Chapter 37: Rock Stars Will Break Your Heart

Trace

Leed has stalked over into the middle of the Mac Madness. He is surprisingly chill, considering the shit this douchebag clubber is talking about his sister. Must be the Mollycock he drank; it's hard to rage and roll at the same time.

"Leed, get out of the damn way so I can deliver this punk's beatdown," I growl.

Adam interrupts the altercation by climbing up onto the bar with Mac. For a second I think he's going to kiss her while a hundred phones have video rolling, but he doesn't. He gets right in her face, yells, "You're done here!", hops gracefully down behind the bar, grabs her around the legs, pitches her over his shoulder and gestures for John to lead the way through the kitchen.

I'm supremely happy. #Madam will trend way higher than whatever the fuck they are calling me and Kat. I don't even think we have a ship name, unless you count #trailbait. Which I don't.

"See y'all back at the hotel," Adam says breezily, like he's not fighting with a hundred pound Tasmanian devil on his shoulder, who is beating his back and trying to get teeth on him to free herself. Leed, Bodie and I wave at Mac as she disappears through the kitchen door over Adam's shoulder. She flips us off. With both hands.

"I bet a benji Adam has a black eye in the morning," Bodie says.

"You're on," Leed says grimly. "I figure he strikes first—his tongue in her mouth before she lands a punch."

"I want odds on whether they make it to the hotel, or screw in the limo," I grin.

Leed laughs, and then he looks troubled. "This whole thing should really disturb me, considering it's my sister being hauled off for a claim-fucking. But I'm...feelin' the love."

Bodie slaps him on the back, "Next time, just say no to love drugs, brother."

Leed rubs his face. "No shit, man. Fucking mollycocks get me every time." He scans the club. "Where's Sophie, anyway?"

I use Leed's moment of horny distraction to slip around him and shove the Mac-insulting punk hard.

"Get the hell gone! Show's over!" I yell at all these fake-fan-but-actual-haters. I'm totally over the anger; at this point I'm just flexin'. The Lucky Shot contenders grumble and disperse.

My supreme happiness fades the moment we claim the top of the VIP balcony and Kat's not there. I stop at the top of the stairs, and Leed stops right behind me. "Fuck," he enunciates with exasperation, but not real worry. "Trace, I made sure she was with Ben. I saw them walking up the stairs. I swear."

Ben is gripping the rail when I approach. "I'm sorry, Trace," he says, never taking his eyes off the the floor, scanning methodically for Kat. "I asked her to stay up here and she agreed; I thought she would, so I had my eyes on the bar situation."

"What happened?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. Maybe...I offended her, in the way I explained that my job was to secure her. I'm sorry. Will you please check your phone? She's not the dramatic type. If she left, she would tell you."

No texts, no missed calls. "She's here," I tell him. "It's not your fault. I...did something." I scan the floor. Leed and Bodie are looking too.

"There," Bodie points. She's down on the floor, and some guy that is about to have my fist in his face has his hands all over her, grinding her from behind and kissing her neck while she has her eyes closed and her hands in her hair.

By the time I make it to where she is, I can actually hear and see in normal colors again. Which is good, because all I was streaming down the stairs and through the crowd was distorted bloodlust.

Even with returned senses, I can't stop myself from pushing the guy she's dancing with and knocking him on his ass. Goddamn usurper has his hands on her like he's fucked her already. Then I pull her to me, but not too roughly. I try not to act like the asshole I feel like, but the truth is, I'm pissed at her too. She's definitely graduated from trying to work out her feelings to trying to make me insane with jealousy, letting this random feel her up like that.

I lean in close and practically scream in her ear so she can hear every word. "If you want to dance, Katheryn, I really wish you'd ask me, and not these other guys. Am I not your boyfriend and the only guy you should be dancing with?"

I'm expecting anger, hurt, confusion in her eyes. I'm not expecting the blown out pupils and the immediate hazy grin.

"Yeah," she says, and puts her mouth to mine.

