Ripped: The Price of Loyalty by Tania Joyce

 

Chapter 12

At Kyle’s and Hunter’s apartment, Gemma stretched out on the chaise and closed her eyes. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, but it felt like three in the morning. The long day at the studio had left her bone tired, and with Hunter getting ready to go out with Amie, Gemma’s mind had filled with concern. Why would he rather go out with Amie for work instead of spending time with her?

“Here.” Kyle handed her a JD on ice and flopped down on the sofa beside her. “Are you happy with all the songs we’ve selected today?”

“Yeah. I am. Thanks for the not so subtle reminder to pull my head in with Jeremy.” Gemma pressed the cold glass against her cheek. “We’ve ended up with some stellar tracks and I know we’ll make them our own once we hit the studio.”

“We’ll nail them. We always do.” Kyle twisted his glass in his hand. “Something about Jeremy was off, though. He didn’t like you having a go at him.”

“No. That was a bit of a shock.” Jeremy’s bluntness and threats did nothing to ease the knots of suspicion tightening in Gemma’s gut. But if she waited for Kyle and Hunter to makes things happen, she’d still be sitting in Kyle’s garage back in New Jersey trying to land their first gig. Kyle had developed a great business sense and team leadership skills, but when it came to moving forward he needed a good shove in the right direction. Before they signed with SureHaven and got Amie as their manager, Gemma had always been the one to chase gigs, enter contests, and push them to follow their dreams. And she’d continue to do so until they got what they wanted. “You know me, I’m always wanting more.”

“Don’t you already have everything?” His sharp tone made her spin around to face him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well . . .” He shrugged. “You have music, we have another record to work on . . . and you have Hunt. What else could you possibly want?”

“An album of our own music.” She smiled and slapped him on the thigh. But today she’d had enough talk about albums and contracts and songs. “It’s getting late. It’s time for me to go home.” Gemma yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. Since the boys had been away, she’d moved back to her own place. The stairs were a struggle with crutches, but she managed. She’d survived on takeaway food, and relied on her housekeeper cleaning up her mess, and her girlfriends visiting often. “Hunt’s going out. You’re tired, and so am I.”

Kyle sipped his drink and crunched on a piece of ice. “Why don’t you stay for dinner? I’ll cook, then walk you home.”

“That would be nice.” Gemma hadn’t found the energy to move off the sofa yet. “Let’s order in.”

“Nah. I want to cook. I need to do something to help wind down after a big day.”

“I love your cooking. Especially when you come over to my place and we whiz up a storm together. God, we haven’t done that in months.”

Kyle’s chest rose and fell with slow, rhythmic breaths. His eyes fluttered closed. “Things are different now, Gem.”

“I know. But it shouldn’t be. Think about today when we sang our song.”

It had been nothing short of electric. Like a charge amplifier surging with full power. Did he feel it too? Their connection? How strong their friendship was? When they sang a song they had written together, it was as if no one else existed. Not even Hunter.

And why was that? She wanted to feel that vibe with Hunter. She wanted that creativity and passion and power to take over her when she was singing with him. But maybe her bond with Hunter was, and would always be, different.

“Yeah, singing ‘Light Up the World’ was awesome.” Kyle’s reassuring tone put her at ease. “Put Jeremy in his place, didn’t we?”

“We certainly did.”

He turned to face her and a cool smile slide across his lips. How lucky was she to have two amazing guys in her life and make music every day for a living?

Shoes clicking on the floorboards caught her attention. Hunter strode over, and her mouth gaped. Her body temperature jumped a few degrees. Yep, her chemistry with Hunter was entirely different to hers and Kyle’s. Hunter was all dressed up in a charcoal suit and black paisley shirt and was tying his black necktie. A twang struck hard on her heartstrings. She wished she was going out with him for the evening.

“You’re all spruced up.” She scanned him up and down. “It’s a bit much for going to see a band play, isn’t it?”

“Amie and I are going to grab a bite to eat before we check out the band. So . . . voila.” He spun around, showing off his threads. “Do I scrub up okay, babe?”

