Yesterday Read online

  Turning, she brushes past me and sprints up the stairs.

  What happened to her limp?

  I step in front of Lance before he can go after her and make things worse.

  Navin and Darius also come over, each holding one of his shoulders.

  Darius pinches the bridge of his nose. "What the fuck man? Attacking her like that isn't going to get us answers."

  Navin peers over his shoulder at the gold record. "And a lot can happen in ten years, we have no idea what's happened to her. For you to accuse her of cheating... I never once thought that was the reason for her running off."

  I frown and pull my phone out of my leather jacket. "But she said she hadn't heard from us. I've texted her every day. And haven't gotten an error or someone saying they got the number."

  Lance pounds a fist into the wall and hisses as his flesh meets the white-painted bricks. His hand comes back with specks of blood gathering over two cut knuckles.

  Navin arches an eyebrow at me. "You've been seriously texting her every day since she left?"

  I nod. "Even if she wasn't speaking to us, I wanted her to be updated on what we were up to, in case she wanted to come back."

  Lance leans his head against the wall, cradling his hand. "I can't believe she found someone else."

  Darius pats Lance's shoulder. "We've all been seen with different women on tabloid covers, what was she supposed to think? It sounds like she waited a long time."

  Navin runs a tan hand through his dark brown pompadour. "I'm going to go see if I can at least talk her into staying and talking things out. I don't want her to go. You calm down before you come upstairs, yelling insults at her because you're angry isn't going to help the matter. You two make sure he's calm before he takes even a step up those stairs. I'll see if I can find a first aid kit for your hand, too."

  My frown deepens. I rather go with him, but he's probably right, more than one of us might overwhelm her, she seems on edge. "Okay," I say.

  Navin looks to Darius, who nods as well. He goes around Lance and me and heads up the stairs.

  I push on Lance until he moves away from the stairs and over to one of the red sofas near the posters. "Take a deep breath."

  Lance flops back onto the sofa, with his hand cradled to his chest.

  Darius grabs my attention. "What do you think happened to her leg?"

  I shake my head. "I don't know, but it worries me."

  Lance looks up at us. "What's wrong with her leg?"

  I take a seat next to him and pat his shoulder. He was so clouded by anger, he didn't even notice her limping. Dear Bonham, please have her stay.

  Chapter Three

  Evie

  I struggle to get the rolling suitcase down from the top shelf of the closet. Small boxes I forgot were stacked on it crash down on my head. Not heavy enough to cause injury, but enough to sting. "Fuck! Stupid piece of shit!" I wrench it down, kicking the smaller boxes to the side and carry it over to the king-sized bed that takes up the majority of the room. It was originally Lance's when we stayed here as kids, so I'm sure that he'll want to stay in it.

  The place has eight rooms. Darius and Titus often shared a room when our parents were here as well. None of them have been to the mansion cabin in over a decade. The long trip into the mountains too much for our aging parents who no longer ski. But they want to keep the place for us kids when we decide to have children. Only my parents know I have been staying here, telling the others they got a caretaker for the place, but not who.

  When Micheal and I were here together, we did a good job keeping up on the landscaping and keeping it pristine, but I hadn’t done so great on my own.

  Unzipping the suitcase, I flip the lid and go back to the closet. Navin said Harper was in Bora Bora, but I didn't want to even risk it. Him seeing me could fuck up everything for them, or worse, bring up things I didn't want to deal with.

  I grab an armful of shirts with the hangers and go back to the suitcase.

  "Please don't go. There's more than enough rooms in this place without our parents here, you don't need to go. Lance can pick from one of the other ones.”

  My heartbeat skyrockets, my hand goes to my chest. I look toward the door where Navin stands. "Jesus, fuck! You scared me!" I take the hangers out of the shirts and shove them into the suitcase without folding them. "It's better if I leave."

