Page 18 of Edge of Heaven (Crimson Edge #2)

Mick

I barely remember our set, my mind a million miles away as I play. My hands know exactly what to do since my bass is practically another limb for me, so I don’t have to put a lot of effort into the music. That’s probably a shit thing for me to say, but tonight it’s the truth.

All I care about is getting off stage and finding Taryn.

Ryleigh found me just before the show, telling me she’s worried about Taryn too.

Secrets suck, and I now have a much better understanding about what Angus went through when he didn’t feel like there was a good time to tell us his true identity or about his billionaire family.

It’s different because it was his own situation, not someone else’s, but it’s similar in theory.

“Hey.” Ryleigh comes over to me once we’re done playing and whispers in my ear.

“If you go to the green room, there’s a private dressing room in the back.

It has two doors—one leads back into the green room and the other leads out to a back hall they use to sneak VIPs out to the exit.

I don’t know exactly where it goes but if you and Taryn lock yourselves in the dressing room, you can go out the VIP entrance and figure it out while she can go through the green room.

Even if someone sees her, they won’t think anything of it because you’ll be far away. ”

“You are the best!” I lean over to kiss her forehead.

I grab a towel and a bottle of water so I can hydrate while I wait for Karnal Death to get on stage.

I feel like a teenager trying to sneak out of the house in the middle of the night without my parents finding out, and I never even did that then, much less now.

Normally, I wouldn’t play games like this but Taryn’s situation with Toby is different.

He’s just a kid—a really sick kid—and I understand that she’ll do whatever is necessary to make sure he has what he needs.

If it was my kid, I’d beg, borrow and steal to make sure he gets the right treatment.

But if Callum is hitting her… that’s a different level of abuse. Verbal abuse is bad, but it’s not the end of the world since there’s an end date. Emotional abuse is worse, and while it makes me want to beat the shit out of him, she only has three or four months left.

Physical abuse is a big fat no.

Except Toby’s life is on the line.

If I had the money—or even the credit to borrow it for her—I would.

But short-term, I’m broke as fuck.

There’s no way I can ask my parents for ten or fifteen grand, and while I could potentially ask Sasha for an advance, I know how ridiculous it sounds to do something like that for a woman I’ve spent a total of about a week with over more than four years.

I’m crazy about her, but am I in a position to sacrifice my financial stability for a kid that’s not mine and someone I’ve never even met?

I make my way to the dressing room attached to the green room and sink into one of the chairs. Both doors lock, so once Taryn gets here, we might have a modicum of privacy to talk.

The knob turns, and I look up as she comes into the room.

Damn, now that she’s up close in bright light, she looks tired. Like she hasn’t slept since New York.

And all my doubts begin to melt away.

“Hey.” I reach out a hand but instead of taking it, she vaults herself against my chest. My arms close around her and I hold her tight. “It’s okay, babe. Whatever it is, we’re going to figure it out.”

“Just hold me,” she whispers. “Please.”

“I’m right here.”

We stay like that for a long time.

I’m perched on the edge of a dressing table and she’s nestled against my chest, her head resting on my shoulder.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Babe, I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

“You can’t help even if I do. I asked you to be my friend. To let me vent. To give me a shoulder to cry on. That’s all anyone can do. Please don’t ask for more, Mick.”

“Babe.” I pull away enough to force her to lift her head. Once she’s looking at me, I take her chin between two fingers. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not the way you’re thinking,” she whispers, her eyes puddling with tears. “I’m okay. Everything is status quo. He makes the next payment day after tomorrow and then we’re down to three.”

“Tell. Me. What. He. Did.” My pulse is racing, but I try to keep my voice neutral as I stare into her pretty face. I know we’re getting into dangerous territory, but I can’t sit by and do nothing. I just can’t.

“He…” She swallows. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“What are you going to do?” she asks. “Confront him? Go kick his ass? Call the cops? Like, what is your plan, Mick? I know you’re mad.

I’m upset too. But it wasn’t what you’re thinking—okay?

He has four payments left. That’s a lot of damn money.

Toby needs me and I’m not going to do anything to fuck that up.

