Clean Break (A Little Like Destiny Book 3) Page 13

“Reese, don’t you have to go to work?” Diane finally asks me.

  “I took off a few days to be here with Mark,” I say. I shred a piece of bread. “I’ll stay as long as he needs me to.”

  “That isn’t necessary. We’re here to care for him now if you need to get back to Vegas.”

  “Knock it off,” Mark says sharply.

  Diane looks miffed to be scolded by her son, and I do my best to hide my smug smile, though I’m fairly sure I’m unsuccessful in that endeavor.

  “I’m just saying we’re here, so it’s not necessary for her to be here if she has other things she needs to do.” Diane purses her lips.

  Mark sighs in frustration, and I can tell she’s getting under his skin. “Why are you being rude, Mom?”

  I glance over at Diane, who is the picture of innocence as a hand flies to her chest. “What? Me?”

  Mark raises his brows pointedly, and Diane releases a breath.

  “Fine. I just don’t think she deserves you. Not after the stunts she pulled.” She gives me a glare, and I want to ask what stunts at the same time I want to run the hell out of this penthouse as fast and far as I can.

  “What stunts are those?” Mark asks the question in my head.

  “Let’s not do this now,” I say, a hint of desperation in my voice.

  “The whole thing with Brian,” she says.

  Paul watches us all like a damn tennis match, like he’s not sure where to side. Siding against his wife will surely get him in trouble, but siding with her is a lie based on the things he said to me.

  “Okay, we’re doing this now, then,” I mutter.

  Mark rises from the table. “The whole thing with Brian was Brian’s fault.” His voice is a scary hiss and it’s one part sexy and one part startling. “If you believe it’s any other way than that, you’re blind.” He slams his fists on the table, and I jump.

  “Mark, calm down,” Paul says. “Your brother isn’t even here to defend himself.”

  “There’s no defense for what he did,” Mark says icily. He walks over toward the windows and looks out over the busy city.

  “What, exactly, did he do?” Diane asks. Her eyes follow Mark as he stops in front of the window. He’s a silhouette against the bright backdrop of the midday light.

  Mark chooses his words carefully but doesn’t turn from the window, doesn’t look at any of us as he speaks. “Brian used Reese as a way to get revenge on me.”

  “For what?” Diane asks.

  He whirls around. “You really want to know?”

  I stare down at my plate, mortified at what’s happening.

  “I fucked the girl he was in love with, so he did the same thing to me.”

  I feel sick at his words. These are things about sons no parent should ever know, and these are definitely things about me that I don’t want Mark’s parents to know.

  “Language,” Diane says sharply. She hasn’t moved from her spot at Mark’s kitchen table despite their heated words.

  Mark rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry, mother, but you’re in my house and I’m thirty-four-years-old. I think you know by now that I swear.”

  “Between your exhaustion and this girl, you’re a different person, Mark,” Diane says. Her voice is bitter and clearly speaks to the fact that she doesn’t approve of the change.

  He shakes his head. “No, I’m not. I’m the same Mark I’ve always been. I’ve just had a rough couple months.” He turns back to the window, and we’re all silent as we stare at his backside. “I was screwed over by my own brother and found out about it the same night Pops died. I’ve had to cancel shows, I’ve got a PR nightmare with this damn hospitalization, I’ve got Steve leaving the band, and everything with Reese is fucked up and I can’t even get two seconds alone with her to tell her the things I need to say.”

  Wait a minute.

  Steve’s leaving the band?

  seventeen

  The three of us stare at the back of Mark while he continues to fix his gaze out the window. Silence blankets the room. It’s not a soft and comforting silence like Mark and I have when it’s just the two of us, but a loud and awkward silence that feels like it’s seeping into my skin and infecting my body.

  “We can take the hint, Mark,” Paul says. Diane shoots him a dirty look and opens her mouth to say something, and I watch as Paul closes his eyes and shakes his head calmly at his wife. She glares at him but doesn’t say anything else, and it marks the first time I’ve ever seen Diane back down.

  I’m grateful to Paul as he stands and begins clearing away the remains of our lunch.

  “I can take care of that,” I say.

  He nods once and presses his lips together into a thin smile. “Thank you, Reese. If there’s anything you need, anything he needs,” he jerks his thumb toward his son, “please give us a call.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  He helps his wife up from her chair. Diane walks over to Mark and laces her arms around him, hugging him from behind. “I’m sorry. Feel better.”

  He doesn’t say anything to her.

  “Bye,” Paul says to me, and Diane ignores me as the two of them walk out the door.

  We’re engulfed in silence again once the door latches shut behind them, but Diane took the tension that hung in the air with her out the door.

  Mark turns from the window and gazes at me from across the room. Our eyes meet, and all the passion and all the heat that was always there still passes between us. I’m cautious, though. He was just released from the hospital, but more than that, I don’t even know if he wants me here.

  “Steve’s leaving the band?” I ask softly.

  He nods as darkness spreads across his handsome face. “Not permanently.”

  “Why?”

