Love Resolution - By Michelle Mankin Page 0,47

ritualistic words with fatalism.

Marcus turned away quickly when they broke apart, but not before she’d been able to detect a remnant of concern in his eyes. Maybe he wasn’t as indifferent as he’d like her to believe. Maybe he would change his mind. A pennant of hope unfurled in her chest.

Avery took her Ibanez from her guitar tech, and fastened the strap. Moving to the edge of the historic stage, she felt the heat of a body close behind her and breathed in the familiar woodsy scent.

Marcus.

Settling, she took another deep breath and ran out from behind the red velvet curtain onto the stage.

Brutal Strength performed much better than they had in Seattle. Maybe the stress had forced each of them to refine their focus. It certainly wasn’t their best effort, but it had been solid. After the encore, she could hear the crowd chanting as they made their way to the dressing room.

“A-ver-y. A-ver-y. A-ver-y.”

Sam hurried up behind them, headset on. She pulled on Avery’s arm. “You need to come back and see this,” she insisted.

Peeking out from behind the curtain, Avery saw that the stage was carpeted in red. Fans continued to file forward, tossing even more red roses on it.

“You need to go out there and say something,” Sam urged, pushing her gently.

“No, I…”

“I’ll go with you,” Marcus volunteered, voice thick with emotion.

“Alright,” she acquiesced.

Marcus took her by the hand and she clung to him, starving for the contact she’d grown so accustomed to having. For the first time since the crash she felt as if she could breathe. Brushing aside the flowers in their path, he led her to center stage and then let go of her hand, backing away to let her address the fans.

She stepped up to the microphone and adjusted the height. “Thank you,” she started, voice catching. She swallowed and tried again. “Thank you, San Francisco. Thank you for showing me your support like this. I’ll never forget it.”

Avery woke up on the pallet where she’d tossed and turned throughout the long, lonely hours of the night. She hadn’t even contemplated sleeping in the big hotel bed without him.

Getting up off the floor, with a couple of quick finger strokes, she disabled the wakeup alarm function on her cell. Bleary eyed she padded into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and discarded her clothing. She leaned over the counter to look at her reflection in the mirror.

“Shit!” She let out a frustrated breath having forgotten about the stitches. Afraid to get them wet, she needed help this morning washing her hair. Lucky for her, Sam had the room across the hall. Pulling the hotel courtesy robe off the hanger in the closet, she wrapped herself in it before opening the door to the corridor. She flipped the security latch forward so that the door wouldn’t lock behind her.

Barefoot, she crossed the hall and knocked.

“I don’t think she’s in there,” a familiar voice intoned.

“Bryan.” She whirled around, clutching the lapels of the robe to her chest.

“Red.” His gaze traveled the length of her, lingering with a frown at her forehead. “How are you? They said you were ok, but I’ve been worried.”

“I’m fine,” she mumbled, feeling self-conscious standing in the hall half-dressed. “How would you know Sam’s not there?”

“JR’s room is next to mine,” he said lifting a brow. “The walls are really thin.”

“Oh.” She blushed.

“What do you need? Maybe I can help.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I need someone to help me wash my hair. I don’t think I’m supposed to get the stitches wet.”

“Oh.” He cocked his head to the side. “Why can’t Marcus help you?

“He’s not...” She gazed down at the floor as if it contained all the right answers. “He’s staying in another room,” she finally managed.

“Fine.” He took a step toward her. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I can help with your hair.”

“No. I couldn’t let you do that.”

“It’s no big deal,” he said evenly. “I’ve done it plenty of times.”

“Oh, really?”

“I’ve got two younger sisters,” he smirked. “Look, I promise not to take advantage of the situation and ravish you.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

She laughed nervously. “Ok,” she said hesitantly, gaze darting up and down the deserted hall.

“You don’t have to sound so enthusiastic.” A teasing smile made his greyish green eyes twinkle.

She turned back to her room. “Well come on,” she threw over her shoulder. “I haven’t got all day…Farm Boy. I’ve got an appointment at eight.”

“As you