Tears streamed down her cheeks, mirroring the pouring rain that hammered against the windows as she ran her fingers over the photographs.

It’d only been five days, but it felt as if it’d been eons ago, a distant memory of what seemed to be someone else’s life.  A totally different lifetime, separate from her own, where she’d been blissfully happy, floating on cloud nine and completely in love with him.  They’d been happy together.  If there was anything she was positive about, it was that one small thing. 

Her eyes froze on the grin brightening his face in one of the photos, the comfort between them obvious as they leaned close to each other, captured forever in the four by six print.  Against her will, she felt the smile forming on her lips and let out a shaky sigh, her finger leaving tiny smudges as it traced lines over the glossy paper. 

He’d always been so . . . loveable.  She could be having the worst day of her life, could be just seconds away from having everything fall apart, but with nothing more than a simple hug from him everything would suddenly be all right in her world.  It was as if he’d been made to hold her, his arms fitting around her more perfectly than she could’ve ever imagined.  Being in his arms had given her warmth and security, a sense of safety and protection that she’d come to crave.  Since the beginning, he’d always held her tight, as if he were shielding her from the world and would never let anyone do her harm.  He’d been her security blanket, her own personal teddy bear.

Her body literally ached, longing for him to come and hold her again, to make all this pain go away.

The music carrying from the stereo system in the corner paused for just a second before looping back, starting over at the beginning.  Her attention was torn away from the picture, her eyes closing as their familiar song floated around the room, bouncing off the walls and pouring over her.  Automatically, she began to try picking his voice out of the bunch, latching on to those baritone notes that were more often than not buried inside the harmonies.

His voice had always reassured her, comforted her, even from a continent away.  She’d learned to tell how he was feeling, what kind of mood he was in, just by paying attention to how he sounded.  The laughter in his tone had always made her smile, making it obvious that he was having a good day and was more than happy to be hearing from her.  She could hear the exhaustion in the laziness of his speech and knew he was paying attention when he used that serious, steady voice.  The hard pitch that surfaced in those rare moments of anger was sharp and cutting.  And that husky whisper he always spoke in after a long kiss never failed to send chill bumps over her skin, shivers racing up and down her spine.

Before the group had left out on this last tour, he’d given her a CD filled with just his parts of the songs and other things he’d recorded for her.  She’d been touched by his thoughtfulness, had played it every night while he’d been away, his smooth voice singing through the darkness, relaxing her and lulling her into the deepest of sleep.  Even now, she kept that disc spinning beside her bed, knowing that he was gone, forcing her to settle for the recording.

It wasn’t enough.  The sound was his, of course, but it wasn’t the same as having him right in front of her.  Without him, there were no light conversations, no outbursts of laughter, no whispered words.  The nights had been long, void of the soft, sweet words he only spoke in the darkness.  She missed the way his lips would move softly by her ear, the way he’d make playful jabs her, poking fun until she was laughing right along with him . . . how his smile traveled all the way into his eyes.

Those eyes had been the deciding factor when he’d first asked her out, way back when.  She’d taken one good look into his warm, deep brown, melted-chocolate eyes and couldn’t make herself turn him down. 

They were a color that just made her want to stare into them for hours on end, losing herself in the expressiveness that she’d learned to appreciate.  Most of the time, they were soft and smiling, embracing the world and everyone around him.  In a matter of seconds, they could focus sharply to study whatever was happening around him, taking inventory of movements and bodies, the edginess that had been instilled in him during his career taking over.  Then, when he was with her, there was a . . . a glow that she could see clearly, almost like a sparkle, that always warmed her from the inside out.  He’d let those amazing eyes move over her slowly, as if he were trying to memorize her, and when their gazes met she was left with no doubt of just how much he loved her.

She wrapped her arms around herself, fighting back the heaving sob that was trying so desperately to escape.  Closing her eyes, her body began to rock back and forth on the couch cushions, her imagination conjuring up a memory of his eyes, that warm, playful look he always got before kissing her playing over and over through her mind.

It was pure torture, remembering his kisses.  Just thinking about them was enough to send shivers skating up and down her spine.  From the very first time he’d leaned into her, those amazing lips of his smiling until they pressed against hers . . . she’d known that she’d found something absolutely one of a kind.  Nothing else in this world was as right as those knee-weakening, bone-melting, breath-stealing kisses that only he knew how to give.  His fingers would thread into her hair and she could always see that glint in his eyes as he pulled her closer, making her heart skip a beat before he sent her world into a complete tailspin.

Her chest heaved, the sob choking forward, a strangled exhalation escaping as she allowed herself to wish for another chance to be in his arms, to laugh with him, to be on the receiving end of even the most casual of kisses . . .

But she’d screwed up.  Big time.

Fresh tears welled up as she thought back to the previous week, when things had gone so terribly, horribly wrong.

