Feuds and Interludes (Rock ‘n’ Romance Legends #1)

Chapter 10

Ten

B oone

I did my best not to show that Shane’s appearance had rattled me. Flirting with him earlier was a ballsier move than I thought myself capable of, and thinking about what I’d said? My hands shook as I reached for the mic and put a little more oomph into the last note on this new song than I’d done previously.

“Damn, Boone,” Annie said when the song was over. “Way to show off for your mans.”

I didn’t say anything because, well, it was all out there. My band knew I’d developed an unhealthy amount of attraction to the surly man.

Shane had walked in with Leland and I’d nearly lost my focus. His eyes were so dark under his heavy brows, and they seemed to bore right through me. He had that crease between his brows that I never could tell whether it was pissed or pensive. Then Morrison had gone bonkers, hugging on Leland, all while Shane stared daggers into me. I felt naked in front of him, as if he saw all of my flaws, all the work I did to appear to have my shit together.

I so didn’t.

But I was trying. God, it was hard, but I was trying.

I worked myself nearly to death as the leader of my band, but that had never been as hard as my current battle with diabetes. Food tracking, exercise, medications, managing my blood sugar. Thankfully, Annie and Brandon were totally on board when I suggested we all work on getting healthy without telling them why. They’d given up booze, and that meant the world to me that we could support each other. They still smoked, which they were headed out to do now, since I’d called for a break, but I couldn’t expect them to give up all the fun.

It really, really sucked giving up all the fun.

When they were out, I checked my app to see if my blood sugar was okay, and it wasn’t. I tended to go dangerously low while performing or working out, and was still trying to figure out how to keep that from happening. Not sleeping the past couple of nights hadn’t helped either. I turned and went back into the studio to grab a peanut butter protein bar from my backpack and was just about to open it when Morrison’s voice came over the com.

“Boone, come check this out.”

I dropped the bar back into my bag and entered the control room. Shane’s presence hit me like an electromagnetic pulse. My chest tightened and I opened my mouth to speak, but I started to list to the side, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. I reached for the chair and tried to smile and hide the fact that I was about to collapse.

“Hey, so I picked this up in London and it’s a helluva slide guitar. I want you to listen to something. Leland is going to play the bridge on ‘Over The Moon,’ and why don’t you grab that Strat there and play along with it.”

I blinked a couple of times, not trusting myself to pick up a guitar when I likely couldn’t remain standing much longer.“Can I hear him first?” I tried to think of an excuse. “I want to hear the parts separate.”

“Oh, okay, well it’s really the combination of the slide with the wah pedal on the Strat I wanted to try.”

They all looked at me, and spots started clouding my vision.

“Great, why don’t you two play it. I’ll be right back.”

I pushed away from the chair and stumbled a bit, offering a nod to Morrison, who looked at me strangely. He grabbed the Strat and launched into an explanation for Leland. I had to walk danger close to Shane to get to the door. I tried to smile at him, but I bumped him with my shoulder instead.

“Hey,” he said, and I thought, Great. He thinks I’m going to be a dick.

I held up a hand. “Sorry, I’m… Excuse me.”

I pushed through the French doors, hitting them a little harder than I meant, and one of them slammed against the wall, rattling the glass. Thankfully Morrison and Leland were too busy playing to notice—but Shane did.

He frowned at me as I tried to hurry up the stairs to the bathroom. And then, like I’d never climbed steps before, I tripped and caught myself with my hands near the top. I prayed Shane wasn’t still watching as I hurried into the bedroom which I knew had a bathroom attached, ducked inside, and shut the door.

“Fuck,” I said, my hands shaking as I attempted to scoop water into my hands…to drink? Or splash my face? I kind of did both, and then started choking as the water went down the wrong pipe. Intense, body-racking coughs blacked out the rest of my vision, and I sat down on the toilet seat.

Someone pounded on the door.

“Just a minute,” I said with a weak voice, and then coughed even harder.

“Boone, open the door.”

No. Shane. God , how humiliating. I couldn’t let him see me like this. I reached for the doorknob, intending to lock it, but the coughing wouldn’t stop and I fell to a knee just as Shane opened the door.

“Jesus. Boone! What the fuck?”

I waved my hand at him to leave, but instead he closed the door behind him and stared at me, wide-eyed as he helped me to my feet.

“Fine. Water, wrong pipe.” I closed my mouth and tried to control the coughing, but my lungs weren’t done punishing me.

Shane reached over and patted me on the back, a little harder than necessary, then he left his hand on my shoulder and the weight gave me something to focus on.

“What can I do? You want me to go get the twins?”

I shook my head. Yeah, my band knew I had to make some “lifestyle changes,” and they’d seen me a little more tired than usual, but if they knew how terrified I was that Imight space out or, worse, fucking collapse, they’d insist we slow down, that I take time to get well, and that wasn’t an option. We had momentum going, and we had no time to rest if Stellar was going to remain relevant. I needed our band in everyone’s faces, everywhere they turned, for as long as it took for us to get to that level I knew we were capable of.

“Boone, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I told you. I choked on some water.”

“Sure. And before? You just plowed into me for no reason?”

Why I had to default to asshole when I was terrified, I had no idea.

“Maybe it was your giant ego in the way.” But I couldn’t add the sarcasm necessary to pull it off. I coughed some more and held on to the sink to keep from falling. Suddenly, all I could think of was crawling into bed, how nice it would feel to pull the covers over my head and pretend this wasn’t happening.

“I’m going to get Morrison if you’re just going to be difficult.”

“No! Please.” I couldn’t let anyone else see me like this. Shane hated me anyway, what did it matter what he thought? “I’ll be okay, I just need—” I thought I could get downstairs to my protein bar, and then I’d be fine, like all the other times.