You can’t either. Do you understand? If you’re going to get riled up every time Callum does something that upsets me, we can’t keep doing this. ”

I close my eyes and try to breathe through the whiplash of emotions I’m feeling.

He hit her.

And if I do anything to take care of the situation, it could make her situation worse or cost Toby the treatment he needs.

I feel angry and helpless and guilty—a cocktail of emotions I don’t like. Especially feeling helpless. I don’t do helpless.

I’m the kind of guy who takes action and—there are tears streaming down her face.

Dammit .

I grab a tissue and hand it to her, kicking myself for making her cry.

Callum does enough of that, and I don’t want to be another person in her life she can’t count on.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I just—I can’t stand the thought of him laying a hand on you.”

“I know.” She dabs at her eyes. “But it’s not a huge deal. He’s been extra nice the last couple of days, so it’s okay. He won’t get grumpy again until it’s time for me to leave for L.A. I figure I’ve got two good weeks.”

“Taryn, what am I supposed to do?” I ask in frustration. “I care about you. A lot. You can’t expect me to sit here and do nothing.”

“If you care about me, that’s exactly what you’re going to do.” She puts her hands on either side of my face. “You know why I put up with it. The clock is ticking. It’s almost over. If I can hang in there, so can you. Otherwise, then we can’t…do this.”

“I don’t know what we’re doing!” I grumble.

“No?” She cocks her head. “I thought we talked about this in New York?”

“It was different when we were together. Now that we’re back under his thumb, it’s…” I don’t even know how to express what I’m feeling.

“Hard.” Her lips tilt up ever so slightly. “Trust me, I know.”

We stare into each other’s eyes and my heart slams against my ribs.

“I want to kiss you,” I rumble. “So fucking much.”

To my surprise, she leans up and in, her lips lightly touching mine. “I want that too.”

“I thought we were waiting.”

“To be together, yes. But every time I leave to see my son, he sends me pictures of women sucking his dick. I think I’m entitled to let the guy I want to be with kiss me.”

Fuck. Yes.

I continue staring into her beautiful face for a while, one hand cupping her cheek, drinking in every line of her face. She’s so pretty, and such a sweet, kind soul. When she looks at me like she is now—as if I’m the only man in the world—everything else slips away.

I don’t care about Callum or the band or anything else.

All I want is her.

And this kiss—this first kiss after what feels like a lifetime since I last kissed her—is important. It’s not our actual first kiss, but it’s a different kind of first kiss. The kind that holds a promise of more. A promise of something I’ve never given anyone else.

Even though we have to wait.

“You know how long I’ve waited for this?” I whisper, my mouth just an inch from hers.

“Four years, two months, and…” She wrinkles her nose like she’s thinking really hard. “Twelve days? Maybe ten? I don’t remember the exact date we said goodbye. It was mid-February.”

“Yeah. It was.” I press my lips to hers gently, a delicate reminder of what we had four years ago. And maybe a whisper of what we might have again.

We nuzzle and explore, keeping our mouths closed as we reconnect, and her arms wind around my neck.

I love how her body fits against mine, how it feels for us to be close like this. I never realized it before, but I’ve unconsciously compared every woman I’ve been intimate with since we were together to Taryn.

No one else ever had a chance.

And now that I have her back, I’m not letting her go.

I slide my tongue along the seam of her lips, teasing for entrance, and she opens for me. But still, I don’t rush. I can’t.

This kiss has to tell her everything I’m too afraid to vocalize.

“ Michael .” My name is a breathy whisper against my mouth.

Ah, fuck.

She only ever calls me by my full name when I’m inside her.

Since this is as close as we’re going to get to that for a while, I understand what she’s trying to tell me—she feels it too.

I slide my tongue against hers and grip her firmly by the waist. She melts into me, and everything becomes a blur of lips and tongues and hot, whispered moans.

“I believe there’s a reason they call you Mick Lips,” she murmurs when we finally break apart.

“You mean other than the fact that my legal name is Lipson?” I tease, pressing my forehead to hers.

“Smartass.”

“I could kiss you all night, babe.”

“And I can’t wait until we can.”