He’d just come home from a two week recording tour, had been in his house for a few days and was still trying to settle back in.  She’d offered to finish up his laundry while he and the guys took care of some odds and ends with the label, knowing Johnny would reward them with a few weeks of down time before they headed out on the fall leg of their concert tour.  A treat more than worth the effort.

It was there, in the laundry room, where the whole thing began to spiral out of control.

She was standing by the washing machine, pulling the clothes out of his last bag, singing along with the music carrying through the house.  Each piece came out of the duffel, the whites getting tossed in the washer while the others were sorted out into piles to be run later.  About halfway through the bag, an odd aroma met her nose.

Turning her head, she furrowed her brow as she looked around the room, trying to determine where the smell was coming from.  Her fingers released the zippered flap on the top of the bag, letting it drop closed, and her eyes widened when a stronger wave of the scent drifted by, carried by the movement of the heavy nylon material.

Cautiously, she lifted the flap once again, leaning forward until the smell became stronger, obviously coming from inside the bag.  Reaching in, the next shirt was pulled out and brought up until she could take a deep breath, cringing when the scent invaded her nose.  The next shirt held the same smell, just a tad bit stronger than the first.

One after another, she pulled the shirts out, stacking them on the dryer, until she couldn’t bear the strength of the aroma.  Standing several feet away from the pile of shirts, the smell was strong enough for her to inhale it without much effort.  Taking deep breaths, she tried to fight back the panicked confusion rising in her, struggling to keep a clear head as she took in the scent wafting from his clothes with each inhalation.

It wasn’t his aftershave, cologne, deodorant or body wash.  Maybe one of the guys used . . . no.  No, this wasn’t a scent that a man would wear, period.  Too . . . floral.

She’d never smelled a detergent with this particular scent, so that possibility was marked off the list. 

And it definitely wasn’t something she’d have left with him.  She hadn’t been able to get away to see him, hadn’t touched his clothing since she’d helped pack his bags, so any of the light traces she could’ve left behind would have been long gone by now.  Unless he’d snuck the bottle out of the cabinet upstairs, but she’d used her own favorite perfume since then, the familiar bottle having traveled back to sit in her vanity at home, so that wasn’t possible.  Besides, this scent was expensive, obviously too pricey for her blood. 

The rich scent also helped her conclude that it wasn’t a perfume that any of the women in his family would wear, either.  His mother and Janine preferred to wear much lighter, subtle fragrances, not something that stood out like this particular aroma. 

All those possibilities were struck from the list, leaving only one likely conclusion. 

Another woman.  Close enough to him for her perfume to get on his clothing.  With the strength of the fragrance, she very likely had spilled the bottle either onto one of his shirts or directly into the bag, which meant that she’d had to have been in his hotel room, probably . . . what?  Getting ready to go out?  Waiting for him to come in? 

Her hands began to tremble and she combed them through her hair, stepping back until she was leaning against the wall for support as the very idea made her go light-headed.  Swallowing hard, she tried to focus on the denial that was screaming from the bottom of her heart, but failed as her common sense kicked in with full force. 

He was always being photographed with attractive fans, the dancers for the tour, their management employees, actresses, singers and models.  How hard was it to believe that he’d shacked up with one of them, invited her in for a night or two . . . maybe even three . . . secure in the privacy of the hotels they frequented while they were on the road? 

All the photos she’d ever seen printed in any magazine floated through her memory, one gorgeous woman after another, and she had to cover her mouth to keep from screaming out loud.  Sinking down onto the floor, she let her eyes drop closed, hardly able to hear that whispering voice over her insecurities, telling her that it wasn’t possible, he loved her and would never do anything like that to her, there had to be another explanation. 

The faint sound of the front door opening and closing broke through, her eyes flying open as she pushed herself to her feet, grabbing one of the shirts off the dryer and moving quickly from the room, intent on letting him explain, wanting to hear his story behind the alien perfume that had doused his clothes. 

But she froze in her tracks when his voice carried to her, his tone quiet, just barely audible over the music piping through the house.  Her mouth clamped shut and she stepped to the side, hiding herself from where he was standing in the kitchen, cell phone to his ear. 

“Are you crazy?  Chris . . . I’ve worked too hard to keep this under wraps to let it get out now.  She’d never speak to me again if I wrecked this and you know it.”  There was a pause, then he laughed, leaning his hip against the counter.  “Yes, I’m positive it’ll work  . . . no, she’s not going to say anything.  We’ve already talked about it and she swears she’ll keep her mouth shut.”  A moment of silence settled as he listened intently.  “No problem.  You know how Alex is.  She has no clue.” 

