Reprise (Ruby Riot #3) Page 6

  “Shut up and come on.” I’m yanked again and he strides along the path he created, hunched against the snow. I attempt to keep his pace and fail, convinced my aching legs are about to collapse.

  “Nate. I’m serious. I need a break.”

  An exasperated Nate drags both hands through his hair, and closes his eyes. He mutters something.

  “What?” I snap.

  “Get on my back.” I blink away the snowflakes on my eyelashes unable to respond. “Riley, get on my back, and I’ll fucking carry you.”

  I grit my teeth. “No.” Unsteadily, I pick through the snow past him. I’m soaked, and pissed off, and bloody cold. I trip with the exhaustion and land on my knees.

  I will not cry in front of Nate.

  “Now who’s proving a point?” Nate’s voice is softer as he helps me to my feet, his face drawn into concerned lines, and I’m caught by the drop in his attitude to me. “Let me carry you the rest of the way.”

  I waver but the temperature and desire for the warmth of the pub at the top of the hill makes up my mind. “Okay.”

  Nate slings the bag across my shoulders instead and hitches me onto his back. My damp coat slides against his leather jacket and snow gathers on his head. I wrap my arms around Nate’s neck, glad of the warmth and the fact the asshole who crashed his car in a snowstorm has impressive upper body strength.

  8

  RILEY

  The cars outside the pub are barely visible and drifting snow piles against one side of the building. Nate inelegantly drops me and rests a hand on the wall, out of breath. “It’s a good thing you’re skinnier because what the hell is in your bag? It weighs a ton.”

  “The usual items somebody would take to a hotel for a business trip.”

  Nate mutters something, shakes snow from his hair and pushes through the pub door, which is already a third covered by a drift. The four people around the table look up in surprise.

  “Whoa. What happened to you?” asks the young guy.

  “Car broke down,” says Nate flashing me a be quiet look.

  “Unlucky!” George says with a chuckle. “I’d give you a lift but my car wouldn’t make it far.”

  “Reckon you’re stuck, mate,” says the younger guy sitting with him.

  I take a ragged breath and cross to the fire, hoping to regain sensation in my hands and feet sometime soon. “Are you okay, love? Did you have to walk far?” asks the woman.

  Nate points at where I dropped my bag on the floor. “At least she has dry clothes.”

  Nate’s leather jacket has protected some of him but his black jeans are soaked through. “You can always borrow some of our son’s, while I dry yours,” says the woman. “He’s about your height. Toby isn’t here, he won’t mind.”

  Nate makes a humph noise and crosses his arms. The snow in my hair melts and slides down my face, along with my make-up. My usually neat style changes into wet tendrils and I shudder to think how I look right now.

  “Well, I guess introductions are in order if we’re going to spend the night together,” says the older man.

  Night?

  “I’m George, landlord, and this is my wife, Val.”

  “I’m Jason,” adds the guy with a grin. “I know you. You’re Nate Campbell; what’s your girlfriend called?”

  “Excuse me, I’m standing here. You can ask me. Riley. And I’m not his girlfriend,” I snap.

  “Partner, whatever.” He waves a hand.

  I glance at Nate who’s staring out the window. He’d better drop the arrogance; this group of people won’t care who he is.

  “Do you have the number for a taxi?” I ask.

  George laughs and Val shakes her head. “You’ll be lucky. No one would agree to come up here in this weather. They might get stuck.”

  “Are we stuck?” I ask in a low voice.

  “You could take us to the village or something,” says Nate.

  Jason laughs. “Take you? No way. You not have a helicopter or something to take your rock star ass out of here?”

  Nate scowls and I snigger. “He’s not that big a rock star.”

  “One day I will be,” he retorts. “Ruby Riot is getting there.”

  “One day isn’t any help right now, Mr. Big Shot,” I mutter.

  “Jesus, please don’t tell me we’re gonna be stuck in the pub with two people who are likely to have a domestic every five minutes,” groans Jason.

  “Nah, we don’t talk to each other half the time,” replies Nate. He wanders to the window and gazes out.

