Ripped: The Price of Loyalty by Tania Joyce

 

Chapter 13

Kyle sat on the single sofa chair, plucking away at his acoustic guitar. Hunter lay on the sofa opposite him, still asleep from last night. The serene music wafting through the air was the only thing that kept Kyle calm. Kept his breathing controlled. Kept him in a Zen-like state. But when Hunter stirred, Kyle’s notes grew louder and louder. He envisaged every note he struck was a blow to Hunter’s guts.

Kyle clenched his hand around the neck of his guitar and stared at the evidence before him. There were lipstick marks around Hunter’s mouth. Two buttons were missing from his shirt. A red scratch mark sliced across his chest. Kyle strummed at his guitar even louder.

Hunter had to have a valid explanation.

Kyle’s fingers slipped on the strings, and the screech pierced the air.

“Do you have to do that here?” Hunter sat up. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair a mass of tangled knots, his skin pale and blotchy.

“What’s up your ass this morning?” Hunter rubbed at his stubble.

“You tell me,” Kyle snapped with venom. He put his guitar on the floor and glared at Hunter. “What happened last night? Better tell me everything before Gemma wakes up.”

“What are you talking about? I went to see the band with Amie. And the way my head feels, I guess I drank too much.” Hunter’s voice didn’t falter, but his gaze darted around the room.

“Then why the fuck are your buttons missing, and why is there lipstick all over you?”

What little color that was left in Hunter’s face drained away. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. He wiped his fingers over his lips and rubbed at the corners of his mouth.

“Were you mobbed by fans last night? Or did you screw someone behind Gemma’s back?” Kyle clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. “I said I’d fucking kill you if you hurt her.”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone.” Hunter mumbled.

“If I recall correctly, you don’t wear lipstick either.” Anger swirled through Kyle’s veins, ready to explode and scream like Slipknot.

Hunter tugged at his shirt collar and closed his eyes. “Amie kissed me.” He shot his hand up to stop Kyle from speaking. “Before you go off the deep end, it was nothing. Just a drunken, one-time, will-never-happen-again good-night kiss when the driver dropped me home.”

“What the hell?” Kyle’s voice raised several octaves. He didn’t care if he woke the entire district. “She’s our manager. What were you thinking? What . . . about . . . Gemma?”

Hunter flinched and buried his face into his hands. “I fucked up, okay?” He raised his eyes. “Don’t say anything. Please. I beg you.”

“The hell I won’t.” Kyle jumped to his feet and stared out at the traffic heading down Sixth Avenue. Tension snaked its way up from his toes and dug into the base of his neck. How could Hunter do this to Gemma? Kyle should’ve known Hunter wouldn’t be able to control himself. Anyone who batted an eyelid in his direction was always going to be a temptation.

Hunter needed a lesson in self-control. That was all Kyle had done for weeks—display self-control. Music had been his only outlet to deal with the way he felt about Gemma.

He spun around and jabbed his finger at Hunter. “You tell Gem or I will,” he spat. “We made a pact never to tell any lies, because that’s when problems start. We’ve always been honest with each other. Remember?”

Hunter huffed, throwing a cold smirk in his direction. “Speak for yourself, bud.”

Kyle balked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Kyle, I’m not blind. I know how you feel about Gem. I know you love her.”

Kyle’s knees buckled. The sharpness in Hunter’s voice speared through Kyle’s heart.

“But she’s my girlfriend. I trust you around her. Always have and always will. Because I love her, too. I really do.”

Kyle’s throat constricted, and his pulse whooshed in his ears. A shudder jolted into the depths of his bones. Hunter, Mr. Self-Centered himself, was more observant than he realized. He swallowed his pain. “Then prove it, Hunt. I mean it. If you love her anywhere near as much as I do, you wouldn’t be doing any of this shit.” He waved a hand in the air. “Tell her about last night or I will.”

“Tell me what?”

Gemma appeared out of the hallway. Her eyes shone bright, ready for the day dressed in a few of the clothes she kept in the spare room. With her oversized T-shirt hanging off one shoulder, her sweatpants rolled at the cuffs, an old sock of Hunter’s covering the bottom of her cast and one running shoe on her other foot, she looked ready to head out for a walk.

Hunter shot to his feet and kicked his shin against the coffee table. “Ow. Fuck.”