Whatever he said after that was lost, buried under the screaming echo of his words bouncing back and forth in her mind.  Her hands twisted the shirt tightly, another wave of the foreign scent floating up as she took a deep breath.  She stood there, staring down at the fabric clutched in her fingers, the yellow material blurring as the tears welled up in her eyes. 

The sound of the phone flipping closed grabbed her attention, the tears escaping to stream down her cheeks, her teeth working on her bottom lip as the disbelief finally faded away to searing hot anger.  She heard him approaching the doorway and stepped forward, blocking his path, not caring about the wetness on her face. 

“Hey, baby . . .”  His voice trailed off, his smile faltering as he processed the distressed look she was giving him.  “What’s wrong?  Are you okay?  What happened, Lexi?” 

“Why don’t you tell me?”  Without a second thought, she threw the shirt at him, the incriminating fragrance immediately filling the room as he caught it.   

“What?”  A confused look settled over his features, then his eyes widened in recognition as the scent registered.  “Oh, God.  Lex . . . I . . .” 

“You know what?  I don’t want to know.”  Shaking her head, she pushed around him, snatching her keys from the countertop on her way through the kitchen.  “You’re right.  Stupid Alex doesn’t have a clue what’s going on . . .”  Her fingers gripped the brass handle tightly, swinging the heavy front door open and stepping outside. 

“No, Alex.  Stop.”  He was right behind her, his footsteps echoing hers across the porch and down the steps to the front walk.  “Wait . . . you don’t understand . . .” 

“Of course I don’t.”  She refused to turn back, desperate to reach her car before she completely broke down.  “But I’ll bet she does, though.  Doesn’t she?”  Her fingers fumbled with her car keys, trembling so badly that she had to fight to get the key into the slot to unlock the door.  “Don’t answer that.  I don’t want to know.”  

“Alexandra.”  His hand landed on her shoulder, his palm warm through the sleeve of her shirt.  “Hang on just a second and let me explain . . .” 

“I think I’ve heard enough.  I know I’ve seen enough.  Don’t touch me.”  Shrugging his hand away roughly, she finally got the car door open and turned to look at him, piercing green eyes dulled behind a new wave of tears. “Please don’t touch me.  Damn it, Joe . . . how could you?” 

“I didn’t.”  He twisted the shirt in his hands and turned his eyes to the sky, obviously searching for the right words that would keep her there.  “Just listen to me.  You weren’t supposed to find . . . I forgot to set that bag apart from the others . . .”  

Thin shoulders rose in a watery sigh.  “You’re not making this any better.” 

“It’s not what you’re thinking, I swear to God.  I just didn’t want you to find it . . .” 

“Why?  Why did you want to hide it?” 

He fell silent, his teeth working on the inside of his bottom lip, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he thought it over.  “I . . . I can’t tell you.  Not right now.  But . . . baby, I swear . . .” 

Her fist banged down on the roof of the car.  “Even now, you’re trying to ‘baby’ me, like that’s going to make things all fine and dandy.  That might work for the little stuff, but not for something like this.  This time . . . I need to know.”  Her eyes burned from the tears as she searched his face for any signs that she was wrong.  “I need you to tell me what’s going on.” 

“Lexi . . .”  Knowing she was mad, but coming up at a loss for anything else to do, he slung the shirt back to rest over his shoulder, stepped close and kissed her, his hands coming up to frame her face when she instinctively responded to him.  Her lips were trembling as she fought not to openly cry and he got a brief taste of salty tears before her hands pushed against his shoulders, separating them by mere inches. 

“Joe . . . please don’t . . .” 

“Listen to me.”  His hands moved just slightly, his fingers combing into her hair as he tilted her head back so that their eyes met.  “I love you, Alex.  If you’ve ever trusted me on anything . . . trust me on this.  Please.”    

Sniffling, she tried her best to trust him as she always had, but the pain that ebbed through her body with every beat of her heart made her ignore the desperation in his voice, the panicked look in his eyes and focus solely on the dull, throbbing ache that seemed to pulse through every cell in her body.  “I never thought . . . I can’t . . .” 

Her brain refused to form a coherent sentence, until the only complete thought flying through her mind passed over her lips. 

“It’s over.”

Lightning flashed brightly, a loud crash of thunder following immediately behind, making her jump in fright as she was torn from the memory.

She fought to catch her breath, grateful for the welcome distraction of the storm.  Her eyes turned to the window, mesmerized by the pouring rain and flashing lightening, anticipating each crack of thunder as it rolled through the house.  She’d always loved to listen to the weather, but even losing herself in the storm raging overhead couldn’t erase the images that came after those awful last words.

