The Mighty Storm

Chapter Twenty-Nine




After Jake left last night, and I’d cried myself into a dried out puffy eyed state, I immersed myself in the humongous bath tub, staying in until the water went cold, thinking about Jake and what I was going to do.
After coming to no conclusion, leaving me exactly where I was before, I raided the minibar. I had a couple of glasses of wine in the hope they would help me sleep, and I climbed into the ginormous bed.
The wine didn’t help me sleep as I had hoped, because sleeping in a bed like this without Jake, just felt wrong. Empty and so very lonely.
It just made me miss him even more than I already do.
All I could think was that he was here in the hotel somewhere. Somewhere close. And knowing I could pick my phone up and call him, and I would be laid in his arms within minutes made it all the more harder.
The anger I’d been so desperately clinging to skipped out on me, leaving me with raw emotion.
I knew seeing Jake again would be hard, but I underestimated just how hard.
Seeing him stood there exposed me to my feelings in a blast, the ones I’ve been so desperately trying to hide from this last week. I was forced to feel the complete and utter intensity of them, and it’s been bleeding the hell out of me ever since.
So after spending the night listening to Cyndi Lauper’s, ‘Time After Time’ on loop on my new iPhone, crying along with the lyrics, I finally cried myself to sleep for a few hours. And now I find myself at 6am sitting at a table in the hotel restaurant, drinking coffee just for the want of something to do.
I look a puffy eyed, tired mess, but I don’t care.
As it’s so early breakfast has only just started to be served, so I’m alone in here with only the waiting staff for company. Exactly as I want it.
I nabbed a newspaper on the way in to read to keep my mind occupied. It’s the New York Times, and I’m reading the business pages avoiding anything remotely entertainment wise in case there is something about Jake in here.
Scanning my eyes over the text about the ever rising price of gasoline, I feel a presence beside me. Looking up I expect to see the waiter, but it’s Jake.
My heart jumps up in my chest, straight out of my mouth and makes a bolt for the door.
“Hi,” he says. His voice sounds rough and smooth like only his can. “You mind if I join you?”
He smells strongly of cigarettes. He must have literally just had a smoke.
Swallowing my heart back down, I utter, “Um, no, of course not.”
Jake takes the seat opposite me at the table, and I’m struggling to keep my eyes off him.
He looks like he hasn’t had much sleep. His normally light eyes look dark, and his hair has that ruffled up look it gets when he’s worried about something and has been driving his fingers repeatedly through it.
It makes me want to reach my hand out and smooth it down, and soothe him.
I press my palms flat to the table.
“Have you already ordered?” he indicates to my half-drunk coffee.
“Only the coffee.”
“Are you eating?”
I shake my head, no, in response, resting my eyes back on the newspaper.
“You look like you’ve lost weight.”
My eyes snap up to his. “Are you saying I was fat before?”
Here she is, Tru who wants to pick a fight with Jake. I was wondering when she’d show up. Apparently, at 6am in a hotel restaurant.
“No, of course not.” He shakes his head, looking helpless. “I was just … trying to make conversation, I guess…” he trails off.
“Well don’t.”
“You don’t want to talk?”
“No.”
My eyes go back to the paper, desperately trying to focus on the text, but now all I can feel is my anger and rage heating in my blood, bubbling up, and I just want to yell at him.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asks in a soft voice, tracing his fingertip over the table cloth.
And that’s all he has to say and I’m over the edge.
“Does it matter what I want?!” I hurl at him.
His brow furrows. “Of course is does.”
“No it doesn’t! If it did then I wouldn’t be here right now having this conversation with you. I’d be home, getting on with my life.”
“Tru…” He reaches his hand across the table, trying to take mine, but I snatch it away before he gets chance.
“Why are you here?” I give him the coldest look I can muster up. “Did you just come down here to torture me some more – more than you already have?”
“Torture you?” He looks seriously pissed off at that statement.
“Yes!” I bang my hands on the table. “Torturing me, forcing me to be around you after what you did!”
“I didn’t–”
“I don’t want to hear it!” I cry, getting to my feet.
My heart is pumping so fast, so hard, and blood is roaring in my ears. I start to walk away from the table, and him.
“WILL YOU JUST STOP AND F*ckIN’ LISTEN TO ME!” he roars, standing so abruptly that his chair falls out behind him, banging to the floor.
I blanch.
His voice is so all-consuming that everything in the room stops moving.
Me. Time. Air. Everything.
Jake’s chest is pumping up and down angrily, his T-shirt rising and falling with each breath.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry.
Momentarily stunned, I falter, but then I very quickly come back to life.
