by Salsbury, JB
“I understand Prophet's position.” She takes a long drag of her cigarette, then blows smoke as she talks. “Been in the business a long time. Ain’t never seen a musician fall for someone on the road and them last longer than a tour.”
My stomach sours at her words.
“Still. Your dad is stubborn as hell and he raised you to be just as stubborn. He shoulda known better than to think you’d up and walk away from a man like Ethan.”
I chew my lip, trying not to let her words plant doubt inside me. If Ethan and I only last as long as the tour, would that be the worst thing? We’re together, but neither of us has made any promises. How is my being with Ethan any different than me dating a regular guy, besides the fact that Ethan has his pick of any woman he wants? But he wants me. He picked me.
At least for now.
“Maybe Ethan will surprise you,” I say. “Maybe he’ll be the exception.”
She smiles, but the expression drips with pity. “I’m happy to see you enjoying yourself, honey.” She stomps out her cigarette butt and squeezes my shoulder as she walks by me. “Guard your heart.”
“Of course.” Left alone with that parting thought, I stare blankly at the asphalt.
How do I guard my heart when I’ve already given it away? I remember having defenses in place, but where are they now?
Like a swarm of bees, the crew comes to life all around me. Word has spread about our relationship, and my coworkers now look at me differently. As if I’m just another dumb girl who fell into Ethan’s bed.
I’m not.
Am I?
In the corridor of New Arena, I line the walls with empty crates. Strong arms come around my waist from behind.
Ethan buries his face in my neck and inhales. “Mmm… you smell good.”
With his presence comes our bubble, and inside it, my doubts disappear. I hold his forearms and lean back into his torso, loving the way his firm chest and long body make me feel small and safe. “I’ve missed you.”
He spins me around, tilts my chin to get my lips, and kisses me. His mouth tastes of peppermint, and the ends of his wet hair tickle my cheeks. We hold onto each other as if any minute we could be ripped apart. I swallow his soft groan and my blood heats at the sound.
“I need you,” he says against my lips.
“Let’s find a bathroom—”
“I’m sick of hooking up in a bathroom.” He flips my hat around backward to get better access to my mouth, kissing me until I’m dizzy. “Ben is riding with Jesse for the next couple runs.” He cups my jaw and watches his thumb as it brushes my lower lip, still wet from his tongue. “Ride with me.”
“What? How? I’ll be working until the early morning and—”
“I’ll wait for you.”
I cover his hand with mine, his big, warm fingers gentle against my skin. “You’ll do that? Just for a few hours together until I have to get back up and go back to work?”
He tucks his chin as if my words offended him. “Are you kidding? Fuck yes, I will.”
“But I’ll need to sleep as much as I can. Working for days on no sleep is dangerous, and if I get hurt, they’ll fly me home.”
He rolls his eyes. “You think I’m going to make you my personal sex slave?” He kisses me sweetly. “Not that the idea isn’t appealing, but what I have planned includes sleep.”
A few crewmembers walk by us and I feel their judging eyes on us. Ethan doesn’t seem to notice them at all.
“If I ride with you, people will talk,” I say.
“They’re already talkin’.”
My walkie beeps and Prophet’s voice barks through the speaker. “Tom! They need you on stage. Now!”
I sigh and bring the device to my mouth. “On my way.”
“He still freezing you out?” Ethan grabs my hand and walks with me in the direction of the stage.
“Yes. And what are the odds that some of the crew saw us together and seconds later he needs me on stage? He treats me like I’m ten years old.”
He brings my knuckles to his lips and kisses them. “He’s trying to protect you. It’ll take some time for him to realize he doesn’t need to protect you from me.”
“Are you sure?” The words slipped from my lips and it’s too late to take them back.
He stops walking and peers down at me through narrowed eyes. “You serious with this shit?”
“No.” I press myself into his torso, wrapping my arms around him and hoping he feels my apology in the embrace. “My head is all over the place.”
He presses his lips to the top of my head, his arms tight around my shoulders. “I guess it’ll take some time for you to trust me too.”
“I hate how insecure I feel.”
He hums in acknowledgement but says nothing more. With his arm around me, we continue our walk toward the stage. “Let’s have dinner together, then after you’re finished breaking down the stage, find Rodger so he can bring you to me.”
“What do I tell my bus mates?”
“Tell them you’re riding with your boyfriend.” His voice is laced with frustration. “We told your dad about us so we wouldn’t have to lie and sneak around.”
Ranger, one of the lighting guys, comes around the corner. “Tom, Prophet needs you ASAP.”
“I’m coming!” I snap. “What does he want me to do, fucking sprint? Shit!”
Ethan chuckles and plants a sweet but too-quick kiss on my lips. “Go. I’ll see you later, beautiful.” He winks, and when I turn to walk away, he smacks my ass.
“Ouch!” I call to his retreating form in all his swagger as he laughs down the corridor.
I sigh at the sight of his tall body, broad shoulders, narrow hips, and everything I know that lies underneath his clothes. How can I guard my heart against that?
A small voice whispers… I can’t.
Please don’t break my heart.
* * *
I’m dead by the end of the night.
Because of a technical nightmare that kept me running supplies from the rigs to stage until it was fixed, I wasn’t able to see Ethan before he took the stage. The only time I was able to sit long enough to grab food and down as much caffeine as possible was when Ethan was on stage. And as soon as those house lights came up, it was time to get back to work.
Just after two o’clock in the morning, I let Dixie know to have the bus leave without me, and I drag my tired ass to Rodger, who’s waiting for me on the loading dock.
“Long night?” he says with a sympathetic grin.