“You know you do. But seriously?” Gemma jerked her chin back, not impressed that Hunter made the effort to go out with Amie and not her. “When are we going to go out to dinner?”

“I’d love to take you out. Does that mean you’re ready to face the paparazzi and media frenzy?”

Worry slammed into her chest. Fear strangled her throat. If the paparazzi found out that she was with Hunter, they’d trail her and Hunter’s every move like they had when she was with Ben. She wasn’t ready to have her private life splashed all over the Internet again. Not yet. “Can we wait until my cast is off?”

“Of course we can. Don’t stress, babe.” Hunter swept toward her and kissed her on the cheek. Standing back upright, he slapped Kyle on the shoulder. “Bud, you okay to look after my paranoid girlfriend?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Kyle grunted and finished his drink.

“Just checking.” Hunter’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He grabbed it and glanced at the screen. “The driver’s downstairs. I’ve gotta go. I’ll be home around midnight. Don’t wait up.” With a skip in his step he headed for the elevator. “See you tomorrow.” He waved over his shoulder and disappeared through the doors.

Gemma pulled her hairband out of her hair and snapped it over her wrist. She rested her head back, folded her arms and sighed. She missed running around and going to events with the guys. Being locked up in her own apartment or here at Kyle’s and Hunter’s place was sending her stir crazy. Damn broken leg. She had three weeks to go. Three weeks until she got her cast off. Sinking deeper into the cushions, her belly grumbled.

Kyle chuckled. “Is that your way of telling me you’d like me to organize dinner?”

“Yes, please.”

“How about I make gnocchi?”

“You know that’s my favorite. But you can only cook on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“I help you.”

“You sure can.”

Kyle stood up, grabbed her hands, and pulled her off the seat. But he was too strong and pulled her too fast, and she overbalanced. She stumbled forward and collided with his rock-solid chest. His hands shot around her waist and held her steady.

She was locked within his hold, and he didn’t let go. “You got your feet, Gem?”

She tilted her chin and met his dark eyes that glistened with their usual warmth. His heart beat rhythmically beneath her hand like a mechanical metronome. Her shoulders relaxed, and their comfortable silence lingered for seconds, but it could have gone on for hours.

Why didn’t she feel at ease like this with Hunter? Each kiss, each touch, each moment alone with him was awkward and riddled with anxiety. Was it because they were both holding back because of her no-sex rule? Maybe that was it. Had to be it. Slouching her shoulders, she stepped away from Kyle. “Sorry for being clumsy. Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime.” He hesitated before he handed her the crutches, skirted around the furniture, and headed over to the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s cook.”

Gemma hobbled after him. “So, chef, what can I do to help?”

Kyle opened drawers and pulled out pots and pans, cutting boards, knives, and utensils, then a mixture of ingredients from the pantry and the fridge.

“Would you like to peel the potatoes?”

“That would be right. Give me the worst job.”

“You offered to help.” He grinned, dumping the bag of spuds in front of her.

“What sauce do you want with it?” he asked, standing in front of the opened fridge. “Tomato and onion, creamy garlic . . . no, wait . . . there’s no cream. Tomato and garlic it is.”

Side by side, they fell into making gnocchi, working together like rhythm and harmony. Kyle made the sauce. Gemma peeled the potatoes; Kyle washed them and put them into the pot to boil.

Grabbing the onions, Gemma started to dice. Half way through the first one, her eyes began to sting—sting painfully. Tears streamed down her face, blurring her vision and sense of direction. “Quick, I need a dish towel.” She flapped her hands in front of her face. “I can’t see.”

“Here, will these do?” She heard the rip of paper towels, and Kyle thrust a bunch into her hands.

She buried her face and wiped her eyes. She blinked several times and looked up at Kyle standing before her.

“Are you okay?” He gently rubbed the top of her arm. The combination of humor glinting in his eyes and concern flicking across his face stirred something strange deep within her belly.

What was that?

“Here.” He inched closer, brushed her cheek with his fingertip and traced along the line of her jaw. “You forgot one,” he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered shut. His touch felt like silk gliding over her skin. She inhaled a slow, deep breath. Lingering near her lips, his fingers circled her skin in tender strokes.

