Skeletons of Us (Unquiet Mind Book 2) (17 page)

They had their work cut out for them today, I knew.

Mario put his hands on his hips. He was as skinny as a rake, with bright pink hair and covered in tattoos. He also wore makeup that rivaled anything I could do myself. Today, his winged liner was so sharp it could cut a bitch.

“Yes, yes, we know Lexie is beautiful and amazing, blah, blah. But we have a photo shoot. Under fluorescent lights. Now, I don’t doubt my ability to turn this”—he waved his hands at my face—“into excellence. But why must we test my skills so?” He bent forward. “Do Uncle Mario a favor and get more sleep,” he ordered. There was concern in his eyes and I knew it was his way of telling me he cared.

“Your wish is my command,” I lied. There was no way I was getting proper sleep until Killian was out of my house and I could try and go back to living without him.

Oh, and the murderous stalker was caught. You’d think that would be the first thing I worried about. My head was a screwed up place to be right now. Shame I couldn’t escape it.

Mario’s eyes narrowed at my forehead, which was now on display with Shayla piling my hair into an updo.

He reached to squeeze my hand. “Now, I’m not gonna pry because there will be enough people doing that today. Just tell me one thing, sugar. You okay?” he asked, nodding to the healing cut.

I nodded quickly. That was one thing I couldn’t do, lie to my friends about what happened. Plus, I couldn’t think too much about that night. I was doing my best to escape so many memories, not just the one of how I got that cut, but the ones that had chased me for four years. I knew I couldn’t outrun them forever and was terrified of what would happen when they caught me.

Mario sensed the fact I couldn’t talk about what happened in my emotional stare. He straightened and looked at Shayla. “No updos today, babe. I’m thinking something sweeping across her face. Let’s get my girl glowing.”

He clapped his hands together and went to work.

*****

“Eddie, I got a bit of feedback on that last one. Can we tweak the sound please?” I spoke into the mic after we’d finished our last song at the rehearsal.

Eddie, our sound tech, gave me a thumbs up. “Sure thing, Lexie.” He smiled and set to work. He was about our age and had been with us for almost a year. Most of our crew had been with us from the start and were considered friends.

I turned to the boys. “What do we think?”

Sam stood from the drum set, stretching so his tee rode up and the tattoos on his lower stomach showed along with his chiseled abs. “I was awesome, obviously.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You guys were okay too, I guess,” he added.

“Why thank you for showering us with praise, douchebrain,” Wyatt said, leaning his bass on the edge of the stage. His eyes were drawn to the corner and he frowned. I knew exactly who he was looking at. The person lurking in the shadows. I had felt the electric current flicker from him the moment I started singing.

Although he hadn’t left my side all day, thankfully, he hadn’t spoken to me. I’d noticed the change in him since the photo shoot. His jaw was clenched harder and his icy gaze was emptier than I’d ever seen it. I didn’t focus on that. Luckily, I didn’t have time to focus on that. Today had been my first day back. Really back. After the photo shoot, I was whisked to a hotel and remade up by Shayla and Mario and outfitted in a white cashmere turtleneck dress with a low-slung fringed belt and heeled slouchy boots. I was still boho. I was like Sam, my style hadn’t changed, just the price tags had.
That didn’t mean I didn’t trawl vintage stores when I could, but it was pretty hard going to those stores without being recognized. In reality, it was easier shopping at disgustingly expensive stores where I didn’t get swarmed.
Fortunately, I had Hannah, who did the trawling for me and got me great vintage pieces. I also had a stylist, strictly for tours. I was quite capable of dressing myself on a daily basis.

The interview had gone fine, thankfully. Mark had organized it with my favorite reporter. An oxymoron for most in the industry, but me and Raymond Stix actually got on well, and he was human. He didn’t twist my words and reported mostly truth, if a little embellished.

I’d recounted the story of the robbery, as rehearsed, my cut expertly disguised by a sweeping braid in my hair.

“If it was just a robbery, what’s with the new security?” Raymond nodded to a stoic Killian, who had been leaning on the door. He stiffened and looked like he was going to say something. Something that would most likely perk Raymond’s interest and potentially screw up the entire interview.

“We’re just being cautious,” I jumped in before Killian could. “The press have been… intense since Drew’s death. It’s been hard.”