The shattered look on his face as she’d pulled out of his grasp and slammed the car door to start the engine, her tires screeching against the pavement as she’d driven away from him, was a picture that she didn’t think she’d ever forget.  The way he’d stood in the driveway, twisting the shirt in his hands as if he were trying to wring the very fibers away before simply letting it slip from his fingers and to the asphalt, his hands coming up to run over his face, then comb roughly through his hair.  Unable to tear her eyes away from the reflection, she’d caught the defeated slump of his shoulders as he’d walked back to the porch, dropping down to sit on the top step, his chest heaving as he fought to take one good breath . . . a lost and broken man, reduced to simply watching her run away from him.

The scenes haunted her.  They invaded her dreams and distracted her during the day.

And as strong as she wanted to wish that she could be . . . she knew it was rendering her absolutely helpless, this misery twisting her from the inside out, squeezing away the life she’d always felt, slowly killing the person she’d become since meeting him.  The version of herself that she loved to be was dying away, leaving an empty shell that she really didn’t know what to do with.

Forcing her eyes away from the window, her gaze drifted over to rest on the blank computer monitor.  She hadn’t been able to write a thing for days, not one single sentence, and the reminder of her deadline weighted her down even more.  The publishers had given her one month to produce six to eight chapters of her newest novel, to see where it was headed, if it would be a winner.

The story was a romance, therefore a huge problem all in itself.  She couldn’t even focus on what was supposed to be a light, humorous, romantic story line, her entire attention stolen away by the reality that she’d put herself in.  Any time she tried to sit and produce just one paragraph, it would all come crashing back to him.  Him and that broken look.

Being the self-assured person that she was, no matter how much it hurt, she couldn’t help but admit to herself that she was utterly useless without him.

With a sigh, she tore her eyes away from the powerless computer, only to have them freeze on the cordless phone lying on the coffee table.  Just the sight made her flinch visibly, portions of the phone call from Janine looping incessantly through her head.

Stella McCartney.  Just the mention of the name made her want to rip her hair out.  Of course it’d been Stella McCartney.

She’d stumbled across the Stella fragrance while visiting him in California, at one of those pricey boutiques where everything was marked up to triple the regular retail price.  The perfume had been heavenly, with just a hint of roses, but she hadn’t been able to justify paying such an astronomical price for the few ounces of liquid.  So she’d returned the bottle to the shelf and promptly forgotten about it.

Until now.

He must have bought the perfume during their last stop in New York and stowed it in his bag for safe keeping.  Somewhere along the way, more than likely on the plane, someone had probably man-handled the duffel and broken the bottle, dousing the nylon interior and clothing in the scent that wasn’t nearly as strong when you were only using a dab or two.

The smell had been so overpowering, had thrown her for such a loop, that she hadn’t recognized it.

She’d been so hurt by the very idea that he’d been running around on her that her common sense had flown out the window, followed quickly by every last bit of the trust she’d placed in him.  Even while her heart had been screaming at her to stay calm and think . . . she hadn’t been able to do either.  Her insecurities had short-circuited her brain, leaving her with a knee-jerk reaction of the worst kind . . . but that didn’t excuse anything.  And she knew it.

After two years, she’d turned her back on him and walked out.  In a very roundabout way, he’d tried to reassure her, but she hadn’t wanted to listen, frozen in terror at the idea that he’d tell her exactly what she was thinking, that there was someone else.  The reminder of all the women he was around regularly had left her feeling inadequate, lacking in some way, and she’d forgotten all about the way he’d made it very clear that they meant nothing, didn’t even come close to equaling her in his eyes.

Granted, he hadn’t said anything that could’ve possibly resembled reasoning, but he had asked her to trust him.  A simple request for something that she’d always been able to do easily, without the slightest doubt that he deserved it.

Trust.  One little word that held so much power.  Something that he knew she held in high regard and only gave to the people who she felt had earned it.  Over the years, he’d more than earned every ounce of faith that she’d placed in him, but she’d been blinded by herself and hadn’t been able to give him even that one small thing.

Thinking of how quickly she’d reacted, how assuming she’d been, how willingly she’d torn their world apart when all he’d asked was for her to believe in him . . . it made her want to duck her head in shame, punch a wall and scream the rafters down all at the same time.

In the three days since she’d talked to Janine, she’d left at least ten messages on his answering machine and tried his cell phone countless times.  His cell number kept coming back with an unavailable message, refusing to pass her through to voice mail, and he hadn’t returned any of her messages, but that had just made her all the more determined to try and make things right.

By now, determination had melted into pure desperation and panic.

Maybe she should take the silence as a sign.  After what she’d done, she couldn’t imagine him wanting to deal with her at length this soon afterward.

The two of them were like peas in a pod, formed of the same cloth, and she knew that if the roles were reversed and he’d done this to her she wouldn’t be handling it very well, either.

As hard as he tried to hide it, Joey was really an emotional guy at times and something like this . . . it wasn’t likely that he’d get over it that easily.  He wasn’t one to hold a grudge, but at the same time, he didn’t necessarily bounce back quickly, either.  Sometimes he needed days, weeks before the hurt would roll off his back and he felt comfortable enough to face the situation or person again.