Hot blood surged through Kyle’s veins. Gemma hadn’t heard. She didn’t know. He placed his hands on the back of the sofa chair and leaned forward. Glaring at Hunter, he struggled to speak through his clenched teeth. “Tell her.”

“Guys, what’s going on?” Gemma’s gaze darted back and forth between them.

Hunter gave him an evil glare. “Asshole.”

Kyle’s skin prickled. But there was no way Hunter was going to get away with this. This wasn’t about wanting to break Hunter and Gemma up. No way. He’d never do that. It was about honesty, their friendship, and loyalty. Kyle hated being torn in opposite directions, but Gemma had to know. His ribcage ached, and the knots in his stomach twisted tighter.

Would Hunter ever forgive him? Would Gemma ever forgive Hunter? Would the three of them survive this mess?

Kyle’s eyes burned into Hunter. “Last warning. Tell her.”

Hunter lowered his head. “I fucking hate you, Kyle.” He swung around to face Gemma. Her face was drawn with concern, and she stared at Hunter, her green eyes wide. Hunter let out a deep breath, and his shoulders slouched. “I kissed . . . I mean . . . Amie kissed me last night.”

***

Gemma’s knees weakened, and she clutched onto her crutches to keep upright. A blaring sound, like a thousand New York taxis honking their horns at once, exploded inside her head.

“What? What kind of kiss? A kiss on the cheek? The lips? Or hot and heavy?” The babble fell from her mouth.

Hunter’s gaze fell to the floor, and he fumbled with his open shirt. “I guess . . . heavy. We were drunk.”

Oh. My. God. With Amie? That fucking bitch.

Labored breaths charged in and out of her lungs. Numbness invaded her chest and blocked her senses.

She couldn’t think.

She couldn’t breathe.

She needed fresh air.

Hunter stepped toward her, but she held up her finger to stop his advance. “Don’t. Just don’t, Hunt.”

She shuffled back down the hallway, pressed the elevator button with her trembling fingers, and slipped inside. Hobbling out onto the building’s pool deck, she made her way to the far end of the lap pool as fast as her arms could work her crutches. Past the line of sun lounges, folded umbrellas and spa, she sat on the bench underneath the huge potted tree and threw her crutches to the ground. Being a weekday, there was no one else around, and she had the place to herself. All alone. And somehow, she had to process what Hunter had just said.

He’d cheated on her.

With Amie.

The late April morning weather made Gemma shiver. A short, sharp laugh burst from her lungs, and she stared up at the leaves rustling in the breeze. Was she kidding herself to think Hunter would stop his womanizing ways for her? Even though he’d promised to do so.

Tears stung the backs of her eyes knowing she couldn’t tolerate cheating. It was what had driven Gemma’s father away from her mother. She’d seen it ruin too many people’s lives.

“Gem?”

She swung her head around to see Hunter approach, one slow step after the next.

He stopped when the caretaker appeared, walked over to the bins, took the trash out, waved in their direction, and disappeared out the door.

He seemed to breathe again once the caretaker had gone. Wearing a fresh, faded red shirt, Hunter fell to his knees in front of her.

“Babe.” Agony weighed down his deep voice. “I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry. I mean that with all my heart. I never meant hurt you. Being drunk is no excuse.”

“You promised me.” Her voice quivered in her throat and a tear escaped, catching on her cheek. “You said you’d change.”

“I know, and I meant it. I fucked up.”

“Amie?” Gemma could taste acid on her tongue. “Of all people on the planet, you had to kiss her? I can barely be in the same room with her. And you . . . you go and kiss her.”

“It was drunken stupidity. That’s all.”

Gemma stared into the depths of the lap pool. She’d heard this drunk excuse too much lately—first from Kyle, now from Hunter. “How far did you go?”

“It was a stupid kiss. I swear it was nothing.” Hunter crawled on his knees closer to her. “She was trying to get all over me, and I stopped her. I didn’t fuck her. This whole lack-of-sex thing between you and I is frustrating the hell out of me, because I want to be with you and I can’t.”

Gemma’s eyes widened, and fury licked through her veins. “So, this is somehow my fault?”

“No. No. Not at all. It’s mine. Please, Gem, I’m begging you.” He edged in between her legs. “It won’t happen again. You’re all I want. I care too much about you to lose you over a stupid kiss.”

