Without You

5. Curiouser & Curiouser

He fiddled with his fingers, hunched over uncomfortably. After Christine's revelation, Lindsey had needed some time to process. He understood why she had never said anything: with the state he had been in, anything more would have been a fatal blow. But this possibility made things even more uncertain. Maybe Stevie really was gone, but the Nicks had decided to bring up the child in secrecy. The use of Stevie's nickname could be explained away as simply an endearing term being passed from mother to daughter. But Jess's words had been sophisticated and serious, painting the interaction as a conversation between adults. A caretaker perhaps? Stevie's estate had been large at the time of her death and as its sole executor, Jess Nicks was more than capable of paying for someone's silence. Lindsey clenched his fists at the thought of some strange young woman raising Stevie's child—mostly because, if she had conceived when Christine suspected, the baby was almost certainly his.

So caught up in the events of the last few days, Lindsey had to remind himself that his theories were just that. So absorbed in the idea of Stevie or even his own child still waiting for him somewhere, he had to face the facts. In the eyes of the world, Stephanie Nicks had been dead for years and left no family behind, apart from her parents and brother. If, at the end of this journey, he discovered that story was still true, he couldn't lose his sanity again. He had worked so hard to build some kind of life for himself without her, it couldn't all fall to pieces again. But the idea was too attractive, an unimagined answer to every regret, every prayer. Even now, he already felt the tendrils wrapping around his heart. Hope was a dangerous thing.

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Lindsey was lying in bed, eyelids heavy in satisfaction. It was the final night of the Mirage tour, and after drinks and celebration with the rest of the band, Stevie had looked at him, brown eyes dark with suggestion, as she lead him upstairs for some...celebrating of their own. Their second go finished, she had suddenly leaped out of bed, headed straight for the bathroom. Another fix, he presumed. The faucet was running, disguising any sound emerging from the room. Stevie finally emerged, circles under her eyes and definitely worse for wear as a hotel robe engulfed her frame. The sight of  her slight figure standing at the end of the bed, appearing so devoid of life, nearly brought him to tears.

"Stevie, this has to stop."

"What?"

"Can't you see what you're doing to yourself?"

"Lindsey, I'm tired," she mumbled, crawling into bed beside him,"can't we talk about this later."

"Steph, I'm serious." She turned away from him, adjusting her pillow. He grabs her chin, not allowing her to evade his gaze.

"Look at me Losing someone you love—well I know how difficult it is. But, Stevie, killing yourself isn't going to bring Robin back."

"Just shut up. This isn't any of your business."

"Honey, I'm just saying—look, when I lost my dad, you were there—even when I was an absolute asshole. So I'm here, I'll help through this—but Stevie, this is getting out of control. It'll be too late–"

"You don't own me and you don't get to tell me what to do, not anymore."

"If you just listen for two seconds, you'll see that's not what I'm trying to do–"

"Lindsey, enough okay? Just go to bed."

"No, not enough." He snapped, getting out of bed."This– I can't do this anymore. I can't–"

"Fine then," she replied suddenly cold,"run back to your girlfriend. But don't pretend you actually care, and this has been anything but you using me for a good fuck." The viciousness in her tone went straight to his heart.