  I run my tongue along my teeth, holding back on a response to his turned back. I look to George instead. “Are we stuck here tonight?”

  “At least.”

  “At least?” Nate and me say together, as if we’re in a corny comedy show. I feel like I’m in a corny comedy show.

  “If a thaw sets in, could be tomorrow, maybe longer,” replies Val.

  Stolen car, car crash, expedition through the snow… How has today happened? And now this. Val’s words don’t register for a few seconds, and then they slug me in the stomach with the same force every other disaster has today. Fate’s repeated strikes against me finally win, and I panic as my eyes fill with tears. Everybody will see me cry, and they can’t. I hold my breath and focus on the flames in the hearth.

  “You look frozen, love,” says Val gently and approaches me. “You can take one of the guest rooms. Have a hot shower and you’ll feel better.”

  Her eyes are filled with kindness for a total stranger and she reminds me of Mum with her gentle intuition. I nod and squeeze my eyes together against the tears.

  “Yeah, blue doesn’t suit you,” replies Nate, indicating my hands.

  Too exhausted and damp to consider a retort, I follow Val upstairs.

  NATE

  What the fuck am I wearing? They said their son is the same size as me. No way. The checked flannel — yes, flannel — shirt hangs off me. I’m broad chested so this guy must weigh a hell of a lot. His black jogging bottoms aren’t much better. I look like I’ve been swallowed by a charity shop.

  Ugh.

  Riley’s in one guest room. Val showed me to the other so Riley and me can both dry and warm ourselves quickly. Has Riley figured out what I have yet? Two guest rooms, two couples, and one bedroom for the owners.

  Nate and Riley fight incoming.

  Stuck. What a fucking mess, and it’s all my fault. Why do I let Riley get to me? When she gave me grief about leaving the motorway, I changed my mind about finding the first pub we passed and kept driving. The more she whined, the further I drove to prove I’m in control.

  Or I was.

  Now I’m stranded in a pub in the middle of fucking nowhere with Riley and an assortment of locals. Could be worse I suppose. At least it’s a pub and I have a wallet full of cash.

  But stuck—with Riley.

  I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the worn carpet. I fucking hope we can leave tomorrow because I don’t want to listen to her bitching any longer than I have to.

  Riley’s infuriating not only because I don’t like her but also because of the effect she has on me. I’d wiped the mess we made of things two years ago out of my head, and didn’t expect Riley to walk back into my life. Now she’s crossed the space in my head, and the space of the last two years.

  The other day, when we met in the hotel bar, dragged me backwards to the Nate she screwed over. Riley gave me something and snatched it away again, and I hate her for that. I don’t think she understands what she did, and I don’t want her to.

  We’d met up a couple of times alone on tour, chatted over drinks, and Riley insisted nobody should know. I opened up to Riley, told her about things from my past nobody knows apart from the people involved. Yeah, I was drunk when I told her, but a combination of need to tell and Riley’s understanding sent the words spilling from my mouth.

  And I kissed her. Maybe I’d forgotten how strongly a kiss holds me to somebody, perhaps it’s because we stopped th
ere, but I wanted Riley. Obsessively wanted her. A couple of days later and drunk, I called Riley, asked her to meet me.

  So Riley drunk, plus me wasted, plus Hard Rock VIP bathrooms equalled the prospect of the sex we both wanted.

  Then things went to shit.

  I’ve no idea what I said. I don’t bloody remember. Half-undressed, hands on each other, getting closer to the sex I’d become obsessed with. Then everything stopped abruptly, and she started a tirade against me. I don’t think it was what I was doing, Riley was fucking loving that, but then… Bam. Stop. Fuck off, Nate.

  Here was this woman who I’d told about my heartbreak, admitted how fucked up I was, and she threw everything back in my face. Riley accused me of making up sob stories to trick me into a pity fuck. As if I needed a pity fuck, the tour was mental, and I had no shortage of girls.

  I didn’t push the issue. I might be a selfish asshole when it comes to sex, couldn’t give a shit about how girls feel as long as I get what I need, but I’d never force myself on any girl.

