Maybe I just wanted to be with someone who understood.
I knew Jessa understood both Zane and substance abuse in ways maybe I didn’t, and maybe never would.
“You know,” I confessed, “sometimes I think he must think I’m crazy. Or other people will, when I try to explain our fucked-up relationship to them. Like maybe no one will understand why Zane smoking pot is such a big deal to me. What’s wrong with someone smoking pot? It’s not like he’s shooting up in some skeezy alley or binging on hookers and blow. And he’s not like your typical stoner cliche, you know? He’s not a burnout. He’s Zane Fucking Traynor. The man gets shit done. He’s still a rock god, no matter how much pot he smokes.”
Jessa shook her head. “It’s not about that,” she said gently. “It’s not about the type of drug someone uses or how much they use or how fucked-up they get on it. It’s the fact that he can’t stop doing it. I mean, if he can’t. If he chooses getting stoned over any other important thing in his life, even once… that’s the addiction part. And even if it seemed under control, it won’t stay that way.”
“Right. I know that. I’ve seen it all, with my dad, you know? I know where it all leads. And Zane wasn’t in control. From my point of view, things have been amazing since he stopped smoking up. But I guess we’ll just have to see how it goes? I’m afraid to get my hopes up too high, Jessa.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Like I think when I went after his dick this morning, part of me just wanted to see what would happen. See if us fucking would trigger him to flip right back into his old ways, or if he’s really done with all that shit. I don’t want to be a trigger for him, and I don’t want sex to be, either. I guess I don’t know what might set him off, and it puts me in a scary place. It’s fucked-up. I’ve just never known how to trust him. That’s on him, because he’s definitely done a lot of shit to make me lose faith in him, but it’s also on me. I’ve got trust issues through the roof.”
Jessa took that in, and she didn’t seem too quick to want to blame me, but I knew I had ownership in this mess. It wasn’t all Zane.
“You know, I’ve known Zane since we were kids,” she mused. “He’s always been like a brother to me. And I never messed around with him, was never infatuated with him or anything, so I probably understand him better than most women would, in a way. I never had rose-colored glasses on when it came to Zane, you know? I could see his issues pretty clearly, even when I was neck-deep in my own. I know what he’s made of, and I probably know things about him that most people don’t.”
“Yeah. Most definitely. You see that boy you grew up with and the man he became, right? The real, multi-dimensional Zane. A lot of people can’t see past the rock star thing.”
“Yeah.” Jessa fixed me with her brown eyes. “Which means I know he has a huge, beautiful heart, Maggie.”
My chest tightened at her words and tears sparked my eyes. Because she was right about that.
“And I know he can be loyal, and I know he’s complicated.”
“Yeah,” I agreed.
“And I know he can be a royal fucking asshole when he wants to be.”
“Amen to that.”
“I know he has demons and he struggles with addiction and he’s slutted his way through many a world tour,” she said, “but I also know he lost his parents young, younger than I did, and I know what that does to a person. How it shapes you in a way that’s so unfair, that’s beyond your control because you’re too young to even know it’s happening. And there’s this hole that stays with you, this missing piece, because you never get to find out how different you might’ve been if your parents had been there to parent you. I know he’s far from perfect, Maggie, despite what a lot of his fans might think. And I can see why he would fall for you. If I had to choose a woman for Zane Traynor, I don’t think I could find a woman better for him than you. But if you asked me if he’s the right man for you… I don’t think I could answer that.”
“Would you think I was crazy if I said I think the answer to that is yes? And I think the only thing really standing in the way of us is that I’m too scared?”
“You’re not crazy, Maggie,” she told me. “But what are you scared of?”
I took a breath and braced myself to admit to her what, so far, I’d only admitted aloud to Zane. “I’m scared that he’s too much like my dad.”
“Ah.”
“I’ve known too many men like him, Jessa,” I said, feeling the need to elaborate, even though she hadn’t balked at my confession or judged. “I’ve seen the broken marriages and the addictions and the womanizing and the damage and the pain and the bullshit. I’ve seen it up close, and I don’t know that I’m strong enough to deal with it. I don’t know if I can handle having my heart broken like that. I feel like I’ve already lived through it all, my whole life, with my dad, and I just don’t want to do it anymore. Even just thinking about it is painful. All the conversations I’ve had with my dad when he’s wasted, and visiting him when he’s been in the hospital, and all the forgotten birthdays, having him disappear for months at a time, showing up with a different girl on his arm every other time I see him… He keeps getting older, but the girls stay the same age.” I shook my head at the thought, so disturbing to me. “I’ve seen Zane with so many women over the years, and I don’t think I could bear to see him live like that for the rest of my life if we really did attempt to be together and it didn’t work out. I’ve always been afraid that if that happened, I’d be fired from Dirty, but to be honest, I think I’d have to leave anyway. If Zane and I were together and then we weren’t, even if he and Brody and the rest of the band wanted me to stay, I’d have to go.”
