Return to Me (Breaking Free Book 2) Page 6

  Kane’s kind of surprised me, not because I believed any of the fake heart felt shit he wrote, but because at the end he said he was entering treatment. “We can do it together, Trin. Well, not together, but at the same time.”

  “I’m not going to rehab again, Kane. Maybe you need it, but I don’t.” Sighing, I study his face. “I guess you can stay on for the next album, but I’m done with this pretend relationship stuff. No more interviews together, and no more holding hands in public. I’m done with this fakery, and if you fall off the wagon, you better not try and drag me down with you.”

  Kane nods quickly. “I wouldn’t do that. I promise.”

  “And I think you’re right. I want to get rid of Brent,” I say to Conner.

  He throws his hands up in the air. “Be my guest. I’m out anyways.”

  “What?”

  “I didn’t sign for the next album, so feel free to fire or hire whoever you want, but he’s under contract isn’t he?”

  My stomach sinks. “Why didn’t you tell me you were quitting?”

  “What does it matter?” Conner says. “I’ve been stuck in the back on keyboard, or shaking a tambourine for years, and I’ve got another baby coming. I’m done.”

  After our first album, Brent decided Conner didn’t have the right look to sing alongside me. Our second album was mostly me solo, and they dropped mention of a band. It was my name up in lights. For the third, Kane sang right alongside me half the time.

  “I would have never signed for that next album if I knew that, Conner. I can’t go back out there by myself.”

  Kane intertwines his fingers with mine. “You’re not going by yourself. You’ve got me.”

  I shake his hand off, and gave him a dirty look.

  “Why do you let Brent push you around like that, Trin?” Conner asks.

  Because I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, and whenever I try to do things my own way, shit blows up in my face. But I can’t say that outloud so just shake my head.

  “We seem to be getting a little off track,” Marie says. “Faith, would you like to go next.”

  Faith is already crying like a baby before she begins, and the tears just keep coming. Somehow she blames herself for my problems, I guess because she introduced me to Nolan and Conner in the first place, which through a series of random events led me to that deal with Arista.

  “Faith, you didn’t do anything wrong. Conner’s right out there with me, and the only thing he’s addicted to is video games. I made my choices. I screwed up, but now I fixed it. I’m better.”

  “Will you please go get help?”

  I shake my head.

  “Please,” she begs.

  I press the heels of my hands over my eyes. “I’m not on a single thing right now, and I don’t plan on taking a single thing. I’m done with that. I don’t need to go back to rehab. I’m not going to waste three weeks of my life sitting around singing kumbaya with a bunch of junkies again.”

  “Mama couldn’t be here, but she wrote a letter too,” Faith says.

  I shoot straight up to my feet. “I’ve listened to enough of this horse shit. I’m leaving.” When Ryan doesn’t move from his guard post to let me pass, I say, “Do I have to call the police and tell them you’re holding me hostage? You can’t keep me here.”

  He stares at a spot over my shoulder, probably towards Faith or that Marie lady, then he moves aside to let me past.

  Chapter 8

  Trin

  Kane follows me right back up the steps. “Can you ride me to the airport in a bit?”

  I exhale a long breath. “Yeah. Maybe we need to talk anyways.”

  “Can I drive?” Kane asks when he spots my ride.

  “Are you fucked up?”

  “Do I look fucked up?” he laughs. “Give me some credit. I’m not going to sit through someone’s intervention high.”

  I toss him my keys, and slide into the passenger side door.

  Despite my general dislike of Kane, it’s kind of nice to see him. I guess it’s nice to see someone familiar. I’ve been holed up in my place for weeks. “Why the hell didn’t you call me and give me a heads up about this crap?” I ask.

  “Your sister said not to tell you.”

  I shake my head, and pull on my seatbelt. “Are you really going to rehab?”

  “I’m thinkin’ about it. I probably need to.”

  “Well, have fun with that.”

  “You’re really clean?”

