Until we slept together.
I felt a little nauseated.
“Did they still see each other after?” I tried to sound unaffected, but my insides were burning with rage and jealousy.
“Not until that time in LA.” Jen looked off as though she were remembering. “I’m sure he figured that time had healed any wounds, and then—”
“That night,” I finished.
“Yep. He was scared shitless about catching something.” Jen scrubbed her fingers through her hair, a Deveraux trait. “Love him or hate him, thank God Carter really preached to those band boys the importance of wrapping it up.”
“I need to go see him.” I got up abruptly and moved toward the bedroom.
“You missed the last ferry, just go in the morning. Should give you both some time to cool down.” Jen clutched my hand and squeezed. “I’m off to bed.”
There was no way to sleep, so I packed my bag and sat in the kitchen watching YouTube videos until it was time to leave for the first ferry. After I arrived in Seattle, I headed straight to Jace’s condo, parked out front, and used my key to let myself in. Although muted, I knew from the sounds emanating from his condo where he was, even at the early hour.
I crept up to the practice room door, trying to be silent. Not that it mattered, Jace couldn’t have heard anything through the loud rhythmic thumping. The intricate and delicate beats juxtaposed with the heavy and hard thrashing made me stop to listen for a while.
I’d never taken the time to think about how much the intensity of Jace’s drumming mirrored his own emotions. Percussion was such a part of him, and he hadn’t touched his kit since he’d left the recording sessions in LA.
Sinking down on the wall next to the door, I was able to take a minute to look around Jace’s condo while I listened to him play. Most of the time we spent there was in his bedroom, it wasn’t really somewhere we hung out. Now that I was paying attention, it said a lot about my sexy drummer. The room was sparsely furnished with a table and chairs, a couch, and an ottoman. Otherwise, it was filled with various drums, LTZ swag, and boxes of books, clothes, and household items that looked like they were packed to bring over to my place.
Quietly, I opened the door to the practice room, which was covered in high-tech soundproofing that allowed him to practice whenever the mood struck. Jace’s back was to the door, he was shirtless wearing athletic shorts, his hair tied back in a blue bandana. Headphones covered his ears. His entire body was moving, muscular legs pumping the pedals, head bopping to the beat in his mind, ripped, tattooed arms like a blur as he pounded away on the skins.
Almost like he sensed I was there, his head turned to the side and I could see his profile. His eyes were closed, his mouth set in a grimace, which contorted his handsome face into an expression of elemental grief. He finished out the song. Witnessing him thrash on his drums as if his life was in shambles made tears spring to my eyes.
I wondered if I’d pushed him too far. He was a famous musician; his entire life was built around his career. For the past month, I’d monopolized every spare moment of his time.
Had I forced him into a life with me at my rescue? Had I inadvertently given him an ultimatum that kept him from making music with the people he loved in order to be with me? Had I been so focused on building my own life on the ranch that I’d completely steamrolled over the life he loved?
And now, he might be a father. Of a baby he didn’t remember fathering. Of course, he was freaking out, his entire life as he knew it was changing abruptly. It had to be overwhelming and scary. A sob slipped out and his drumming stopped abruptly. Jace wiped his brow and set his sticks into his stick-bag.
“I didn’t realize you were here,” he bellowed, and then took his headphones off. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell.”
“Don’t stop playing because of me,” I said, wiping my eyes.
“Why are you crying, Poppy?” Jace squeezed his eyes shut, his fist on his forehead.
“Your life is changing so fast, I’m just sorry—sorry for adding to your stress.” I struggled to express what I’m feeling. “You need this, Jace. I . . . I . . . want this for you. It’s part of you.”
“Yeah.” Jace sighed deeply.
“I love watching you play the drums.” I moved over to him and put my hands on his shoulders. “Play some more, Jace.”
“Okay.” He grabbed his sticks.
“Can I stay?”
“Whatever you want.”
Thump. Thump. Thump. His bass drum thudded. In moments, Jace’s entire body was moving again as he got lost in the rhythm. He was so beautiful; I admired his flexing arms and back. Unable to keep my hands to myself, I reached out and traced the tattoo on his shoulder. My touch broke his concentration and he abruptly stopped playing and set his sticks down on the snare.
Spinning on his stool to face me, Jace gripped my hips and pulled me in between his legs and rested his forehead on my stomach, I clutched his shoulders. We stayed that way for a long time, until he looked up at me, his green eyes piercing with an expression I couldn’t read.
“We need to take a break, Alex.” He held my gaze. He was serious.
“What do you mean?” Pain stabbed me through my heart.
“I need some time to get through all of this. Figure my shit out.”
“Okay, how long?” I mumbled, still in shock.
“As long as it takes.” His hands moved from my hips to lace his fingers through mine. “I’m not going to put you through all of this, you don’t have to worry.”
“I came here to tell you that I’m going to be right at your side no
