Page 15 of Extended Bridge (Passionate Beats #2)

Chapter Eight

I remain as long as I can in my hotel room, embarrassed over what happened last night. Who was that woman dancing with UC’s lead singer? Perhaps she should’ve worn a sign proclaiming she works for the band around her neck. Or on her forehead.

With all the determination in the world. I pack up my tools of the trade and leave to meet Bennett in the gym. Physical therapy. Something I went to school for and know enough about to mentor up to forty therapists once my third and fourth clinics open. This, I can do.

In the gym, men and women are on the various machines. No one pays me any attention as I commandeer an empty side room. Perfect for therapy.

Quiet. Peaceful. Out of the way.

We need to talk about what happened on the dance floor. Or maybe not? Why do we? Because you’re running scared and giving him mixed signals. I sigh, setting up the various stations around the room.

Bennett enters the quiet room in a pair of shorts and a tank top. Of course he’s wearing another tank top. All the better to taunt me with. “Hi, Jenna.” He walks over to the third exercise station.

“Hey.” I point toward the first station. “Why don’t you start here?”

“I’m feeling this exercise. I’d prefer to do this one first.”

Is he challenging me in order to be obstinate? “There’s a reason for my procedure,” I explain. “We need to warm up the muscles in a certain order.”

“All of these exercises work the same muscle group.”

My hands fly to my hips. “It’ll work better if you start with this one.”

He raises his hands. “Not trying to pick a fight here. We’ll do it your way.” He adjusts his trajectory and begins his therapy. Why can’t the man simply listen to me the first time?

I offer him slight corrections, but for the most part, he’s got a great handle on things. When I pick up the bands, he eyes them skeptically. After I go over the positives of using them and demonstrate how to use them in a couple of exercises, he relents.

“Damn.” He wipes sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “These are tougher than I anticipated.”

“They’re good for you.” I bring him over to do skater leaps, encouraging him to add a small jump to the steps he’s been doing. Hesitation is written all over his face. “Let me show you again,” I offer.

With measured steps, I do the exercise. My leap, if you could call it that, is akin to a glorified hop. If he can start adding these to his rotation, it’ll build up more muscle around the pull. Not going to force him, however.

He leans over into the proper position and does them with a step.

“Good job. Now try to add in a slight little baby jump.”

His mouth pulls in concentration. He adds a step-hop to the next one and I clap. “You did it! Good job!”

Bennett grins. “I did it? I really did it? ”

“You did! Next time, feel free to add an even bigger jump. Not too much. I don’t want you overtaxing that muscle.”

He nods and repeats the exercise with little jumps. After ten times, I call it. “Great! You don’t want to overdo it. What’s your pain meter?”

He rises to his full height, his six-foot-two body towering over my five-foot-six-inch frame. “I’d give it about a five.”

“Six,” I correct. “Not too bad.”

He glances around for a table to end his session. “Should I lie down on the floor?”

“If you don’t mind. You could go into the main gym area, but I think that would cause more of a stir.”

“True.” He swipes his bottle of water and glugs down about half. “Good session today. Surprisingly, I liked the bands.”

“Which you balked at,” I remind him, starting to massage his thigh. His muscular thigh. Attached to his extremely fit body. While his external appearance is off the charts, it’s what’s inside that’s truly sexy. All he’s overcome.

Dare I get lost in another rock star’s life? What will happen to everything I’ve built over these past years? No. I simply can’t allow myself to get lost in him and the messy world of UC again.

Finishing his massage—during which he’s been blessedly quiet—I busy myself with the next order of business, ice. When the ice pack is in place, I walk through the room, collecting the therapy items. All the weights and bands and towels soon are piled near the door.

He pats the floor next to him. “Sit.”

Because I don’t have anything left to do, I fold my legs and sit next to him. By next, I mean about three feet.

“You really like being in control, don’t you?”

His question catches me off guard. “Nothing wrong with control.”

“I agree. I mean, if I didn’t take the reins, who would for the band? Guess it takes one to recognize it in another. ”

Silence extends.

When I can’t take it any longer, I say, “There’s a reason why I like things in a certain order. For your exercises, we were taught to take them one by one because each builds upon the prior one.”

