Fighting Weight Page 26

  “Tell me you’ll try hard.”

  “I promise I’ll try the hardest I can to let you fight with me if I need you,” I compromise.

  “I like that.”

  “I like you,” I quip, and he gives me a sweet smile.

  “I really fucking like you too, a lot. Now come here and kiss me, I need you closer.” He pulls me in so tightly that I’m practically lying on top of him. Somewhere during the course of our conversation, we’d wound up cuddled together on the carpet with me straddling him. It was unclear exactly who was seeking comfort from whom as we talked and talked like this for what felt like hours.

  I wrap my arms around Slater’s neck, pulling him in tight, craving a connection with this beautifully sensitive, brooding rock star with whom I’ve fallen so completely head over heels in love. Slater Jenkins is not what I expected, and my stomach dips as I realize how much I really do trust him, and how good it feels sharing this with him.

  “Thank you for listening, for being here,” I say, looking up into his cinnamon eyes, loving the warmth I see as his gaze reflects back to mine. I had thought for a moment or two earlier tonight that he might destroy my treehouse. Pissed wasn’t a strong enough adjective to describe Slater’s reaction when he was hearing everything from start to finish. I knew it was going to be hard to open up, but Slater made it easy. He listened, asked questions, and, best of all, he gave me breaks when he sensed I was too upset to continue.

  “Tell me about your tattoo,” he asks, rubbing the solid lines that connect the stars in Cygnus, and I decide this is the moment where I will finally share the hardest part of my story.

  Leaning back a little in his hold, I let out a heavy sigh. “It’s called Cygnus. It’s a constellation, a swan. It was one of the constellations Lucky showed me the night my mother shot and killed my father before taking her own life. The stars and constellations were always there for us, and kept us distracted and safe the night my mother took away the last pieces of our innocence. The night sky had always been a comfort for Lucky and me. We spent so many nights up in our treehouse looking for the beautiful, while ignoring the ugly only a few feet away.” I pause, meeting Slater’s soft smile. He rubs his hand down my back, comforting me.

  “Fuck, Ali, I can’t imagine,” Slater says, giving me some time. “I’m relieved you weren’t in the house for that. I can’t imagine, baby.” He rests his forehead on mine, and I’m grateful for the reprieve before going on.

  “Lucky was always trying to distract and protect me from my mother, from her cruelty and the harsh words she’d spew when she’d been drinking. We’d sneak outside to our treehouse at night and get lost in the stars. They were, and they still are, my comfort zone. That’s why this is my safe spot,” I say, letting Slater wipe the tears as they stream down my cheeks, “this is where I come to remind myself that there is good in the world when I’m feeling shitty. That awful night when my parents died, instead of seeing the gun and the blood and the brains and my family torn apart, Lucky showed me Cygnus.” I pause, a sob heaving through my body. Slater sits up so he can hold me close again. “So, I had this constellation tattooed on my wrist to remind me to fight, but I guess that’s something I didn’t manage to do very well, did I? I failed myself, failed Lucky. I didn’t plan for the way I am to be the way things turned out for me. I’d thought the tattoo would help me to shut out their voices, and remind me of Lucky and how he’s always been there. Remind myself that I’m a beautiful swan—and not an ugly duckling, or just a victim—when the voices became too much. But it didn’t do its job. I didn’t let it. Instead, the voices got in anyway, took over, and turned something I found so beautiful into the mess I am,” I admit, not realizing until now how strongly I really feel about my tattoo. “But I still love it, and I’ve started to see it for what it is again. Started to use it to remind myself of what I’ve lived through, started to be able to let it do its job again.”

  “Jesus, Alina. I had no idea. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been. You’re a fighter like no one I’ve ever seen. I hope you’ll look back on what you’ve fought against one day and see the battle you’ve won, and how amazing you are.”

  “I hope so. I hope I can keep up the fight. I just get so damn tired, sometimes. Sometimes it feels easier to give in than to keep the battle lines drawn.”

  “No. You’ll always fight it, Ali. And when you can’t, I will. You aren’t alone in this. Let me share this burden with you.