  The next day? Riley wouldn’t speak to me and avoided any chance of us being alone. Me, being me, decided ‘fuck that’. No way would I chase a girl who turned me down. I had nothing to apologise for. Not like I treated her badly, as far as I was concerned. Not my fault she was up for it and changed her mind.

  I decided she was embarrassed and left her alone.

  And why should I give a shit? I switched back to the partying, man–whoring Nate and made sure Riley saw how little she meant. This upset her, and our shared hurt translated into resentment. When we eventually spoke a week later, Riley was cold and bitchy. Yelled some shit about me screwing other girls. Not respecting women. I shrugged her off; we walked away at stalemate. Every encounter with each other over the next few weeks ramped this up further until we couldn’t stand to breathe the same air.

  Thing is, the rejection felt more than physical. I’d wanted her; this girl who clicked into my life with her understanding and affection. At the time, I cut her out of me, digging away where she’d found her way under my skin. But a part of her remains; lodged close to my heart.

  Why did that happen with Riley? One fucked up person recognising another? Riley has barriers at least as high as mine, but we detected the vulnerability at our edges. My biggest mistake — our biggest mistake — was acknowledging the vulnerability existed.

  Meeting up again, I’m confronted with all this bubbling from inside. Something weird connects us; something time hasn’t erased otherwise Riley with me now wouldn’t mean anything. But it does. The girl who I wanted and fucked things up with is in reach again, but I can’t touch her because the steel wall remains. Both of our walls.

  No fucking way can I show her how this makes me feel, and no point thinking about this shit now.

  I need a pint.

  I walk into the bar area with bare feet, carrying my wet clothes, and my crap forced fashion choice isn’t registered by anybody.

  “I’ll dry those for you,” says Becca and grabs my soaking bundle of clothes.

  “Yeah. Thanks.” I rub my neck and watch Becca’s ass as she walks away. Nice. Too young and probably not up for it, plus I prefer taller girls. I reckon Jason would smack me for even looking; he watches her closer than I do.

  In the time I’ve spent upstairs changing, the drifts have piled against the windows and have darkened the room further. I walk over and peer out.

  “Definitely stuck?” I ask.

  “Afraid so, love,” replies Val.

  I blow air into my cheeks. There’s only one solution. “Can I get a drink?”

  Several pints later and I relax about the situation. Warm fire, plenty of beer, and no shortage of food. Val serves up cottage pie, and with a full belly, I’m drowsy. Yeah, I can happily do this for a night.

  “Where’s your whatever she is?” asks Jason.

  “Riley? Dunno.” I stretch my legs out and lace my hands behind my head.

  “I think she’s in the guest room, still,” replies Val. “Door’s shut and lights are on.”

  George laughs. “Must be. Not like she can get far, can she?”

  “Yeah,” I reply.

  “Maybe see if she wants something to eat?” asks Val.

  “Me?”

  “You’re her friend.”

  Am I? The number of eyes trained on me means sitting here and not checking on Riley would be weird. “Right.” I stand. “If I’m not back down in five minutes send a search party.”

  Becca giggles. “I’m sure she isn’t that bad.”

  “Really? Riley still hasn’t unleashed on me after I stranded us here.”

  “It was your fault?” asks Val.

  I grit my teeth. Yes. “Kinda.”

  The carpeted stairs creak as I walk up and onto the narrow hallway. Two of the rooms have names: Bronte and Haworth. I changed my clothes in Haworth, so Riley must be in Bronte.

  I knock. Silence. I knock again. “Riley?” No response. “Val wants to know if you’re hungry.”

  Still nothing. Good, I’m serious when I say I don’t want to see her. “So, yeah, we’re downstairs. In the bar.”

  I turn to leave and then halt, guilt edging in. This was my fault and, although she tried hard to hide it, Riley cried. I take a deep breath. Fine. I’ll check if she’s all right and return to the bar with a clearer conscience.

  I push the handle and slowly open the unlocked door. A small lamp on a table illuminates the room. Heavy curtains are drawn against a window and the large bed takes up most of the space, bedside tables either side. Riley lies on her side on the bed, facing away from the door.

