Chapter 68

They were settled in the back of the big car, sitting close together yet not touching, in a comfortable, comforting way without being overly intimate. Richie reached to the miniature bar, picking up a bottle of water and turning to raise an enquiring eyebrow to Billie.

“Please.” She smiled, and he poured some for her, condensation almost instantly beading on the sides of the glass from the chill of the water inside.

When they each had a glass of water in their hands, Richie looked outside at the pack of press mongrels as the driver eased them from hospital premises. He sighed. Seemed like maybe the hounds weren’t quite ready to let Billie out from their radar. Maybe a restaurant wasn’t such a good plan.

“I know I promised you lunch.” He smiled apologetically. “But I’m starting to think maybe going to a restaurant isn’t such a great plan - they’d be on you between bites.”

“S’okay, Richie.” Billie laid a gentle hand on his knee without even thinking about it until she felt him jerk just a tiny bit at her touch. “I can eat at the hotel, or at Jay’s or somewhere. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I……..” Looking down, he covered her hand with his before looking at her again, the brown eyes as soulful as those of her old dog, Deke. As soulful, and just as hard to resist. “I wanted to spend some time with you. Outwith a hospital room I mean.” A tilt of his head as he thought. “Why don’t you come back to my place? I’m only talking lunch - you don’t need to worry about me………about anything.”

“Richie, the last thing I’d ever worry about with you would be……..unwanted attention.” She blushed prettily, leaving him to wonder if his ‘attention’ would be unwanted at all. But it was way too soon - both emotionally and, for her, physically - for anything like that.

“Do you trust me to cook for you?”

Billie laughed, a free-spirited and open laugh as she grinned at him cheekily. “Richie, I’ve been surviving on hospital food - you can’t be any worse than that!”

“Oh I think I can promise better than hospital food, Billie.” He squeezed her hand lightly, the smile on his face touching his eyes with sparks of fun. “Trust me.”

“Oh, yeah, ‘trust me, I’m a rockstar’?”

“Something like that, yeah!”

Leaning forward, Richie gave the driver his address.


Sitting in the apartment, Jon scrolled through email on his laptop, looking morosely at the various ‘potential’ apartments his realtor had sent details for. He just couldn’t force his brain into making a decision whether to stay here in the city - albeit in a new apartment - or whether to just take his sorry ass back to Jersey. Back where he belonged. He had to admit, though, that the idea of staying the city, where there was at least a chance of sometime running into Dot and her new-old boyfriend…….that made him cringe. She said he didn’t know the guy, but was that true? He knew a lot of people, and if it was someone she’d known so long…… Would he feel better or worse if he did meet the guy and he was ugly as sin? Yeah, that’d be worse. Worse to know his wife hadn’t even traded him in for a ‘better’ model, but had truly fallen out of love with him and moved on.

“This sucks.” He mumbled to the empty apartment.

He reached for his wineglass, only to be surprised when he found it empty. Tilting the bottle over the glass didn’t help, as it was also empty, and he frowned.

“I drank it all already?” He tilted the bottle again, pointlessly, then looked at it consideringly before rolling his eyes. “Drank it all and I’m fucking talking to myself. Shit.”

Pushing up from his chair, Jon carried the empty bottle to the kitchen, laying it on the counter. Laying it on the counter next to another empty wine bottle. Two bottles of wine gone and it was only……….he glanced at his watch, and another frown creased his forehead. Three o’clock in the afternoon and he was two bottles down? Two bottles and he didn’t feel even slightly drunk. And that, he knew from what Richie had gone through, was a serious issue.

“You stupid fucker.” He muttered as he caught his own reflection on the shining steel of the extract hood over the stove.

It was funny. The ‘stupid’ came out in broad ‘Joisey’, sounding more like ‘stoopid’, and somehow that decided him.

“I don’t belong here.” He said aloud, decision made, and he poured himself a mug of the ever-present coffee before returning to his laptop.

A quick email later, his realtor was told to forget looking for an apartment, and then he headed to the bedroom to throw a few things into a bag. He was going home.


Richie and Billie were sitting comfortably on the oversized couches in his living room. They were on separate couches, but still close together as they talked and laughed together. Richie’s culinary skills had been deemed exceptional by Billie, and Richie had accepted the praise without a hint of modesty. Pretty much what she’d expected. Now, after so many days of hospital food, she felt pleasantly sated and sleepy, sorely tempted to just lay her head on the arm of the couch as they talked. After resisting the impulse for a few minutes, she gave in, shifting to a more comfortable position on the soft cushions.

Watching her, Richie grinned. He loved that she felt comfortable enough around him - both as a member of her favorite rock band and just as a man, after what she’d been through - that she was settling herself comfortably in his home. He shifted down on his own couch, stretching his long legs out to rest his feet on the coffee table, reaching hesitantly to touch her hair, stroking it back where it fell over her face. Billie’s eyes flew open when he touched her, but she looked at him calmly, unafraid of this big man, knowing he’d never do anything to hurt her.

“Why don’t you take a nap?” Richie said softly. “You look tired.”

“I’ve been in bed for days!” Billie protested, but she couldn’t deny he was right. She was tired.

“I know you have, but you’ve also been badly hurt, Billie, and you need rest to get better. S’okay, really.” He smirked. “I got washing up to do anyway.”

She giggled. “You do know that half the Bon Jovi fans in the world - actually most of them - would pay to see you wash dishes.”

“And just think - you can have it for free.” He winked, still stroking her hair like he’d soothe Ava. “Just close your eyes, darlin’. I don’t mind.” But he had to say it. “I love that you’re comfortable enough here - with me - to fall asleep.”

Billie didn’t answer, just smiled at him before finally obeying and closing her eyes. God, but it felt good to be able to relax this way. That was pretty much her final thought before she fell asleep. Her final thought, but her final memory before sleep was the touch of Richie’s hand on her hair, and the sound of his voice as he hummed a low tune, the sound soothing her like a lullaby.