The Rockstar's Redemption

6. Why does it hurt?

6. Why does it hurt?

The next day, when I wake up, there’s no sign of Reid in the room. For a moment, I panic, but then I hear noises in the living room and relax immediately—he’s here. I enjoy this moment alone. It’s not that Reid’s presence is unpleasant—at least not now—but I missed this: a quiet moment in my own bedroom.

Taking my time, I prepare for a shower—the longest one in weeks. When I come out, I feel so relaxed that it doesn’t even bother me that Reid seems not to notice me. In fact, the moment I start moving around the kitchen, he takes my laptop and goes to my room, locking himself in to continue whatever it is he does.

The day passes slowly and quietly. Reid doesn’t speak to me, and I don’t speak to him. The next few days are more of the same. We fall into a new pattern that works for us. When my shift at work is at night, Reid waits outside the hospital to walk me home, as always: no words pass his lips. Every night, I go to sleep on the sofa, only for Reid to lift me seconds later and take me to my bed, where he clings to me tightly. During the day, he barely notices I exist, which no longer surprises me. But at night, he holds me as if I’m the only thing he needs to sleep.

Then, one day, he finally speaks.

I’m sitting on the sofa, my fingers focused on trying to knit a small hat with the thin, slippery needles.

“Auch,” I complain when I jab the wrong spot and prick my finger. I bring my index finger to my mouth, soothing the sting. Just then, a hard, lean body shades me slightly. I slowly lift my eyes, more than surprised that he’s approached.

“Something wrong?” he asks.

From my seated position on the sofa and him standing in front of me, Reid looks incredibly tall; I almost have to tilt my head back to look at him. I must admit he’s a little intimidating.

“I got some money,” he says casually.

Uh.

“Great,” I murmur, lowering my gaze and returning to the delicate task of knitting the wool hat.

“Blue,” he calls.

I look up again, confused that he’s still there. I’m so used to living with him and not hearing his voice that it feels really strange to have him talking to me.

“Yes?”

“The money has been deposited into your bank account.”

Wait.

“But I don’t have a bank account.”

“Now you do.”

I blink, confused.

“How?”

“I contacted someone I trust; she deposited the money into the account. I couldn’t use mine for obvious reasons.”

“But I don’t have an accou—”

“They created one for you.”

“Who?”

“Katarina.”

I furrow my brows, recognizing the name.

“Your girlfriend?”

He tilts his head slightly, looking at me with curiosity.

“Being an internet stalker again, Blue?”

I open my mouth, then shut it; I’m speechless. His lips aren’t smiling, but his eyes look wickedly amused. I want to hit him, so I do: I make a ball out of the yarn for my future hat and toss it at his head.

Reid watches stoically, his eyes intimidating me.

I can’t take it!

“You want me to go withdraw the money, right?” I quickly change the subject.

He nods.

“Write down what I tell you.”

I stand and grab a pen and paper. I write everything he tells me, amazed that Reid knows the bank account number by heart; he recites it with complete monotony. I pause and look at him, probably with a face full of awe.

“What?” he asks with his eyes.

“You’re insane,” I reply with my eyes too.

Reid rolls his eyes and continues explaining what I need to do.

When I bundle up to leave, I notice that he’s also putting on his jacket, as if planning to come with me. I stop halfway with my hat in hand. I look at him. He continues bundling up, then heads to the door. Just as he’s about to open it, I reach out and grab his jacket from behind, stopping him.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He points to the door with a slight nod.

I shake my head immediately.

“You’re not going out in broad daylight, Reid Colleman. Have you lost your mind?”

His eyes shine in a strange way when I call him by his full name.

“I go out almost every night to—”

I interrupt: “Yes, almost every night, exactly at midnight, when no one can see you. In broad daylight, everyone would recognize you, rock star.”

And suddenly, as soon as I finish speaking, I realize what I’ve done.

I interrupted him! I interrupted his words, just like he always does with me.