  “Yup, and I plan on staying that way this time.” I planned on staying that way last time too, but that was then, and this is now. “I hate Brent, but… he knows all those suits. He can talk to them, you know? Plus he is under contract. I really don’t feel like forking over three million just to get rid of him. I’ll probably end up with someone just like him anyways, but I need you to back me up on this, okay? Conner’s right. Brent plays me like a fiddle.”

  Kane hammers the gas, and we fly along Faith’s quiet, residential street.

  “Slow down!” My fingernails dig into the italian leather seat beneath me. “I don’t need you barreling over some little kid.”

  “My bad. This thing has some get up and go.” He slows down considerably, and I relax beside him. “I got your back with Brent. Sorry I was such a shitty boyfriend.”

  “You made a pretty okay fake one, but you were a god awful real one.”

  “Don’t take it personal,” Kane flashes me his signature smile. “I’ve never made a good boyfriend. I don’t think I’m relationship material. I guess I’m not the marrying type.”

  “I don’t think I am either,” I say wearily.

  I’m starting to think I’m the staying alone forever type.

  How can I still be this hung up on Gabe so many years later? It’s stupid. The whole thing is fucking stupid. I wish I had just kept walking earlier in that toy store and never turned around. I might not be the marrying type, but he is. Gabe is married to Leah, who used to be my best friend. Isn’t there an unwritten rule against screwing you best friends ex?

  I’m starting to think no one follows all these unwritten rules I hear so much about. I guess that’s why they’re unwritten.

  Maybe that stupid intervention did me a bit of good though because I’d kill for something to take the edge off, but I’m not going to. Not this time.

  Kane’s flight doesn’t leave for a couple of hours, so we meander around town. I point out some of the sights, and we hit up a drive thru, where of course we get recognized.

  Isn’t it so cute? Trin Sinclaire and Kane Burke are going to share a milkshake together.

  I don’t correct the guy who hands Kane our food through the window, but I’m not sharing anything. That’s my milkshake. We still pose with it between us for a picture when the guy asks.

  It makes me wonder how Brent is going to spin this. We’re ‘breaking up’ and remaining in the same band. Maybe he’ll want us to sing some dueling duet that hints of our tragic downfall. Ending this fake relationship isn’t going to be an end to the fakery, not by a long shot.

  I direct Kane to a spot by the river so we can eat in peace.

  “Your family seems nice,” he says.

  “Yeah.” They’re nicer than I deserve. Why did I have to be such a bitch? They were only trying to help me, even if their help isn’t needed or wanted.

  “You really going to be okay?” Kane asks.

  “Yup.”

  “Gimme a few weeks to get my head straight, and we’ll go down and speak to Brent together.” Kane sighs. “This is the end of Krin.”

  I snort a laugh. “You’re an idiot. It’s not Krin. It’s Trane.”

  “I think we’re both idiots, and both of those sound terrible.”

  “Yeah. Brangelina. Bennifer. Those are real celebrity couple names.”

  “You’re right. Krin? Trane? The two of us never stood a chance.”

  After dropping Kane off at the airport, I park at the viewing area and watch a few planes take off. Maybe
I’ll head out to California for a while, take my mind off things. I’ve got a few friends there. Not real friends. They’re people I met after that first album, and they like to party, so that’s probably a terrible idea if I want to stay clear headed.

  Maybe now that I’m off that shit, I can sit down and write for real. I have to come up with something, or maybe I can just have Nolan do it by himself this time.

  I’ve spent years writing songs about a man married to someone else. It’s pathetic. That’s probably why I never got all the way over him, because I sit around thinking about him, but he’s the only real thing I’ve ever had. I can’t very well draw inspiration from the likes of Kane, now can I?

  Why the hell am I crying? I’m not a crier. I don’t cry.

  Sometimes I think that’s why my mom beat the crap out of me like she did when I cursed, smarted off, or misbehaved. I refused to cry. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction, but everyone has a limit, a breaking point, and I always eventually cried when she used the belt or a switch. I probably should have saved myself the pain and welts instead of holding it in, but that’s ancient history. What’s the point in thinking about shit from the past you can’t change? What is the point in crying over anything?