My comment had its intended effect. Raymond perked up at the mention of Drew and spent the rest of the interview asking me how I was coping with his death. I did my best to answer these questions tactfully, not missing the fury that seem to engulf the room at the mention of Drew.

Raymond didn’t notice it, probably because he was too busy trying to get the latest scoop, and because he wasn’t in tune to the man in the corner like I was. I felt the anger at the mention of Drew’s name and it pissed me right off. He was jealous of my dead ex.

Truth was, as terrible as it was, I hadn’t even thought of Drew since I laid eyes on Killian. Since before that. Apart from when cameras were thrust in my face, I didn’t think about it. Horrible, but that was a testament to how little he meant to me. But I couldn’t give Raymond an inkling of that. My indifference to his death was an even bigger story than my grief, so I focused on my answers instead of Killian’s anger.

We had gotten into the car after that, and I could tell Killian was about to explode. He turned to me, but someone was looking out for me because my phone rang. It was my mother checking up on me, as she had been ever since she left. I couldn’t have loved her more in that moment.

Of course I worried about her, but the pregnancy was going better, she said. Though I didn’t believe her, Zane reassured me. Then, after making sure I was okay and there wasn’t more incidents, he demanded to talk to Killian. I had handed him the phone without a word. He’d known it was Zane. So he’d taken it without a word and spoken in clipped phrases. By this point, we’d made it to the gym. Not the gym I went to with Duke. I wasn’t prepared to go there just yet. So instead, I was at the exact place I despised, all shiny and full of people who were there to see and be seen.

Luckily, my sometimes trainer had a private room in which he kicked my ass enough to chase the worst of my thoughts away.

From there, I’d come straight to sound check for the concert we were having in a few days. Killian drove once more and I made sure to keep my headphones in my ears the entire time.

“How long is he going to be following us around?” Wyatt clipped.

“How long’s a piece of string?” I replied.

“The police seriously don’t have any leads?” Noah asked, moving closer. There were many ears around here and we didn’t need anyone getting the scoop of what exactly was going on. I was having a run of shitty luck lately, but the press being in the dark about my stalker was the one thing that had given me a break.

I sighed, running my hands through my curls. “No. Dead ends. No prints on anything. No evidence of any kind. And we’ve got radio silence from this guy. Maybe he realized the heat’s on now,” I said hopefully.

“Not likely,” Sam said, voice tight. “These guys have a one-track mind when it comes to the object of their fasciation. Once they’ve gotten this far, nothing will stop him until he can carry out his delusions.”

We all looked at him.

“What? I read.”

“More like watch too much TV,” Wyatt muttered.

I rubbed my arms as Sam’s words caused a prickle to erupt in them.

Noah moved forward to pull me against his chest. “Hey, don’t let him freak you out. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. We’ll make sure of that. And as much as I hate to admit it”—he looked to the corner—“so will he.”

I nodded, leaning into his arms.

“Who needs a beer?” Sam said loudly. “I know I need ten.”

Wyatt and Noah nodded in agreement.

“I’ll be just a sec. I need to sort out this sound,” I told them. They gave me worried looks. “Seriously, guys, go, get liquor. Maintain the rumor that you’re all high-functioning alcoholics.” I shooed them with my hands.

I turned back to the mic. “How are we looking, Eddie?” I said into the mic.

He gave me a thumbs up. I nodded and began to strum. I didn’t play one of my songs; I couldn’t do that without the boys. Playing it to Killian with the backup of the boys was one thing. Playing it with just me? No. I had an idea then. A stupid, crazy, reckless idea. Something had to give. All the emotions churning in my stomach were going to do some damage if I didn’t find a way to let them out. If I didn’t find a way to communicate to Killian. I couldn’t talk to him, but couldn’t ignore him no matter how hard I tried. So instead, I played “Snuff” by Slipknot.

I got so lost in the music it made me float away, made time an inconsequential thing, and I was back to being in my garage four years ago when my heart was light and my mind bright and untainted. When music could cure everything and say everything a shy teenage girl couldn’t say.

The impact of hurtling back to reality with the end of the song was jarring. A couple of roadies erupted in applause, but I didn’t note it. All I saw was Killian push off the wall.