Instead, I fell into Shane’s arms.

He grunted in surprise but took my weight with no effort. I looked into his eyes, intending to apologize—and that was all, folks. My legs ceased to function for a brief enough moment, and I finally got to experience what it felt like to be close to Shane Butler. Later, I would remember thinking that his lips looked even sexier up close, that the tendons in his neck would be perfect to nibble on, that he was really strong.

“Dammit, Boone,” he muttered, and he managed to get an arm around my back and one of mine around his neck. “Let’s get you to the bed and we’ll figure out what to do.”

I desperately wanted to fight him, but I had no smart words. He got the door open and he dragged me over to the bed. Morrison had mentioned that he kept a bed up here in case he or any of his guests worked late and didn’t feel like trekking in the dark all the way back to the lodge. I’d be eternally grateful for his forethought.

Shane lowered me to the bed and lifted my legs onto it. I was about to thank him when he spoke angrily.

“Maybe you should lay off the shit. If I’d known I was giving up our time with Morrison so you could get high?—”

“I’m not—” I could see why he thought that. My eyes filled with traitorous tears, and I channeled my disgust with myself into my words. “Will you bring me my bag from downstairs?”

“Why? So you can take more?” He grabbed my arm and pushed up my sleeve before I could yank it away, and he seemed surprised to not find evidence of his accusation.

“My bag. Please, Shane. Then you can go back to hating me with the fire of a thousand suns.” I turned my head, hoping he wouldn’t catch the tear that escaped.

He started to protest, but I rolled over onto my side and tried to remember the meditation I’d learned from my nurse practitioner.

Finally, I heard his heavy steps pound down the stairs, so I pulled out my phone. My blood sugar was now even lower at 67. Shit . My heart thudded, and I prayed he did what I asked. In the meantime, I berated myself.

Thirty years old and you can’t even take care of yourself.

You’re an embarrassment.

You’re fucking everything up.

“Here.” He tossed my duffel onto the bed and stepped back. “I’m only staying to make sure you’re not going to OD, but you can bet your ass I’m going to?—”

I pulled out the protein bar and with shaky hands, I attempted to peel the wrapper down, only I couldn’t get a grip as my fingers were wet with my tears. I tried using my teeth, which was a waste of time, and I was about to throw the damn thing across the room when Shane took it from me. Gently.

“Here,” he said softly, pulling out his Leatherman tool and cutting the wrapper open. He peeled it down and handed it back to me.

I might have said thanks, but I sniffled at the same time so I’m not sure what sound came out. I took a bite, my stomach roiling at the taste in my mouth, and deliberately chewed slowly to make sure I didn’t choke on it, since I still felt that tickle in my chest like I might start coughing again.

“You want me to get you some orange juice? Or like a Sprite?”

My eyes shot to his. “Please, don’t say anything. They don’t know.”

“What? That you’re diabetic? What’s the big fucking deal?”

“No,” I said, holding up a hand so I could finish chewing the next bite. “My band knows I’m having some health issues, but they don’t know it’s this bad. Only my gran. I can’t tell them.”

“What the fuck, Boone? You’re sick. Why is that such a big fucking deal?”

“It’s a big fucking deal because I can’t be sick.”

He chuckled and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m glad you’re such a control freak you think you can stop a whole-ass disease.”

“I’m sorry, who’s the one that still plays all the instruments on his band’s demos to make sure it sounds perfect?”

Shane stood taller. “I write our songs. Just want to make sure I have it all worked out before I teach everyone else. It’s not like I don’t take their feedback in rehearsal. I’m not a total dick.”

I took another bite of the protein bar, worried that I would top off this strange encounter by vomiting on his shoes or something equally vile.

“I see you trying to deflect here, but seriously. How long has this been going on? Have you seen a doctor?”

His questions sounded almost…concerned? “Why do you care?” As soon as I asked him, I realized how juvenile I sounded. I was merely curious why, after all these years of hating me, he would even ask?

“Why are you being so defensive?”

I groaned. “I saw the doctor when we got back from tour a few months ago. I’m trying to follow the plans, but when I’m working, I get caught up. I guess I didn’t eat enough today.”

“Yeah, you look like you’ve lost even more weight than since the induction ceremony.”

He noticed? “Aw, it’s like you do actually care.” My assholery knew no bounds.

“Fuck off, Collins.”

“Sorry. I’m a mess.”

He shrugged and leaned against the doorframe, avoiding eye contact. “Whatever. You need anything else?”

“I’ll be fine. Can you let Morrison know I’ll be down in a bit?”

He nodded, still looking away from me, and the crease between his brows was deeper than ever. He went down the stairs, and I tried to collect myself. Ugh, why couldn’t I talk to him like a normal person? I let my eyes drift closed for a bit and pleaded with my higher power to stop the room from spinning.

The next thing I knew, I woke up in the dark in an unfamiliar bed. My lungs were screaming for my inhaler, so I sat up and looked around, willing my eyes to focus.

And there was Shane Butler, sitting in a chair, his head bowed as if he were praying. My bag sat at his feet.

I needed my inhaler or else I was headed for a coughing fit that would surely wake him up. I attempted to slide out of bed, but the wood frame creaked. Then the floor crackled under my weight as I stood.

Shane remained motionless, looking like some sort of sentinel, only there was no way he’d willingly protect me from anything. He was the last person I wanted to appear weak in front of, and I’d made a total fool out of myself with him. I stood in front of him, wishing I could snap my fingers in front of his face and make him forget what had happened.

“Everyone’s gone, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I gasped as he spoke and jumped clear off the floor, which was the catalyst for the asthma attack I’d been trying to stave off. I started coughing and crouched down to reach into my bag. I fumbled with my inhaler then took two puffs and tried holding it in as long as possible before I exhaled.