I smirk proudly and raise an eyebrow at him. I try to make the most obnoxious expression possible, flaunting my accomplishment. Reid crosses his arms and looks at me, his eyes questioning my actions.

“Your own medicine,” I murmur, rising on tiptoe to meet his height.

He raises an eyebrow too, almost as if challenging me to continue. I don’t even care about his silence; not when I’ve just done what I did. I feel far too proud of myself for returning the favor he always gives me.

“I, Willa O’Neill, have returned your moves,” I say to his face, briefly poking him in the chest. “I interrupted you when you were speaking to me, you rude rock star.”

I clap once in front of him and bow, proud of my accomplishment. Reid shakes his head, watching me with amusement, entertained, and even a touch of tenderness in his eyes. At another time, that would have bothered me, but not now.

“Next time, I’ll answer one of your questions without words, just with mysterious looks,” I say.

Without waiting for him to respond with something clever and ruin my triumph, I grab the material of his jacket and pull him back inside the house.

He stays put. I will go outside. I squint, point to the sofa, and leave, making clear—at least I think—to him what he should do. I stand for a few brief minutes by the door, waiting to see if he obeys. When time passes and he doesn’t move, I smile triumphantly and head to the bank.

Reid Colleman… slowly, I will tame you.

[...]

The moment I enter the house, I notice Reid is exactly where I asked him to be: sitting on the sofa, right in front of the TV, which is on. However, his eyes don’t seem to follow the talking screen; they look distant. When the front door closes behind me, his dark gaze lands on me.

I toss him the small wallet I bought to carry his money. Reid looks at it, confused, then at the colorful wallet resting in his lap.

“Your money,” I say, stating the obvious.

Slowly, he shakes his head and looks at me as if I don’t understand anything.

Well, I don’t.

Why is he looking at me like that?

“It’s your money, Blue.”

“What?”

“It’s yours,” he says as if it’s obvious, when it’s not.

“It’s yours,” I repeat, because it’s too much.

“That money is yours. I got it for you.”

Call me crazy, but the only way I see this situation is…

“You asked your girlfriend for money to give it to the girl you sleep with every night?”

His eyes narrow, and his lips press together, as if to hold back a smile.

We stare at each other. I feel angry, though I’m not sure why. And seeing the amusement—and even a bit of tenderness—in his eyes definitely doesn’t help.

“I got that money to pay you back for everything you’ve spent on me,” he finally says.

“And couldn’t you have asked someone else?” I ask softly, feeling uneasy about the situation.

“Katarina is the only person I trust.”

Oh, no.

I avert my gaze, shocked because his words hurt me.

Why does it hurt?

Instinctively, I place my hand over my chest and rub it a little, trying to soothe the sudden ache.

“It’s okay,” I murmur, feeling weak, confused, and unsettled by my strange reaction to his words.

I don’t understand myself. Reid has been living with me for almost two months now, and he’s gaining too much power over me, and I don’t even have his trust.

“What’s in that bag?” he asks, pointing at the bag in my hand.

I look at him, trying to guess what he’ll think if I tell him what I did. Will he think it’s stupid? Will he let me do it? Will he get angry?

“I…” I swallow, “I had an idea.”

He slowly stands and walks toward me, a growing curiosity shining in his eyes.

I continue, “I know the lady at the town hair salon, so I thought—” I bite my lip nervously, “you must get bored being stuck in here all day. So… I thought… maybe a makeover could help? Your beard hides a bit of who you are, but your long hair will never go unnoticed. Your hair screams Reid Colleman everywhere, so…”

“You want me to cut your hair?”

I nod carefully, measuring his reaction.

“Only if you want to,” I say, pulling out the hair clippers and showing them to him. “I got this in case you said yes.”

Reid looks at the device in my hand, then back at me with completely serious eyes.

With a small nod, he agrees.

Oh God, why didn’t I tell him I’ve never done this before?