Chapter 5

Tommy

After I dropped off Harley,I’d driven around for a while. Then I’d dragged my sorry ass home and stood under the shower hoping to relax. Sleep was still a long time coming and by noon, I was up, wandering around my apartment aimlessly.

It had been a home when Harley lived here with me. Now it was just a glorified storage unit where I could lay my head when I wasn’t on tour. The band and I were almost finished recording a new album, and we were going to embark on a world tour soon. Normally, I couldn’t wait to get out on the road, playing music and partying with my friends. But it would be different this time.

Not only was the dynamic different without Carter but the guys were all paired off now, leaving me the sole unattached member of the band. Zeke, our lead guitarist, had married a sweet girl named Presley after they had a baby together, and he appeared to be loving life as a husband and father. Kingston, our illustrious lead singer, was living with the band’s new bass player, Devyn Cates. They’d fallen hard and fast after she’d joined the band, and while I was happy for them, I’d never thought King would settle down.

Then there was Kellan, who’d fallen for Devyn’s best friend, Jesse. They’d split up over the summer but had just gotten back together, so that made it unanimous. An entire band of people in love.

Except me.

My life had been a series of never-ending one-night stands since my divorce, enjoying groupies in every city we played in. No emotion, no commitments, no nothing. Just sex and partying. I’d hoped that would be enough, but it wasn’t. Nothing was ever enough. Not since the divorce and definitely not since we’d lost Carter.

The worst thing was, I didn’t have anyone to talk to.

The guys in the band were like brothers to me, but as men, we didn’t discuss those kinds of feelings, when you had to dig deep and be vulnerable. There had been some bonding and soul-searching after we lost Carter, and they’d all been there for me during the divorce, but it simply wasn’t our dynamic to discuss things like broken hearts. Except for Carter. He’d been the one I could talk to, but now that I knew the truth, all the talks we’d had post-divorce felt tainted.

For two years, he’d let me vent about how Harley had just walked away from our marriage and the life we’d built. He’d let me continue to wonder what I’d done wrong, or what I’d missed, that had caused the end of my marriage. It had eaten at me since the day she’d served those papers. Meanwhile, he’d been with her behind my back.

That was the betrayal that hurt the most.

He’d left me a letter after his death, asking me to forgive and forget, to go back to Harley. To help her raise his son. To be a family.

I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I’d met River a few times when he was at the house, but he was just a baby. There was nothing to say or do when it came to him. On the other hand, up until last night, I hadn’t spoken to Harley since before our divorce was finalized, and I hadn’t even known about River until after Carter died.

What was there to say?

As far as I was concerned, actions spoke louder than words and her actions spoke volumes.

I’d been pretending I was over it for three long years, and last night’s activities notwithstanding, I knew how to keep everything bottled up so I could do what I needed to do.

Today was technically no different, so I got something to eat and got dressed, pushing my melancholy thoughts away and gearing up for another day. We only had a couple of studio days left, and then our producer would work his magic while we started rehearsals for the tour. We were kicking off right after the New Year, with a handful of shows in L.A. From there, we’d be on the road until the week before Christmas, with a few short breaks built in. The sooner we got started, the sooner I’d forget about fucking Harley in a cemetery.

At least on tour there was zero chance of running into her.

I hated myself for the way I’d behaved last night but the reality was that I’d do it all over again given half a chance. As angry as I was, I’d never walk away from an opportunity to be with her. Next time, I’d force her to talk to me, and answer my questions.

Next time?

Yeah, right.

Like there was going to be a next time.

She probably hated me now, although I wasn’t the one who’d cheated and had a kid with someone else. There was no mistaking the timing—River was born six months after she left me, which meant she’d been screwing Carter before she left.

That was the part that got to me.

She’d already been sleeping with him.

Considering the threesome we’d had six weeks before she’d served me with the papers, they’d obviously planned it to cover up her pregnancy. The two people I loved and trusted most in the world had been playing me, and I still wasn’t over it. I might not ever get over it.

I hadn’t known what they were up to at the time, of course, and it wasn’t until I found out about River and did some backward math that I realized how they’d both duped me. But Carter was dead by then and Harley and I had been divorced for two years.

