Everything You Are (Jukebox Heroes 3) Read online

  Chris turned on his side and pulled me closer, tucking my hand between us so that I could no longer stroke his skin.

  “Go to sleep,” he murmured, his voice rough.

  I snuggled a little closer, rubbing my leg against his, examining the textures of his pajamas pants and the exposed skin near his ankles as they slid against my bare skin. Chris trapped my leg much as he had my hand.

  “Beth,” he growled. “Go to sleep.”

  I was safe and warm and almost happy. So I yawned a couple of times, muttered something that might have been good-night, and slept.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When I woke the next morning, I was alone. The sheets still held the warmth of Chris’s body and the scent of his cologne. I could have stayed there in the bed all day, basking in the warmth and his scent, if I hadn’t desperately needed to pay the rent on all the alcohol I’d drunk the night before.

  I dragged myself out of the bed and into the adjoining bathroom – a bathroom almost as large as the bedroom in my apartment. It had an oversized shower and one of those massive bathtubs for two. Again I was reminded of the safe house, and again I did my best to push those thoughts aside.

  Once the rent was paid and I’d splashed a couple of gallons of water on my face and in my mouth, I wandered into the main body of the house in search of Chris. I followed domestic sounds – running water, cabinets closing – into the kitchen, where I found Chris brewing a pot of coffee.

  “Hey.”

  He turned to look at me, his expression closed. “Hey.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Me, too.”

  At first I thought he was apologizing for the things he’d said about London, the accusations he’d made. But then I remembered the kiss. I could feel heat rushing into my face, and I looked away.

  “It’s okay,” I said.

  “I just....” He trailed off, running a hand through his still damp hair. “I don’t want to screw everything up. Again.”

  “We hadn’t exactly gotten past you screwing things up the first time,” I noted. “But this...Chris, it’s not a big deal.”

  “I took advantage. You didn’t know what you were doing, and I...I’m not that guy, Beth. I’m not.”

  “But you are a guy,” I replied. “And I’m guessing you’re a guy who’s interested in me. Which means I pushed you without even meaning to. You had a moment of weakness, but we all do.” I paused for a moment, collecting my thoughts. “Did you ever even consider taking it further than a kiss? Even before I backed off?”

  Chris gave his head a slow shake. “No.”

  “Then you’re not that guy. Right?”

  “But....”

  “But it was just a kiss. A really awesome kiss, but still...just a kiss.”

  Chris looked down, studying the floor as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. After a minute or two he raised his head again and gave me a weak smile.

  “Really awesome, huh?”

  “Duh.”

  The smile slid away from his face. “It still changes things.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, it does. But not the way you’re thinking.” I padded across the chilly tiles and plopped down in a chair at the table. “You’re thinking that this is going to make things all awkward between us, but I call ‘bullshit’. It’s only going to be awkward if we make it awkward. We’re still the same people we were last week. Just because we’re only admitting right now that we’re attracted to each other doesn’t mean it just happened last night. Right?”

  “Um. Yeah. Right.”

  “So if this attraction existed a week or two ago, why should it suddenly cause us to feel awkward and uncomfortable? I mean more than it already did.”

  Chris slid into the chair nearest me, but he wasn’t looking at me so much as through me. I could almost hear the wheels turning in his brain as he tried to follow my logic.

  “I think I see what you’re saying.”

  “And?”

  “And I have no idea if you’re right, but it sounds good so far.”

  I nodded. “So here’s what it does change,” I added, surprised that I’d been able to keep my train of thought on track. “It changes how I feel about the stuff you said the other night.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it does.” I pulled one foot up onto the seat of the chair, realized I had almost flashed Chris in the process, and dropped my foot back to the rung again. “Strong emotions color perceptions. I’m not sure what’s going on in your head - a little jealousy, maybe; feeling like he doesn’t deserve me, maybe - but I’m pretty sure how you feel about me affects it.”

  After a long moment, Chris looked up at me.

  “You’re right. I am a little jealous, and I don’t think he deserves you.” He took a breath. Let it out. “But that’s not my decision. I don’t want you to get hurt, Beth. But I don’t want to be the one hurting you, either. I’ll try to keep my opinions to myself from now on.”

  “No,” I said, with a little shake of my head. “I want to know your opinions and thoughts, even with regards to London. Just...try to give me a little credit. I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. I’m not nearly as blind and naïve as you seem to think I am. And you have to trust me when I say there are things going on that I just can’t tell you about.”

  Chris’s eyes fell from my face to my chest, but the glance wasn’t a lecherous one. I wasn’t sure what it was though.

  “These other things that are going on...do they have anything to do with that necklace you’re wearing?”

  I reached up to touch the pendant. I’d forgotten I had it on. I’d put it on last night just because I missed London.

  “Do you even know what that thing around your neck is?”

  I glanced down at it. “Harry Potter kitsch?”

  “Beth,” Chris said, his tone a gentle admonition.

  I looked him in the eyes. “Why don’t you tell me what it is.”

