Broken Little Melodies(76)
She stops to steady her breath, but I remain silent. I’m afraid if I interrupt, she won’t finish the story I’ve been waiting to hear since her sixteenth birthday.
“The state trooper told my aunt that they were clipped by a semi while going around a corner. My dad swerved, sending the car over the cliff. The car went into Millerton Lake. By the time help arrived, they had drowned. They were…stuck…in their seat belts. They died because I was too selfish to tell them I didn’t need a gift and the last thing I told my mom was ‘I love you’.” Her head drops against my chest. “Those words…they’ve been in my nightmares for so long…I just can’t…it hurts too much.”
Agony surges through my gut as I wrap her in my arms. Her body shakes with every heart-wrenching sob. “Christ,” I mutter to myself. Kissing the side of her head, I take a deep breath. I know that I need to say something, even though nothing I can say will fix her broken heart.
“I get why those words would scare you after what happened, but nothing’s going to happen to me just because you say them.” With my cheek pressed against hers, I brush my fingers up and down the smooth skin on her back. “I’m a firm believer in fate. It’s what brought you back to me, and I think it has an epic future already set out for us. I’m planning to stay in your life for a long fucking time, baby. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me.”
Feeling her pain when I squeeze her naked body, my heart clenches in a way I imagine to be more painful than an actual heart attack. It’s the answer to my questions at camp all those years ago. Now I finally understand why she walked into the lake and told me afterwards that she wanted to feel what “they” felt. But it’s shitty that a nine-year-old grew up feeling superstitious about expressing her feelings because of a freak accident.
I silently pray to whoever might be listening that we catch a fucking break for a change. Belle has always been considerably strong, but I’m not sure how much more bullshit she can handle.
As the roadies finish setting up for the following night’s show, I run through the set-list with Belle and the guys, trying to decide on Belle’s song. Nicki watches on from the edge of the stage, throwing in her two cents when warranted. Thank fuck Normie doesn’t insist on being a part of the planning stage since he was such a prick when I told him of my idea. There isn’t enough time for the guys to be comfortable playing one of her original songs, and she’s wary when it comes to doing a cover because she’s worried the original artist won’t be flattered, which I think is bullshit.
“Maybe the two of you should sing Broken together,” Reggie suggests. The fucker towers over Belle, his arm slung over her shoulder like she’s his property. Since Belle seems perfectly comfortable with him, I decide not to bust his balls. “You could alternate verses and harmonize the chorus.”
“Oh my God, yes!” Nicki cheers, clapping her hands together. “That’s my favorite song on the album! It would be perfect!”
Belle quirks one eyebrow and lets out a hollow laugh. “You guys seriously want me to stand in front of a packed stadium and sing about how I singlehandedly broke Roman Stone?”
“Yeah,” Reggie and Nicki answer in perfect unison.
“Rock on,” Belle mutters, nodding to herself. Then she lifts her chin, looking me in the eye. “What do you think?”
I flash her a slow smile. “I think we broke each other. It’s fucking perfect.”
She smiles back at me, but it doesn’t chase away the sadness reflected in her eyes. As the guys return to their instruments and Belle begins working through the vocals, I vow to find a way to prove to her that our pasts don’t matter anymore.
Just as I suspected, the crowd in Ohio goes in-fucking-sane for Belle when she joins me during the encore for Broken. If she’s nervous, no one would ever know by the confident way she rocks the stage. And she’s definitely keyed up from the performance when we check into the suite I arranged to have filled with white roses, because the second the bellman leaves, she tackles me to the floor and fucks me until we’re both too exhausted to move.
We sound even better in Chicago after spending a couple hours the night before tightening up a few of the key notes. The crowd seems to agree the way they won’t stop screaming once the song’s over. And once again the hotel sex that follows is fucking phenomenal, stretching out until four in the morning when we both pass out.
In the handful of hours we’re allowed after the band’s interviews are completed and before we hit the road again, I take Belle to the Navy Pier where we ride the Ferris Wheel before taking a helicopter ride over the city. She’s like a kid in a candy shop, her beautiful brown eyes filled with wonder and excitement with every new thing she sees. She must send Melanie a hundred pictures and I’ve heard them talking on the phone a few times since we left New York, but I never hear her mention Chaz. With any luck, I won’t have to deal with the douche again.