“I wouldn’t blame you,” Jessa said, without the slightest hesitation. “And I know Brody and Elle wouldn’t blame you either. Seth would probably understand, too, given what he’s lived through with his own addiction and recovery. And the rest of them can go fuck themselves if they don’t understand. Because who would want to live like that? That’s not a life for you, Maggie. I love you, and I’m telling you, I don’t want you to be miserable. You deserve so much better than that. What woman would be strong enough to deal with that anyway? I don’t even think it has to do with strength, because honestly, you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. I don’t think there’s any question that you’re strong enough to make a marriage work, even with a lunatic like Zane Traynor, as long as he mans up on his side of things. But I understand what you’re saying. If you two didn’t stay together, I don’t see how you could keep working with Dirty.”
“I couldn’t. I know I couldn’t.”
Jessa sighed sympathetically and sipped her tea. “Then maybe you just need to ask yourself if you’re willing to take that kind of risk, Maggie. Is Zane worth that risk to you?”
She was right. At the end of the day, that really was the most important question I needed to ask myself. And when I did, the answer came to me very clearly.
“He is worth the risk,” I told her, quietly. “If he’s clean and sober.”
“Well, then, that is one hell of a risk,” she said, holding my gaze. “Because I don’t think any addict can guarantee you they’ll be clean every day for the rest of their life.”
“They can’t,” I agreed, thinking of my dad and all his useless, empty promises over the years. “There are few guarantees in life, right? And you and I both know that one would never be iron-clad.”
“Which means…”
“Which means,” I finished for her, “I either trust him or I don’t. I take a chance or I don’t. Because there is no guarantee of anything here, and the risk is real.”
“Yeah,” Jessa agreed. “But if you love someone with your whole heart, Maggie, the risk is always real.”
Chapter Sixteen
Zane
I was on a plane to Vancouver around midnight, eight hours after Maggie’s flight took off—after I’d finished my work and as fast as Talia could arrange a flight for me. I
had some shit to do in Chicago, including a creative meeting for the “Blackout” video that Brody strongly advised me not to bail on.
Then I hit the air.
It was a private jet, straight from O’Hare to Vancouver, and since we were flying back two time zones and Talia had a car waiting for me at the Vancouver airport, I got to Maggie’s place just after midnight, Vancouver time.
I would’ve brought flowers and candy and teddy bears and fucking balloons if I thought it would help, but since it probably wouldn’t, I came alone and empty-handed. I left Shady in the car and rang the bell.
I didn’t message Maggie on the way or let her know I was coming. I never told anyone exactly why I was suddenly jetting to Vancouver. Likely, they knew. Maybe they gave her a heads-up.
I had no idea.
But it took her a long-ass time to open the door.
A light went on inside, then there was a definite pause as she checked me out through the peephole. The lock clunked open and the door cracked, and Maggie looked at me, uncertain, through the gap. She looked tired, but not like I’d woken her up. More like she’d been trying to sleep and failing miserably.
“What are you doing here?” she asked softly.
“What are you doing here?”
She didn’t answer that, but she opened the door wider. “You want to come in?”
“Yeah, I want to come in.”
She stepped aside and I went in, kicking off my boots. I walked into her living room as she turned on another light. One of her travel bags was still sitting in the hall, but nothing else was out of place.
I fucking loved Maggie’s place. It was so her.
Neat. Orderly. Pretty.
It was a modern condo, about eight years old, everything white and steel and minimalist. But everything Maggie touched turned to soft and pretty. The billowy curtains, the furry pillows and blankets draped everywhere, the twinkly lights strung around the fireplace and windows.
It even smelled like her.
A guy could sit down on that girly pink couch and just never want to get back up.
Which was pretty much what I did.
She sat down next to me, and I noticed she was wearing sweatpants. Maggie never wore sweats. At least, not in front of me. They were pink. And she was wearing a soft white T-shirt that was falling off one shoulder, with a lime green bra underneath. And fluffy slippers. She’d probably only gotten dressed when I rang the bell.
Was she sleeping naked? Or wearing those silk jammies she wore when we shared that hotel suite in Vegas?
She had no makeup on, and her hair was straight but a bit bed-messy. She had slight circles under her eyes, and she was kinda chewing on her full bottom lip as she stared at me with something like trepidation mixed with want.
Fuck, but I was in love with her.
I just wanted into her bed and into her heart and I wanted to be all wrapped up in her and hang out with her in her pink sweatpants and watch movies with her in her fluffy slippers.
I wanted it bad… and I still didn’t know how I was ever gonna get it.
I still didn’t know if I’d earned her trust, and being not even three weeks clean didn’t exactly make me feel like I had a right to ask just yet.
We still had a long way to go.
I knew that.
I leaned my elbows on my knees and stared at the floor and took a breath, blowing it out again in a deep sigh as I tried to gather my thoughts and not say the wrong fucking thing like I usually did.
I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, but I didn’t want to pussyfoot around, either.
“Just please tell me you’re not leaving the tour.”
“I’m not leaving the tour.”
“Why did you fly home? You didn’t tell me you were going. I had to find out from Talia.” I looked at her, and her gray eyes widened.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t do it to hurt you,” she said, like she was realizing for the first time that it did hurt me.