Panic seized her throat.

Oh God, what was he doing? Was he going to kiss her?

God, no.

No. No. NO. NO. NO.

Her eyes shot open and she met his intense gaze. The golden flecks in his eyes darkened, but within a blink it was gone.

She jerked her chin away and turned to face the counter. A jolting breath shot from her lungs. Vertigo hit, and she wobbled on her foot.

What was wrong with her? Kyle wouldn’t kiss her. No way. Her active imagination was screwing with her head. “Um . . . thanks for the paper towels.” Her voice snagged in her dry throat. “Let’s get this gnocchi on. I’m starving.”

Kyle dashed over to the stove top and stirred his bubbling sauce. “Me too.”

She sniffed loudly, wiped her watery eyes once again, picked up the knife, and continued to chop the onions.

That buzz from Kyle’s touch left her rattled. It was nothing like she’d ever experienced with Hunter. And she wanted to. Wanted Hunter to make her body sing. She hacked at the onion lying on top of the cutting board, pulverizing it into a mash.

Now more than ever she couldn’t wait to get her cast off. She was sick and tired of being hindered by her broken leg. The lack of sex had messed with her brain. This no-sex rule was ridiculous. It was the reason why she was struggling to connect with Hunter. The reason why he was keeping his distance. Enough was enough. No more stupid rule. Decision made. The minute Hunter came home tonight, he was hers.

He was due home at midnight.

She glanced at the wall clock.

Three and a half hours to go.

The countdown was on.

* * *

After Kyle’s delicious gnocchi, Gemma sat at the kitchen counter drinking JD while Kyle cleaned. He washed pots and pans, put glasses away, packed the dishwasher, and turned it on. But making, cooking, eating, and cleaning up after dinner had only taken one and a half hours. Gemma jiggled her foot on the footrest and glanced at the clock for the hundredth time.

Hunter was due home in about two hours.

Maybe watching TV would help pass the time. Sliding off the stool, Gemma placed her crutches under her arms and grabbed her glass to head over to the sofa. Struggling to carry her drink and co-ordinate her crutches, she stumbled, wobbled, and spilled her JD. One of her crutches crashed to the floor with a bang.

“Shit.” She wasn’t sure if her hands were shaking from her lack of co-ordination or in anticipation of Hunter coming home. “This is so frustrating. I can’t do anything myself. I’m useless.”

“Here.” Kyle rushed to her aid, grabbing her crutch off the floor. “You should’ve asked. You know I’ll help you.”

She snatched her crutch from him and hooked it under her arm. Her head and her heart pounded. Butterflies had turned to bats in her stomach. She hated waiting. She wished Hunter would hurry up and get home.

“You’re not totally useless. Just somewhat.” Kyle’s smile betrayed him.

In situations like this, there was only one thing to do.

Play music.

Hard music.

Rip it up on her guitar for the whole of Tribeca to hear.

“Why don’t I top up our drinks and we go belt out some tunes?” Kyle jutted his head in the direction of the music room.

Gemma’s head fell back, cracking the tension in her neck. Kyle always knew exactly what she needed. It wasn’t TV, it was music. “That. Sounds. Perfect.”

“I’ll see you in there.”

Gemma shuffled down the hallway into the home studio. Stretching her leg out, she sat at the desk covered in computer equipment, monitors and mics. A handful of papers covered in Kyle’s scribble captured her eye. She smiled, wondering what lyrics he’d being working on. Many things they jotted down never amounted to anything, but she loved to see what he’d been writing. She grabbed the top few sheets and read.

She stopped at one page, caught by the deep-cutting, crossed-out lines that dug into the paper. The date in the top right-hand corner was from last week when he was in LA.

 

When I’m with you, I’m no longer broken,

You know how I feel, even words are never spoken.

Feel my heart beat, my love for you’s so strong,

You and me girl, we’re meant to belong.

 

I get lost, in your green eyes,

Smile so bright, I lose my mind.

