A brief flashback of letting him have it, telling him off like there was no tomorrow while he’d sat at a similar table, crossed her mind. But that was a long time ago. He wasn’t drunk and hateful this time.
Yet, anyway. He appeared calm, but anger rolled off him so hard it backed her up a step.
For the past two days, she’d spent most of her time with her band. Looking at Aiden’s baby pictures and getting to know about all of their girlfriends and wives and baby mamas. They were a good group of guys and she was glad she’d taken Mike’s advice.
He’d been right. She didn’t have to close herself off to everyone.
Just one someone. Someone who’d apparently decided to wait up for her.
“What are you doing sitting here in the dark?”
“Thinkin’,” he answered quietly.
“About?” she prompted, despite being uncertain she actually wanted an answer. She swallowed hard and took a few steps toward him. When she was close enough to see, she could make out dark circles under his eyes.
“Things,” was all he offered her.
“You been drinking?” She whispered her question, as if somehow that might make it less offensive or upsetting.
He let out a bitter laugh. “No. Have you?”
It was a fair enough question since technically she’d been slightly intoxicated a few awful nights ago.
“No.”
“Good. Got a minute?”
Kylie took a step toward her room. “It’s late, Trace. We have to be—”
“I’ll keep it short then.”
“Um, okay. What’s up?”
He snorted out a harsh laugh. “Nothing you care much about.”
A spine-tingling chill made her shiver. Alarms rang out inside of her. Every cell in her body stood at attention.
This was the way he behaved when he was drunk. Because—back then—when he was angry, he got drunk. This was sober-angry Trace. She couldn’t decide which version was more worrisome.
“I-I don’t know what you mean by that.”
“Don’t you?” Trace slid out of the booth and stood in front of her, effectively blocking the path to her bedroom. “Well, let’s see, Kylie Lou. From what I can tell, the only thing you care about being up is my dick, right?”
She took a step back. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He glared at her. She worked hard to keep her expression impassive, refused to let him see how much she wanted to break down under the searing heat of his stare.
“I didn’t fuck you when you were three sheets to the wind, so you sing that damn song and then blow me off—and not in the fun way, like I’d prefer.”
Her blood began to heat, either from her own anger or his fiery gaze. She didn’t know and she didn’t much care. Her heart threatened to pound straight out of her chest. Which pissed her off even more because she’d thought she’d finally gotten rid of the damn thing.
“I made a mistake the other night. Like you said, I’d been drinking. Oh, but wait, I guess you’re the only one who’s allowed to get drunk and make mistakes.”
“No, but that’s the part I can’t figure out. Which part was the mistake, darlin’? The trying to impale yourself on my dick part? Or the leaving the next morning part? Because I can assure you, if you’d stuck around, once you were sober I had every intention of giving you what you wanted. Repeatedly.”
He knees threatened to give beneath her. “T-Trace,” she began, shaking her head back and forth.
“I’m done being pushed away.” He came toward her, backing her up as far as she could go. “Tell me, baby. Tell me the truth.” She leaned back against the counter, and he braced his arms on either side of her. “There’s nobody on this bus but me and you. I made sure of it. No assistants, no band members, not even a driver. Forget the fucking music, Kylie Lou. Forget the label. Forget the tour. Look at me and tell me we’re done. Tell me you don’t want to be with me, you don’t love me, and that you’re over it.”
She licked her lips and tried her best not to breathe him in. Not to let his manly soap and warm woodsy scent disorient her.
“I’m trying to be. Y-you hurt me, Trace. You hurt me so bad.” Blood rushed in her ears so loud she barely heard her own confession.
Wild, tortured eyes met hers. “You think I don’t know that? Every damn day of my life has been fucking purgatory since I walked away from you. And I don’t just mean the other night. I mean this whole damn year. Don’t you see that?”
Instinctively, she reached up and placed her hands on either side of his face. His stubble tickled her palms. It was as if she were seeing him for the first time, or maybe she was just allowing herself to remember what she’d known all along.