  I drive past two different bars, a liquor store, two gas stations. Fuck, I could use a drink, but I can’t do that this time. I can’t. I’m gonna have to get a hold of my family tomorrow, make it clear I’m flying straight for real. I hated seeing them all like that.

  Racing towards home, my only thought is crawling into bed and putting this horrible day behind me. My head is killing me, partially from crying, but I guess I’ve still got another day or two of feeling like hell.

  There’s not much traffic this time of night. I put on my blinker, about to make the turn onto Bluffside, the road that winds up and around the mountain I live on, when red and blue lights flash in my rearview.

  Seriously? Can this day possibly get any worse?

  I pull over on the shoulder, and grasp the steering wheel tight, trying to get a grip on myself.

  I’ve never been pulled over before. I paw through my glovebox. License and registration, isn’t that what they usually ask for? There’s a tap on my window, and I roll it down.

  “Do you have any idea how fast you were going?”

  Is this a joke? This can’t be real. That painfully, achingly familiar voice cuts something loose inside me. Suddenly I’m laughing and crying at the same time.

  “Trin, can you step out of the car please?” Gabe opens the door for me.

  Climbing out on shaky legs, I take in the sight of him in uniform. Damn, I thought he looked good earlier. If he was ever in one of those sexy cop calendars, he’d make the cover for sure.

  He’s shaved since I saw him this afternoon, and we’re standing close enough I catch a whiff of something clean and masculine. The headlights of his car cast half of his face in shadows, outlining all of the angles and planes of his features.

  The top tip of his left ear is folded over slightly. How did I forget about that? I used to tease him about it. Sometimes I would run the tip of my tongue along the outer shell of his ear, and he would shiver.

  I knew so many different ways to make him shiver.

  Now Leah gets to make him shiver, and I have no business even thinking about it. He’s a married man, and even if he wasn’t, I destroyed that. I broke it. I shattered into a million, unfixable pieces.

  “You’re a police officer. That’s what you always wanted to do. That’s good. I’m happy for you, Gabe. I’m glad you gotta do what you wanted. That’s nice.” I can’t stop talking, or laughing. Why can’t I stop laughing? At least I’m not crying anymore. “I’m sorry I was speeding. This car is kind of touchy, and I don’t drive it that much. It’s a little more horsepower than I’m used to.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Where are you coming from?”

  His eyes are deep, navy blue in this light, like the ocean after dark. “Huh?”

  “You seem upset, Trin”

  “I’ve had a long day.”

  “Where are you coming from?” he asks again.

  “Oh, you mean where I left from.” I’m laughing again. Stop fucking laughing, Trin. “The airport. I was dropping off a friend at the airport.”

  “I guess it was a sad send off?”

  “Not really.” Shaking my head, I start to chew on my thumb nail, then stop myself. “It wasn’t sad at all. Good riddance.”

  “Where are you headed to?”

  “Home. I’m just trying to get home.”

  “Trin, are you under the influence of something?”

  “No! Oh, my god. Of course I’m not. I’m stone cold fucking sober. I probably shouldn’t drop the F bomb around a cop, huh?” HA HA HA. I clear my throat, try to get a hold of myself. What the hell is wrong with me? “Sorry. I’m stone cold freaking sober.”

  “I don’t want to take you in, but-”

  “I don’t want that either,” I say fast. I don’t need that all over the papers. “Gabe, I’m not on anything. I haven’t had a thing in… I’m fine. I’ve just had a rough day.”

  “You’re laughing like a lunatic, and your hands are shaking.” He grasps my hands in his, and now I’m crying again. Maybe I’m not all the way over the shakes, or maybe it’s just that I’m standing right in front of him, and before today I haven’t seen him since that day. I can’t look at him so I look at our feet and the few of inches of asphalt between us. Gabe clears his throat. “I shouldn’t do this. I usually would never do this, but maybe we can call someone to come get you. Someone in your family.”

  “No! Please don’t do that.” Shit. now I’m laughing again. It feels like my insides are shaking. I think my outsides are too. “They’re already trying to send me away.”

