Rock Wedding(9)
The blow had come after she told Jeremy their relationship was over. She’d known it for a while, had stayed only because of residual loyalty from when they’d first met and he’d been so kind to her. In truth, it had been months since they’d even really touched. And nothing, nothing in Jeremy’s behavior to that point had suggested he’d ever get physically violent with her; she’d never have broken up with him alone in the dark otherwise.
On the other side of the glass, Abe pointed toward the back door.
Sarah shook her head, her heart thumping.
Abe was the one who’d hauled Jeremy off her. She hadn’t even known he was nearby until he grabbed Jeremy with an enraged roar and slammed the other man up against the side of one of the heavy-duty buses the band had been using as their living quarters while at the outdoor festival. She and Abe had spoken earlier in the night, too, after Abe came up to her during the party to celebrate that day’s performances.
She hadn’t expected him to track her down, had expected what he’d said to her even less: I’m sorry, Sarah. I should’ve said that a long time ago—no excuse as to why I didn’t except that I’m an asshole.
That, she could’ve borne. As he’d admitted, the apology had come far too late. It had no power to worm its way under her defenses. Then he’d said: You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Given that Abe had just seen Sarah talking to Oscar-nominated Kathleen Devigny, a woman who was heartbreakingly beautiful even when she was dressed down, the words had hit her hard. The cynical part of her might’ve accused him of laying on the charm, but Abe wasn’t charming. He’d never been charming. He was just Abe. Blunt and honest and violently talented.
And a man, she’d realized that night, who still held the power to hurt her.
Today, on the other side of the glass, Abe folded his arms and spread his feet on the soft grass she babied all year around and mourned when water restrictions kicked in. Jaw set, he locked the deep brown of his eyes with her own.
He wasn’t going to leave.
Eyebrows drawing together as years of withheld fury roared past her grief, Sarah gave him the finger and mouthed, “Fuck you,” before turning on her heel to leave the solarium.
She roared out of her internally accessible garage ten minutes later, leaving Abe waiting on the lawn.
CHAPTER 4
SARAH HAD GIVEN HIM THE FINGER.
Abe shook his head, still not quite able to believe it, even though the incident had occurred several hours earlier. His wife… ex-wife, he reminded himself, didn’t indulge in public displays of affection, didn’t swear, and she definitely didn’t make vulgar gestures. The entire time he’d known Sarah, she’d been elegant and ladylike and contained.
Even when she was trying to convince him to kick the drugs, even when she was frustrated to tears by his behavior, she’d never once used a four-letter word. In his worst moments, he’d tried to push her to it, but Sarah hadn’t ever snapped and told him to fuck off or called him a son of a bitch.
And in bed, when he’d lost himself in her, he’d had a tendency to get very dirty with his mouth. Sarah had never told him to stop, had, in fact, reacted with molten heat, but she’d blush and go quiet if he asked her to say dirty things in return.
He’d always found that cute—and it had given him a challenge. One day, he’d thought, he’d get his wife to whisper naughty, naughty words to him in bed.
His smile faded.
Running his fingers over the piano keys, he picked out a melody that had been humming in the back of his mind for hours. He didn’t know where he’d heard it but it would bug him until he played it out. So he played, and he thought again about the night he’d fucked up his life with Sarah. She’d done nothing but try to love him, and he’d done his best to wound her beyond repair.
“You were a goddamn asshole, Abe,” he gritted out, the melody turning hard and angry under his fingers.
That he’d been on a cocktail of drugs, his body so used to them that he’d showed little outward effect, didn’t matter. He’d made a mess of things, kept doing it in the days, then weeks that followed after she left him. For some fucked-up, drugged-up reason, he’d been angry at her for leaving him when he’d done his best to push her away. He’d woken up each day expecting to see Sarah back beside him in bed, and when she wasn’t there, he’d gotten angry all over again, hit the booze and the drugs.
David, Fox, Noah, they’d have slapped him to his senses if they’d known he’d fallen into the abyss, but all three had been out of town for reasons he couldn’t now remember. As a result, Abe had been free to attempt to drug and drink away his demons. In the fleeting moments of coherence, he’d been glad Sarah wasn’t there to see what he’d become. He never wanted her to see him like that.