She looked at him through tear-swollen eyes. “Hunt, this is too hard. We’re not working. I thought being with you would be easier than this.”

“Babe, we’ll make it work. With us being apart for vacation and travel, I admit, the last few weeks have been hard. But you get your cast off in three weeks, and everything will be back to normal. We’ll be fine. Give me a chance. Give us a chance.” Hunter touched the side of her face, but she looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

It would be so easy to walk away. Right now. Just say it’s over.

“Gem, I’m yours.” Hunter stroked the side of her cheek. “That’s all that matters. Don’t quit on me, babe.”

Hunter’s words tugged hard on the chords in her heart. He’d played his ace. Her mother was a quitter. So was her dad. When times had gotten tough, they’d walked away. She was never going to be like that. She’d committed herself to Hunter. Was this just the first rough patch in their relationship? Should they work through it?

But cheating? How could she ever trust him again? Was this the final rope where she had to cut him loose, so it wouldn’t affect their band anymore? She couldn’t risk their friendship over this. Or was it too late and too much damage had been done? So much for taking a chance on love again. All it did was cause pain.

Hunter’s eyes burned into hers, their usual sparkle gone. “I will do anything to make this up to you. Name it. I’ll do it.”

Sweet revenge swirled through Gemma’s mind. “Can we fire Amie?”

“What?” Hunter coughed and choked.

“If the three of us agree . . . she’s gone.”

“We can’t do that.” He sat back on his haunches. “Are you serious?”

The thought of getting rid of Amie did have its appeal, but she was a damn good manager. It would be hard to replace her, but Gemma was over her tyrannical ways. And now this.

Gemma sighed, slouching her shoulders. “Yes, I am. But I doubt if I’d ever win that battle. So if you so much as smile in her direction, I’ll rip your balls out through your throat.”

“I do like my balls where they are.” Hunter placed his hands on her thighs. “Please, Gem, forgive me. Tell me we’re okay. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry before you’ll believe me?”

Gemma watched the pool’s surface ripple in the breeze, searching for a way forward.

“I trusted you, Hunt.” She stabbed her finger against his chest.

“And you can again.” He took her hand in his and entwined their fingers.

Sucking in a deep breath, Gemma reinforced the protective wall around her heart. What Hunter had done hurt like hell, but it didn’t break her. He hadn’t knocked down her barrier, even though he’d started to wear his way through. Seeing him here on the ground before her, begging for forgiveness, she had to believe they could make their relationship work.

She wasn’t a quitter.

But she wasn’t going to be naïve, either.

“You hurt me, Hunt. Real bad. Don’t ever do it again.” Teardrops wet her lashes, and she wiped them away with the back of her hand. She swallowed hard, trying to settle the unease in her stomach that hadn’t gone away since last night with Kyle. He was hurt. She was hurt. And so was Hunter. What a mess. “And Hunt . . . there’s something else, too. It’s about Kyle. Have you talked to him? About us? Because last night I found out he’s not handling us being together well.”

Hunter tugged at the cross on his necklace. “No, we haven’t talked. He’ll be fine. I know he cares about you and has promised to turn me black and blue if I ever fuck up again.”

Gemma ran her fingers through Hunter’s hair, the soft strands slipping through her fingertips. “He won’t get the chance, because if you do, I’ll beat him to it.”

“You won’t ever have to, Gem. I promise.” He took her hand in his and kissed it. “So where does that leave us? Are we going to be okay?” Hunter asked, his eyes clouded over like a dull day.

Gemma had been asking herself the same question over and over again. “I hope so,” she said. “Let’s take it one day at a time. Don’t push it, because I’m still not over last night.”

“Babe, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be the best boyfriend you’ve ever seen. Why don’t you let me organize a party for your birthday after we get back from Vegas? I want to do something special for you.”

Now a party did sound like fun. Hunter and fun always went well together.

“I’d like that,” she said.

He leaned in and wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head against his shoulder and rubbed her hands up and down his back. He nuzzled into her neck, his breath warm on her skin. “And you want to know what the best thing about your birthday is?” He kissed his way up to her ear, nibbled on her lobe, and whispered, “Your cast will be off. And things will be better. I promise.”