Ripped: The Price of Loyalty by Tania Joyce

 

Chapter 9

Gemma hobbled as fast as she could out into the hallway behind Hunter and found Kyle sitting on the floor, back against the wall, drinking straight from a bottle of JD. His eyes red. His hair a mess.

Hunter groaned and hooked his hand underneath Kyle’s arm. “Come on bud. Let’s get you to bed.”

But Kyle shoved Hunter’s hand aside. “Fuck off. Leave me alone.” He hauled himself to his feet and stumbled down the hallway toward the living room.

Gemma hadn’t seen Kyle this drunk in years. Not since his parents died. Trying to talk to him about what the problem was proved futile. After half an hour Gemma gave up and headed back to bed, leaving Hunter with Kyle sitting on the sofa in the dark.

She fell asleep somewhere around 1:15a.m. But noise woke her early in the morning. Blinking her eyes open, she glared at the clock. 6:30a.m. She rolled onto her back, stared at the ceiling and swore. Why was the sound of beating drums and thrashing cymbals drifting down the hallway at this hour? She was going to kill Kyle. So much for soundproofing. So much for using drum mutes.

She wiped the tiredness from her eyes, not recalling Hunter coming back into the room after dealing with Kyle.

She rolled toward Hunter. He lay with his bare back toward her, the black sheet draped lazily over his waist. But seriously, could he sleep any farther away from her in his huge bed? It looked as if he was about to fall over the side. His chest rose and fell slowly with each breath, the consistent rhythm a sure sign he was sound asleep. Gemma scanned his perfect body, taking in his dark hair falling in soft waves on the pillow, his tattooed upper arm, the intricate detail of the guitar and snake wound together like a treble clef on his shoulder blade, and the small dip in his back. Hmm . . . maybe she could get used to waking up next to him every morning.

Rubbing her fingertips together, she reached out to touch him, but stopped with her hand suspended in midair. Why did she find it so difficult to touch him? Last night, the champagne had helped to break her inhibitions. When they’d kissed and gotten carried away, it had felt good. Hell, she’d even got turned on. Who wouldn’t have? But there was this barricade she couldn’t get past. She wanted to lose herself in him, but every time he came close, jittery nerves and stomach knots consumed her. Hunter was hot. Gorgeous, in fact. So what the hell was wrong with her?

The thudding noise from down the hallway pulled her thoughts away from Hunter. She peeled the sheet off her slowly, grabbed her crutches, and snuck out of the room. As she made her way down the hallway toward the music room, the noise grew louder and louder. Clangs and crashes and chaos. Kyle obviously had no regard for those who wanted to sleep. She was in the right frame of mind to tell him where to shove his drum kit.

She eased the door open and peered inside. Her heart jolted at the sight before her. Kyle sat thrashing away on the drums, striking at the cymbals, the snare, and toms, the sticks nothing but a blur in his hands. His eyes were closed, totally lost in the beat. Sweat glistened on his shirtless body; his muscles pumped. Veins protruded along the lengths of his arms like twisted cords and cables. Jean-clad legs struck the base pedal. Lips mouthed words she couldn’t make out. Her nose wrinkled at the reek of alcohol in the air; a near empty bottle of JD stood near his feet.

Kyle could play guitar, bass, and piano, all to perfection. While drums were not his specialty, watching him was awestriking. His passion, unrelenting. Gone was the will to abuse him—now she just wanted to see him in action. She slipped into the room shutting the door behind her, shuffled her way past racks of guitars and a pile of mics and power cords over to the digital piano and sat on the stool. Kyle seemed unaware of her presence, not faltering in his performance.

The beat was raw, angry, and intense. It was all over the place with no clear structure. But after a few minutes, it gathered an even rhythm and she joined in, tapping her fingers against her thigh. Whatever Kyle was playing, she liked it. The power of the music struck her right in the solar plexus and charged every one of her nerve endings. It was like nothing she’d ever heard before.

The power of the music consumed her and took over her body. Watching Kyle moving to the beat, the notes appeared in her mind. The chords. The tempo. The melody. Flicking on the digital piano before her, she hovered her hands above the keys. First, she played a chord, then added in a key, then another, then another. Singing dah-dah-dee-dah-dah she fell in perfect sync with Kyle.

His eyes remained closed, shut tight. The muscles in his strained jaw ticked. He had to know she was there, but the music ruled the moment. That was how they wrote most of their songs together. The music guided them. Words created them. Moments made them.

Just like now.

Her hands glided across the piano keys in time with his drumbeat. Faster and faster they played. Wanting to capture the sound, Gemma hit the record button on the keyboard panel.

But Kyle’s strokes came louder and harder. More aggressive. Loaded and heavy. She pulled her shoulders back, trying to avoid the weight growing inside her chest. There was an element of pain in the beat that was almost too much to bear.