My anger fades as I realize with surprise that she's totally rollin'. Shit, she's not trying to make me jealous, she must have drunk one of Molly's special drinks. Like Leed said, they bring the lovin' feelings. I'm pissed at myself for not warning her specifically that they were laced, but before I even know what to do, she's so deep into me, and I'm so relieved to have found her safe that I kiss her back with a matching abandon. I drop down into a hip grind with her. I shoot the prick she was dancing with a strong one fingered good-bye as I enjoy the feel of her body demanding friction from mine He walks away without a fight, probably because he could tell she was on something and knew he shouldn't be pushing up on her.

She's all over me. I'm not gonna lie; I relish it. We dance a long time with no words, only the feel of our bodies. I know the best thing for her right now is simple stimulation—the sync of her body to the sound, and the feel of my body on hers. I put my hands everywhere I know will make her feel good. I don't even care about the occasional flashes of phone cameras. Kat is in a place I can't call her back from; and I'm not going to be a hypocrite and rob her pleasure.

An hour later, I've finally coaxed her from the dance floor and we're in the car. Bodie went with his LA friends when the they left, probably to find another club. Their entourage is one short however, because Sophie is in the car with us, making out with Leed. I wonder what happens in the morning. If I recall, Leed broke things off with her, something about nothing in commom. Right now they have Mollycocks in common, however.

Kat is watching them with interest, and I'm watching Kat to make sure she's ok. The weird thing about Molly's drinks is that she's pretty skilled at dosing them, and most people can function ok even after a couple, they just feel super stimulated and...well...horny. But I have seen people have really bad experiences with too much of a good thing and I'm obviously worried about Kat. I'm worried things might turn rough for her in a little while, and if I'm honest, I'm worried they might not. I think about Ashlynn and I don't want Kat to enjoy this experience too much. But maybe I'm projecting Ash's demons onto Kat. Or my own. Personally, I don't use much of any kind of drugs except a little weed, because I like drugs too much. I'm afraid of bad habits. That's the honest truth.

"They're going to have sex," Kat says in a completely normal voice, talking about Leed and Sophie.

"Lots," Leed mumbles in agreement in between kisses with Sophie.

Kat's glittering eyes regard me seriously. "Are we?" she whispers in my ear.

I kiss her neck to try to distract her. "Mmmmm...you're so salty, baby. You taste good." I pull her to me, raking my nails lightly up and down her arms. She shivers in pleasure. "Oh my god, that feels so amazing. Why does it feel so good?"

"Because you're rollin', baby," I explain, as I continue to drag up her arms. "How many of those green drinks did you have?"

"One," she says. "I spilled the second one."

I sigh in relief. One is not that bad.

"So there were...drugs in those drinks?" Kat asks.

"I should have told you. You didn't have much...maybe a half dose of a Molly. You know what that is?"

She nods.

"Ever had it before?"

She shakes her head.

"Don't worry. We're gonna go to the suite and listen to music and chill. Everything will be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen," I assure her.

"Something really good is going to happen in Leed's suite," Sophie giggles.

"Damn straight," Leed lays her down on the seat, devouring her mouth.

"Are they gonna do it right here?" Kat whispers. The worst part is, she doesn't sound very worried, just curious.

"No, they are not," I assure her, and I kick Leed's foot. "Dude. I'd tell you to get a room, but you got one. Five minutes away. Slow your roll."

"Trace...Peace...Love...Unity...Respect." Leed says back and he continues kissing Sophie.

Kat giggles and I look down at her. She's so pretty and I love the happy sounds she's making. Screw it. If you can't beat 'em...join 'em.

Kat and I make out the rest of the way to the hotel.

When we get into our suite, I see Riley got the text I sent when Kat and I were dancing. I asked him to run out and get a few things to help me deal with Kat's situation—the fridge is stocked with gatorade and the freezer has popsicles. And he got some fresh fruit, in case she needs some food. I've seen girls get dehydrated and hypoglycemic on this stuff before. I thought about going all out and asking him to get glow sticks and pop rocks candy and throwing Kat a private sensory party, but then again I'm not exactly hoping she loves this experience so much she wants it to become a regular thing. I can't deal with a both a wife and a girlfriend who like to party too much.

