Rock Heart Page 14

  “Chaz!” June and I shout at the same time.

  But when Donnie rolls off him and asks him if he’s okay, my heart drops. He palms his temples and his eyes scrunch together.

  I drop to my knees and place a palm on his chest. “What’s wrong, babe?”

  He groans again. “Another migraine.”

  “Wake Bobby and Sutton up from their nap and have Chaz lie down in the loft. It’s dark in there,” June instructs Donnie and me.

  Donnie helps Chaz up, and together, we walk him to the loft. I heard from Bobby about his mega migraine while we were apart, and I felt guilty that I hadn’t been there to help him. But I’m here now and I’m going to get him through this. After Bobby gets up and leaves with Sutton, we help Chaz to bed.

  “Stay with me,” he begs.

  My heart breaks for him. He winces at the sound of his own words—the noise bothering his head.

  “Okay,” I whisper. “Donnie, bring his meds from his bag and please keep an eye on little man.”

  Mr. Jokester is dead serious. He nods and leaves me with Chaz.

  I crawl into the bed next to him and let him pull me to him. He isn’t speaking or attempting to open his eyes. His behavior is scaring the shit out of me.

  Donnie quietly returns and hands me a water bottle and his pills. Once he leaves, I help Chaz so he can take them—all without saying a word. I know he needs silence if he’s suffering from a migraine. We lie there for quite some time until I hear his measured breathing. Then I pull out my phone and text Donnie.

  Me: How long has he been having these?

  My phone vibrates with his response.

  Donnie: He’s had occasional headaches and migraines the entire time I’ve known him. His mom took him to all sorts of doctors when we were teenagers and it just seems that he suffers from migraines. But in the last few weeks, this would be the second major one he’s had. With these last two, they have completely debilitated him. He’s fucking scaring the shit out of me.

  Me: He needs to see a doctor again. How will he perform tonight?

  Donnie: I doubt he will. We’ll have to change up the show. Bobby can’t sing for shit but I do the backups. I’ll just do them for you. You can sing all the songs, Ry-Bear.

  My stomach hollows out with nerves. I hate the idea of doing the last show without him and with me singing them alone. But I will do whatever it takes to keep Chaz from suffering.

  Me: Okay, fine. Tomorrow I am taking him to a doctor. Do you think I could have his mother’s number to talk to her about it?

  Donnie: Great idea. I’ll text you Momma Glenna’s number.

  After he sends it to me, I shoot her a text explaining who I am and the situation. I also ask her not to call since I’m lying beside him and don’t want to disturb him. Minutes later, she texts me back.

  Glenna: That boy runs himself ragged. Whatever’s been happening seems worse than his normal issues, which worries me. I’m glad the tour is over after tonight. Nice to meet you, love. Please keep me posted on his progress.

  I promise that I will and turn to look at him. Even in the dark, he’s beautiful. His hair is messy and sticking up all over. I want to run my fingers through it but don’t dare touch his throbbing head. Even as he sleeps, his eyebrows are furrowed in pain. My heart aches because I don’t know what to do for him.

  “Ry-Bear,” Donnie whispers. “Showtime.”

  I blink open my eyes and once again look at Chaz. He’s wearing the same expression from hours earlier. I try to sneak out of the bed when he touches my arm.

  “Wherrrre you g-g-going?” he stutters out.

  My heart races and I widen my eyes at Donnie. He’s frowning, which only serves to worry me more.

  “To the show, babe. How are you feeling?” I ask softly.

  He winces as he opens his eyes. “You are a f-f-fucking, angel. Your halo is g-glowing.”

  Donnie kneels in front of him and starts asking him questions. “Where is your pain? Just in your head? Are you experiencing any other symptoms?”

  Chaz blinks his eyes several times in confusion. “Where are we g-going?”

  Donnie jerks his head to mine and I’m in a damn near panic.

  “How hard is it to cancel a show?” I ask quietly.

  He frowns. “Pretty fucking hard.”

  “God, stop moving the fucking bed,” Chaz grumbles and starts to sit up.

  Donnie and I scramble to help him.

  “Donnie, go grab the trash can from downstairs.”

