Blind Attraction (22 page)

“I’m sorry.”

She raised her gaze from the cement driveway to his gorgeous hazel eyes. Mitchell stood before her, hands in pockets, his face gloomy with regret. She tried to smile, to show him everything was all right but it only made her eyes burn.

“I don’t understand what happened to me, Allie. I just snapped.”

That’s what scared her the most. She hadn’t contemplated Mitchell being a violent man. Two days together and she thought she knew him. Two days where she hadn’t even been able to see him or read his expression.

Oh, how naive and delusional she was.

She understood his protective anger, but couldn’t excuse the violent reaction. He glanced down at his hand and tilted it back and forth. His knuckles were red and swollen and she felt the urge to comfort him.

The whole situation was a mess.

“I’ve never hit anyone before.” He spoke softly. “I…I…” He shook his head and slumped against the car.

Her heart ached for him, yet it comforted her to find out the violent outburst wasn’t a common occurrence. She walked the remaining steps around the hood and stopped in front of him.

“The past few days have been emotional. I’ve been a strain on you. We haven’t had much sleep. You’re dealing with the start of your promotional tour and album release...and you were protecting me.”

He glanced up at her from underneath his dark lashes.

“I’m not making excuses for you.” She shook her head. “I don’t condone violence. It’s the way I’ve been raised and that part of me will never change. But I do understand why you did it.” She stepped into him, needing a connection, and gently raised his damaged hand in her palm. “Thank you for looking out for me.” She rubbed a delicate finger over the swollen skin. “Does it hurt?”

“Like a mother... Yeah, it hurts.” He gave her a sad, lopsided grin. “I’m not sure worker’s compensation covers me for acts of stupidity.”

Her eyes widened. “You won’t be able to play?” She hadn’t realized what he’d risked in an effort to protect her.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’m hoping some ice will help.”

He pushed from the car hood and moved into her, encircling her waist in a hug. She rested her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

He sighed, long and loud. “I’ve gotta go.”

She tightened her grip. Blake had prepared her for a fight to keep Mitchell, but at the moment she was too despondent, too broken to show enthusiasm for anything.

“I think it’s best if I don’t call you.”

There it went, the line she’d been waiting for, and although she’d prepared herself, it didn’t stop her heart from cracking under the rejection.

“I like you, Allie, but you’ve got too much going on in your life, and I’m constantly flying from one place to the next. It’s not worth dragging out the inevitable.”

She placed her palms on his chest and leaned back to look him in the eye. “I like you, too, but no matter how much I have going on in my life, I’ll always find time for you. If you truly care for me, we can make it work.”

He frowned and broke eye contact, focusing his gaze on the green grass behind her.

“I’m an independent person,” she continued when he didn’t reply. “I can deal with time apart. I just want the chance to see if things between us can be something more.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed and his arms dropped from her waist. “I’m not what you need right now.”

She winced and tried not to take his assumption of what he thought she needed too personally. “What are you scared of?” she whispered, tilting her head into his line of sight.

“I’m not scared,” he huffed and stepped back.

“Then why are you pushing me away?”

“Because I’m not what you need!”

She jerked back. “The assumption that you know me better than I know myself is insulting.”

“You’re starting a new life, Allie. You need constant support, which I can’t give you.”

“Stop telling me what I need!”

She sighed, angry that she’d become frustrated to the point of raising her voice. “OK, fine.” She raised her hands in surrender. “I’m not so virginal that I can’t see the brush off right before my eyes.”

“No, it’s not—”

“Mitchell, I’ve had fun these past few days, and I thank you wholeheartedly. I enjoyed spending time with you and admit my feelings for you are a lot more than friendship.” She blinked faster and faster, hoping to stem the flow of tears, at least until he left. “But I’ve had enough of people telling me what to do and trying to shape my life. I
know
what I need, and more importantly, I
know
what I want. I’m not a child, and I can make decisions for myself.”

She raised her chin and took a deep breath. “I wish you all the best.” Her voice cracked, and before the first tears fell, she turned and strode toward the house.

With each step she prayed he would call for her, but not a word was whispered. Silence reigned as she opened the front door and locked herself inside. She rested her back against the thick wood, her heart pounding, still holding onto the hope he would change his mind. When the sound of a car door slammed, followed by the rev of an engine, she allowed the destruction of the past days to take hold and crumpled to the floor in tears
.

“Can I borrow your laptop?” Mitch stood in front of Blake, eyebrows raised, heart on his sleeve. They’d barely spoken since leaving Richmond over a week ago. Mitch’s social skills had lacked civility, apparently, so he spent most of his free time alone.

“Ahh, yeah. Sure.” Blake frowned. “Give me two minutes to end my chat session and it’s yours.”

Mitch sat down beside him on the penthouse suite sofa. “Who are you chatting with?”

Blake shot him a glance before turning back to the computer, his fingers madly tapping the keys. “A friend.”

Riiighhhht.

If Mitch wasn’t shoulder deep in his own dramatic-self-loathing-depression-bubble he would’ve asked more questions.

“Here ya go.”

He grasped the outstretched laptop, placed it on his thighs and stared at the screen while his heart did a drum roll.

“What do you need it for?” Blake reclined into the corner of the sofa, outstretching his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

Mitch cleared his throat and continued to blink at the computer. “I just…thought I’d play around on the Internet.”

“By Googling Alana, you mean,” Mason added from the kitchen.

He didn’t reply. His friends knew him too well.

“Why don’t you call her?” Mason strode over and sat in front of him on the coffee table.

“I already have.”

“What?” Blake straightened. “When did you do that?”