My heart beats, just for you,

I searched the world, no one else will do.

 

Gemma flicked to the next page.

 

You hold my heart,

In your hands.

Dance with me,

I’m your man.

When the light,

Hits your face.

It takes me to,

Another place.

 

And the next. The paper shaking in her hand.

 

When I see you, be with him,

I don’t know, where to begin.

It breaks my heart, every time,

Knowing all along, you should be mine.

 

So take this shattered, piece of me,

Coz without you, I cannot breathe.

The ache inside, runs way too deep,

This smile I wear, is too hard to keep.

 

I want your kiss, I want your touch.

Can’t you see, Can’t you see, Can’t you see.

That I, love you so much.

It hurts like hell, to live and breathe,

Coz in this world, you’re all I need.

Can’t you see, Can’t you see, Can’t you see,

That I, love you girl.

 

What’s it going to take, to make you mine,

I’ve loved you, for all of time.

I’d treat you better, than he does now,

Give me the chance, I’ll show you how.

 

Her heart squeezed and squeezed, tighter and tighter inside her chest with every line she read. Her lips trembled. Tears stung her eyes as she read page after page after page.

He’d lied to her. Kyle had lied to her.

He’d said he wasn’t upset or jealous about her being with Hunter. But here it was in black and white. Just how deep did Kyle’s feelings run for her?

A cocktail of hurt, being pissed off, upset, disappointed, and concerned, blended inside her chest. He was her best friend, and she hated that she was the cause of all his pain.

The door swung open and in he walked, carrying drinks.

Gemma stared at him, struggling to piece words together. “What’s all this?” The pages quivered in her hand.

He placed the drinks on the desk and snatched the sheets from her. “Nothing. It’s just some crap I was working on the other day. I meant to throw it out.”

“Kyle—”

“Gem, please.” His whipping tone cut her off. “Forget it.”

She shot back the JD and slammed the glass down. “You told me before you left for LA that you were okay with me and Hunt being together. That you weren’t jealous or upset. Was that all bullshit? Because these lyrics tells a completely different story.”

“What the hell makes you think they’re about you?” He stuffed the pages into his folder and threw it onto the floor by the door.

“Aren’t they? If they aren’t about me, who are they about then?”

“Fuck, Gemma.” He ripped his fingers through his unruly hair. “They’re just words.”

“No . . . they’re not.”

He groaned, tensed his jaw, and stared at the ceiling. “What do you want me to say, Gem? Yes, they’re about you. Yes, it’s how I feel about you. Yes, I mean every word. But what fucking difference is it going to make? You’re my best friend’s girlfriend.” He placed his hand over his heart. “You’re . . . and I truly believe it . . . my soul mate. That will never change. But the thing is, at the end of the day, you’re not mine. You’re Hunter’s. So somehow, I have to learn to live with this fucked up situation, now, don’t I?”

Gemma’s heart plummeted to the ground like a dead weight. The pain in his eyes made her curl over. Kyle liked her? Really liked her. Why had everything in her world gotten so fucked up? It was never supposed to be like this. But if he had a problem with her, he should have said something sooner. Not that it would have changed anything, but at least they could have dealt with it. She sat straight and clenched her fists. “Yes, it’s fucked. I care about you so much. But I’m with Hunter. And plan to be for a very long time. So, deal with it.”

“I am. I will be fine.”

“I can’t believe you lied to me.” Gemma’s heart struggled to beat. “Don’t ever lie to me again.”

“Yeah well. Shit happens.”

Kyle picked up his electric guitar, plugged it in, and strummed at the steel strings with such force Gemma thought they were going to snap.

“Let’s play,” he said.

The opening riff of AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck”charged the air, fueling the fire lurking beneath her skin. Kyle’s fingers danced across the strings, over and over again, that ne-er ne-er ne-er . . . nah ah ah er ah ah ah . . . thunder music taunting her to the challenge.

Gemma ripped her hairband off her wrist and pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail. She hobbled over to her stand, grabbed her guitar, and hooked the strap over her shoulders. She struck at her strings and played.