  He jumps up and runs off. Chaz stands and wobbles. I grab on to his arm to steady him.

  “Chaz, where are you going?”

  “I’m fucking n-n-n...whatever the word for I’m going to puke!” he mumbles.

  When he suddenly stumbles hard to the left, his giant self drags me with him into the wall, and we crack the paneling with our weight. I’m just trying to pull him back to his feet when Donnie arrives with the trash can.

  Donnie manhandles him back over to the bed and makes him lie down. As soon as his head hits the pillow, he springs back up and vomits into the can.

  “Chaz, we should take you to the hospital,” I say in a whisper.

  He lifts his head and shakes it. “I’m tired. Let me sleep this off.”

  I’m not convinced, but he stretches back out on the bed and passes out, his snores soon filling the room, leaving Donnie and me to stare at each other.

  I stand and motion for Donnie to follow me to the stairwell. “What should we do?”

  “Well, June will be here with the kids. She can call us if something happens,” Donnie replies.

  I don’t like this a single bit. “Donnie,” I whine.

  Bobby appears from behind Donnie. “How is he?”

  “Sleeping now,” I tell him.

  “He usually gets better after he can sleep his migraine off. I know it seems scary, but he had that really bad one a few weeks ago and he got better. June Bug can keep an eye on him. I’m sure the stress of the tour is just getting to him and he’ll be fine after tonight. We have thousands of people who are already lining up to see us tonight. Ryan, we can’t cancel because he’s having a migraine. I promise, if he gets worse, June will call me.”

  I bite my lip and steal a glance back over at Chaz. He’s snoring but looks overall okay.

  I sigh and nod reluctantly. Why do I get the feeling that everything’s not going to be okay?

  “Encore! Encore!” the crowd shouts as we wait to the side of the stage. Normally, Donnie is bouncing all over the place, but the mood is somber as we all worry about Chaz.

  Right before I walk out onto the stage, Bobby looks down at his phone and frowns. My heart sinks as I wonder why he made the face. Did Chaz get worse?

  We pound through one of the hits and bid the crowd farewell. All three of us are wearing forced smiles for the audience. As soon as we hand off our instruments, Bobby grabs my hand and starts hauling ass down the hall. Shit!

  “Bobby, what’s going on?” I demand as I trot along with him.

  “June texted. They took him by ambulance to the hospital. She’s with him. Ted stayed back with the kids. She said when she went to check on him he told her he couldn’t feel his arm. Then he started talking nonsense. June’s worried he’s having a stroke or some shit.”

  I burst into tears and Bobby squeezes my hand.

  “Ryan, everything’s going to be okay.”

  I’ve been pacing the hospital waiting room like a madwoman. June has been back with Chaz for what must be a couple of hours now. Since they made it before us and were taken God only knows where—but somewhere within the hospital where June isn’t picking up service to return my millions of texts—we haven’t had any updates.

  When I’m not pacing, I’m crying. Donnie and Bobby wear matching worried looks, but both have taken to calming me down as their mission.

  “What the fuck is taking so long?” I hiss.

  Donnie stalks over to me and places both hands on my shoulders. “Ry-
Bear, chill.”

  I sigh and break away from him so I can continue my pointless pacing.

  “Are you the family of Chaz Montgomery?” a deep voice asks.

  “Yes,” the three of us say in unison and turn toward the older gentleman with greying hair. He looks kind—and tired.

  “How is he?” I demand, unable to keep the anxiety from my voice.

  “He’s doing well. After a battery of tests, including an MRI to check for a stroke and other things like blood clots in the neck and such, we’ve finally determined the source of his problems. It would appear he’s suffering from sporadic hemiplegic migraine headaches. We did some genetic testing to see if it is familial or runs in his family, but of course, we won’t have those results right away. Mr. Montgomery has been given an intravenous treatment of valproic acid to ward off the acute migraine he’s dealing with. If this doesn’t show us any change, I’ll try a magnesium sulfate. Once we get him out of this acute phase and properly hydrated, he should be able to go home tomorrow. I will be prescribing him an anticonvulsant to help reduce these attacks. He’ll need to follow up with his primary care physician about the results of the genetic portion of this condition. But all in all, this is good news. When he first came in, all signs were pointing to a stroke, which is uncommon for someone at his age. At least we can manage these migraines with a proper cocktail of medicines. They’re putting him in a room right now, and you’ll be able to see him soon.”