Turning on the spot, I state, “No, I won’t bloody stop and listen to you because I’m not interested in a damn thing you have to say!” I curse the betrayal my voice does when it quivers slightly.
“Jesus f*ckin’ Christ woman!” he growls. “You’re so stubborn! And you will listen to me if I have to tie you to that f*ckin’ chair, to do so!” He jabs a finger in the direction of the seat my ass just graced moments ago. “And I will keep on saying this until you hear me – I did not have sex with that girl, and I most certainly did not have an affair with her! I f*ckin’ love you, Tru! More than life itself! I would never do that to you! Now are you hearing any of this yet?!” He lifts his hands to his head in frustration. “Is any of this getting through to your stubborn ass brain?!”
He looks so angry and frustrated, and lost.
But then so am I.
I fold my arms across my chest. “Words, Jake. That’s all they are. I believe in facts, statistics and logic.” I’m throwing words at him, trying to confuse him, or maybe me, I’m not sure, all I do know is right now I sound like Vicky.
“What?!” he seethes, jaw clenched, brow furrowed.
“I believe what I saw!”
“No, you believe what you think you saw!”
“Are you telling me I didn’t walk in on you in bed with her?”
“No, I just–”
“So then I saw right.”
“NO!”
“YES!” I wrap my hand around my ponytail, tugging on it hard, like the ache of that will take all of my anger and frustrations away.
“Nothing you can say or do will change my mind on this,” I continue in a low, firm tone. “I believe what I saw – now if you’re quite done I’m going back to my room.”
I step back, but he stops me with his words.
“I’m not done.” He sounds so authoritative, so angry, that I pale and I literally can’t move.
He stalks around the table, coming close to me. His anger is radiating and it makes me want to step back, but I fight the urge.
“I won’t give up until you believe me, Tru,” he says low, leaning into my face. “I won’t stop fighting for you – for us. I want you back and I will keep on trying, with whatever methods I can, until you believe that I’m telling you the truth – that you forgive me for letting you down with the drugs, and that I have you back in my life again.”
Giving me one last determined stare, he turns abruptly and stalks out of the restaurant, leaving me trembling to the core, and alone with the stares of the waiting staff who were just witness to our fight.
Wrapping my arms around my chest, my face burning, I bite back tears, and on unsteady feet I quickly leave the restaurant heading straight for my room.


I’m shopping in Macy’s with Simone. Well Simone’s shopping, and I’m just trailing around behind her.
She found out about my fight with Jake and ordered that we were going out this afternoon shopping.
Even though I wasn’t in the mood, and would have been quite happy to hide in my suite until I had to show my face at the show tonight, I could tell Simone meant business. I’d pretty much lost any fight I had in me earlier from my fight with Jake, so I yielded.
I’m still reeling from it to be honest.
He’s not going to let me go. He’s never going to give up on us.
Yeah, well good luck with that buddy, because the more you push the further I’m going to pull away.
I think.
I don’t know.
Crap.
Jake has this innate way of being able to pull and tie up my strings like no one before, and when I’m around him I just seem to lose all sense and focus. And maybe a teeny tiny part of me wants to go back. But a bigger part of me – the humiliated, betrayed part of me doesn’t.
And for now, humiliated Tru is in control.
Simone is loaded up with clothes she potentially wants to buy. I’m so far gone into my own wallowing I can’t even begin to appreciate the pretty things surrounding me.
“I’m going to try this stuff on. Keep me company?” Simone asks.
“Sure.” It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.
I follow Simone into the empty changing rooms and take a seat while she goes into the cubical to try clothes on.
“What do you think?” she asks, coming out of the cubicle in a beautiful, fuchsia pink Miss Sixty dress a few minutes later.
My pretty-dress-spidey-sense finally shows up, and I’m instantly in love.
It’s sleeveless, high belted; which is studded, has a low hem and a scoop neck, with a raw-edged detail across the chest.
“It’s gorgeous,” I murmur, wishing I’d been paying attention before now as I would have picked it up for myself. At least I know Simone will lend it to me if I want to wear it. Not that I feel like going out much nowadays.
“I’d team it with those patent blue heels you’ve got there.” I nod in the direction of the pretty high-heeled shoes sitting on the floor.
“You think?” She pushes her brows together. “I brought them in to try on with the black dress.”
“Trust me,” I say. “Put them on and you’ll see.”
Shrugging, she slips her feet into the insanely high heels and looks at herself in the mirror.
“Wow! You’re right,” she grins. “They do work together. Only problem is this outfit is on the wrong girl. No way could I pull this off, I’m too pale. This has you written all over it.”