  Chris ran a hand through his hair again. I could tell he was uncomfortable. “This is gonna sound nuts if you don’t know, but...it’s a....” His hand made another pass though his damp hair. “It’s a magical amulet.”

  “Yeah, it is. But how the hell do you know that?”

  Chris let out a breath and slumped in his chair. “I felt it. Last night. When you were going to sleep. The amulet was pressed against my chest, and I could feel the magic in it.”

  I stared for a moment. “You’re one of them. A whatchoucallit. Practitioner.”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  I rubbed my eyes and the bridge of my nose. “I guess I can tell you some of what’s going on after all,” I said.

  We moved to the living room then, to get more comfortable. Chris fetched us drinks, coffee for him and a sports drink for me, and tucked me in on the sofa, covering me with a warm, soft quilt. He sat down near me, but not right by me, and we settled in to talk about magic.

  I told Chris as much about London as I felt I could. I explained about London’s empathy – how it had nearly killed him as a teenager, how he’d let his power atrophy, and how he’d pulled his abilities out of dormancy to help find a missing woman. I didn’t mention that the woman was Dylan, because I knew I couldn’t get even that close to talking about Julia.

  “So he’s just now learning to control his abilities?”

  I nodded and went on to explain how London’s mentor had been meeting with him as often as the tour schedule would allow.

  “That’s why he keeps changing plans and disappearing on me,” I told him. “Not because he’s with some starfucker.”

  Chris winced. “I did apologize,” he reminded me.

  “I was just explaining.”

  He leveled a hard look at me, and I shot it right back at him. He caved first, glancing away.

  “Empathy’s one of the hardest abilities to deal with,” he told me. “That and telepathy. My brother, Ethan, is a telepath. He’s never really gotten control of it.”

  “Di
d he cut himself off from it, like London did?”

  Chris shook his head. “I’m surprised that London managed to keep that up for as long as he did. Those of us with a lot of raw power have a hard time suppressing our abilities without outside help.”

  “Outside help?”

  “Some practitioners can build metaphysical shields, or so I’ve heard. And there are some other ways, none of them all that great. There are medications that can suppress our abilities. Really powerful sedatives, some mood-altering drugs, some narcotics.”

  “That’s what....” I trailed off, not sure what to say.

  “Ethan’s an addict,” Chris said. “It started out with prescription drugs – antidepressants – and then it went downhill from there. We haven’t seen him in almost two years. For maybe a year before that, we only saw him when he needed money.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, scooting across the couch to press myself against his side.

  He wrapped his arm around me and gave me a little squeeze.

  “Thanks.”

  After a minute to collect my thoughts, I went on to tell Chris, in general terms, how London’s magic had destroyed a couple of his relationships and about how London had felt the need to keep women at arm’s length and not get his heart involved.

  “That’s the reason for all those stories you heard,” I told him. “And it’s the reason I cut him a helluva lot of slack. That and I just don’t want to be one of those girls.”

  “One of what girls?”

  “The ones who have to be with their man every minute of every day or they just go insane. That shit’s annoying. I don’t ever want to be like that.”

  “I get that. But there’s a big difference between being in each other’s pockets 24-7 and...I don’t know. Just communicating.”

  “I know. There’s middle ground somewhere between starvation and suffocation, but I’ll be damned if London and I can find it.”

  “You will,” Chris assured me. “But you have to talk to him, Beth. You have to let him know what you need.”

  “I will. If I ever get the chance.”

  “Catch 22.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  We were both quiet for a moment, lost in our separate thoughts.

  “I knew going into this thing with London that it wouldn’t be easy,” I said a few minutes later. “I knew he’d be busy with the band, and I knew he’d be busy with Ashe. But I didn’t know I was going to end up moving away from everyone and everything I know. And I never expected things to get this crazy.”

  I couldn’t tell Chris the real reason things had gotten so crazy. But I wasn’t sure it mattered, now.

  “I think I expected him to be Brian,” I admitted.

  “What?”

  “When Brian and Dylan hooked up, they didn’t see each other much. Maybe once in the first six months? But they talked or texted or emailed each other all the time. He sent her pictures of things that reminded him of her, and she bitched to him about her boss, and they talked about the band and music and me and Seth.” I snuggled closer to Chris and pulled the quilt up to my chin. “London and I haven’t really had that. And I guess I’m just now realizing that it was never fair to expect it. London’s not Brian any more than I’m Dylan. I just need to adjust my expectations.”

  Chris stroked my hair. “Adjusting your expectations makes sense,” he said. “Just don’t adjust them too much. Don’t give up on what’s important to you.”

  I didn’t say anything. I just rested my head against his chest and thought for a while.

  I’d actually dozed off when Chris spoke again.

  “If you want to tell me what was wrong the other night, I’ll listen now,” he said.

  I debated for a moment, then I took a long drink of my Gatorade and launched into an explanation of Why Thanksgiving Is Going To Suck.

  “Wow,” Chris said. “No wonder you were upset.”