  He steps closer. I glance at him as his gaze goes around the room, looking at the empty bottles that litter the nightstand and parts of the floor. I manage to keep the place for the most part clean. Every once in a while I'll get a wild hair, want to clean up my act. At least one of those times happened last week and it wasn't as bad as it could've been.

  Navin clears his throat. "But why? We don't want you to go. We want you to stay, tell us what happened, so we can understand. If you didn't want to be in a relationship, you could've just said something, I'm sure we would've come to an understanding. Was that the reason? Even if Micheal comes back, we still want you to stay and talk."

  I swallow down the tears, forcing them back. “Micheal won’t be showing up. So you don’t have to worry about that,” I say, clearing my throat.

  Fucking hell, I don't have the mental capacity to deal with this. I need another drink, no five or six, so I can get through the rest of the day without feeling the emotions seeing them brings up. It took me five years to stop waiting for them, to go out with Michael. I didn't just hop from them to someone else like Lance thinks. Micheal had to work for me to finally say yes. I turn to go into the closet.

  His tan-skinned hand grabs mine, stopping me in my tracks. "Please, Evie. Don't go. Lance will calm down, and then we can talk about everything. We don't have to get back together, but I think it will do everyone some good to understand what happened. We'd been so happy, gotten our tattoos, and then you were just gone with no hint of where you went."

  I close my eyes forcing down the memory of what made me run. I don't want to remember it, nor do I want to tell them. It would only ruin everything they'd worked the last decade to obtain. "What's done is done, Nav. No point in rehashing it now. I think it's better if I just go. Opening old wounds doesn't sound like a good idea. Obviously we've all moved on."

  He frowns. I wait for him to let go of my hand, so I can keep packing, but his hold only tightens. "Evie, what you saw the tabloids report was gossip. Often times we were paid to be seen with other singers and actors on dates to build their careers. That's why the relationships were always over within weeks. We never did anything with them beyond an occasional kiss for the cameras."

  I arch an eyebrow. "Seriously? How is that supposed to make me feel? You guys were loyal even though it seemed like you'd moved on, and I'm left feeling like I did something wrong?" I pull my hand from his. "I'm not sorry for the choices I made. You won't hear an apology from me."

  I go back to the closet, wondering if I can find a forgotten joint in one of the pockets of my jackets. The whiskey is edging off, I can't handle this sober. I just can't. Shoving my hand into every pocket of my unnecessary amount of jackets, I find a lone joint in my trusty black petite coat and tug it out with a triumphant smile.

  He follows me, standing at the open door. "Evie, that's not what I meant. We're not going to hold it against you if you're dating someone else. What is that?"

  I go past him and to the dresser, where one of my thousand lighters lay, a pink one with white swirls. Lighting the end, I roll the joint in my fingers and get an even burn going. I stick the white filter in my mouth and inhale. After a pause, I blow it out. "What does it look like? I know you aren't a straight edge. And I’m not dating anyone."

  He runs a hand over his hair. "No, I’m not, but you used to be. You never drank or smoked weed, ever."

  I shrug. "People change, Navin. I was scared of losing control and acting like an idiot. Once I got past that fear, I no longer had a reason to be a straight edge anymore. I'll be thirty-one in three months, stop acting so shocked. There are worse drugs I coul
d be doing. Like meth, or heroin. They're the type of drug you should be shocked at."

  His brow raises. "Have you done meth or heroin?"

  I inhale another hit and hold it in my lungs. The calm rolls through my head, I can finally not feel like I'm going to hyperventilate and suffocate to death. "I've thought about it. But no." I hold the joint out to him. "Do you want a hit?"

  Without hesitating he reaches for it and pinches the filter between his index and thumb and pulls from it. He holds in the smoke. “Did you and Micheal break up three years ago? Is that why the studio isn’t being used?” He asks as he releases the breath, the smoke rolls into the room.

  I take the joint back. “Sure.”

  * “Oh, fuck!” Micheal’s voice fills my head followed by the screech of brakes.*

  My hand shakes as I flick the tip into an ashtray before I go back to the closet.