“When I asked you to go,” I said carefully, “I meant I needed you off my bus. You know, so I could cool off. I didn’t mean for you to leave the country.”
“You said you needed some time, Zane, and I wanted to respect that. You needed me out of your space.”
I stared at her, processing that. “Look. I know it’s been part of your job for the last—what? Almost eight years now? But maybe you need to stop telling me what I need,” I told her.
She blinked at me. She started to speak a couple of times, her mouth popping open and closing again before the words finally came out. “Okay. I needed to think. And to not feel like I’m there putting pressure on you when you’re fighting to stay sober.”
“You’re not.”
“Zane. I know you. I know things about you…” She trailed off and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m sure you think I’ve been incredibly, overly hard on you, and I have, but—”
“I don’t think that. You’ve been more than fair. And you’ve been hard on me. And you have reasons for that.”
Her pretty eyes softened as she looked at me, and I fucking melted.
Fuck, but I wanted to kiss her.
“It’s just that… it used to be the booze,” she said softly. “But then it became other things. You use pot, and you use women and sex instead of dealing with your shit.”
“That’s true.”
She looked genuinely surprised that I wasn’t trying to deny it. That I actually got it.
“Yeah,” she said softly. “It is. And maybe I’m the only one who really calls you on it.”
“That’s not true, believe me. Brody treads lightly. But Jude calls me on it. Jesse calls me on it. Rudy calls me on it, and Seth sure as fuck calls me on it. But I’ve never listened to any of them like I listen to you.”
Maggie stared at me for moment, seeming to process that. Then she looked away. She stared at the floor for what felt like a fucking eternity.
Then she shifted, turning her body toward me a little. She looked up into my eyes like whatever she had to say was going to be hard.
I braced myself for whatever it was gonna be.
Whatever shit she had to say to me, I knew I had to hear it.
“I don’t want to have this conversation with you in some heated moment when we fall into bed,” she said slowly. “So I’m telling you now. I know you said you want to wait a while before you get involved with someone, that Rudy advised you long ago to do that. And I respect that. But we’re already involved, Zane. You can’t deny that. We’ve been involved since the day we met.”
I nodded. “I know, Maggie.”
Her gray eyes held mine. “So maybe we could work through this together. I mean, you told me we’d get through this together. On the first day of the tour, you came on my bus and that’s what you told me. So now I’m telling you the same thing right back.”
Well, shit. She was serious.
She really meant that.
And hearing her say shit like that? Felt like I’d been waiting my entire life to hear Maggie say shit like that to me.
Did she even have any idea how much I loved her right now?
“I mean, if you want,” she went on. “If that works for you. No pressure. I guess what I’m trying to say is… um, I’m here for you. Damn.” She took a breath and started again. “This is hard for me, Zane. I’m not used to stepping back and letting someone else call the shots.”
“I know, Maggs.”
“Not when it comes to my personal life, anyway,” she said. “But… you’re a huge part of my personal life, and I know I can’t call the shots right now. Not with you. I can’t guide this and I can’t control it. I can set my personal limits and boundaries, but I can’t take control of the reigns of our relationship like a can your day-to-day band business. We both know there are some things that you need to deal with, and I can help you in some ways, but I can’t make it happen. I’ll tell you, honestly, this is a really uncomfortable place for me to be. But I know I have to step back. What you
’re doing is even harder, way harder, and I respect the hell out of you for doing it. So I’m here for you. In whatever way you need me to be. As your friend. Or as more… when you’re ready for that.”
I absorbed every word she said. I knew she meant every word of it. But… “I know you mean that,” I told her, “as long as I stay sober. But I won’t hold you to it if I don’t.”
She shook her head. “I would never say that to you. I don’t want to put an ultimatum on you or that kind of pressure.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it. I know it.”
She stared at me, and she looked really fucking sad. Like she wanted to argue that. But we both knew she couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I love you, Zane. I’ll love you no matter what you do. I’ve always loved you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper on that last part, like it was hard for her to say.
“I love you too, Maggs,” I said, the words heavy with emotion.
And fuck… Right about now, I would’ve been reaching for a joint, if I could. Actually feeling shit like this… I wasn’t used to it.
At least, not clean and sober.
Everything I felt for Maggie, since I’d gotten clean, had only intensified. The feelings were always this intense, but the pot just kinda dulled them down, or distracted me from them. Intense feelings, in general, without anything to do about them—like get stoned—were a lot to deal with right now.
Definitely didn’t make it any easier to stay off the weed.
But I had to admit, actually experiencing the intensity of my feelings for Maggie, while pretty overwhelming, was pretty fucking incredible, too.
Like when we’d had sex without a condom… There was nothing to buffer the connection between us. It was raw, powerful; naked.
“But,” she said, “I just can’t be in a relationship with you if you’re using, Zane. You’re really… different… when you’re drinking.”
“No doubt.”
“And when you smoke pot…” She shook her head and sighed a little, like she was really trying to find the right words. “I like who you are, Zane. I really do. I wish you could understand how much that’s true, despite how much I’ve pushed you away. But I feel like the pot is just a slippery slope to all the other stuff.”
Dirty Like Zane: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 6) Page 22