So maybe she should just give him time, see if he was more receptive in a few days.

Thunder rumbled loudly overhead, lightening flashing repeatedly across the darkened sky.  The rain began to pour down even harder, pounding mercilessly against the walls and ceiling, the lights through the house flickering as the dull roar surrounded her, very nearly drowning out the stereo.

Trying to ignore the storm raging outside, her eyes jerked over to the photo album lying beside the phone, locking on the wide smiles, the happiness captured forever on the pages . . .

“Screw that.  Five days is enough.”

She snatched up the cordless unit, her fingers moving quickly over the numbers.  The lights flickered again as she dialed, biting her lip as she waited for the familiar ringing tone to begin.  A nervous sigh escaped when she heard the first pulsing note, followed by a second, but before it could ring further, lightening flashed yet again and the power cut out.

The music died mid-note as the house went dark, the phone going dead in her hand, leaving only the rain echoing around her.

“My God . . . this can’t be happening.”  Dropping the useless phone to the cushion beside her, she sat forward with a groan, her fingers coming up to rake through her hair in frustration.  “Okay.  Now what?”

Her eyes blinked open, coming to rest on the album she’d been looking through.  She sat up straight, an idea flying through her head as thunder rolled overhead.

For a moment, she just listened to the rain, staring at the glossy photos . . . then she got to her feet and snatched up the book, making quick tracks through the kitchen to grab her keys and wallet, then rushed into the hall to snatch a light jacket from the hook on the wall.

Wrapping the album in the protective fabric of the jacket, she slipped it into a plastic shopping bag and ran out the door into the pounding weather, only stopping when she was seated behind the steering wheel of her car, taking the time to fasten her seat belt before firing the engine to life.

It was far past time to stop reasoning with his answering machine.  Now . . . now, she’d grovel if she had to.  She’d been wrong, had jumped to conclusions, had ripped him to shreds, and she was more than prepared to go crawling back to him, to beg and plead on her knees for just an ounce of his forgiveness.  For just the hint of a possibility at becoming them again.

She made the fifteen minute trip in five, driving dangerously fast through the pouring rain until she pulled up to the gated entrance securing his driveway.  Hopping out to run through the rain, she hurriedly keyed in the code, thankful to find that he hadn’t changed it, and dashed back to the car as the reinforced steel gate creaked open.  As soon as the opening was wide enough, she drove through, making her way up the driveway until she could stop the car several yards from the front door, in her usual parking spot.

For a while, she just sat there, engine running, windshield wipers whipping back and forth furiously as she stared at the house through the darkness, unconsciously counting the lit windows in front of her.  Her hands tightened around the steering wheel before a sigh heaved through her and she raked her fingers violently through her hair.

Intent green eyes cut around the yard, taking in the small pools quickly forming across the neatly trimmed lawn, the lowered garage doors, the house lights mirroring off the silvery walkway, the front door . . . the bright lights shining through the decorative stained glass set in the heavy wood.  She lost herself, studying the way the colors seemed to dance across the wet porch, glittering as the drops continued to fall, splashing against the smooth cement.

A flash of lightening streaked across the sky, accompanied by a loud crash of thunder, and she couldn’t keep herself from jumping in fright.  With a shaky laugh, she reached out and turned the key in the ignition, the car dying immediately and leaving her surrounded by the rush of the rain lashing the metal frame around her.

Once again, she studied the front windows, squinting, determined to search out even the slightest movement in the house, but finding none.

Five days and he hadn’t tried to call her once.  She wouldn’t – couldn’t – blame him if he hated her.  At this point, she rather hated herself, so expecting anything other than the same from him would be unrealistic.  It was impossible for her to let herself hope for much more than tolerance from him right now.

But maybe he was still the same Joey she’d fallen in love with.  Maybe he’d listen to her, even after she’d denied him that same luxury.  Maybe he’d give her the opportunity to explain, to apologize, to beg forgiveness. 

Or maybe she’d killed that part of him when she’d run.  She was all too aware of how drastically a person could change in only a matter of minutes, given the right circumstances.

And this was one of those situations.

As terrifying as the silence was, the thought of never having another chance to be with him was enough to make her heart stop beating. 

She had so many fears, even more now than she’d had last week.  Before, there’d been the fear that he’d grow tired of her, find someone else.  The fear of the wonderful thing between them fading out and dying.  Now, there was a fear that he’d shut her out forever, that they’d never be the same again.

Fears or not, she knew what she had to do, starting with drawing up every bit of courage she had to get out of the car and walk to the front door. 

In reality, she was only parked a short distance from the porch, but those few yards seemed to stretch for miles.  Long, dark, wet miles placed between where she was and where she longed to be.