Then again, I want to do everything I can to make Kat feel safe and comfortable, if her roll turns bad. This is all my fault, anyway. I should have told her straight up those drinks were Molly's, but she already thinks my lifestyle is drug-riddled. I guess, truthfully...it is.

While I'm tearing into the popsicles and trying to remember if Kat has a favorite flavor...grape, I think...I hear her running a shower. I grin. She is going to freak out at how good the spray feels on her skin right now.

"Hey Kat," I call loudly, "I think you should stay hydrated. A popsicle would probably taste really good to you right now...it's a weird thing...the cold sensation...when you are roll—"

I turn around to hand her the popsicle and everything else I planned to say dies away.

Goddamn.

She's standing in front of me completely naked.

"Wow." That's all I can say. She's so far beyond beautiful, I can't even describe her. It's not just her body, but the way she's glistening, damp from sweat, and smiling, and so comfortable with me seeing her. She's holding out her hand to me. She's like a damn siren, calling to me.

She smiles. "I need some help in the shower."

I swallow heavily. "KittyKat..."

"I know," she rolls her eyes. "You don't want to have sex. This time because I'm the one messed up, not you. But I'm sooooo ready...for a shower. Come with me," her voice is husky as she moves to me and hooks her fingers in the belt loops of my jeans. She leans forward and sucks on the popsicle in my hand.

"Mmmmmmm, soooo gooood," she moans and licks the popsicle, rolling it in her mouth as her face slackens in pleasure.

I bite down on my tongue, tasting blood. "You are going to kill me, you know that, right?"

"You don't have to suffer," she whispers, pulling my hands around her waist and placing them on her bare hips. "You could just give into me."

"I really can't, Sweetheart," I tell her in all serious. There is no way in hell I'm having sex with Kat the first time if she's past the point of consent—which she is. "But I will help you shower."

Following behind her exquisite bare ass and hearing her slurp on that popsicle has me so hot in the twenty steps that it takes to get to the bathroom, I know there's no way I can get naked in the shower with her. I'm only marginally confident in my self control as it is. I keep reminding myself that sadness is sometimes a part of coming down off a roll and there's no way I want Kat struggling with her emotions after the first time we make love. So I take off my shirt, shoes and socks and step in the shower with my jeans still on.

She finds this extremely funny until I turn her around and she feels the shower spray on her back. "Oooooooh," she sighs.

I grin, "I know, baby. It feels good. This will feel good, too." I pour shampoo into my hand and massage it into her scalp. She makes little mewls of pleasure. I take the shower head and bring it close to her scalp, carefully rinsing the soap. Then I take a cloth and soap it, and begin the process of gently scrubbing her down.

I rinse her carefully with the shower head. As I reach to turn the water off, she stops my hand.

"I'm not done," she says, and takes the showerhead from me, running it down her flat stomach and between her legs. She closes her eyes, and bites her lip as she pleasures herself with the spray. "You wanna help me out, or just watch?

"Fuck," I hiss, as I bite my own knuckle so hard the bone aches. There's no way I can help. My need for Kat feels like a friggin' freight train roaring through my body. I can't put my hands on her right now or I will take her to bed and make her mine in every way, and I can't do that—not right now. Not until there aren't any secrets between us. Not until she's sober. Not until I'm sure I can go slow, and be sweet to her. I'm not feeling gentle right now, watching her get herself off with the damn shower head.

"Trace," she whines, her eyes meeting mine.

"Watch, baby. I want to watch," I say hoarsely, and I push her into the wall, planting my hands on either side of her head, watching her beautiful face as she gives herself over to all the wonderful sensations coursing through her body.

When she drops the shower head with a sigh and folds her arms loosely around my neck, I turn the shower off, pull a towel off the hook outside the stall, dry her, pull her robe around her, and pat her on the butt, with the suggestion to go drink a gatorade while I finish my own shower.

And I do...finish...in my shower. I pretty much have to, after Kat's little pleasure performance, or I'm going to cave to desire.

Ten minutes later, I put on a t shirt and pair of track pants and find Kat sitting on the rug in the living room, her wet head against the sofa, listening to EDM in the dark. I brought a towel with me, and I sit above her on the sofa, softly toweling her hair.

