The rawness in his expression tightened her chest. She pinned her lips between her teeth to hold back soothing words she might not mean. She didn’t know if she trusted him to stay clean, which probably meant she didn’t.
He leaned in and pointed to two stars hand-drawn beside Cocaine. “I double starred my old favorites. A single star denotes I’ve used it at least once. And there’s information on today’s most common street drugs, narcotics I’ve never tried, but could easily acquire.”
“Do you…are there side effects from coming off drugs?”
“Some.” He swallowed. “I didn’t cling to any one chemical, so I don’t feel the usual withdrawals. Cocaine bugs was the worst, but I haven’t experienced the crawling feeling this time around.”
“You did before? When you quit three years ago?”
“Yeah.”
She caught his deep brown eyes before he kissed her cheek and sat back on his heels.
“I’m sorry you have to worry about this on top of everything else.” He stared, unfocused, at a hole on the inner thigh of his jeans, picking at the scraggly edges. Then he seemed to gather strength from his thoughts, rolled his shoulders back, and seized her with a penetrating gaze. “I won’t let you down. For what it’s worth, I’m so fucking happy you’re here with me. You make facing the crowds and the press and the long nights something to look forward to.”
“I want to be where you are, Jay.” She loved him enough to tackle the reason he turned to drugs in the first place. “I appreciate your openness about the drugs. It helps.” And it did. He wouldn’t intentionally hide it from her. If he slipped again, it would be in an impulsive moment of weakness. Didn’t comfort the throb behind her eyes. She needed more from him. For him.
“But?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re not open with me. I know nothing about your past, how you got your scars, or where you go when your memories surface. If you want me to trust you, open up.”
His face closed off and his eyes darted away.
“I’m no doctor, Jay, but it doesn’t take one to know your drugs, isolation, and rejection to touch and intimacy are harmful ways to self-medicate. I won’t give you my trust, or the touch of my hands, until you talk to me.”
75
Dare to be vulnerable with me.
The beautiful woman blinking up at Jay was anything but vulnerable, yet she’d spoken those words to him the day they’d reunited. She’d put up with his issues for two weeks, never pushing him beyond his limits, never demanding he open his past.
The message was there now, but her tone was softened with concern and love. She wouldn’t judge him, not even if he cried while he walked her through that year of his life. The challenge would be recalling the things that happened to that six-year-old boy. Those memories were flashbulbs. Could he piece them together and shed light on the dark gaps between?
“I want your trust, Charlee. And Christ, you haven’t touched me for two days.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “But that’s not why I’m going to tell you what happened. You’re right. I’m self-medicating, and it’s hurting us both.” If he talked about it, maybe it would…what? Cure him? Fuck, he was terrified to confront the issues of his past and who he was.
The bus wobbled with the clamor of boarding bodies. Voices drifted from beyond the drape that separated the bunks from the front lounge.
“I’m here when you’re ready.” She propped up on an elbow. “Just don’t take too long.”
His lips burned to kiss her. She wouldn’t touch him, but that didn’t stop him from cupping her face and sealing his mouth over hers. He buried his tongue past her lips, and she met him thrust for thrust, relaxing beneath his lean as he pushed her into the mattress.
“Hey, there.” Ella’s southern twang tumbled through the cabin. He broke the kiss and kept his eyes fastened on Charlee. Ella was nice enough, but tour managers, in general, crawled under his skin. “Well, shut my mouth. Sorry for interrupting. I…I thought you said no touching.” Ella tossed a bag on the bunk facing his.
Charlee’s eyes widened, and he blew out a breath. “Charlee, this is Ella. Our tour manager.” He bent a knee and propped an elbow on it. “Ella, this is my girlfriend, Charlee. The only person that can touch me.”
Charlee rose from the bunk and held out a hand. “I’m not the only person. I mean, I’m not some psycho who doesn’t let people touch her boyfriend. But let’s not test it, all right?” She grasped Ella’s hand, the threat punctuated in her none-too-gentle grip.
Fuck, he loved her jealousy. It stirred a feverish storm in his chest, vibrating like a loudly strummed minor chord on his Les Paul electric. It also made him hard as a rock. He adjusted himself as he climbed to his feet.