Her hand tightened on the door handle and the icy fingers of terror skated up her spine, sending shivers through her entire body, her teeth chattering.

“Come on, Alex.  You can do this.  You just walk up to the door.  That’s all.”

A deep breath followed the quick pep talk and she steadied herself, pushing the door open and stepping out into the downpour, the plastic-wrapped album hugged securely to her chest.

Within seconds, she was soaked, water hitting her from all sides as she ran toward the front door.  By the time she pounded up the steps to halt on the covered porch, she was dripping and chilled, her teeth chattering as she tried to catch her breath.

Immediately, her trembling hand reached out, her finger pressing on the button for the doorbell and sending the melodic chimes echoing loudly through the house.  Her eyes closed in anticipation, her lungs constricting painfully as she waited for him to open the door.  Listening intently, she strained to hear footsteps, voices . . . any evidence that there was someone coming close. 

Nothing.  No sound from inside the house.  Only the weather raging around her.

She pressed the button again, biting her lip as her heart began to sink to her knees, the silence from behind the door obliterating what little hope she’d had left.

After a moment, she swallowed hard, raising her hand to knock roughly on the ornate wood.

“Joe!  It’s Alex!”

Her chest burned, the effort behind her yell nearly making her weak.  Forcing herself to stay upright, she pounded on the door again, the impact of fist against wood tearing into her skin with each blow.

Finally, she gave up, turning to rest her back against the door and sliding down to sit on the welcome mat.  The rain had been blown nearly sideways, soaking the front of the house, forming puddles that covered the boards.  The wet rug squished as she settled, the moisture immediately soaking through her already drenched jeans.

Thunder roared across the sky, making her flinch and hug the album even more tightly to her chest.  The damp clothing clung to her body, her skin turning clammy as the wind picked up once more, forcing her to fight back the shivering that tried to control her muscles.

Sniffling, she reached up and wiped at her face, unable to discern between tears and raindrops as her unsteady fingers made a valiant effort to dry her cheeks.

It was clear, the question in her mind answered decidedly and with finality.

They were over.  Whether she’d wanted it to be or not, it was finished.

She’d have to start from scratch and rebuild herself from the ground up.  Hopefully, the end product would be something she could live with.

Clearing her throat, she rose from the mat, the plastic bag crinkling and drawing her attention down.  There were too many memories in the album, so many things she never wanted to forget.  At the same time, she didn’t think she could stand having it around, just waiting for her to sit down and reminisce over what she’d pushed away.

It couldn’t come home with her, but she couldn’t bear the thought of throwing it out to be burned.

So she hooked the handles of the bag over the doorknob, knowing the jacket inside would keep the photos from getting ruined.  Maybe he’d like to see it, remember the good times.  Or maybe he’d just toss it out without a second thought.  Either way, she’d never know what he did with it and she preferred that over every day agony.

One last deep breath and she turned away from the door, practically running down the stairs in her desperation to get back to the car.

Her foot turned when it hit the bottom step, twisting sharply.  She pitched forward, just barely able to raise her hands in an effort to protect her face as the glittering cement rushed up to meet her.

Lightening flashed overhead as her body crashed down, the side of her head cracking hard against the pavement upon landing.

For a second, there were shimmering lights and rain, then there was pain, a throbbing that covered her from head to knee.

And finally there was only darkness.

She never heard the car pull up or saw the flash of headlights across the driveway.  The slamming of the car door, his voice as he said her name, his hands cupping her face . . . nothing broke through the dark cloud of unconsciousness.  When he lifted her from the cold concrete to carry her inside, her only response to moan quietly and turn her face into his shoulder, seeking the comfort of his warmth even when she wasn’t aware.

“Come on, Lexi.  Wake up, baby.”

What could’ve been seconds or hours later, his voice finally reached her, bringing her to struggle back to the surface.

Her eyes blinked open, squinting against the glare from the overhead lights.  Through the brightness, she could see him, worry lines creasing his forehead as he let his fingers move over her scalp, gently probing the area just above her temple.  

“Joe?”

Her voice was soft, a whisper that she could barely hear herself, but it brought a relieved smile to his face.

“Thank God.”  He breathed deeply, his hands helping her when she moved to sit up.  “Hey . . . take it easy, Alex.  Don’t move too fast.”

She shook her head, trying to clear the cotton from her mind, only to gasp when sharp pain shot through her skull.  “My God, that hurts.”

“I’d say it does.  That was a pretty rock star fall you took out there.”

“I . . . I fell?”  Her eyes narrowed as she fought to remember.

“Yeah.  You hit your head . . .”  His fingers came up to touch her forehead softly.  “You’re going to have a monster of a lump right there.”

She blinked, vague images of running from his porch coming back to her.  “Right.  I was headed back to my car, but I slipped going down the stairs.”