It hurt like hell but there was nothing to be done. From the outside looking in, it seemed simple, but nothing had ever been simple with us.

I’d found out after the fact that Carter had been taking care of her and River, but they weren’t a couple. I knew for a fact Carter had been fucking anything and everything that moved on tour, so if they’d had some kind of relationship, it wasn’t a serious one. I also knew Harley well enough to know she wouldn’t put up with that. That had been a hard limit for her in our marriage, so I couldn’t imagine she’d allowed Carter to sleep around if they were together.

None of the facts as I knew them made sense.

On top of that, Carter had always had a thing for me, and simultaneously had feelings for Harley. So once she’d divorced me, why the hell hadn’t they gotten together? Had they tried and broken up? Had she dumped him once she realized living with an addict would be a lifetime of misery? I had so many fucking questions. I knew Harley intimately, as well as I knew almost anyone, and I’d known Carter pretty damn well too. Nothing that had happened was logical based on what I knew, and after being with her last night, the partially healed emotional wounds had been ripped to shreds once again.

I’d tried so fucking hard to move on.

Until last night, I honestly thought I had.

Or at least I’d been close.

Now it felt like I was right back to square one.

As soon as I got to the studio, I was going to find the first willing groupie and drag her into the nearest bathroom. A blow job would put me in a better mood and force the memory of being inside Harley back to the dark recesses of my mind. Mindless sex with random women didn’t help the emotional scars, but it felt pretty damn good in the moment anyway. And something good was better than nothing.

I revved the engine of my bike and opened it up on the freeway.

I felt lighter now that I had a plan, and while it wasn’t perfect, it would get me through today. Maybe even long enough to put Harley out of my mind. Of course, I hadn’t managed to do that in three years, so there were no guarantees, but I had to keep trying before I drove myself insane.

I picked up speed, weaving in and out of the surprisingly light traffic.

Riding was one of my escapes when I wasn’t on tour.

Back in the early days, the band had ridden together. Hell, one of our videos featured us riding our bikes down the Sunset Strip. The other guys had professional models riding on the back, but Harley had ridden with me. We’d all had a blast shooting that video. So much so I couldn’t even watch it anymore because it reminded me of how good things had been between us back then.

She’d been an aspiring actress who took modeling gigs to pay the rent. I was already supporting us, but she’d been firm that she needed money of her own. Just in case.

Just in case what? I’d asked her once.

She’d laughed and reminded me that I was the millionaire rockstar, and she had nothing. If I ever decided to leave her, she needed something to fall back on.

I’d laughed and told her that was never going to happen.

I hit the accelerator, leaning forward and moving with the bike as I tried to outrace my thoughts. In, out, and around, I was moving at a fast clip, the speedometer edging up toward a hundred. Far too fast for a busy freeway like this, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. It felt good, the wind against my face and the sun glinting off the chrome of the handlebars.

An old Honda going no more than forty was in front of me, with an eighteen-wheeler to my left and some douche in a Maserati on my right. He was keeping pace with me, making it impossible for me to go around and forcing me to slow down a little. Annoyed, I revved the engine and lifted my hand in his direction, letting him know I wanted to pass. The guy smirked and gave me the middle finger salute in response and my hands tightened on the handlebars.

What the fuck?

I took a quick look around, trying to assess the traffic with my ability to get around the current clusterfuck. The Honda and the semi wouldn’t be a problem, but the Maserati was a crap shoot, because it had speed the others didn’t. I could do it, though. Without warning, I hit the brakes and dropped back a couple of car lengths, then I hit the gas and turned the handlebars to the left, going behind and around the semi. I’d just pulled up alongside it when the eighteen-wheeler suddenly started to swerve.

Before I had time to react, he fishtailed, causing cars all around me to scatter. I tried to get out of the way, but I was going too fast to react quickly. A yellow Mini Cooper that tried to get out of the way nicked my back tire and sent me into a spin. I yanked on the handlebars, trying to stay upright, but there was too much going on. Cars and trucks were facing the wrong direction, the semi was now perpendicular to the flow of traffic, and there was nowhere for me to go but down.

A red Tesla tried to get out of the way, but I hit it hard.

The last thing I remembered was thinking that I wasn’t ready to die.