“Out, everyone,” he barked. A few people jumped and gave him sideways looks. “Now!” he yelled.

Everyone dispersed pretty quickly at his tone. He wasn’t someone they recognized, but his entire demeanor was dangerous and he leaked authority. And menace. Eddie gave him a long scowl and looked to me with worry. I gave him a weak smile and nodded, trying not to communicate my fury to the poor sound guy who was only looking out for me. His gaze lingered before he left, and then it was just me and Killian in the huge room.

I didn’t waste time in setting my guitar down and storming down to meet Killian at the bottom of the stage.

“What the fuck was that?” I hissed. “You do not talk to them like that. You have
no fucking right
.”

Killian’s fury flickered in the face of my own, as if he didn’t expect it. Well, he was in for a great surprise if he thought he could push me around like it seemed he had become used to doing with everyone else.

“Baby, you don’t swear. Jesus, the words sound wrong coming out of that beautiful, innocent mouth,” he said, eyes flickering with shock.

His words caught me by surprise momentarily, but I recovered quickly.

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Innocent?” I repeated. Then I laughed that cold, emotionless laugh that was becoming far too familiar. “I’m a lot of things now. I’m also
not
a lot of things. Four years is a long time, Killian. Innocence is something that is long gone. Another skeleton of my old life, of what I used to be.” I flickered my gaze around the room, if only to escape those ice blue eyes. “Innocence is a dream. A fantasy. See, I lost most of it the day I lost Steve and Ava, the day I realized the world isn’t a fairy tale and happily ever after only exists in books.” I paused, sucking in a breath, battling the pain at saying their names. “But it wasn’t gone. Not completely. Innocence is like hope, like love. Someone has to keep it alive, nurture it, protect it, for it to exist. Like hope, like love, it was something I gave to you willingly. Something that you shattered. So no, I’m not innocent anymore. I’m happy for that. In fact, I should thank you. Because now I’m not some stupid girl wandering around the world with rose-tinted glasses who thought happiness actually existed. I live in the real world now, Killian. So thanks.” My voice dripped with sarcasm and venom I didn’t even know I was capable of. The song I’d sang had opened floodgates I’d been working hard to keep closed. Now was the time to say everything that had been eating me up for the past four years.

Killian flinched at my words. “Lexie—” he began in a tortured voice, but I was on a roll, every word I’d been itching to say to him for years spilling out. The anger was a welcome friend when hurt was a constant companion. It felt good to let it out.

“You’re a coward,” I hissed. My words hardly made sense, considering Killian was the bravest person I’d once known. He’d jumped in front of bullets for me. Twice. My mind didn’t think of that. “You were too fucking scared to venture into the real world when it became apparent that’s where I was going. So instead, you took the easy way out. The coward’s way out.”

Killian pushed off the wall and his face darkened so much it seemed it brought a cloud over the room. “I
fuckin’ know
!” he roared, losing the control he seemed to have had iron-clad restraint over until now. He paced the room. “You belong up there.” He nodded to the stage. “In the light. You live for that. You wouldn’t have gotten there if I hadn’t let you go.”

Emotions broke through the dam I had constructed so carefully. They couldn’t stay pent-up any longer, so I exploded.

“I lived for
you
,” I screamed. “For us. Every breath I took, every beat of my heart, every fucking word I sang was for you,” I continued on a shrill tone. “You think I care about this compared to that?” I asked, throwing my hands up around the room. I laughed bitterly. “Music is my soul. You’re right. But so were you. You were entwined, coiled up together. There is no one without the other.” I paused. “Or was.”

Killian froze for a second then stepped forward, not close enough to touch me, thank God. “I saved you from having to choose.”

I laughed an ugly sound. “Saved me?” I repeated. “Yes, Killian the hero. Killian the noble. Saved me from what? Someone who loved me? Someone who I loved. Who I lived for? You saved me from that. Bravo. Someone get you a purple fucking heart.”

Killian stepped forward, clutching my hand in his. “I saved you from—”

I ripped my hand from his grasp. “News flash, Killian. I didn’t need saving. Not then. And I don’t need saving now, thanks to some fucked-up responsibility you feel.”

His eyes blazed into mine. “Maybe
I
need saving, freckles.”