“I nearly had a heart attack when I found you lying out there.”  Brown eyes skipped over her carefully, measuring her.  “Are you okay?”

“I feel like somebody hit me in the back of the head with a sledgehammer.”  Closing her eyes, she quickly ran down a checklist of body parts.  “I’m sore.  And my ankle feels like it’s on fire.”

“You probably just twisted it.”  Her shoes and socks had already been removed – soaked by the rain – and his fingers circled her bare ankle gently, backing off immediately when she winced.  “Yep.  It’s a little swollen.”

“O-okay.”  Suddenly, she was freezing, chills racing up and down her spine, her teeth chattering mercilessly as her entire body began to shake.  “I’m . . .”

“I’ve got a tub of hot water waiting for you upstairs.  Sound good?”  He stood as she nodded, then bent to lift her off the couch, the cold dampness of her clothing immediately soaking through the shirt he was wearing.  “All right.  Let’s go.”

“I-I can w-walk.”  The protest was weak, losing what little power she tried to put behind it when her arm moved around his neck, her head tilting to rest on his shoulder.

“I don’t think so, sweetie.”  Laughter laced his voice as he started up the stairs.  “Not this time.  Soak that foot for a while and wrap your ankle, then we’ll see about letting you walk.”

She nodded against him, the iciness of her wet hair sending her to trembling even harder.  Desperate to concentrate on anything else, her eyes roamed the hallway, falling on a stack of luggage just outside his bedroom.  “Yo-ou’re l-leaving?”

“What?”  He stopped, looking down at her curiously before following her gaze.  “No, I just came in.  The studio in New York had a computer issue and we had to go redo the recording on two of the tracks they were working on.”  His feet began moving again, making short work of the distance to the master bath.  “We got back this afternoon.” 

“O-oh.”

Pushing his way through the doorway, he made sure to watch her head and legs, careful not to bang them up any more than they already were.  “You know my routine:  come in, drop the bags and check the machine.  I heard your messages and tried to call you back, but all I could get was a busy signal.”  He set her down on the edge of the tub, making sure she was balanced before pulling away to look at her.  “I grabbed my keys and went right back out the door, headed to your place.  We must’ve just missed each other.”

The warmth of the water behind her rose, the heat like heaven against her chilled arms, but still she shivered as her eyes came up to him.  “I-I’m so s-sorry, Jo-oe.  I . . .”

“Not right now, Lex.”  His finger rested on her lips to silence her.  “We’ll talk about it tonight, but you need to soak in this tub and warm up before we get started on anything like that, okay?”

She took a deep breath, meeting his gaze dead on.  “P-prom-mise?”

He grinned, laughing a little when her chattering teeth accented her stuttered word.  “Yeah, I promise.  You can count on it.”  Stepping back, he moved out of the way as she began to pull her shirt up and over her head, her trembling arms making the task more difficult than it should have been.  “Do you need any help?”

“N-no.  I th-think-k I-I’ve got-t it.”  The shirt hit the floor to reveal her amused smile, joining him in laughter this time.  “I-I s-soun-nd rid-dic-culous-s.”

“I think it’s kinda cute.”  He focused on her again.  “If you’re okay here, I’m going to go call the ER and see if the nurse thinks I need to bring you in.  That bruise is looking really nasty.”

“No.  I’ll b-be fi-ine.”  She watched as he pulled an odd-looking cell phone from his pocket.  “N-new ph-phone?”

“Yeah.  I haven’t figured out how, but Justin managed to drop my old one into the toilet on the plane.”  With a quick shake of his head, he flipped it open and started pressing buttons.  “You think you can handle this?”

“I th-think so-o.”

“Okay.  There’re some clothes right there on the counter.”  Leaning down to her, he gently kissed the side of her head.  “Lay back, turn the spa jets on and relax.  Just don’t fall asleep, okay?”

She nodded silently, watching him turn to leave the room.

“Yell when you’re ready to come out or if you need anything.”

Then he was gone, leaving her to the silence of the bathroom, the warm water behind her literally pulling her to hurry up and get in.  Her jeans clung to her wetly and she rolled her eyes when she saw the ripped areas over her knees.  “I-I’m s-such a k-klutz.”

Within seconds, she was relaxing back in the tub, hissing when the bubbling water hit the scraped skin of her knees and arms, sending a sting throbbing through her limbs.  Her body quickly adjusted and the pain left, leaving her to become more comfortable in the surrounding warmth.

The trembling ended, her teeth stopping their rapid-fire beat as the heat began to soak through her skin and into her veins.  Carefully, she began to flex and stretch, working her muscles to test for any soreness that may have already set in.  Surprisingly, she found very little, only a small throbbing in her quickly relaxing ankle.

