I’ve lost love, but I found the serum. It’s going to save so many lives. Too bad it can’t heal a broken heart.
Chapter 16
Gabe
“What did you think of the show?” Cord asks.
Laura and I flew out here at Cord’s suggestion. It was the hottest ticket in the country, and we did just finish with a big job. Laura’s neck wound is healing quick, and this is supposed to be some deserved R&R. I’ve been drinking. Not sure about Laura. I throw back my whiskey without replying. I was physically present at the concert, but I don’t really have much memory of it. There were lights, dancers, and lots of noise, but my mind is still with Cat, and nothing else much matters.
Cord rolls his eyes and turns to Laura. He wants praise for his woman. That’s his kink. Laura obliges. “She was great. Loved the show.” She gives me a not-so-light shove in the shoulder. “Don’t mind this one. He’s moping.”
“Because of the girl?”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t deserve her, so she’s better off,” Laura replies cheerfully.
“The hell she is,” I growl.
“Oh, the beast speaks.” Laura laughs. “Thought your vocal cords disappeared along with your balls.”
“You best be watching your mouth, woman,” I warn. If Laura was a man, I would’ve answered her with my fist and not some words.
“Why? It’s not like you’re going to do anything.”
I slam my glass on the counter. Veins pop out at my neck. “If I was a second slower, she would’ve died and so would’ve you.”
“But I didn’t and neither did she. Shouldn’t you be celebrating that?”
“I am.” I grab the bottle from the coffee table and fill my snifter up to the rim.
“You look real happy,” Cord mocks.
“I’m smiling inside,” I lie. How long until his rock star comes out of her dressing room? We’ve been waiting for at least—I check my watch and grunt in dismay—only twenty minutes have passed since we sat down backstage. Seems like it’s been hours. Time passes so slowly these days. A minute feels like a day, and these past few days a lifetime—a terrible, empty lifetime. My future without Cat stretches out in front of me like the desert. I raise my glass to my lips and down half of it. The alcohol is not doing a good job of numbing the pain.
“The stupid thing is that you could be there with her, but instead of going to bed with Cat, you’re making love to a bottle,” Laura points out.
I drop my hand to my side, not realizing I still have a grip on the neck of the booze.
“I agree with Laura,” Cord says. “In the end, you saved her, and that’s what’s important.” The door opens and the rock star peeks her head in.
“Ready, Cord?”
The hardened man I work with, fought beside, and drank with melts like chocolate under the sun. He beams up at the woman. “Yeah.”
The dude virtually floats out, forgetting Laura and me. It’s weird, but damn if my gut isn’t filled with jealousy.
“Just saying,” Laura chirps, “that could be you.”
She leaves, too, and it’s just me and the bottle and glitter on the floor. I rub the heel of my boot against a pile of it because the shine feels like it’s mocking me. Everything around this concert is full of happiness, from the echoes of the shouts to the smiles on everyone’s faces to the stupid fucking glitter on the floor.
I’m the only one drowning my sorrows in a bottle of liquor like some sorry-ass loser. Walking away was the coward’s path. I’ve never gone down without a fight before, so why this time did I convince myself that retreat was the best option? Fuck that. Fuck that to hell. If Cat doesn’t want me because she thinks I’m bad for her, then I just have to do everything in my power to convince her that I can change and be the person she needs.
I get to my feet, text Cord that I’m taking the company plane, and am out the door before he replies. I make good use of the sat phone, ordering everything from food to flowers to jewelry and by the time I land, it’s all there in the trunk of the SUV. Hydro hands me the keys.
“I’ve been watching over her like you asked, and everything’s been good,” he declares.
That doesn’t brighten my day. It’s not like I want her to be miserable, but knowing she’s happy without me is fucking depressing. “Great,” I mutter.
“No men,” he adds, thinking that’s what I want to hear. And I do, but it’s not enough. Some guys might be real saints and hope that the ones they love carry on in good spirits without them. Me? If I die, I want Cat to mourn me forever. Lie on my grave, weep for me, and wait for me because I’ll be back.