"How do you feel?"

"Good," she frowns. "Too good. I thought drugs were bad."

"They are," I assure her. "You'll feel sad and irritable tomorrow. The highs get less good, and the lows get worse, and the more you do, the more you wanna do. Drugs are diminishing returns and they fuck your life. I've seen it too many times, already. You don't want to chase the high, Sweetheart. I promise."

"I want you so much," she murmurs. "I feel so...much. I've never felt this way before."

"I know. It's the molly, making you feel more."

"It's really not. It's only you. I never wanted Colin like this."

I laugh. "You never got roofied on a date with Dickwad." Suddenly I feel terribly guilty. I know Kat wants me like I want her, but what if I'm wrong about Colin? What if he's not an abuser? What if Colin is Kat's Cameron Martin...the good guy that she should be with, but instead I'm the guy that's going to ruin her life like I ruined Ashlynn's?

I loose her robe a little and rub the rough towel over her neck and shoulders, because I know how good it will feel for her right now. She rolls her head forward and lets me.

"Is this the way you take care of Ashlynn?" she murmurs.

"Not at all," I say immediately. "There's no...intimacy, like this, in the things I do for Ashlynn." Fuck, it's like she can read my mind. I wince and put myself back in the place, with Ashlynn, at her worst. What can I tell Kat, that can make her see how it was?

"Did you see Adam and Mac tonight?" I ask. She nods.

"At first, the help I gave her was like that, without the love. Dragging her out of bad situations, both of us furious at one another. When she came to live with me and it was just me and her, it still wasn't like this. It was...I dunno...not always awkward, but not really comfortable, either. There was always...something between us. You. There's only so much I can do for Ashlynn, because there's very little I have to invest. I mostly belong to you."

She wraps her arms around my right leg and lays her head on my thigh. We chill like that for a long time, me slowly raking my fingers through her damp hair as we yield to the thump of the techno. It's maybe an hour later when I reach down and feel her forehead is damp. I put a hand on her chest and her heart is racing. Her body feels rigid, like she's trying to force herself to relax, but she can't.

"This is probably the peak, baby. You're ok, nothing bad is going to happen. You wanna move? It might make you feel better."

She nods her head against my thigh, and I pull her to her feet, coaxing her into a slow, but swingy dance motion, while I hold her tight. I pull her with me to the little kitchen, getting us another popsicle to share.

"Cherry," she announces, sucking the damn thing like she knows exactly what she's doing. "You want my cherry, Trace?"

"You have a one track mind, Katheryn Ballard," I grin and bite a third of the popsicle from the stick.

"Maybe if you would fuck me, I could think about something else," she says with a breathy sigh.

"Shut up. Just shut your dirty mouth, before you get what you ask for." I slide her up onto the counter and she embraces me at once. I bite at her neck. I meant it to be light, but she hisses hard and I realize it's a little too hard--too much sensation, considering her state. I pull the popsicle from her hand, rolling it over the bite place to numb it. I lick the melting sweetness away. "Sorry. Never want to hurt you, baby. So sorry."

"I know why you won't make love to me," she says evenly. "The thing you are trying to get straight, but can't. I know your secret, Trace. Molly told me."

Suddenly, I can't breathe. It's a hard two minutes later when I inhale all at once. That's when it all hits me—the oxygen, and the truth: I'm a dirty liar. And Kat already knows it.

She knows it, but she's still an angel draped gently around me, accepting me into her arms, and her life. Wanting to understand. Wanting to forgive.

"It's not what you think," I say. "I don't love her. I never loved her. Not like you."

"I know," she says simply. "I was so...I don't know...angry and confused when she told me. But then I realized, it's not real for you...it was all just...a...thing you tried to make work with her..."

I can't believe Kat is being so understanding. I put my head on her chest and nearly sob with relief. "That's exactly right. God Kat, it's like you are inside my head. It's not real. I just wanted to help her. I swear, I never knew...never realized she had feelings for me. If I had...I would have never done it. I only did it protect her."

"Protect her?" Kat pulls back and looks at me with an odd expression. "How?"