Twenty minutes later, she’d massaged the area above her foot until it was just the slightest bit sore, used a little bit of his soap to wash away the last traces of the cold rainwater she’d been soaked in and had dressed herself, standing carefully so she wouldn’t aggravate any of her injuries.

Moving slowly down the hallway, she debated whether he’d be in his room or downstairs, deciding to check his bedroom before calling for him as he’d requested earlier.

Her ankle began to ache under her efforts and she leaned against his door frame, her eyes immediately moving to the bed, widening at the assortment of items spread across the black comforter.  A green designer dress, a broken perfume bottle, a bouquet of wilting flowers . . . she studied each one thoroughly, taking it all in.

Then she saw the small jeweler’s box lying on the skirt of the dress.

A twisting sensation began in her stomach, forcing her to hobble across the room and pick up the box, her fingers moving over the soft velvet for only a second before she flipped the lid open.

The room spun, a sudden dizziness sending the world into a tilt, and she sank down to sit on the soft bed covers, unable to close her eyes against the rush.  All she could do was sit, staring at the single, modest diamond set onto a thin gold band, tucked safely into the folds of the ring box.

Janine’s explanation hadn’t come close.  He hadn’t only planned on surprising her, he’d wanted to . . .

“Alex?  You still up here?”  Her head jerked up just as he leaned in the room, his eyes worried as they rested on her.  “Hey.  Are you okay?”

She swallowed hard, unaware of the tears streaming down her cheeks.  “I . . . I don’t think so.”  The box slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor, her hands trembling slightly as she covered her face and slid to her knees on the carpet.  “It hurts, Joe.  So bad.”

“What hurts, babe?”  He knelt in front of her and she could hear him closing the box, placing it back where she’d found it.  Then he was pulling her hands away until he could study her, his brow furrowing in concern.  “Is it your head?  You may have a concussion.”

“Not my head . . .”  Her head moved slowly back and forth, more tears escaping with each second.  “My heart.”

“Your heart hurts?”  Brown eyes softened as she nodded and he brought one hand up to comb his fingers through her hair.  “Why?”

“I broke it when we . . . when I . . .”  Thin shoulders heaved in a deep breath, then her arms were around his neck, holding him tightly as she leaned forward to rest her cheek on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry.  So sorry, Joe.  I never wanted to break us . . . I-I didn’t want to leave you.  I love you.  It killed me to . . . but I was so scared.”  Her voice trailed off, muted by the thick tears clogging her throat.  “Oh, God.  I’m sorry.”

“Shhhh.”  He rose, pulling her to her feet and hugging her to him, his mouth moving just beside her ear.  “It’s okay . . .”

“No, it’s not.”  Sobs wracked her body as she fought to get the words out.  “I wouldn’t listen.  I didn’t trust you and walked out . . . you should hate me.”

“I don’t.  I couldn’t.” 

Her head shook against him, denying his words.  “I didn’t mean to . . .”

“I know, Lex.  I heard your messages.”  His lips pressed against her forehead.  “All you had to do was come back. We’re not broken, honey.  You fixed us just by coming here tonight.”

Trembling, she began to cry harder, those magic words sending relief cutting through her like a knife, so sharp it physically hurt.  “But I . . .”

“I love you, Lexi.”  His head tilted down just enough to allow him to lightly kiss her lips.  “I’ve been crazy in love with you since the day I met you.  Something like this isn’t going to change that.  I promise.” 

With a sigh, she relaxed against him, leaning into the familiar softness of his chest.  “You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.”  He brought his hands up to cup her face, gently pulling her away from him.  His gaze skipped over her features as his thumbs brushed over her cheeks, erasing the tear stains from her skin.  “If things hadn’t gotten screwed up and I’d been able to go through with it . . . what would you have said?”

She blinked, his question catching her off guard.  “What?”

“The ring.”  One arm released her, reaching out until he could pick up the small box.  “If I’d gotten to ask, what would you have said?”

“You shouldn’t have to ask me that.”  Fresh tears gathered as her eyes moved slowly between him and the velvet casing in his fingers.  “You know I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat.”

“In a heartbeat, huh?”  Smiling, he reached blindly over his shoulder until he was able to hold her left hand between them.  “Hmm . . . I’ll bet it’s a perfect fit.”  Flipping the lid open and taking out the ring, he carefully slid it onto her finger. “Does that yes still stand?”  The box snapped as it shut, his eyes never leaving her as he tossed it back onto the bed. 

She sniffled, grinning brightly as new tears – happy ones this time – danced on her eyelashes.  “You know it does.”  A shaky laugh escaped, then she was pressing her mouth to his, her fingers sliding into his hair to pull him as close as she could, his gentle touch and familiar response reassuring her that not only were they back where they were supposed to be . . . they were going to be even better than before.

They were together.

And she hadn’t had to crawl to get there.