  “Slater. I—thank you,” is all I can seem to articulate, but then I get an idea. I reach for the old iPod I keep up here and scroll through its many playlists. I cue the song that has reminded me of Slater so often over the last two months, and how he makes me feel. “Will you listen to this song with me? It’s how I feel now, how I see and think of you. You’re my Iris,” I say, hitting play on the Goo Goo Dolls’ song. John Rzeznik’s voice takes over where my own words fail me. Slater sits quietly, taking in the haunting and beautiful lyrics. Midway through, it’s Slater’s choked up voice I hear, thanking me and nuzzling his face into the hollow of my neck, breathing me in, and holding me tight. I know with him by my side, it will be impossible to let myself fall again.

  “Thank god for you, Alina. Shit, you make me feel so damn much.” He looks me in the eyes, a dashingly sweet smile on his face, and I see he understands, he gets how important he is to me. “And I also say, thank fuck for Lucky. I’ll have to thank him myself for taking such good care of you until I got to you. I might have had to kick his ass if he hadn’t,” he says to lighten the mood, and it works. I laugh at the idle threat, knowing he’d be no match for my brother.

  Resting my head on Slater’s shoulder, I feel a wave of peace settle inside me after having lain all my secrets at his feet, knowing he’s still here and not going anywhere after everything I’ve said and done. Sitting in total silence, I realize Her voice is only a dull whisper now, a kind of soft muttering off in the distance, like She’s up in my attic rattling Her chains and quietly complaining to Herself. In fact, She’s been almost entirely mute since I wrote Her that letter.

  In Her place, I hear my own thoughts, Slater’s compliments, the girls’ supportive comments, Kristie’s wisdom, and Lucky’s reassuring words. Instead of sadness and the desire to cave, I feel Slater’s heartbeat against mine, and I can sense his belief in me. It gives me more strength than I ever thought I could possess. It helps me to believe in myself again. Taking in his scent, that one that’s so deliciously his, I sit here in his arms and know I’m going to be okay. Slater Jenkins helped get me to this point. I can’t explain all the hows or whys of it, because they aren’t what matters. What matters is I’m here, he’s here, and She’s not. And I plan to keep it this way.

  “You’re so damn strong, Ali. I can’t stop thinking about you, about everything,” he says, his voice a little shaky, as his hand rubs up and down my back.

  “I’d say the same for you. I’m a lot to handle sometimes, and you’ve not wavered, not once.”

  “It’s because I love you, Alina. So much. I’ll do whatever it takes, anything you need.”

  “You love me?” I ask a bit breathlessly, lifting my head off his chest.

  “I do.” He chuckles at my reaction. “So much that I can’t stand being apart from you for very long,” Slater says, moving to tuck a piece of my long dark hair behind my ear. I want to pull it back out, to shield my face, to stop his eyes from roaming, from deliberately taking me in, but I don’t. I fight the urge to recoil, reminding myself this is Slater, and that he loves me. Touching my wrist, Slater gently snaps the hair tie that resides there and says, “Tie your hair up for me. Let me see your beautiful face, baby.” He runs his thumb along my jaw, encouraging me.

  “Why?” I gulp, my nerves kicking in.

  “I want to see you. There’ll be no more hiding behind that curtain, not from me.”

  “Slater…” I hesitate.

  “Do it. You can. Trust me. You’re mine, baby, and it’s about time you step out of
the shadows and come into the light with me.”

  And I’m undone. My white flag falls in surrender at Slater’s feet. He’s right. I’m so completely his, and it’s time I start to show him just how much. Taking the black elastic off my wrist, I pull back and gather up my hair to create a ponytail. I bunch it up into a larger topknot, twisting the band around my hair and securing it in place.

  “Thank you,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing my nose before allowing his eyes to roam across my newly-exposed face. “You’re stunning.” He kisses each of my eyelids. “So damn beautiful.” He runs his nose along my cheeks. “Exquisite.” He kisses my mouth. “No more hiding.”

  “I think I love you,” I blurt, and feel his chest moving beneath me as a laugh escapes his sexy mouth. “I mean, I love you too. It scares me how much, actually.”

  “It’s scary good though, eh?”

