48. Chapter Forty-Eight

Chapter Forty-Eight

Anna

T he silence that greets me is so unexpected that I feel like I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't speak.

If I do, then this becomes real, and reality and I aren't on speaking terms right now.

No way.

I would recognize that sound, that husky chuckle almost anywhere, even if it hadn't shot straight to my groin and made my heart ache simultaneously the second it came over the line.

But it can't be …

No. It won't be is more appropriate, because I will not fall into the trap all over again. I will not dive headfirst into the emotional damage set to take me out. I won't fall prey to the antics of a spoiled and damaged rock star.

"Hey, Mama."

And when he breathes that crap over the line—clear, sultry, and sober—my poor heart weeps .

"Toby," I breathe out on a weighted whisper, my middle all twisted up. Torn between what I want and what I know that I need. "I—"

"Stay."

That one word could have enough power over me had he uttered them months ago. Before I put myself through the hell of finally shutting out every piece of me that wants him. Misses him.

But the way he says it into the phone …

Like it's everything he could need wrapped up in one giant pleading demand.

For me .

"I can't," I mumble into the phone, the backs of my eyes burning.

"Try."

I swallow.

"For me, Anna."

I choke back a sob.

" Please ."

Breath ragged, heart pounding—yet somehow breaking at the same time—I lick my dried lips and switch my grip on the phone.

"Toby, I'm sorry, but … I can't."

"Anna, please don't walk away. Not yet."

Biting my lip, I swipe away at the tears staining my lashes. "Why not?"

"I … There's so fucking much I wanna say to you, baby, but I didn't wanna do it over the phone like this." I hear rustling, like maybe he's shaking his head. "I had this whole fucking plan …" His voice muffles, thickens. "I'm sorry, Anna. I'm sorry for all the bullshit I put you through. Especially the shit you don't know about. And I swear I'm gonna say all this again to your face as soon as I see it. Just, please, wait five more weeks."

"It's more than five weeks, Toby." I sniffle.

"Five weeks, five days, fourteen hours. I promise, I'm counting them by the second."

"It's not that simple. It will never be that simple."

"Why not?

His question, loaded and aimed right for where I'm weakest for the man, has me hanging my head. "Toby, I've seen what substance abuse does to people."

"I know—"

"You don't ," I cut in, more gusto to my voice than I thought I could muster. "You have no clue what happens after ."

"Then tell me," Toby begs into the receiver. "You never talk about yourself unless it's negative and maybe if I know what you know, I can make sure it doesn't happen."

"No."

Another stretch of silence falls over the line.

Until finally, he asks the right question. The one I don't want to have to answer, but I'm going to.

"No to what?"

Dragging in a deep breath, despite the splintering of my heart, I say what needs to be said.

"No to this, Toby. No to you and I hooking up. It shouldn't have happened to begin with."

Because to him, that's all it was between us, anyway.

"Fine."

One word. Smashed into a single quip rolling off Toby's talented tongue and my heart splinters a little more.

"Right. Okay, then. Good talk."

With a shake to my hands and a grit to my jaw, I force back the emotion building behind my eyes and pull the phone away from me, preparing to hit the big red button on the screen.

"It's not hooking up if you're mine, right?"

He's out of his mind.

My eyes slide closed, and I ignore the quake that rakes over my entire body at the prospect.

He's not in his right mind.

Sighing, I blink back the collection on my lashes and tap the edge of the phone to my temple. "I don't know what that's supposed to mean, and I'm pretty sure I shouldn't want to know, either."

"That sounded like a roundabout way of saying maybe."

"I can't with you. You're so freaking exhausting."

"C'mon, Mama," he coos into the phone, his voice traveling over my skin like a caress that I shake off. "Say yes."

My thighs clench, and I scrub at my eyes. "No. Now I'm hanging up."

"Wait , I know I've asked a fuckton from you, Anna. Shit that I didn't even know I was asking. Or realize it, I guess. Shit I had no right to ask for and technically I'm asking more from you, but all I'm really after is a chance."

My heart splinters a little more, more tears sliding past my defenses. "Chance for what?"

"To make it up to you. Be with you. To show you. Feel you, earn you, trust you, and lo—"

"Toby, stop." I tighten my grip on the phone, my throat threatening to choke me. "It can't and won't happen, okay? I'm leaving the label for me, and I am not changing my mind."

"But, Anna—"

With tear-stained cheeks and an unbearable ache I will never be able to fill, I pull the phone away from my ear and finally hang up.

Fool me once …