“Nah, it suits you just right.”
“Try it on,” she encourages.
Even though I love the outfit, I’m just not in the mood to play dress up. I can’t get my mood past Jake.
“I’m not in the mood to try clothes on.” I start to chew on my thumbnail.
“So don’t try, just buy. We’re about the same size,” she says, assessing herself in the mirror again.
I snort. It’s not the most attractive sound.
“We are!” She sounds defensive.
“Yeah, except for that my ass is about ten times as big as yours is.”
“No it’s not.” She gives me a disapproving look. “I guarantee this dress will fit you, so I’m telling you that you are getting this dress and shoes if I have to pay for them myself. And you’re wearing them to the show tonight as well.”
“Like hell I am!” I say my head snapping up. “I’m going to the show in my jeans and a T-shirt, comfortable flight clothes. I’m catching my flight straight after remember?”
“You can change at the airport. You are going to that show looking your best, Tru.”
“I’m not going to party, I’m working.”
“And don’t people generally dress nice for work?”
“Trash collectors don’t.”
“Knock it off, Tru.” She comes over and sits beside me, in my soon to be owned outfit.
“You’re hurting right now.” Her voice is soft, careful. “As to be expected. And the best way to help that hurt is to try to feel good about yourself. Put on a beautiful dress and a pair of killer heels, and yes, you may still feel crap on the inside, but on the outside you’ll look knock out, and that will be the one thing that will keep the smile plastered on your face for the night.” She nudges me with her shoulder, smiling.
“Fine,” I huff. “I’ll wear the stupid dress.”
“Good. And while I’m in an advice giving mood, can I give you another piece of advice?”
I turn my head, looking straight at her. “If it’s about Jake, then no.”
She gives me a no-nonsense look. “Talk to him, Tru. I’ve kept my opinion to myself on this, and I’ve done the supportive best friend bit, but now I’m telling you how it is – blanking Jake like this is no good for either of you.” She puts her hand on my forearm. “And you can blast me for it all you want, but … I believe him. I think he’s telling the truth. I don’t believe he had sex with that tramp. I think she’s just a gold-digging opportunistic little whore. And honestly, I can’t even begin to imagine how painful it was walking in and seeing him in bed with her like that … and yes, he absolutely let you down with the drugs,” she quickly adds, when I open my mouth to speak. “But you can’t go on like this. You need to talk to him. And honestly,” she sighs. “I think you know all of this too, but for some reason I can’t fathom, you won’t let him in to fix things. And it’s just not like you to be so unforgiving, Tru.”
I scruff the toe of my boot against the carpet. She’s skirting so close to the truth right now. Closer than I want.
“Jake loves you, that is more than clear to see,” she goes on, “and I know you love him too. So you just need to talk to him and figure out a fix for the both of you.”
And because she’s so close to the truth I get angry.
I get to my feet, feeling a little more than vexed. “You’re supposed to be on my side here, Simone.”
“I am on your side.” She stands too, facing me. “And that’s why I’m saying this. I hate seeing you hurting so badly when it can be so easily fixed. If you just talk to him, listen to what he has to say...” She puts her hands on my upper arms. “Honestly, babe, if I thought for one minute that he’d done the deed with the that little tramp, then I’d be winging your corner and kicking his ass to Hell and back … but I honestly don’t think he has,” she’s shaking her head. “He’s made mistakes, some big whooping ones, but not that one.”
Tears are welling in my eyes.
“I’m not trying to upset you, honey.” She takes me into her arms, hugging me. “It just really needed saying.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the tears back. “I just can’t get that image of him in bed with her out of my head.” I bang my palm against forehead. “And honestly…” I bite my lip, cursing myself for finally saying this. “I just … well I just don’t think I’m cut out for all of this. I’m not cut out for his lifestyle – everything that comes with him.”
Leaning back, she looks at my face. “That’s what this is all about isn’t it? Why you’ve shutdown on him completely.”
I brush a stray tear away. “At first, I honestly believed he had cheated with her after catching them like that. But as time's gone on…” I sigh. “No, I don’t think he has cheated, but her selling her story and all the attention it’s brought to me … well it just made me realise what my fears were all along about being with Jake.”
I’ve known this for a while, but I’ve just been covering it with the whole cheating thing. It went way beyond Kaitlyn Bitch the instant the press set up camp on my parents’ doorstep.
“Which are?” she pushes.