  He blows out a breath as he walks to his couch, and then he lies across the entire thing. I head toward the chair across from him, but he shakes his head and motions toward the cushion where his feet rest. I sit, and he rests his ankles in my lap. He’s wearing jeans and he smells like the sterility that only comes from a hospital. He needs a shower and whatever it is he uses to smell like sandalwood. As I glance at his sock-clad feet in my lap, I can’t help but realize that I haven’t even had a proper hug from him yet. The closest contact we’ve had since I walked into his hospital room was this morning when he sat on the hospital bed and folded his arms around me, then later when he looped his arm around my waist as we got out of the car.

  I need to feel him. I need to wrap my arms around him and breathe in his sandalwood. I need his mouth on mine and his cock sliding into me. I need his words and his breath and a future with him.

  I realize all this as I stare at his feet.

  He interrupts my thoughts. “He and Ang have struggled with getting pregnant for several years. She’s pregnant and he wants time off to be with her through the pregnancy and birth.”

  “Why does he need to take time off?” My hands automatically start massaging his feet.

  “She’s high-risk and shouldn’t travel. Our current tour ends in early December, but Keith has us running all over Europe starting in March.” He lets out a moan as I knead the arch of his foot, and the sound sends a shot of desire straight through me.

  I clear my throat. “Who’s Keith?”

  “Our booking agent.”

  “How do you feel about it?”

  He purses his lips as his eyes go back to the window. “I can’t be mad at Steve for wanting a life.”

  “But you are.”

  I feel his gaze on me, but I look down at his feet. “Before I met you, I never would’ve understood putting someone else before the band.”

  My eyes move to his. “And now you do?”

  He lifts a shoulder. “I get it. He has a life outside Vail. We all do, but none of us have ever exercised our right to that life before. It took me a long time to come to terms with the idea that just because he’s taking a hiatus doesn’t mean we’re breaking up. It doesn’t mean it’s over. He’ll still meet us in
LA for studio time, he just won’t be touring with us.”

  I point out the obvious. “Between us, Mark, you are Vail.”

  He shakes his head. “We’re a team of four.”

  “But you’re the front man. People know you, recognize you.”

  “That’s nice of you to say, but it’s a team effort.” His voice is adamant, and it tells me that the subject is closed.

  “What are you guys going to do?”

  He leans his head back on the couch and closes his eyes. “We have auditions set up in a few weeks around Lizzie’s wedding when we have a tour break, but we might need to reschedule the canceled shows during those dates.”

  “How do you feel?” I ask.

  “Tired.”

  I want to talk more, want to talk about us and want to hear the things he wants to say to me, but I don’t want to push him.

  “Go get some rest,” I say softly.

  He nods and stands. Before he goes to the bedroom, he helps me up. He doesn’t let go of my hand when he asks, “When do you need to go back to Vegas?”

  “I’m here as long as you need me.”

  His eyes burn into mine when he speaks next. “Quit your job. Stay with me. Be with me.”

  My jaw opens, but no words come out. Just some little squeaky sound. I don’t know what to say. I can’t just quit my job mid-school year to hop on tour with Vail because Mark wills it to be so.

  Even if that’s what I want.

  He swallows thickly and squeezes my hand before he lets it go. He really does look exhausted. “Think about it. There’s a key on the counter and Todd’s number if you need to go anywhere. I don’t know how long I’ll sleep, but I want you to stay here with me, not at Lizzie’s. I’d prefer in my bed, but if you’re more comfortable in the guest room, stay there.”

  I nod, still at a loss for words, and he leans in, presses a gentle kiss to my cheek, then heads to his bedroom to get some rest.

  * * *

  I did some shopping on Michigan Avenue, and not just for me. I picked up a few groceries, and I realized as I was on my way to Lizzie’s to grab my overnight bag that Mark’s birthday is only a few days away. What do you get for the man who can buy anything he wants and has everything he needs?

  I want to make the day special for him—he has a lot to celebrate this year.

  His life, for one thing.

  An idea formed in my mind of the one thing he doesn’t have—the one thing he’s never had. I’m bouncing with giddiness over my idea in the back of the Yukon on my way back to Mark’s place when my phone starts ringing.

  It’s my department chair. I was just about to dig out the phone I’ve been ignoring all day to call her. I need to let her know I’m taking off the rest of the week, but she beat me to it.

  “Hi Katherine,” I answer.

  “Reese, hello. How are you?”

  “I’m good. I was just going to call you to let you know I need to take off the rest of the week.”

  “The rest of the week?” she repeats.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m in Chicago helping someone who just got out of the hospital.”

  “I know. One of my sophomores showed me the photos on the internet this morning. You’re the talk of the school.”

  My chest tightens. “What?”

  “Mark Ashton’s mystery woman finally identified,” she says as if she’s reading a headline.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Though I don’t think Mr. Monroe’s very happy. Don’t get me wrong, he’s thrilled with the money the private performance brought in for the auction, but he wants the focus to be on education. I’m sure you can understand that.”

  I’d forgotten about his donation to the school auction. I need to remember to ask him about that.

  “I’m lost, Katherine. What are you talking about?”

  “You haven’t seen the articles online? The pictures of you getting out of the back of a big, black car with that singer?”