  Thank God. Everything is going to be okay.

  “Did you take your medicine?” Ryan asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern. She’s so fucking cute, wearing one of her signature outfits—a tight tank top and a pair of little cotton shorts.

  “Yes, Momma,” I groan but grin at her.

  She swats at me, but I catch her wrist and pull her to me. I dip my face down to hers and kiss her nose. My cock hardens between us and she raises an eyebrow at me.

  “What?” I laugh, “You’re so fucking cute right now. I want to push you up on my dresser and fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.”

  Her cheeks turn pink, which I know means she’d love every second of it.

  “Not now, lover boy. We still have to finish packing up your bedroom. The movers will be here in the morning.”

  I grumble in annoyance and reluctantly pull away from her. Even though packing fucking sucks, I’m eager to move to her hometown. I can’t get enough of her. When I was hospitalized, she stayed by my side the entire time. At first, she wanted to mother hen me, but now that we know the medicines are working, she’s calmed down. It’s been weeks since I went to the hospital and it’s finally time to leave this place behind.

  “Jacob is going to be so excited to see you tomorrow. He told me that Grandma and Daddy aren’t as good at Go Fish as you are,” she giggles.

  I grin thinking about his cute little blond-headed self. That boy has a way of working himself into your heart. He went to stay with his dad while we finished up packing, and I know we’re both eager to see the little guy.

  “That’s because I don’t let him win every time,” I grin.

  She smiles back at me but returns to pulling pictures off the wall. I can’t help but watch her cute little ass as it jiggles while she stands on her tiptoes to remove one. My dick is about to rip through the fabric of my basketball shorts.

  Now that we’ve been home from the tour a few weeks, we’ve become accustomed to fucking all the time. My little angel can’t get enough. Her favorite is when I take her rough in the shower. She gets so dirty—and then we get clean.

  Several hours later, when it starts to get dark, we finally finish with the last box.

  “Thank God,” I groan. “I say we shower and go to dinner.”

  She laughs. “Don’t be such a complainer. You’re the one who has so much shit!”

  I give her the look—the one that says, “You better run.”

  “Noooooo,” she squeals and hauls ass to the bathroom.

  I’m already hot on her heels though and push through the door before she can get it closed.

  “Don’t tickle me, Chaz, or so help me, you won’t get laid for a month. I’ll stay with Mom and you can live in your big house by yourself,” she threatens.

  Her hands are held up defensively as she slowly backs away from me. When I wriggle my fingers at her, she shudders. I stalk over to her and she retreats until her back hits the wall. She puts both hands out to keep me away, but I easily grab them and gently push them against the wall. A moan escapes her when I grind my aching cock against her belly.

  “I won’t tickle you, but I am going to fuck you, angel.”

  I slowly slide my hands down the underside of her arms and along her ribs to her hips. Grabbing the bottom of her tank, I peel it off her body. Her perky tits are pushed up and together in her pale-pink bra. I want to free them and taste them. Dipping my head down to her breasts, I suckle on the flesh spilling out of the top of her bra. I reach around and unhook it, sliding it off her and tossing it to the floor. She moans and grabs my hair when I suck a nipple into my mouth.

  “Chaz,” she whimpers.

  I pull away to yank off my own shirt. It never gets old the way she devours the sight of all the colorful tattoos that paint my flesh. Then I bring a hand down inside the front of her shorts before I stroke her between the lips of her pussy.

  “Angel, I want to lick every inch of this tight cunt until you scream and come all over my tongue. Then I’m going to lap you up so I don’t miss a drop of everything you have to give me. You want me to taste you?”

  “Oh my God, yes!”

  I drop to my knees, taking her shorts and panties with me along the way. “I’m going to take you for a ride. Put your leg over my shoulder,” I instruct.