“What did she say?” Mason asked.

He shrugged, brought up a Google Internet page and typed in Alana’s name. “I hung up.”

They laughed. Assholes.

“You’re a pussy.” Mason pushed from the table and walked back to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “A grumpy ass pussy.”

“I’m not fucking grumpy,” Mitch snapped.

“Umm, you remember the chick who wanted you to sign her tits and you told her to ‘get her skanky ass away from you’?” Blake raised his brows. “I think that constitutes grumpy.”

“And she had a great rack, too.” Mason added.

“So what? I don’t have time for that shit anymore.” He didn’t. Easy women were off his menu. For good. He wouldn’t slum it again, not after Allie.

The search brought up a page full of links containing the words Alana Shelton. He clicked on the top one –
My Life in Focus, a photographic journey through my eyes
. A pink screen loaded, the title of the blog standing out in bold script. He scrolled down and sucked in a breath at her image on the side bar. The photo was black and white, in a meadow or a playground. She smiled at the camera, her dimples showing, wisps of dark hair framing her beautiful eyes.

Why hadn’t his desire for her faded? He’d depended on it, had gone to sleep every night hoping to wake up anew. But, nope. The hard stone of regret which lodged in his chest the day he said goodbye had grown.

To the size of a fucking melon.

“Damn, she’s hot.”

Mitch pushed Blake away, ignoring the comment. He scrolled further, to the first post that read ‘Moving On’. There were no words, only images. One of Kate in a nightclub, dressed in a sparkly red dress with men on either side of her. Colored lights flashed in the background, people danced.

The next was of Alana, the same guys in the image. Her delicious curves were hugged by a tight pink camisole, her hand clutched a cocktail. He focused on her lips. Her beautiful, full, kissable lips, and tried to ignore the man beside her who had his arm around her waist, his mouth on her cheek.

“If you throw my laptop, I
will
hurt you.”

Shut it, Blake.

“Call her,” Mason sat back on the coffee table and chugged his beer. “Once we finish the promo tour, you’ll have a couple of weeks to catch up with her again.”

A couple of weeks. Mitch scoffed. Weeks would never be enough. He needed more. He needed forever. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an option on the table when his career had him flying around the globe.

He moved further down the page to an earlier post—
Fractured, Not Broken.
Underneath the heading was another photo of Alana. Her eyes glistened, a single tear streaked down her cheek as she focused to the side of the camera. The background blurred behind her and even with anguish distorting her features, she still took his breath away.

“Wow, kinda grips you by the balls, doesn’t it,” Blake murmured.

Mitch frowned and wriggled his nose, trying to dislodge the unwelcomed tingle. His sight blurred and he blinked to regain focus. The weight of regret increased, squashing his lungs. How would he get through this? He hadn’t even boarded the jet from Richmond before doubt started to gnaw at his insides. He hadn’t realized how much their time together had affected him. Well not until it was too late, anyway.

Before he chickened out, he clicked on the link to the last post and placed the curser in the comment section.
I miss you, Allie.
He typed his name with shaky hands then pressed submit, not allowing himself time to contemplate his actions.

“What are you doing?” Blake leaned closer, rubbing his shoulder. “Oh, no you didn’t.”

Mitch shot him a glare. “What? I wanted to send her a message to let her know I’m thinking about her.”

“Stalker.” Mason chuckled. “Hang up calls, tracking her down online… You sure you don’t have a pair of her panties hidden under your pillow?”

Mitch wished.

“I just want to know if she’s all right.”

He needed to reach out. Maybe his conscience wouldn’t allow him to move on because their farewell had been hostile. He never wanted to hurt her. Her future happiness had always been the reason for the decisions he made. Ending things on bad terms had almost killed him. Nothing felt right anymore. With Alana his life was full.

Now…now nothing mattered.

He didn’t want to smile, he didn’t want to perform, he didn’t even have the motivation or desire to get drunk and screw around with groupies.

He was broken.

Lost.

And unlucky for him, he’d thrown away the only thing able to turn his life around.

* * *

Alana had done a great job occupying herself for the last ten days, yet every so often she needed to stop and breathe and think.

Those were the times when Mitchell invaded her thoughts and wouldn’t let go.

The day after his rejection had been the worst. She’d woken to the sound of Kate’s shrill voice echoing up the hall. Reckless Beat’s interview with the breakfast talk show blared on the television and apparently waking Alana required the call of a banshee.

She’d shuffled into the lounge room, her mind still half asleep as she listened to him announce to the world that she was a ‘distraction’. His words not only fractured the cracks in her heart, they smashed her wide open, exposing her heartbreak to anyone who cared to notice. She’d foolishly thought he’d been too scared to fall in love, or commitment might’ve been the issue. Now she knew better.

A distraction. Christ.

At least it turned her mood from weighty despair to energized fury. She wanted to remind him that she never asked for his help. He’d pushed to be her knight in shining armor, not the other way around. Only she didn’t have his phone number to give him a piece of her mind. He’d conveniently taken hers and not shared his in return.

“Are you still staring at his message?” Kate walked into Alana’s bedroom and peered down at her computer screen.

Alana sighed and read the line again.
I miss you, Allie.
“I can’t help it.” Anger had been her constant companion. Finding the comment only made things worse, ripping her to pieces all over again.

Talk about a damn distraction.

She started the blog the night he left Richmond. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, so she threw herself into work. A new blog, a new life, a new outlook. Only Mitchell ruined that too.

“Delete it.”

Alana nodded. She should, yet what she really wanted to do was re-wallpaper her room with those few simple words. “I’m going to remove it all. The whole blog. Every post.”