  “The best kind of scary.” Reaching for his hand, I slip it under my oversized shirt and place his hand over my naked breast, resting his palm over my heart. Sucking in a deep breath, Slater’s eyes go wide, unable to mask his surprise at my boldness.

  “Baby, you don’t need to do this,” he says, reassuring me, because he knows this is a first for me, and he starts to remove his hand.

  “No,” I say, stopping his movement. “We are different. You are different. I want this, with you, so much. I love you. Let me give you this. I need to do this.”

  “Jesus, Ali. What you do to me…” he mutters. In return, he takes my hand in his free one and places it under his Black Sabbath T-shirt, his stomach muscles clenching under my touch, his hardness evident underneath me, and never have I wanted a man as much as I want this one. I know in time we’ll get there, and when we do, I hope I can show him how much I trust and love him, how beautiful he makes me feel. Positioning my hand over his heart, we sit, hands on one another’s chests, enjoying the steady beats, our eyes latched on to each other’s. We both smile lovingly, listening as our hearts race in one rhythm, Slater’s beats matching my own.

  “We’re in synch,” he says, as if reading my thoughts before kissing me, stealing not only my breath, but also the last of my resolve.

  This man is not only in my heart, he’s in my head.

  “I love you…”

  “You are exquisite…”

  “You are mine…”

  And I invite him in with open arms.

  Because, for the first time in my life, I honestly believe…I am enough.

  57

  Alina

  “…And when you catch me, we’ll shine together, mimicking the stars. Together, we’ll escape…” Paisley almost-whispers, singing low into the mic as I amp up my playing, adding a few decorative licks before Siobhán and Roxie take over on drums and bass. Then Paisley belts out the last lines of “Whisper Tree”: “Just you and meeeeeee. Always only you and me…”

  “Yes! That sounded fucking amazing!” Roxie squeals, as soon as Shiv raps on her cowbell and Paisley’s voice fades away.

  “I have goosebumps, guys. Ali, I swear this one’s my favourite song so far,” Paisley grins, and I accept the compliment.

  “That makes me really happy. It means a lot to me, this one, so I’m glad you guys like it.” I say.

  “Dude,” Roxie interjects, “I love it. It comes together perfectly, and Shiv, that cowbell you put on the end is awesome. And this was only rehearsal! I can’t wait to play it live.” I guess she really means it, she’s practically jumping up and down.

  “Me too,” I laugh, “I’m excited to see what the crowd thinks. It’s a bit edgier than most of our songs, but still our sound, if that makes any sense?” I pull my Stratocaster’s strap up and over my head before resting the guitar against the amp.

  “I say we celebrate the new song over some good ol’ poutine. Love me some cheesy fries and gravy,” Roxie says. “I mean, we are in Montreal, after all. Let me just say—cheese curds. Real cheese curds…and we do have a few hours until showtime.” She raises her eyebrows up and down excitedly.

  “I’m so down for that,” Paisley agrees, and so do Siobhán and I. I can feel my stomach growling at the thought. It feels good to want to eat something. Not too long ago I’d have been at war with myself for even considering eating something as decadent as poutine.

  “It’s so good having you back, Ali,” Shiv says, as we all quickly agree on and jot down our final set list for tonight to give to Tommy. One good thing about Happenstance is that we always switch up our sets, never playing the same songs at back-to-back concerts, something I think our fans appreciate because we hope to make our shows unpredictable and fun, a little habit the four of us agreed on ages ago.

  “Shiv’s right. It just wasn’t the same without you here,” Roxie adds, giving my arm a squeeze.

  “I missed you guys, too. Way too much, more than I ever thought. But I’m feeling like myself again, and I want you each to know how important you are to me.”

  “Aww, group hug…” Paisley says, pulling us all in. I feel like I’m home again. “Now, let’s go feed my belly. I’m about to get hangry,” Paisley jokes, and we all laugh.

  It feels good to be back where I belong.

  “Ali? You guys still here?” We pull apart, and I see an anxious-looking Slater walking onto the stage, followed close behind by Rain, Scott, and Fife.

  “Hey,” I smile, but it falters when I notice all four men are wearing the same concerned looks.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask, taking a tentative step toward Slater.

  “Where’s Zack, you guys? He was supposed to be meeting me here, too,” Roxie asks, and I see a look pass between the men.

