Page 26 of Uncharted Desires

“What? What would you do?” He whirled around to glare at her.

She stopped in her tracks, and he took a step closer to her.

She lifted her chin in defiance. “I know I wouldn’t give it all up.”

He took another step closer until their chests were touching. He hovered over her, his proximity unnerving. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know what it’s like being the one everyone is there to see, the one everyone wants the new album from, the one they want on tour. Fans stalking your home, women throwing their bras on stage, men hating you because their girlfriends wish they were me. Knowing that all you want to do is make fucking music! You constantly face the pressure of never living up to everyone’s expectations, including record label execs who have never played a fucking instrument in their lives, criticizing your music as dated and providing suggestions for improvement. And now, throw in social media, and you tell yourself it’s just a bunch of noise, to tune it out, but it’s there, and unless you want to throw your phone into the goddamn ocean, you can’t unsee some of the shit that’s out there. So don’t tell me what you would do, because you don’t fucking know. You got to hang out in the back riding my coattails all these years, just like the rest of them.”

His words caused her to wince and retreat as if he had stabbed her in the chest, reminding her of her inadequacy as a musician, her inability to be like him and create true art. She was just the chick who hung out behind him. To prevent herself from crying in front of him, she pinched the bridge of her nose.

He reached out, trying to pull her back, registering what he had said. “Kat . . . wait, I’m sorry.”

She put her hand out to stop him. “No. You meant every word of that.”

“I didn’t, not the part about—”

“I don’t see how Hollywood is any different,” she said, cutting him off, trying to avoid how he had just shredded her self-worth. “Can you even act?”

“I don’t know. The movie studio thinks I can. But listen . . . I’m sorry.”

She ignored his apology. She couldn’t bear it, or she’d cry. “Is that even what you want to do?”

“This conversation is done.”

“But . . . how long did you know this? You didn’t just decide this.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “I thought maybe I could do both. But we’re not talking about this.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So, what changed?”

“Kat!” He stalked toward her, clearly feeling better and grabbed her by her upper arms. He wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t gentle either, pushing her up against one of the tall rocks.

She felt the air crackle with awareness as his face came close to hers. Deep in the pit of her stomach, she thought he was going to rip off all her clothes and have his way with her, which she was completely fine with. Or squeeze her until she stopped asking him questions. His eyes had gone wild. She had never seen him lose control like that. He seemed like a feral animal that needed to be released from its cage.

Then his face changed just as quickly as his anger had come, and he stepped back, dropping her arms, uttering a soft apology. His voice shook with an emotion that unnerved her more than his earlier lack of control.

She rubbed her upper arms, not because they were in pain, but because she missed his touch. Noticing her actions, his face turned angry—whether at her or himself, she couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter. Either way, she was done. He had made it clear he had no interest in confiding in her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you to share. You don’t owe me anything. You’re my boss, who I, unfortunately, am marooned on an island with. We mean nothing to each other, and you’ve made that abundantly clear for a very long time.” A tear slipped down her cheek, betraying her feelings.

She walked past him back toward the campfire, not daring to turn around as the tears continued.

“Kat . . . Kat, wait,” he called after her.

Steeling her shoulders she kept walking, unwilling to let him know his words got to her.

“Sleep, I’ll keep watch.” His voice was gentle from somewhere behind her.

She paused for a moment before nodding and settling down close by the fire. Exhaustion tugged at her eyes as she drifted off into a not-so-peaceful sleep.

Nine

He woke up the next morning, groggy from lack of sleep and lack of a bed. This entire situation was killing his spine. He’d be living at his chiropractor’s office if they ever made it back.

For hours he had listened to the sound of waves on the beach, and animals rustling the trees while she slept. The calm rhythm of her breathing was the only sign that she was even alive. She didn’t move once, proving to West how tired she was. Guilt had taken over as he thought about the things he had said, the way he had treated her, and the fact she had been on her own caring for him the past few days. He was an utter ass, and if they hadn’t been stuck on an island together, he wouldn’t blame her if she wanted nothing to do with him.

He had made her cry. He cared about her. It might have been this situation they were in, or maybe he had always cared but had refused to admit it to himself. Watching that lone tear roll down Kat’s cheek had made something hurt in his chest.

She had saved his life, and yet he couldn’t admit to her why he had left the music business. She pushed him, pushed him to be better, to open up and talk about what was on his mind, and he’d told her more than he’d wanted. He’d told her all the thoughts that had been swirling around in there and it had made him angry.