I pause. Suddenly I'm extremely unsure. How can she be so calm how about this? The truth is...she can't be. This is the ecstasy, making her so euphoric when she should be hurt and angry. "Sweetheart, I'll tell you anything you want to know, but we're going to have to talk about this again tomorrow, when you're not...altered."

She wraps her legs around me tighter. "No. I'm fine. I can understand things fine. And I want to understand what you were thinking. You mean...you were trying to protect her from herself?"

"Well, yeah, of course. She's...self-destructive."

Kat nods at me seriously. "Yeah, I get that part."

I rub her sides. "But that's not why I married her. I married her because of the conservatorship. I swear to god, that's the only reason I took her to Vegas—for legal protection."

Her face is a swirl of confusion. Of course it is. Between the drugs, and hearing me confirm what she's probably trying to push beneath the surface. "For legal protection?"

"I swear it's true, Kat. The only reason I married her was to give her the peace of mind that your parents couldn't have her committed."

I feel it all at once, the way she stiffens—every fiber of her being rejecting me. She shoves me away. "What?"

I move to embrace her again, but she shoves at me hard, and repeats, "What?"

Oh. Oh. Fuck. Oh. Fuck.

"Kat—"

"What!?!?!" she screeches, shoving me hard again. I hold my hands up surrender, indicating I won't touch her again.

I realize now we are having two different conversations. Molly told Kat her secret, and pretended it was mine. She told Kat about the kink—Molly's fetish that was nothing more than an experiment for me. She didn't tell Kat about Ashlynn. Still, I need to hear her say it. "Kat, what did Molly tell you?"

"Fuck what Molly told me!" Kat yells, climbing up on her knees on the counter. "What are you telling me?"

This is the moment I've been dreading, and it's a million times worse than I had imagined. "Ashlynn...I took her to Vegas. We had a civil ceremony. It's a completely platonic arrangement. Legal protection, for her. A pre-nup with an annulment clause for me. I'm so...sorry, Kat. I wished I hadn't...but, I did, and I've been trying to figure out how to undo it ever since..."

Kat crawls over the back of the counter, and I reach for her, afraid she will fall, but she doesn't. She only jerks away from me, backing into the suite like some kind of caged animal. Her expression is wild.

"You married Ashlynn in Vegas?"

"I've been trying to tell you this whole time...I tried so many times...I..." I step around the bar toward her and she backs away, toward the windows.

Kat shakes her dark hair wildly, like she's trying to shake away the lazy haze of the drugs that is forcing her to remain calm. "Ashlynn is your...wife? You are her husband?"

I hold up my hands, trying to approach her slowly. "In name only."

"What does that mean?" her voice is high pitched, panicked.

"She has a ring. We have a marriage certificate. Everything else I've already told you. I support her...financially. Emotionally, sometimes...when she'll let me and I'm not furious with her. We have separate rooms in the house. We've never slept together. We're not affectionate, we don't go out together. We don't do anything like that. I'm not in love with her. It's not like that. I'm in love with you. Kat—I love you."

"Don't say that." She's not yelling, but that's only because, like Leed, she can't really rage and roll at the same time. "Don't fucking say that."

"It's true," I promise her solemnly.

She paces around the room. I watch her. She looks up at me, like something suddenly occurred to her.

"When?"

"Two years ago."

"Exactly when?"

I think about the date. "Two years ago today," I confess.

"Oh my god. It's your anniversary," she doubles over like she's in pain. "I just got naked with you, and you are married to my sister. Two years today." She starts to cry, great sobbing bursts of agony. "Oh god...Ashlynn..."

"Baby, you didn't do anything wrong. I...it's me...I'm the wrong one."

I follow her around the room, not touching her, but trying to stay close as she paces, sobbing. She shouldn't have to be alone in this pain I caused her.

Suddenly, she whips around, eyes crumples in pain and streaming mascara. She pushes me hard. "Get the fuck away from me! Just...leave me alone!"

"I can't. I love you. Let me help you..."

