Page 74 of Down Beat

TWENTY-EIGHT

Tabitha

“Send the Pain Below” - Chevelle

What the hell do I do now? I should pull away, but something in my gut tells me he needs this. You don’t just fuck up a tour and fly however far he’s come to have a chat and then leave again.

He’s asking for help without saying as much. And who the hell am I to deny that?

“I’m sorry,” I murmur against his chest. God, he smells good.

Rey’s hand shifts on my back, slowly stroking down to the curve above my ass before he sets it back where he started. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I don’t know what to do to make you better.”

His warmth leaves me as he steps away, hands lingering on my shoulders before he lets me go completely. “Yes you do.”

I match his frown, unsure what the hell he means. “Really?”

He nods, the late-morning light from our front windows catching his face and highlighting the evidence of his distress. “You’re doing it now.”

Okay. Now I’m totally lost. I convey as much in the tilt of my head.

“Forget it.” He spins and stalks to the window. “What would you normally be doing this afternoon, kitty?”

“Don’t blow me off and shut me out, Rey.” I follow, wedging myself between him and the glass so he’s forced to look at me. “How long are you here?”

“As long as I want, I guess.”

I sigh, shoulders dropping. “How long can you be here before it causes more disruption?”

The downward curl of his lips makes him look like a kid who’s been told they can’t have the last cookie. “Tomorrow. I have to be back by four.” His dark eyes shift to the people on the street below.

“Tonight we brainstorm, then.” I elbow him so he looks back to me. “Pizza, and I would say beer, but I can maybe swing a bottle of soda before my budget is blown.”

The resulting smirk leaves me giddy for more of this. “I can buy the pizza and beer, kitty.”

I want that pure happiness from him always. I want people to see that guy, not the snarky jackass he thinks people love.

There’s nothing wrong with the real Rey. Nothing at all.

“But,” he adds, his face turning dour again, “we hang out. That’s all. I don’t want to talk about me anymore, okay?”

“Fine.” He can think again if he assumes I’ll let this go, though. “We can talk about me. I need your help, actually.”

“Yeah?” Rey shifts his weight between his feet, one hand going to the window frame to brace him. “How?”

“I need to know how to get my music from here”—I point to my head—“to the market. Tell me how to sell when I don’t have any money. Tell me how you started recording.”

My breath hitches as he lifts his free hand and gently sweeps the side of his index finger under my jaw. “I can introduce you to people who can help, Tabby.”

“I don’t want your charity, Rey. I want a mentor. That’s all.”

His jaw flexes as his fingertip trails down my throat before he pulls his hand away. “I want to help, okay? There’s nothing else I can give you, so let me give you this.”

Wrong—he has everything to give me. He can’t see how, is all.

“We’ll argue about it later.” I shift my focus to the street below to save from doing anything rash.