  “Riley?” I whisper.

  She must be sleeping. I back up.

  “What?” she replies, not turning around.

  “Oh. Are you hungry?”

  “No.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “No, I am not bloody okay.”

  The terse and typical Riley tone shuts down any desire to carry on a conversation. “Right. If you get hungry…”

  “Could you please leave me alone, Nate,” she says in a quiet voice. “I’m tired.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  More beers I guess; I’ll leave Riley to her sulking. How is moping going to achieve anything?

  9

  RILEY

  My body clock wakes me at seven a.m., ready for a workday that won’t happen. I peek through the bedroom curtains in hope, and my heart sinks into my stomach. The drifts hide the roads and the car roofs are barely visible. Worse than that, snow continues to fall onto the drifts reaching halfway up the building. I slump onto the bed and pick up my phone to call Mum.

  “Sweetheart, how are you?” she asks.

  “Still stuck, I think. I just woke up and haven’t asked anybody yet. How’s Josh?”

  “He’s still asleep.”

  I drag hair from my eyes. “I’m really sorry that I never made it home last night.”

  “Riley, don’t apologise. It’s not your fault. At least you’re safe and weren’t hurt in the accident.”

  Last night’s phone call to Mum, I was on the edge of hysteria, overwhelmed by the events of the day. Anger vied with exhaustion as I ranted about my situation. As usual, Mum listened patiently and put everything into perspective for me. The hyperventilating stopped and I calmed enough to sleep.

  “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

  “I explained to Josh why you’re not home yet, he’s okay. Actually, he thinks it’s funny and asked if you were building snowmen and sledging.”

  I wander back to the window. “Tell him we can’t get out of the door. But I could jump out of the window and have a soft landing.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat.

  “Oh, Riley. Sweetheart. Everything will be okay.”

  “There’s nothing I can do about this and I’m stuck with that arse… idiot and his rudeness, Mum. I hate it.”

  “You can’t control everything. Certainly not nature. Relax and wait. Josh and me are absolut
ely fine.”

  “I have some things to organise, can you go to—”

  “Riley! It’s all right. I’m sure you’ll be on your way home later today,” she says in the firm Mum voice she uses when I head towards hysteria. “Keep me updated.”

  “I’ll call in a couple of hours and speak to Josh. Hopefully I’ll know more by then.”

  I end the call and twist my hair into a ponytail. Facing the world without make-up isn’t something I do, but what does it matter here? I fell asleep early and fully clothed last night, exhausted by the hell of a day I’d had. Where’s Nate? In the other guest room? My stomach growls and the light-headedness grows. I don’t have time to change; I need food.

  Downstairs, the bar area is empty, tables cluttered with empty glasses and the familiar stale beer smell hangs in the room. Behind the bar, a doorway leads to a large, farmhouse kitchen. The room is stacked with plates and dishes, health and safety information pinned to a notice board beneath a staff roster. I hesitate. Should I find somebody? Ask if I’m allowed to take something to eat? A note propped against the white plastic kettle answers my question.

  “Help yourself to breakfast.”

  Even though I do, I’m awkward. Helping myself to strangers’ food doesn’t seem right. In the end, I pour a bowl of cornflakes and make a mug of tea. Val and George only have instant coffee and no way am I drinking that. I munch on the soggy cereal, dreaming of a snow-free world as I take in my surroundings. A second stained wood-panelled door leads out of the kitchen, and curiosity gets the better of me.

  I open the door to a small lounge; a large clock ticks on the wall in the dimly lit room and the curtains are drawn. A large sofa and two mismatched armchairs face a flat screen TV, and shelves holding figurines and books line the walls. I set my mug on the low coffee table and cross to open the curtains. The snow reaches most of the way up the window and I need to tiptoe to see over the top.

  “Close the fucking curtains, Riley.” Nate’s voice comes from under a blanket he holds over his face, his long frame squashed onto the sofa.

  “What are you doing there?” I ask.

  “Sleeping.” He pulls the blanket from his face. “Or I was.” A bleary-eyed Nate scowls at me.