“Who he is. Everything that comes with him. There’s just no privacy, Simone. We can barely even go out on a date without someone there taking his picture, wanting his autograph, wanting a piece of him. It doesn’t feel like there is just ever me and him – that he’ll ever fully be mine – and yes I know how selfish that sounds. But I just want a normal life. A private life. I don’t want a life where every time I have a fight with my boyfriend, or we go on a date together, that it will be splashed all over the internet the very next day for people’s breakfast reading.”
The truth is there’s only ever been one time where I’ve felt like our relationship truly belonged to just me and Jake, and that was our night at Lumb Falls.
“So talk to him, tell him this,” Simone urges, gently.
I shake my head, no.
“You’re a stubborn ass, Trudy Bennett. Give the guy a fighting chance, seriously, because currently he’s all broken up and hurting over something he didn’t do, desperate to reach you and let you know that. But currently he’s fighting out of the wrong corner. It’s not fair to him, Tru, and you know it.”


I’ve been mulling over what Simone said for hours.
She’s right, and I know it. I should tell Jake that I believe him over the girl, and what my real fears are about being with him.
But I can’t.
Because if I do he’ll talk me back into his life, and right now that just isn’t what I want.
Well, I think it isn’t.
I’m standing backstage at Madison Square Garden with Simone. The support band is playing. They’re pretty good. Really good in fact.
They’re a local band who won a competition through a radio station to support TMS here at their show in New York.
It was Jake’s idea to put the contest out. No one knows that, except for me and Stuart. Jake credited it as the bands idea.
He has such a good heart. I wish he would show it to more people than just me.
Ben drove Simone and I here from the hotel. I’ve got my luggage in the car. Ben is going to take me straight to the airport after the show. All I have to do is let him know when I’m ready to leave. Simone is staying on in New York to spend a few days with Denny.
I haven’t seen or spoken to Jake since this morning, which is a good thing. I think.
I don’t know.
I don’t know anything anymore.
Spotting us, Denny comes over, eyes firmly pinned on Simone. I’m so happy they found each other. One good thing to come out of me and Jake, I guess.
I drift off to the side giving them some space. I hate being the third wheel at the best of times. At the worst of times, even more so.
Just knowing Jake is around here somewhere is driving me nuts. I’m on constant high-alert for any sign of him.
So far, nothing yet. I’m wondering if he’s avoiding me after our fight this morning.
I’m wearing the pink dress and ridiculously pretty blue heels that Simone forced me to buy earlier, and I’m already regretting the shoes, my feet are bloody killing me. Why don’t I ever learn that pretty does not equal comfy.
I prop my butt up against the wall and bend over, slipping my foot out of the shoe, I rub my sore instep with my hand.
When I glance up I see a pair of black Converses approaching me.
Eyes up to the black jeans, reaching the sleeveless, vintage ’94 Nine Inch Nails ‘Downwards Spiral’ T-shirt, with a guitar strapped pressed tight across it, the instantly recognisable tattoos on full show, to finally meet with Jake’s face.
He looks amazing. Beautiful. Just like the rock star he is. And was always meant to be.
I slip my foot back into my shoe. Nerves instantly encompass me, encapsulating me.
“You should learn to wear sensible shoes.” He nods down at my feet.
“I should.”
“Then again, if you did, I’d have never have got to carry you into the hotel that night.” His tone is low, intimate, and his eyes meet mine intensely.
Nerve endings fire sparks out into my body, causing an intense rush of want and need for him.
Looking down, I break our stare.
“So … uh … Denny said you’re leaving straight after the show.” He takes another step closer to me.
We’re only a foot apart now. I want to reach out and touch him more than anything. But I can’t.
“Yes.” I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Sorry I can’t make the after show party. I have to get back home – work you know – and my flights booked so…”
“Sure, yeah, of course, I understand.” He pushes his hand through this hair.
I meet his eyes, and I can see the blatant disharmony in them.
“So will I see you after the show? Before you leave,” he asks.
“Yes.”
That’s a lie. I won’t be here when he comes off stage. I’m going to leave during the encore. Everyone’s at their highest at that point, so I’ll be able to slip away without being noticed.
I said goodbye to Jake once. Twice is just too much.
“Okay, so I’ll see you after the show then,” he smiles, his mood seemingly picking up.
“Yeah … looks like you’re up.” I nod in the direction of the roadie who is waiting to hook his guitar up.
Jake gives me a rueful smile. It almost breaks me on the spot.
Reluctantly, he turns to go.
“Jake?”
Stopping, he turns back, slipping his guitar around to the front.
“Have a great show,” I smile.
“I will … and Tru.” He takes a step forward, back to me. “You look beautiful in those shoes … and that dress, but then you look beautiful in anything.”
Then he’s gone, readying himself to perform to his adoring New York fans, unknowingly taking my heart with him.