patients over the years that I could write a fucking book, and it would be a best seller! He’s so hung up on his past, he can’t move on from it, blah, blah, blah! Well, do you know what? Fuck him and his issues!”

  She makes inverted commas with her fingers and rolls her eyes mockingly.

  “He doesn’t deserve you, Raleigh Storm! Right, tonight, you, me and Livvy are going out! Strictly no men allowed! You in?”

  I swipe the tears away and nod, as I give her a watery smile. Girlie night out it is!

  20

  Brody

  It’s been over a month since I last saw her, since I last held her in my arms, since I kissed her lips, since I last felt my cock deep inside her. We’ve both been busy with our respective careers, I’ve been on a nationwide promotional tour with the band, and she’s been filming. Even though we’ve been in constant contact via text, phone, and FaceTime, it’s not enough. It doesn’t match up to her unique scent, to her soft skin pressed against mine. We’re officially due home tonight after our gig, but she thinks it isn’t until tomorrow, so I’m going to surprise her. Fuck me, since when did I get so sappy and sentimental?

  It's six a.m. in the morning and I’m sitting in the dressing room of a popular U.K morning talk show, Live @ Breakfast, waiting for the make-up team to arrive. Fuck me, I need a bucket of coffee.

  “You look like someone killed your puppy, dude!” Sam laughs, as he sits down in the chair next to me.

  "Fucker! You should know after all these years I’m not a morning person,” I grumble crankily, taking a welcome sip of my steaming cup of Starbucks coffee.

  A triple shot of espresso, I need all the caffeine I can get after a full hour of restless sleep.

  “Come on, I’m sensing you’re pining for a certain actress by the name of Raleigh Storm?” he says with a wink and I pause.

  “Is that obvious?” I sigh.

  Sam idly plays with his wedding ring, as if he still can’t believe he’s married.

  “You’ve been distant, and it’s not just me who’s noticed it. You’re working out more, you’ve lost weight. You’re pining, so yeah, of course, it’s obvious. We see you every day and I’ve never seen you like this over a woman, ever.”

  I exhale noisily and lean back heavily in my chair.

  “She's fucking perfect, Sam. It scares the shit out of me, how can someone be that perfect and still want me? I don't fucking deserve her. She's so fucking different from any other women I've been with; they're so caught up in the money and the fame, that they don't see me. She sees me and she actually cares. She listens to me, she's smart, she's brave, and she's so fucking beautiful."

  It feels almost cathartic to tell someone how I feel about Raleigh. It’s a fucking pity I can’t say all this to her face.

  "Shit! I'm falling in love with her, Sam and I don't know what to do about it."

  I hear Sam chuckle throatily, as I lean back in my chair and rest my hands on my flat stomach.

  "Then fucking tell her! How's she supposed to know if you don't communicate with her? I know it's hard for you, but I can see she's changing you and believe me, that's a good thing. Talk to her, be the man she needs you to be, the man we all know you can be.”

  I am about to speak, when the door swings open, a tall, curvy woman enters the room. Her auburn hair is tied up in a messy bun on top of her head, secured with a teal bandana. She is wearing a black pencil skirt and a low-cut black polka dot top. I can’t help but get distracted by her ginormous boobs practically spilling out of her top. That is one fucking impressive rack, I wouldn’t mind getting my head between those bastards! She pushes her glasses further up her nose.

  "I’m Jen, the agency we use for our make-up is short staffed today, so they've sent us a temp."

  Jen says a little too cheerfully and her smile is infectious. Fuck me, she’s way too happy for this hour. I hear the ‘click, click’ of heels across the floor and as I look up, I'm struck dumb at the sight that greets me. Lorna Lavelle.

  "Morning boys!" she says brightly, but her step falters, as her eyes land on me.

  She clears her throat and I swallow hard, sitting up straighter, trying to appear unaffected
but failing miserably. Fuck me, I can't do this. I can't pretend everything is normal when I know this woman intimately. She sets her make-up kit down close to me and as she sets it down, I leap up from my seat, as if I've been burned. Why is she here? Why now? Just when I was beginning to learn to live without her. Fucking hell. I exit the room, but I don't miss the pained look in her beautiful aquamarine eyes. I lean against the wall and look up to the ceiling. Jesus Christ, I need to get high. Count to ten, Hart, breathe. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-

  "Bollocks!" I curse under my breath and I hear a gruff chuckle.