  One of the things I love most about her is that she’ll try anything with me. She slides the back of her thigh over my shoulder and looks down at me, ready for more instructions.

  “Now hold on tight.”

  I grab hold of her ass and push her up the wall. She quickly gets the idea and hooks her other thigh over my other shoulder. Her grip on the back of my head is tight, but she’s down for this ride. When I’m in a standing position, I lift her ass so I can put my mouth right on her dripping pussy.

  “Chaz, am I too heavy?” she pants as I begin my speedy swirls on her clit.

  “Fuck no. You weigh nothing.”

  She has no response—except another moan—when I go back to attacking her sweet spot. I suck on her clit, run my tongue down and spear her wet center, and nibble on the swollen lips of her pussy over and over in no particular order until she shudders so hard with her orgasm that I almost lose my grip. Almost.

  I wait until she’s done shaking before I slide her back down the wall. Her legs buckle beneath her. After pulling her to me so she won’t fall, I slowly suck on her pouty bottom lip so she can taste what I get to—her sweet honey. I could fucking eat her out every day. Oh wait, I do.

  The doorbell rings and we both groan.

  “Start the shower. Let me go run and see who it is and I’ll be right back to finish servicing you, angel.”

  “Don’t make me wait,” she purrs and shakes her sexy little ass as she makes her way over to the shower. I feel sorry for whoever has to see my fucking hard-on. If it’s Donnie, he’ll deserve it.

  The doorbell rings again, and I jog through the halls to go answer it. Without looking through the peephole, I fling the door open.

  Fucking Neve.

  “What are you doing here?” I growl. I’m still pissed as fuck about what happened last month when she attempted to have sex with me knowing I was half out of it.

  Her eyes dart down to my cock, which is quickly going flaccid, and a smug grin tugs at the corners of her lips. “Looks like you’re happy to see me. Well, at least your dick is.”

  “Cut the shit, Neve. What do you want?”

  She rushes through the door and puts her hands on my chest. “I miss you and want you back. You know that little gir
l doesn’t have anything on these titties. If I remember correctly, you paid good money for these babies. Don’t you need a little return on your investment?”

  I grab both of her wrists and fling them away from me.

  “Don’t touch me and get out of my fucking house before I call the police.”

  She glares at me and puts her hands on her hips. Her dark hair is ironed straight, not a strand out of place. Perfectly painted lips form in a pout. Sure, she may have some expensive tits that I paid for. And sure, she may have legs that go for miles and can turn the heads of most men. But I know the real her. Neve is an unhappy person, and it makes her a selfish bitch. In my eyes, she couldn’t be any uglier. She has nothing on the angel showering in the other room.

  Neve glances off behind me and affixes her signature bitch look. “You had no complaints a few weeks ago when I was riding your cock. Remember, Chaz? When you fucked me? I bet you didn’t tell your little girlfriend that.”

  When I hear a gasp, my heart sinks. Please no. But my suspicions are confirmed when I see a dripping-wet angel standing in just a towel, staring back at me.

  “Ryan, it isn’t what you think. I was having that migraine and—”

  “And you fucked me,” Neve finishes for me. She grins nastily at Ryan. “Why don’t you call Bobby, little girl? He walked in on us wrapped naked around each other the next morning.”

  Ryan’s face morphs from shocked to angry. Fuck me. Fuck me!

  “Angel—” I start, but she holds a hand up to me.

  She turns her attention to Neve and strides over to her. Neve flinches—obviously not getting the reaction she expected.

  “So let me get this straight. You broke into Chaz’s home, crawled into his bed, and forced him to have sex while he was having a migraine?”

  Neve frowns and her eyes narrow at Ryan. “I had a key still, so technically, it wasn’t breaking in.”

  Ryan places both hands on her hips. “Listen here, bitch. I recently helped this man through one of these fucking migraines and it wasn’t pretty. He was practically incoherent, sick as a fucking dog, had lack of control of his body, was in severe pain, and was hallucinating. So when you let yourself in and ‘fucked’ my man, you were, in reality, raping someone who had no power to protect himself. I can’t believe you would actually admit to such a thing. Wait until the press gets ahold of this.”