  He follows, again. “Sure?”

  I stare at the clothes. What even is worth taking? What do I need to take? I can’t think straight.

  *His arm goes across my chest, as my arms go over my stomach. I brace for impact.*

  “Evie, are you okay?” Navin’s hand touches on my shoulder and I almost jump out of my skin.

  I lift the joint to my mouth and take in another deep drag, trying to calm my nerves. “Hmm?” I move forward, going to the jeans. I’ll take three pairs. That should be enough. I don’t even wear them anymore to begin with.

  “Evie, talk to me. What happened?”

  * “I’m sorry, Miss Moore.”* The doctor’s voice rang in my ears as if it just happened. Apologizing for delivering the worst news I’d ever received in my life. I was alone.

  “What?” I ask. Not fully with him. With the jeans in my arms, I go back to the suitcase and toss them in. On my fourth drag from the joint I finally begin to feel the tension ease from my mind, as the memories get lost in a fog, the voice of the doctor muffles to a rumble of noise.

  Navin spins me around to face him. “Please, Evie, for two seconds listen to me. Actually listen.” His voice remains calm, but I can see the ire building in his eyes.

  I drop back onto the end of the bed, effectively making him let me go, and stare up at him. “You don’t want me to stay, trust me. I’m not the person you knew. I’m not young and driven. I’m nothing now. You don’t want my problems. Let me go. Forget about me and move on. Go find another woman. Get the tattoo lasered off or covered up. No one asked you to keep it. In the end, you’ll be thankful. What’s done is done, I left. I can’t take it back now.”

  He drops to his knees in front of me, our eyes level. He cups my face with his hands. “I don’t want to do any of those things. I want to get to know you, again. I want to understand what happened. I know you didn’t run off for someone else. Please, let me back in, love. We used to talk for hours about all our fears.” Tears enter his eyes as they gaze into mine. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve never stopped loving you. Not for a single second. We did try to reach out to you, find you. Ty never stopped texting you.”

  Texts? I never got any texts and I never changed my number, wanting to leave it open for if they tried.

  A silent sob racks his body. Tears stream down his face, he closes his eyes, hands falling to the bed. He leans into me, placing his head on my shoulder. “We just found you again.” He turns his face toward my ear. “Please, stay for a week. If you hate us after, you never have to see us again.”

  My chest tightens. He’s loved me for ten years without fail, and I moved on after five. They deserve more than me, they deserve someone better. I bring my free hand up to rest it on his back. “One week.” By the end of it, they won’t want me anymore. I’m too broken, to fucked up in the head for anyone to want the mess I’ve become.

  Chapter Four

  Lance

  With a sigh, I stand. “I’m calm,” I say to Titus and Darius who move to block my path. I cradle my hand to my chest. “Navin isn’t back yet, and I need something for my fucking knuckles.”

  Darius sighs. “Fine, but if you start yelling and letting your temper take over the second you see her, I’m punching you. Yelling is only going to make her run faster.”

  My cheek still stings from her slap. I regret calling her a whore. Even though I know that’s not the reason she slapped me. She was angry I called the man, who’d been in our home, a nobody. How could she find someone else? “I know,” I grumble under my breath.

  They follow me up the stairs and into the kitchen. My gaze goes to an empty bottle of whiskey on the table next to her laptop. When did she start drinking? Heading through the massive living room past the front door, I head for the curving stairs that lead to the second level. The glass door to the study stands on the other side of them. I’m going to head for the main bathroom. That’s where our parents used to keep a first aid kit and the medicines. I have to assume she may have kept it that way.

  Along the way, old pictures of our families still hang along the wall next to the stairs, but I spot none of her and a man I don’t recognize. If he’s so special to her, why doesn’t she have pictures of them hanging up everywhere?

  They continue to follow me as I go into the large bathroom. I glance at them. “I don’t need babysitters. I’m not going to search her out to go off on her again.”

  Titus raises an eyebrow at me. “Dude, have you met you lately? All you are is a walking bad temper.”