  “He’s going to be fine, but there was an accident. He’s over at Montreal General. He’s been admitted for the night.” Slater says, and sighs, grabbing the back of his neck. I can see he’s stressed. We have a gig tonight, and they’re a man down.

  “Shit, I have to go see him,” Roxie says, her voice quavering.

  “I’ll go with you,” Shiv says, wrapping her arm around her.

  “What the hell happened?” Paisley asks, concerned.

  “Dumb ass was playing roadie, something we tell him over and over to leave for the professionals, you know?” Fife says, a hint of annoyance in his voice but still looking concerned. “He tripped on a stray cord, and bashed his head off the floor real good when he fell backwards.”

  “Oh god,” Rox says, covering her mouth.

  “Don’t worry, babe,” Scott chimes in, “he’s awake and surly as fuck about being admitted and missing the show tonight. But he’s got a minor concussion, so the doc wants to keep him in for observation.”

  “Wow. So, what are you going to do about tonight?” Siobhán asks. “Pull a guest guitarist up from another band?”

  “Hoping to,” Rain says. His eyes drift in my direction, and it’s then I feel my stomach start to churn for real. No way are they thinking of me.

  “Shadow,” Slater says, stepping in close and leaning down to speak in my ear, “I need a really big favour from you.”

  And it’s official. I’m going to faint and will need to be held for observation alongside Zack. There’s no way in hell I can fill in for Zack Nolan and play with Sicken Union.

  “Slater?” I question.

  “You’re the only one I trust enough.”

  “I—I couldn’t.” I shake my head vehemently.

  “You can, baby. You’re brilliant up on that stage, and I’ll be right up there with you. I’d never let you fail. You’re a musical genius, you learn by ear, you know our songs. Worst case scenario, you embellish the solos a bit—least of our worries. I promise you can do this.”

  Asshole. Slater Jenkins knows exactly what to say to make me putty in his hands, every damn time.

  “I—I don’t know,” I say, closing my eyes and trying to calm my nerves. This is huge.

  Thankfully, I’m saved when Roxie calls out, “All men off the stage. Give us girls a minute.”

  I can’t hide t
he smile I get when I hear the grumbling, but the guys do what she says.

  “Think about it. For me. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t know you could do it,” Slater says, before dropping a kiss on top of my head and following the others offstage.

  “Ali, you have to do this!” Paisley claps her hands together, making us all giggle. “You can totally do it and, Jesus, this is a ginormous opportunity. Happenstance meets Sicken Union: you and Slater all hot and sexy onstage!”

  “You need to tone that shit down, Cheerleader Barbie, or you’ll be offstage next,” Siobhán quips. “Ali just got back. I can see why she might be hesitant.” I don’t know where I’d be without these ladies.

  “I want to do it,” I admit, “but I’m nervous as hell. I mean, it’s the least I can do for the guys after they had to rearrange the show I missed. Do I even know how to play everything in their setlist? Can I handle being hated for ninety minutes when the fans see me and not Zack when Sicken takes the stage?”

  “Like we’d let you play if we didn’t know you already knew all their songs. Besides, we’ve got some time to rehearse,” Paisley says, giving me a huge grin before nodding over to the side of the stage, where I see four men, all grinning and heading our way.

  “And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not,” Roxie says, “but according to social media, you, Ms Alina Cassidy, have won the hearts of a lot of fans. I bet they’ll be honoured to witness you onstage with your man, headlining.”

  I feel Slater’s hands wrap around my waist, pulling me flush to his broad chest.

  “Okay,” I say, “I can do this.”

  “Whoop! Attagirl!” Paisley shouts, moving off to the side. She sits on top of a huge speaker alongside Shiv and Roxie.

  “You stole my line,” Slater says, then turns me towards him, so he can kiss me.

  “Who needs poutine? We’ve got a show to rehearse. Turn the lights back on, Tommy,” Paisley says, making us all laugh as the guys of Sicken Union and I grab our instruments.

  We spend the next god-knows-how-long rehearsing tonight’s Sicken Union setlist, each one of these people on my side, taking the time to make sure I have the same faith in myself they all so blatantly have in me.