  “Yeah. Kinda freaked out by the whole meet-the-parents thing, and I’m not looking forward to spending Thanksgiving alone. It’s not my favorite holiday or anything, but...yeah.”

  “Don’t spend it alone, then.” Before I could point out that I was out of options, he added, “Spend it with me.”

  I sat up and turned so he could see the incredulous look I gave him.

  “When Mom moved here, it was just her and me and Hannah. We were all pretty damned depressed, and we weren’t feeling all that thankful. But a couple of weeks before Thanksgiving it hit Mom that in spite of everything, we still had a lot that we were taking for granted, and she wanted to do something for others who don’t have as much. We had a charity food drive through church, but Mom wanted to do something different.

  “The last couple of years, we’ve hosted Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas parties for people who can’t be with their families, or who don’t have families, or who don’t want to have anything to do with their families. Some of the guests are friends; some are people from church or that Mom’s met through work. I don’t know who we’re going to have around the table this year, but it’s going to be a great day. You should come.”

  “I have to go into work at three that day.”

  “We eat at noon. You’ll have plenty of time to hang out with us and still get to work on time.”

  I tried to think of a good reason to decline the invitation, but I couldn’t. It might be awkward, or it might be nice. I was willing to give it a try, because even awkward would be better than lonely.

  Chapter Twenty

  We talked a little bit more after that, but I don’t remember what was said. Once the weight of our fight and Chris’s guilt over kissing me had abated, I realized how tired I still was. I ended up falling asleep with my head on Chris’s shoulder while he was telling me some story or other. He chivvied me back to bed, and the next thing I knew he was waking me up again.

  “I’m heading to work soon,” he told me. “I thought you might want a ride home. Or you can stay here and sleep until after the bar closes. It’s up to you.”

  I rubbed my eyes and tried to force thoughts to form in the fog that was my brain.

  “Now’s good,” I mumbled.

  Chris stayed to make sure I was really awake and then left me alone to get dressed. I frowned at my stupid mini-dress and high-heeled boots, wishing for one of my multitude of t-shirts and a pair of yoga pants. I was tempted to just wear Chris’s shirt home. I really was. In the end, though, I decided to suck it up and pulled on my clothes.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wished for a hairbrush. Then I remembered I’d tucked one of those fold-up brushes in my teeny-tiny purse last night. And I realized that I didn’t remember what the hell had happened to the purse.

  “Shit.”

  I flung the door open and strode down the hall to the living room where Chris waited for me – with my purse in his hand.

  “Thanks,” I said as I took it from him. “I thought I lost it.”

  “You almost did. You left it in the office last night when you disappeared on Joey.”

  “Shit,” I said again. “Joseph. He’s really not happy with me. I thought he was going to rip my head off last night. I swear his eyes turned red.”

  Chris grinned. “He’s not mad at you, Beth. He was pissed at Alex.”

  “Alex? Why?”

  “For leaving you at the club by yourself.”

  “Alex isn’t my keeper. And besides, he wasn’t feeling well.”

  Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “Apparently ‘not feeling well’ was a cover story for running off to get laid. Joseph’s words, not mine.”

  I sighed and tried to make sense of the situation. It didn’t work. “Again, not my keeper.”

  “Just telling you what Joseph told me,” Chris said.

  He ushered me out of the house and into his car, and we headed toward north Austin. About two minutes into the trip, Chris turned the radio down so we could talk.

  “So we’re really okay?”

  “Yeah, I think
so. Pretty sure my getting drunk in your club cancels out you talking shit about my boyfriend. And anyway, it’s kind of hard to stay mad at you for some reason,” I said. “Not that it was really you I was mad at. You just hit a button.”

  “Yeah. What was that ‘not good enough’ shit about anyway?” he asked. It was the first time I’d ever heard him sound angry. It shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was.

  “I’ve seen some of the girls he’s dated,” I explained. “Model types. Not...Rubenesque.”

  A snort of derision told me what Chris thought of that, but he explained anyway. “I’ve dated models. Over-rated. Very, very over-rated. Don’t get me wrong, there are some awesome women who happen to be models. Just not the ones I dated. Narcissism is not hot.”

  I felt a little better. “Yeah, well. I can’t help feeling a little inferior in the looks department. It’s one of my many issues.” I let my head loll back against the headrest. “As for the whole attraction thing...well, I guess we’ll just have to see how that plays out.”

  “Cool.”

  Chris managed to stay silent for a whole minute before he asked, “So what’s the amulet?”

  “Shield charm.”

  “Because London’s an empath. Right.”

  “Yeah. That has some weird side-effects that you really don’t want to know about.” I leaned my head against the cool glass of the window. “So what flavor are you?”

  Chris twitched, and I grinned. “What?”

  “Of magic. What’s your superpower?”

  Chris shook his head. “Kind of hard to explain. The comic-book term is ‘tracker’. Under the right circumstances, I can tell where a person is.”

  “The right circumstances. Like if it’s someone you’re close to emotionally? Or you have a focus item?

  Chris glanced away from the road, giving me a look I couldn’t decipher. “For an outsider, you know a lot about magic.”