Then it was on.

With wild eyes blazing at each other, they played.

The crazed noise bordered on deafening. The vibrations and charge from each stroke reverberated through her entire body like an electrical storm. She attacked each fret, dueling note for note with Kyle standing opposite her. He played high; she played low. They played note for note. If they held swords, this would be a fight until death or surrender.

AC/DC turned into Santana which turned into Bon Jovi, then Five Seconds of Summer before they hammered out their own rock tracks. Neither of them said a word. They just played—played and let the music vent all that had to be said.

Three hours disappeared. Sweat flew when Kyle flicked his head. Her own perspiration trickled down her spine, and strands of her hair clung to her neck. Their shirts stuck to their saturated bodies. Gemma’s heart pumped hard, but her callused fingers never faltered.

At one a.m. her body had had enough. Puffing and panting she placed her guitar down. She’d lost track of time, and Hunter still wasn’t home. “I’m done,” she said. “I’m gonna call it a night. It’s late. I’m going to crash here and go home in the morning.” She hobbled for the door, stopped, and turned back to face Kyle. “Are we good?”

“Yeah, Gem. Always.”

Pity she didn’t believe him.

The elevator pinged down the far end of the hallway, and Hunter stumbled in.

“Kyle?” Hunter called at the top of his voice. “Kyle? You up?”

There was a loud thud against the wall.

Gemma moaned. “Great. Hunt sounds off his nut. We better go help him.”

There went her grand plans for what she wanted to do with him when he got home. Not that she was in the mood anymore. Not after her run-in with Kyle.

Gemma swung on her crutches down to the living room, Kyle following close behind. Hunter lay face down on the sofa, head turned deep into the cushions. His jacket hung half off his shoulders. His hair fell loose around his collar. He stank of whiskey and cigarettes.

“That’s my boyfriend,” she mumbled under her breath. “Hunt, you awake?” She nudged him on the shoulder. He groaned but didn’t turn to face her. Had he passed out? That wasn’t like him. He could drink a bottle of whiskey and not be this intoxicated. The band must have been really good . . . or really bad . . . to end up in this state. Either way, she felt jealous for missing a big night out.

“Should we try and get him to bed?” Gemma asked Kyle while looking at Hunter sprawled on the couch.

“Nah. Fuck him. He can stay here. Let him sleep it off. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d passed out here.”

“You sure?”

Kyle nodded, seemingly unconcerned.

“Well, I can’t move him. Guess he’s staying here then.” She glanced up at Kyle and smiled. But it wasn’t a happy smile. It was an I’m-sorry-for-everything smile. Kyle’s nod reflected her sentiments.

“Thanks for dinner tonight,” she said. “That was the best gnocchi I’ve had in months. You’re the best—don’t forget it.”

Hurt flashed in Kyle’s eyes, and her insides curled. Her flippant saying she’d always said to him suddenly took on a different light. How cruel were those words to him? She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, Gem. Let’s call it a night.” He turned and headed to his room.

After showering and brushing her teeth, Gemma crawled into bed in the spare room and drew the blankets up to her chin. She turned on her side and tugged the pillow under her head. Before she turned the nightstand light off, she stared at the photo hanging on the wall of the three of them at the Grammys. Hunter playing up to the photographers, waving. Her in the middle—she remembered being blinded by all the flash lights. And there was Kyle on her right, looking down at her. His arm tucked around her waist.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. With so many thoughts racing through her mind, her heart struggled to find peace. She hated seeing Kyle hurt after discovering he had true feelings for her. It made her feel shitty and awful and like the worst person in the world. But what on earth could she do?

She was with Hunter.

She was committed to that.

She wanted him in every possible way.

With all her heart and soul, mind and body she wanted to be his.

Things may not have gone to plan tonight, but tomorrow was another day. She hoped Hunter didn’t have a hangover in the morning, because they needed to be together. Maybe she should take him back to her place so they could be alone. Away from Kyle. Yes, that was the plan. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, warmth filled her chest. With no rules in place, it was time to take their relationship to the next level.