Gemma’s lips parted and her hand went to her chest. Her heart raced. It was one of the most moving pieces of music they’d ever created. But her skin prickled when Kyle stopped playing. He stared at her with cold, dark eyes. His chest heaved, and he sucked in one panting breath after the next.

“What are you doing here?” he snarled, then bent down, picked up the bottle of JD, and drank.

“You woke me up.” She blinked several times to bring her back from the beat that had transported her away. “You haven’t played the drums in months. That. Was. Incredible.”

“It’s nothing.” Kyle took another drink and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“How was your night out?” Gemma glanced at the almost drained bottle. “Still partying, I see.”

“It was fucking fantastic.” He slurred and swayed on the stool. “More importantly, how . . . was . . . yours?”

The frost in his tone caught her off guard. He never spoke to her like this. “Kyle, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Everything’s fucking great. Wonderful, in fact.”

“It doesn’t sound like it. Did something happen last night?” she asked. His chilling glare and ferocious vibe sent a shudder coursing across her skin. She rubbed her arm and wriggled on the stool. “Have I done something wrong? Has Hunt?”

A short, sharp laugh burst from his mouth. “Ye-ah. This has everything to do with you and Hunt. I didn’t want to be here listening to the two of you fuck all night. Was your date night amazing? All tulips and fine food and great champagne? Please, tell me all about it? No . . . wait.” He held up his hand to stop her. “I don’t want to know. It’s none of my God damn business.”

Why was he acting like this?

Kyle’s stinging words cut into her like razor-sharp knives. Tears stung at the backs of her eyes.

“Too right, it isn’t.” Gemma clawed her fingernails into her palms. “But for your information, we didn’t fuck all night. Not at all. We had dinner and watched a movie. I fell asleep in his room watching TV, you big ass.”

Kyle stood up and strode over to her, his boots thudding against the wooden floorboards. He stopped, bent down, and glared at her, just inches from her face. His bloodshot eyes burned with a raging fire. His drunken breath nearly knocked her off her seat. “You’re trying to tell me on your big romantic date night nothing happened. Somehow, I don’t believe you. If it was me, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you, and I’d make damn sure you wouldn’t be able to walk in the morning.”

Gemma’s mouth fell open. Her heart lurched toward her throat. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

He’d what?

Holy shit! Where was this coming from? She shook her head, dazed and confused.

Kyle straightened, reached over, and hit the replay button on the piano. He stood still. Music filled the room. Goose bumps darted across her skin.

Kyle’s mouth curled into a wicked smile. He put the bottle to his lips and drank. Gemma could feel the whisky burn in her own throat when he swallowed. He slammed the bottle down on top of the piano. His eyes bore into her, held her captive like a haunting melody. “I bet on my life you don’t make music like that with Hunt. I know you don’t. Only you and I will ever make music like that.

“Tell me you didn’t feel the connection with me. Tell me you didn’t burn for more of it. Tell me you didn’t feel one . . . single . . . thing.” Pain and anger sawed through his voice. He wiped his thumb and forefinger across his lips and grabbed his bottle.

Gemma’s heart hammered against her ribs, but she was unable to move an inch. Unable to breathe.

Kyle held his arms wide. “Didn’t think you could. Making music. Making magic. That’s what we do. You and me,” he spat, his voice loud and angry. “You should be with me . . . not him.” He stabbed his finger toward the door. He stepped back toward the doorway, the JD bottle swinging between his fingertips. “So . . . I’m done. Done with this shit.”

Kyle slammed the door behind him. Gemma jumped in her seat. Her whole body shook, and nausea flooded her stomach.

What the hell?

Her logical and rational thoughts kicked in. Kyle’s drunk. He’s tired. He’s still adjusting to me being with Hunter. Because there’s no way he could be jealous. No way. He would have said something to her if he’d had any issues.

But her heart didn’t want to be rational.

Or logical.

She whisked away a tear that had fallen on her cheek with trembling fingertips. Her relationship with Hunter shouldn’t be affecting Kyle like this. He’d said everything was okay. What the hell just happened?

Fuck! This was all her fault. It wasn’t ever supposed to be like this.

No . . . wait.

Kyle was the stupid one.

Gemma was following her heart. She had to. This thing with Kyle, whatever it was, was a bump in the road. They’d get through it. They always did. They had to, for the sake of their band. Otherwise, she had no future with Hunter. Music was more important. It always would be.

Still, she hated that things between the three of them were different now. Different because there were hearts involved. Hearts and emotions and feelings. Shit they’d never had to deal with when they were all just friends.

But what was making it even harder was she didn’t know what her heart was doing. It ached. It pummeled against her ribs. It bled.

Kyle was her rock. She needed him for strength. She hated seeing him hurt and shattered. Somehow, she had to make everything right. How was she going to put him back together?