  I opened the medicine cabinet. A small, still wrapped in plastic first aid kit sits on the top shelf, where it always was when our parents ran the place, but as far as I knew none of them had been here in at least fifteen years. Why hadn’t my mother told me Evie was here? She knew about our relationship with her, even if she didn’t condone it.

  Darius takes the kit from me, and opens it. “Rinse the blood off.”

  I turn on the cold water and hiss as it hits the fresh cuts across my index and middle knuckles. It feels like a wake up call. I’ve known my temper has gotten out of hand ever since she left. I never used to have a temper. If I want her to stay I need to get it under control.

  If the Micheal guy shows up later, I need to not punch him in the face, even if that’s all I want to do right now.

  Darius takes my hand and pats it dry with a fresh towel from the linen closet in the corner. He then picks up the antibacterial spray, and I hiss, again. “Fuck that stings like a son of a bitch!”

  “Are you calm now? And I see you found the first aid kit. Sorry.”

  We all look toward the door where Navin stands, his eyes glassy, as if he’s been crying. I haven’t seen him cry in a long time. “Yeah, I’m calm. Is she staying?” If he'd been crying that can’t be good.

  He stares at my hand for a moment, blinking, and nods. “Yeah, she’s agreed to stay for one week. She’s taking a shower right now. She was adamant that we wouldn’t want her around after that.”

  Titus shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Did she tell you what happened to her legs? Why she’s walking like that?”

  I frown, once again mad at myself. I hadn’t noticed her limping, but the others seem worried about it.

  Navin shakes his head. "She didn't say much of anything. She was really out of it. She did say Micheal wasn't going to be around, and she isn't dating anyone. When I asked her if they broke up, she said sure. So, I don't think that's the reason he's not around."

  Darius starts to wrap my hand with a roll of gauze. "Is she on drugs as well?"

  I look to Darius. "She was such a straight edge, we had to force her to take Midol when she had bad cramps." My gaze goes back to Navin.

  He shrugs. "She's not anymore. We smoked a joint together. But she said she hadn't done meth or heroin. So that's something. I think if she was doing coke or pills she would've done them in front of me as well. It just looks like she drinks and smokes weed. It's legal here, so I can't really fault her for that. We also drink and smoke, after all."

  To hear she's no longer a straight edge is such a strange
thing. She didn't care if we drank or smoked, but she never took part, saying she wanted to stay clear-headed in case we became idiots.

  Titus sighs. "What happened to our Evangeline? Did that Micheal make her become like this?"

  I suppress the growl that wants to leave me. God, I want to punch that man. Punch him senseless for stealing her heart and turning her into a person I can't recognize. I still remember our last day together, she'd seemed so happy.

  *We enter the back way into the stadium. Our first big show, a month after getting signed. All the seats sold out. Driving up on the bus, we got to see the hordes of people crowding around the outside. A large banner with mine and the guys' faces on it hung across the outside, visible to the highway that passed by.

  Evie walks ahead of us in sync with Harper, a manager from the record company. He's teaching her the ropes of how to manage large venues and everything that went into her job now that we were getting bigger. I don't think she's stopped smiling since we got signed. She loves every second. Getting to work all day, but also getting to spend time with us. She calls it her bread and butter.

  I couldn't ask for a better situation. Getting to make music with my best friends, but also having the girl we love by our side. Not having to leave her behind while we go on tour. Evie is the one that made this all happen. She's incredible. It's hard to not want to make love to her every second of the day, but we get our time in the evenings when the work calms down.

  Titus leans toward me as we follow them down a long underground hall. "She's so fucking hot, I can't stand it."

  I nod, willing away the erection that wants to come on from the excitement of our first big show; along with watching her ass sway in the black leather mini skirt and thigh-high stiletto boots that make her the perfect height for kissing. I smile at the back of her leather jacket that she decorated herself with paint and gold glitter. It says, *Stuck's #1 Groupie.*