mean do you ever wonder if you’re letting your time get too out of balance?”
He chuckled. “I’m making an album. I have a deadline. This is nothing new.”
“You’ve never kept a girlfriend through making an album.”
“Jersey’s different.” He took another bite.
“How so?”
“She’s not needy.”
“Wanting to be with someone doesn’t make them needy.”
“Is this coming from you or her?” He tossed the rest of his sandwich in the garbage by the sink. The direction of the conversation ruined his appetite.
“Me.” Max returned a tight-lipped smile.
He didn’t know if she was being honest with him. But Max rarely lied, so he took her at her word.
“You have a husband who you never see. Yet you tell everyone that’s what makes your marriage work. I know I’m not the first Ian you think of when you wake every morning and go to bed each night.”
Max frowned.
“Everyone has their limits. Their reasons. Things that motivate them. Things that hold them back. I won’t question yours if you don’t question mine.”
Dropping her gaze to her feet, Max nodded.
“Where are you going?” Jersey asked as Ian buttoned his shirt after taking a shower.
It was a late Saturday afternoon. She had seen Ian that week for less than an hour, except at nights when he crawled into bed well after midnight from long days at the recording studio.
“I’m meeting the guys, Ames, and a director for dinner to discuss a music video.”
“Lucky them,” she mumbled, ghosting her fingers over the arm of the black blazer on the bed.
“What do you mean?” He grabbed the blazer, standing again in front of the full-length mirror to slip it on.
“I mean…” she plopped onto the bed, staring at her stupid boot that she had to wear for two more weeks “…I’ve been waiting for almost a month to discuss things with you. Maybe I need to contact your assistant and see if she can pencil me in on your busy calendar.”
“What do you want to discuss?” He turned toward her, tugging on the cuffs to his shirt as his gaze swept over her quickly before finding something—anything else to focus on.
This was his new normal. Don’t look directly at Jersey for more than two seconds. Don’t give her more than two minutes of your time each day. Don’t give her the opportunity to ask questions and demand answers.
It wasn’t like she would leave. After all, where could she go with no job and no skills?
“I want to talk about Kessler.”
“Why? He’s dead.” Ian walked out of the bedroom.
Jersey’s mouth fell agape. That was it? He’s dead?
“Are you serious, Christian Guardian?” She chased after him as fast as her boot would let her go.
He descended the stairs. “My name is not Christian Guardian. Legally, it’s no longer that. It’s Ian Cooper.”
Jersey hopped down the stairs on her good leg, finding it the quickest way to get there. “Oh, that’s super awesome for you.”
Ian grabbed his keys and wallet from the table just inside of the front door.
She continued, “Shedding your skin like a snake and slithering away. I’m still legally Jersey Six. A fucking fantastic name. Jersey Six, whose mother didn’t want her. Jersey Six, who sick fucks liked to touch and sometimes rape. Jersey Six, who killed a man … oh wait … that’s right, Jersey Six has killed two men. I’m one up on you, Coop … G … Ian … whatever the fuck you want to be called in your rock star life.”
His brow wrinkled as he stood by the door, trapped by her words before he could slither out of the house and avoid her yet again. “Do you want a new name?”
“I want you to tell me why you didn’t call Kessler out when you first met him at the hotel or during the many weeks that followed … months … it was months!”
“Jersey, there’s no point in going back. I don’t want to go back. Do you? Do you really want to go back and wake up the dead?”
“I want you to kiss me.”
Ian stood idle for a few seconds before his feet ate up the space between them. He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. She grabbed his face and kissed him on the lips. He pulled away, and so much pain marred his face. It cut her deeper than the knife she threw into his leg.
“Take off your clothes,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “We’re not doing this. That’s in the past. I told you I’m not going back. You don’t