J. Salsbury - Fighting to Forgive

I can’t move. My legs are held captive by his presence.

“Mouse?”

I suck in a breath and roll my trembling lips between my teeth. Never thought I’d hear him call me that again.

He holds his hand out to me. “Come here.”

I step back. His eyebrows drop low, questioning. He moves one step forward but doesn’t get any closer than the handful of feet that separate us. His gaze flits around the room, then back to me, like he thinks I might run.

He’s right.

I reach back, pull off one high heel, and drop it to the floor. He tilts his head, his lips set a flat line. After I drop the second shoe, he drops his shoulders. Defeat.

And then…

I run.

With the force of all my worry, powered by anxiety and days of depression, I slam into his solid chest. He absorbs me in an instant. His strong arms engulf me, lock around my waist, and lift me off the ground. He buries his face in my neck, and I hold him there with all the strength I have.

“Fuck, Mouse. I’ve missed you.”

The crowd whistles and cheers.

A sob rips from my throat, and he holds me tighter. “No, sweetheart. Don’t cry.”

“I thought… I lost… you.”

“Never.” He sets me down, but I refuse to let him go. He rubs my back softly, encouraging me to loosen my grip. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

I lean back enough to look at his face. His eyes glisten, and he clears his throat. “Mouse… I love you. I’ve never loved anyone in my entire life. And then you come along, and… my music, my fighting? None of it means anything without you. My life means nothing without you.”

I jump up, and he wraps me in his arms again. “Don’t let me go, Blake. Please… never let me go.”

“I promise.”

“I love you, Blake.”

His entire body relaxes under my whispered words. “It’s hard to believe you’re really here, like this… I thought I’d never hold you again.”

Ataxia begins their set, and the small space Blake and I had on the floor closes in with the bodies of excited fans. They erupt as the first few bars of a song blare through the speakers. We get shoved, and Blake sets me down. He takes my hand and leads the way, protecting me with the width of his body, weaving us through the crowd toward the side of the stage.

I look over my shoulder just in time to see the huge smiles of my friends Eve and Raven, who’ve been joined by Jonah, Mason, and Caleb. Eve gives me a quick thumbs up and a knowing smile.

They set me up. And I love them to pieces for it.

Blake

I can’t believe it worked. Part of me expected her to bolt as soon as she saw me. I’d hoped for at least a polite smile and a chance to talk. But she gave me so much more.

She gave me her.

A smile curls my lips, and I hold her tiny hand in mine. We move through the crowded bar to a door at the side of the stage. A bouncer stands guard at the entrance to the backstage dressing rooms. Before things go any farther, we need to talk, and this is the quietest and closest place I can think of.

“Yo, Brick.” I shake hands with the guy who earned his name from looking like a solid piece of concrete.

“Blake, man. What’s up?”

“I need a room. Just for a few minutes.”

“This isn’t a motherfucking hotel.” He looks between Layla and me. “Ah, so this is the girl.” His eyes sweep from her bright golden hair down to her bare feet. “All right, I’ll give you a room, but this little hottie deserves more than a few minutes.”

Layla tucks into my side, her cheeks pink from Brick’s in-your-face perusal. I tug her behind me to keep her safe from the bouncer’s greedy glare. “Eyes to yourself, Brick.”

He laughs and steps aside, allowing us to pass. “You need help back there, Snake, just holler.”

“Fuck you.” I throw my middle finger up over my shoulder.

“You take your few minutes with him, baby. Then you come back here. I’ll give you hours.” We’re halfway down the hallway, and he’s still talking shit.

“Enough, dickhead,” I call out.

Layla’s still laughing when I pull her into a room. The smell of stale cigarettes and liquor fill my nose. I flick on the lights to reveal a faded brown couch, a full-length mirror, and painted black walls. It’s not ideal, but it’ll do.

“Wow, I’ve never been backstage before.” She crosses the room to the couch.

“Uh, I wouldn’t sit there. Probably all sorts of DNA samples could be taken from that thing.”

She recoils and tucks her hands close to her stomach. “That’s gross.” Her lips tick with a hint of a smile. “Thanks for the warning.”

What seemed so natural minutes ago in the crowded club, feels awkward now that we’re alone and faced with all that needs to be said. We stand across the room from each other, electricity charging the air between us.

She looks amazing. Her tiny body is wrapped in a tight black dress, cut low enough to expose the valley between her perfect breasts. The midnight fabric runs the length of her waist, flaring out at her hips, and ending well above her knees. She shifts on her feet, and I’m reminded that she’s barefoot. Her painted pink toes curl against the filthy concrete.

“Your feet. They cold?”

Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles. “They’re okay.”

“You want my socks?”

“No, I’m fine. Really.”

“You look beautiful.”

She tugs at the hem of her skirt. “Thanks, although, I can’t take credit. It’s Eve’s. I got ambushed by her and Raven at home, but…” Her head tilts, and she studies the empty wall across from her. “Something tells me you already knew that.”

Shit, is she pissed? I shrug one shoulder and study the ground. “Yeah. I asked them to get you here.”

I peek up to gauge her reaction. She’s raking her teeth along her pink-painted lip. Not sure if that’s pissed or not.

“I had so much to say, but I’m terrible with talking shit out, and with everything that happened” —I run my hand over my head—“I wasn’t sure if you’d listen to me.”

Her lips curl into a smile, and I swallow back a thick ball of hope.

“I liked what you had to say. And I really like the way you said it. Not a girl alive would say no to Bon Jovi.” She closes a fraction of the distance between us. “No more music in a closet. Your secret’s out. How did it feel, you know, performing?”

I nod, my mind reeling in the moment. I’d almost forgotten I’d played in front of a few hundred strangers and a handful of friends. “I did it for you. I knew if I got up there and played, you’d know I wasn’t fucking around. I had to make a statement.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”

My chest swells under the sincerity of her words. But even with her praise, I don’t know the answer to the question that has kept me from sleep and unsettled my stomach. “Do you think that with time, you could find it in your heart to forgive me?” It’s asking the impossible, I know that, but I have to fight for the chance to be with her.

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes. “Forgive you for what?”

“For what… I’ll say it if that’s what you need.” I don’t want to form the words I strangled you . I swallow the bile that surges in my throat. “Is that what you want, Layla, to hear me say it?”

She takes a few steps toward me. “Blake, you have nothing to apologize for. I’m the one that owes you an apology. If we’d never met, then Stewart wouldn’t have… it’s because of me that you ended up in jail.”

“No, that’s bullshit. I fucking…” Shit, why can’t I just say it?

“You were on steroids, Blake. He baited you.”