"Stop saying that!" she screams. I've never seen anyone get upset or angry while they are rollin'. I don't know what to expect her, or how to help her. I'm afraid to push her, and make her too angry, because I can't be sure of her judgment. Fuck, this would have been hard enough under normal circumstances, but now it could be dangerous.

Kat stops pacing. She stares out the glass wall of windows. Then she walks into the bedroom, and throws off her robe, grabbing clothes from her suitcase. I don't follow her. Instead I brace my hands against the counter, steeling myself for what's about to happen, because I know what she's trying to do and I can't let her.

When she comes out of the bedroom with nothing but her phone and her wallet, I move in front of her, blocking the door.

"Get out of my way, Trace."

"No. You're high, Kat. You need to stay here, where you are safe. At least until morning."

She pushes me, trying to get past me. I grab her arms and try to be gentle as I hold her but the way she's fighting me, I'm either going to loose my grip or leave marks on her. I let her go and take two swift backward steps, planting myself against the entry door.

She's not leaving; I mean that shit.

"I'll go," I tell her. "I'll give you the suite. Just let me call Riley to stay with you."

"You can't keep me here!" she yells and tries to shove me.

All those times I let Ashlynn walk out the door and I worried she would walk into fucking traffic or end up left for dead in an alley—I can't do it now—not with Kat. I have to protect her, even if she hates me for it.

"You are not leaving! Not tonight!" My voice is so loud and full of furious desperation, it soars above the pounding music. She steps back, blinking at me. I see a flash in her eyes, and it kills me that I can't tell if it's just surprise, or fear. But I don't back down. She's the one that walks away, retreating into the bedroom and slamming the door.

I realize this is now a situation I can't put Riley in. I've asked him to do a lot of shit, but I can't ask him to do this. I call Ben, and even though it's three am, he's in the suite in five minutes, grim-faced but completely unphased by what I'm asking him to do—which is essentially try to keep Kat here if he can, but definitely not let her leave on her own. I tell him we had a fight, and that I'm trying to respect her space. I remind him that she's high, and he totally gets why I'm asking him to do this.

"Don't worry, Trace. I let her slip me once tonight; I fucking guarantee that never happens twice. Crash in my room?" Ben suggests as he hand me his key. Ben's a good dude. I wonder if he would take a remote assignment and go to Duke with Kat. Then I remind myself that Kat is likely not going to allow that, even though she's going to need it. Especially after last night's club photos hit.

When I walk out of the suite, I find I can't make myself go to Ben's room. I slide down against the door, burying my head against me knees. Locked out of my own suite. Locked out of Kat's trust.

This whole thing went wrong in every fucking way possible. But it was never going to go right. It was always going to be like this. From the moment she put her trust in me again—from the moment she let me lead her down that hallway in the Fox to that hospital room where people get fixed—I was always going to break us. I had to. We're like a fracture that had begun to knit back together but wasn't set right. I had to break us again, so we can heal properly, and be stronger than we ever were.

That's what the song Little Sister is about.

Don't try to smile a little Sister

Cause you think it helps me leave.

Rather you cry a little Sister

It's your tears that let me breathe.

Can't even hide a little Sister

You took my soul when I spilled your blood.

We'll let it ride a little Sister,

No more touching in this flood.

But I swear to you my heart is yours for good.

I wrote the song about two weeks after I took Ashlynn to Vegas and realized what a horrible mistake I had made. The verses are about my New Year's Kiss with Kat, but the chorus, was always about a moment that hadn't happened yet. It's about this moment and what comes after—when I would have to hurt Kat by telling her the truth of what I had done. I always knew I was going to spill her blood. She's heartbroken and bleeding out in that bedroom right now, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it but keep breathing through her tears. I have to keep breathing and believing one day she opens the door and lets me back in, so the I can re-earn her trust. Because my heart and soul are in there with her, locked away from me now. Ashlynn is right: Kat owns me.

Honestly, I would have been sitting right there when she woke up. There was nothing that could have moved me from that door.

Except the one thing that did.

Yikes, that didn't go well! Did Kat react like you expected? What do you think she will do next? Did ANYONE expect that Trace wrote the song about the moment he knew he would break Kat's heart--in the future? I love to hear feedback from readers!

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