  I blow out a breath. Of course—the paparazzi. My photo must be everywhere by now. Everyone was waiting with bated breath to know the very second Mark was released from the hospital, and I was there by his side as we walked into his building this morning.

  God, was that only this morning? It feels like a lifetime ago.

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “What’s he like?” she asks conspiratorially.

  “He’s the kindest person I’ve ever known,” I say. I want to gush. I want to go on and on about how in love with him I am, but Katherine and I don’t have that sort of relationship.

  “He’s not bad looking, that’s for sure. How’s he doing? Was it really exhaustion? I never believe that when I read about it in the magazines, you know?”

  “He’s doing great, just tired. Touring makes for long hours and not much sleep and it all just caught up with him.” It’s not a lie, exactly—it’s true that touring is an exhausting activity. I don’t answer the other part of her question.

  “Anyway, Reese, Mr. Monroe just asked me to call you to let you know that we need to put you on a leave of absence.”

  “What?” I ask stupidly.

  “The kids are all up in arms that their teacher is dating a celebrity, and not just any celebrity—one whose picture graces the lockers of half the girls in school. They’ll want every detail about your personal life, and Mr. Monroe just doesn’t feel that’ll make for a very good learning environment.”

  “Curriculum always comes first. You haven’t even given me a chance to prove that.”

  “It’s been a circus here today and you’re not even at school, dear. We’ve got concerned parents, distracted students, and you on the internet with a known playboy. Mr. Monroe did some research, Reese. He saw the types of photos that are out there of Mark Ashton, and he doesn’t want that type of reputation associated with our staff.”

  “Oh my God, Katherine,” I say as my heart starts racing. “Those are all old pictures put out by his publicist to build a certain image. That’s not him.”

  “Unfortunately, it doesn’t matter. The pictures of you with him say otherwise, and that makes you part of that image. We can’t have that in an environment with children.”

  I suddenly want to scream, defend myself, do anything to prevent this conversation from where I’m suddenly sure it’s going.

  “I’ve filed paperwork with the district office for a leave of absence through December,” she says. “More than likely it’ll be through June, but we’ll take one semester at a time. I’m working on a long-term substitute for your students.”

  Tears fill my eyes. “You’re firing me?”

  “No, you’re not fired. It’s a leave of absence. There’s a difference. And if you disassociate yourself from him, certainly Mr. Monroe would be open to reinstating you to your position.”

  Anger shakes me to my core. “After he donated a performance worth four hundred thousand dollars to this school, you’re telling me you’ll take me back if we break up? Don’t you see how twisted that is?”

  “My hands are tied. I wish things were different. If you have a better solution, I’m all ears.”

  I too angry to think of a better solution. Instead, I end the call.

  I just hung up on my department chair.

  I toss my phone on the seat beside me as I realize what the fuck actually just happened.

  I just lost my job. Leave of absence. Bullshit. It’s as good as being fired.

  And not just that. I just lost my job because of the same things Mark hates most about his job.

  eighteen

  I stand outside the door for a few moments as I collect myself. Mark needs me to be strong, and he doesn’t need to know what just happened with Katherine. I’ll tell him in time, but he doesn’t need yet another burden placed on his shoulders.

  “How do you feel?” I ask when I finally open the door and spot him on the couch as he watches some golf match. I swear, if I didn’t know he was thirty-four, I’d think he’s seventy.

 
; I set my bags on the floor by the door as he stands from the couch and turns off the television.

  His eyes heat as they fall upon me. “Better. Good enough for physical activity.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, but then he pauses for a beat as he studies me. “What’s wrong?”

  The dam bursts and tears pour out of me.

  He rushes over to me. He pulls me into his arms, and it just makes me cry harder—the peace I feel here, the safety and the comfort, the love.

  That glorious smell of sandalwood.

  “What happened?” he asks as he holds me.

  “I lost my job,” I say through broken sobs.

  “You were fired?”

  “My principal put me on a leave of absence,” I say shakily.

  “What? Why?”

  I draw in a deep breath to try to get through this conversation. “Students saw pictures of us.”

  “What pictures?”

  “From this morning. Getting out of the car.” I sniffle as the tears start to subside.

  “Oh, fuck,” he says. He pulls back and kisses my forehead.

  “They said it was crazy at school today and everyone’s talking about it and the focus needs to be on curriculum and not my circus of a life.”

  “I’m so sorry. I’ll fix this. This is all my fault.”

  “No, it’s not.” I shake my head.

  “How can you say that? You lost your job because you were with me. Fuck! And after I donated that performance.” Anger flashes through his eyes.

  “I meant to ask you about that,” I say.

  “What about it?”

  “Why’d you do it?”

  His eyes soften. “For you. But I never thought you being associated with me would cause you to lose your job.”

  “Don’t talk like that. It’s my choice to be here with you. I’d always choose you over some stupid job anyway.”

  He’s quiet as he processes those words. “I love you,” he says softly. He kisses the top of my head. “I still love you. I will always love you. Only ever you.”

  My eyes shine as I look into his. “I heard it on the radio.”

  “You did?”

  I nod.

  “What did you think?”