  “Send you away where?”

  With me crying, and laughing, and carrying on the way I am, he probably thinks I mean the psych ward. “I’m not crazy! I just didn’t expect to see you again. I haven’t seen you for years, and now twice in one day? Plus I had a really stressful… birthday party earlier.”

  Gabe’s expression is a mixture of shock and concern, like he thinks I’ve lost my marbles. Maybe I have. Facing him again makes it impossible to ignore everything I broke, and destroyed, and ran away from.

  “Whose birthday party?” Gabe asks in a soft tenor.

  “My niece, but her birthday isn’t until February. I should’ve known.”

  “Trin, let me call your sister.”

  “No, please. She already thinks I’m… Faith already has enough to deal with, my mom, and…”

  “What’s wrong with your mom?”

  “She’s dying, I guess. That’s what I hear anyways.” All I can hear in my head is her voice booming. That was my grandchild, Trinity Adah, but she has another grandchild now, doesn’t she? She has Hope. Brent just called me earlier. He was able to get her into some new experimental cancer trial, so maybe she has hope for that too. Maybe she won’t die after all. That wasn’t her grandchild I got rid of anyways. It wasn’t a baby. It was a tiny, little thing that might have became a baby if I hadn’t killed it. I bet it would’ve had dark hair like Gabe. If it was a boy it might’ve looked just like him. Maybe I killed that baby, but I’m trying to save her. Doesn’t that count for something? “She might not die. Everyone dies eventually. You. Me. Everyone. We all die, but I think she’s still got time.”

  Gabe’s thumbs stroke across the tops of my hands. “I can’t let you drive off like this, Trin.”

  My insides are vibrating, all the nerves sparking out of sync. “I’m not fucked up. I’m not on drugs. I’m not.” I shake my head and say it a few more times. “I’m not. I’m not.”

  “Okay,” he says, but I can tell he doesn’t quite believe me. “I’ll tell you what. I can drive you home, and I’ll have another officer come out and move your car. How does that sound?”

  “Gabe, I’m
really not on anything. I’m clean as a whistle.” I whistle a little tune, then break out into laughter. Gabe doesn’t join in.

  “I can take you in if you’d rather do it the hard way.”

  “No. No. I don’t want that.” My words come out in a rush. I doubt I’d pass a drug test this soon. I definitely don’t need that on the news. “O-Okay. Okay. I’d really appreciate it. Thanks. Thank you, Gabe.”

  He gives me a chance to collect my purse, and he takes my keys, then walks me over to the back of his police car. I am sobbing wildly as soon as he closes the door.

  There is a weird vibrating pulse, like a dark beat sparking up my spine. Maybe it’s just because I’m crying so hard. I feel like I’m breaking apart inside. Have I ever been this humiliated in my entire life? Have I ever wanted a drink this bad?

  Maybe I really do have a problem. I’ve always lived it up a bit on tour, then came home and stayed on the straight and narrow, more or less, but I’ve never been out on tour that long before, and I’ve never had this much trouble cleaning myself up when I got back.

  But I am clean right now, and I’m going to stay that way. I’m not going back to rehab. I’m not a weak little pussy. Kane might be, but I’m not. And I didn’t kill anything. I had a medical procedure. Just like all those medical procedures I’m paying for my mother to have. What’s the difference? An awful buzzing sensation ricochets between my ears. I’m hot and cold at the same time.

  God, I need a drink, or a time machine, or a brand new bottle of pills. I can call Brent when I get home. He’ll take care of me, but I don’t trust him. He pretends to take care of me, but he uses me. The night I got really wasted and told him about what I did, he didn’t call me a baby killer though, did he? He understood. He put it all in perspective for me.

  Chapter 9

  Gabe

  I could lose my job for this. Letting someone off going over the speed limit is one thing. Covering up someone’s tracks who is clearly under the influence is another. After seeing the difference in Trin between this afternoon and now, I can only assume she’s on something. Either that or she’s on the verge of a mental breakdown.