“Makes sense.” His fingers play with the ice pack before dropping them to the floor. “Like last night?”

Oh God, don’t make me go back there. When I lost my inhibitions on the dance floor with him, and I can’t even blame alcohol. “What about it?”

“You were letting loose. Enjoying yourself.” I shake my head, but he interjects. “Don’t bother lying to me. I was there, remember?”

“Hard to forget,” I mutter.

He chuckles. “Damn straight. I saw it the moment it happened. When you realized you were having fun and getting lost in the music. A second before you bolted.”

No escaping this conversation. My shoulders lower.

“You have to understand something about me, Bennett.” I glance away from his too-handsome face.

“I’m responsible not only for Darren’s death, but my grandmother’s too.

When I don’t keep a tight lid on everything, it all spins out of control. You know what happened with Darren.”

“He overdosed. You weren’t responsible.”

“I knew he was taking Oxy.”

“Did you pour the alcohol down his throat?” I shake my head. “Make him take several pills throughout the day and night?”

A tear falls. “ No . But I was on the phone with him the night he”—My lips purse.

“He was a grown man. He made his own choices.” Bennett throws the ice pack to the side. “Listen, he was a ticking time bomb. It was bound to happen. None of us were aware, or even able, to stop it.” He tilts my chin. “Not even you.”

“That’s not what happened with my grandmother.”

His arms go next to his hips, and he leans his weight onto them. “Tell me about her.”

I close my eyes and begin sharing all the happy times we enjoyed together.

All the baking we did when I was little.

How she was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was seven.

I gaze into his understanding green eyes.

“When that happened, I took it upon myself to ensure she went to every appointment, including chemo and radiation, and made sure she took all her medicine.”

“Cancer is a bitch.”

“Yeah. But that’s not what happened. Well, it did, but not then.” My lips close.

Bennett chuckles. “You can’t leave me hanging like this. What happened to your Grandma?”

I look to the side, my fingers playing with the scrunchie at the back of my head.

“She got a clean bill of health. I’m positive my daily visits helped her.

” I drop my arms into my lap. “Once she was healthy, my visits became more sporadic. First I skipped a day, then a few days. Eventually I went to her house only once a week.”

“I’m sure you had lots of things going on at school. You were exploring the big world. I’m sure your Grandma understood. She probably even wanted that for you as you grew up.” He reaches out as if to run his palm down my arm, but his hand drops to the floor before making contact.

I stare at his large hand. Without raising my gaze, I say, “Three years later her cancer came back with a fury. She died the next year. All because I didn’t keep visiting her daily to make sure she was taking her meds.” My fingers cover my tear-stained face.

I can’t stop from flinging myself into Bennett’s arms, where he pulls me against his chest. He rubs my back in a soothing manner and I unravel against his hard torso.

“Her death wasn’t your fault either. I’m sure you were her bright light.

” He continues with circular motions. “I can picture you—all of ten years old, in pigtails—fussing over her. Baking cookies. Bringing light into her life.”

“I still failed.”

“Hate to break it to you.” He kisses the top of my head. “No one gets out of this life alive.”

Which brings us right back to Darren. I cry for Grandma. When those tears slow, new ones fall for my ex-boyfriend. “It wasn’t his fault.”

“He had a disease.”

I nod against his chest. “One he caught because of me.” There. I said it out loud for the very first time. My absolute guilt.

Bennett’s hands close around my shoulders and he pulls me up to face him. “You’re wrong. You didn’t cause Darren to become an addict.”

I swallow. “I encouraged him to take the pills to help his recovery. He didn’t want to.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Because the doctor prescribed them, and I knew he wanted to get back on tour as fast as possible. He needed his wrist to play the keyboards. Oxy made rehab more tolerable. Wrist injuries are extremely painful, you know.”

“A groin pull is no walk in the park either.”

My head shakes. “No, it isn’t.” Heat flames on my cheeks. “Yet here you are working your way through therapy without the help of any drugs.”

“Because of Darren.” He scoots away, leaving me unanchored. “I saw what happened to him and don’t want that fate for myself, although—unlike him—if I took his route out, no one would be left to mourn me.”

“You’re wrong.” I get to my knees. “Your mother, the band, your manager, your fans. They all would be bereft.” I scoot over to be in front of him.