“You’re disgusting.”
“At least I don’t prance around pretending like I’m not dirty.”
He might as well have slapped me across the face. My entire being recoiled and a sharp gasp rushed from my lungs as the voice I’d give anything to forget whispered viciously in my ear.
Dirty.
The memory hit me in an audible wheeze of shock and humiliation and hatred.
“Fuck you,” I whispered. The disabling pain stabbing through my body sucked all the animosity from the delivery. I was sure I sounded like a sniveling baby.
I slammed my door shut behind me and tore my gaze from his, thanking God I was in running gear and this was exactly what I was supposed to do.
Run.
Because even if I’d been wearing heels, I was pretty sure I would do the same, and I couldn’t bear to make the vulnerability oozing from me even more glaring. I bounded down the steps, my hand gliding swiftly down the railing as I made my escape.
Run.
“Goddamn it!” The roar hit me from behind in the same second I heard the crushing blow, his reaction sending a tremor through me even though I refused to look back. I knew without a doubt it was his fist landing a punch against his door. Wood clattered as the door crashed into the inside wall before he roared again and kicked it shut.
The air trembled and shook.
I could feel it. The ripples of danger. The threat enclosing in from above.
Run.
A storm was coming.
Frantic, I pushed the buds into my ears and hit the sidewalk, seeking refuge in the steady thud of my feet.
IN MY HEAVY BLACK boots, I paced back and forth across the worn hardwood floors then did it again.
Rays of harsh light found their way in at the edges of the curtains drawn across the windows, like the sun crawled along the exterior walls of the house, seeking a way inside our little pit of darkness.
The song just wasn’t coming.
Or maybe I wasn’t in the mood.
Maybe my hand was still throbbing like a bitch and my mind was still reeling with what had gone down this morning.
“Dude,” Ash drew out all frustrated like. “Are you intent on wearing a hole in the floor of my brand new house?”
Brand new? Hardly. It was a century-old mansion not that far from the apartment I was renting, and really close to Shea’s place. The house was absolutely ridiculous, boasting something like eight bedrooms, and considering it would only be Zee and Ash and whatever chick Ash suckered in for the night, no one would argue it wasn’t outrageous.
But Ash had to be about the damned most impulsive person I’d ever met. Yesterday, we’d been rolling down the street in the Suburban with Baz, heading to Shea’s after we’d taken care of some wedding shit, when Ash had yelled out for him to stop.
He’d bolted from the truck like he was chasing down a long-lost friend, arms open wide, going right for the steps leading to the wrap-around porch in this over-the-top house. He’d wandered around like some kind of freak before he called the number listed on the For Sale sign staked out front.
He found out the house had once been condemned then completely restored.
Something about that fact appealed to Ash, said the place had called to him, which was the reason he’d found it or some kind of psychopath babble like that. Next thing we knew, which literally was like four hours later, Ash was forking over the cash to take it in the clear.
Claimed we’d have to be spending a ton of time in Savannah anyway, coming out because Baz wasn’t going to want to be away from Shea, Kallie, and the baby, so it was a necessity.
Of course he still had all kinds of paperwork that needed to go through, but considering the house was unoccupied and already furnished, he’d somehow managed to swindle the seller out of the keys.
Dude had skills, that was for sure.
“Making me dizzy, man,” he continued from where he sat on the couch with his bass balanced across his lap, face upturned toward the ceiling as he searched for the feeling neither of us could seem to find.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, forcing myself back to my guitar. The plush chair I was sitting on was pushed up close to the coffee table with my notebook open wide.
Blank pages.
No surprise.
I cradled my black electric guitar. She was my baby, after all. My favorite. My constant companion. She was a little beat up, worn down by the road, like she’d witnessed a whole lifetime condensed into a six-year blur of cities and shows and passing, forgettable faces.
A whole lot like me.
Ash’s attention flew my way. Blue eyes overflowed with excitement, as if he’d been suddenly struck with a well of inspiration.
“Hell yeah. I got it. Know exactly what we’re missing. It’s the vibe, man. This old house? She’s been barren for years. Needs some life breathed into her. A heartbeat. Let’s christen her…best fuckin’ party this city’s ever seen. I mean, a real rager. The kind that will go down in rock ‘n’ roll history. Make it legendary. Introduce these old walls to what music really feels like. Songs will start flowing from us.”