I take off my ball cap and run a hand through my sweaty hair. “That’s putting it mildly.” I need a shower, and although I’m tired, my blood is still buzzing from the energy drinks I mainlined all night.
We walk together across the blacktop toward Ethan’s massive tour bus.
“Tom!”
I startle at the sound of my dad’s voice in person rather than barking at me through the walkie.
He steps up to us with all the grace of a bull, his eyes tight and his jaw even tighter. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” He focuses his laser beams on Ethan’s bus.
“I’m riding with Ethan.”
“Like hell you are.”
The sound of the bus door opening behind me has me turning to see Ethan hopping down the steps, wearing nothing but sweatpants. He comes up beside me, and for the first time ever, I really wish he’d put on a shirt. “There a problem?”
My dad takes a threatening step forward, but the move doesn’t faze Ethan at all. “Get back on the bus, boy. This don’t concern you.”
“Dad, calm down.” I hold up my hands as his big body looks coiled to lunge. “I’m an adult, so technically it’s you that this doesn’t concern.”
Rodger moves in beside me. “Prophet, I’m gonna have to ask you to take a step back.”
“A step back?” My dad shoves an accusing finger at Ethan. “This motherfucker needs to back off my kid!”
I raise my hand and peek over Rodger’s shoulder. “Not a kid.
”
Ethan chuckles and mumbles a string of curse words before he says, “Taylor and I are—”
“What the fuck did you just say?” My dad’s eyes grow wide.
“I was saying, Taylor and—”
“Don’t you fucking call her that!”
“It’s her name,” Ethan says with surprising patience considering my dad’s outrage.
My dad’s cheek clenches, his lips so tight they form a thin line under his beard and mustache. “Tommy. Get in my rig right fucking now.”
“No.” I dig my feet into the asphalt, grounding myself for strength. “I’m going with Ethan.”
Fire lights my dad’s eyes. “Do you know how many women he’s probably fucked—”
“Of course I do.”
“Probably never even got their names?”
I square my shoulders. “He knows my name. He doesn’t call me by some nickname because he can’t stand the thought of the name I was given.”
“That’s enough!” he roars.
“Yeah, Dad. That is enough.” I grab Ethan’s hand, grateful when I feel his strong fingers wrap around mine. “Good night.”
“He’s grooming you!” he yells at our backs as we rush to the bus door. “He’s just like the rest of them—”
The door closes on his next words.
Ethan pulls me in for a hug. “Don’t let him put ideas about me into your head.”
I pull out of his arms, hating that I’ve finally found someone I want to spend time with and that I have to hurt my dad to do it. “It’s not like he’s saying anything I haven’t already thought about.”
He flinches. “I guess I deserve that.”
I grip my head, feeling a migraine coming on. “No, you don’t.”
“I’m not hiding my past from you, you know that, right? I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, but just keep in mind…” His grin is boyish and almost bashful. “I’m still trying to get you to like me.”
I throw myself into his arms. “I do like you.” Probably too much.
Only then do I look around at the luxurious interior of his bus. “You’ve got to be kidding. This place is nicer than the Ritz.”
Cream-colored leather interior, recessed lighting, modern cabinetry, and a gas fireplace. There’s even a bar complete with swivel stools.
He scratches his cheek, blushing slightly. It’s a nice change from his usual confidence. “Yeah, well, Arenfield likes to keep his musicians happy.” He points at my duffle bag on the floor. “Rodger delivered your things. You want to take a shower or maybe you want something to eat?”
“A shower would be great.” I grab my bag.
He points me toward the bathroom that I’m sure will be six times the size of the bathroom on my bus. “Taylor.”
I turn to Ethan, who shifts nervously on his feet.
“Thanks for sticking up for me to your dad. I’m, uh…” He rubs his bare stomach, subconsciously drawing my attention to his six-pack abs and tattoo. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” I scurry off to the bathroom, and after I close the door, I whisper, “Don’t make me regret it.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ethan
My bus left the arena fifteen minutes ago, putting us on the darkened highway that takes us to Portland. I’m sitting in the dark except for the light from the TV as The Last Airbender, a movie classic, plays silently on the screen.
I wasn’t expecting Prophet to confront us tonight the way he did. He’s been ghosting Taylor all week and I’d assumed he’d quietly accepted our relationship. I was wrong.
I’m not bothered by his disapproval. I learned long ago to ignore my biggest critics and become used to people talking shit about me. I didn’t expect the look on Taylor’s face when her father rejected her to hurt me as much as it did.
The bathroom door opens and Taylor steps out, barefoot in flannel pajama pants ten sizes too big and a black tank top. She comes to me, shaking her wet hair. “That bathroom is stupid.”
I open my arms for her to fall into them and cradle her on my lap. “You don’t approve?”
“You could fit five people in there.” Her skin is still warm from the shower and she smells of my body wash and shampoo.
I dig that she uses my shit rather than insist on some fruity smelling crap that would only mask her natural earthy scent. I also love the idea of her smelling a little like me. I run my nose along her hair, breathing her in. “I have—”
She presses two fingers to my lips. “Don’t. I can imagine you in there with five women and don’t need the added help of your given details.”
I kiss her fingers and drag them from my lips to my chest, where I hold her hand to my heart. “You assume the worst. For your information, it was Ben, Ash, Elliot, me, and Mick our driver.”
She lifts a brow. “Do I even want to know?”
I press my lips to her wet hair. “We were trying to kill a spider.”
“And that takes five people?”
“It was a big fucking spider.”
She laughs and the sound reaches inside me. “Who ended up being the brave one to kill it?”
I groan and shake my head. “Elliot. And she didn’t kill it. She got it into a cup and released it.”
“Wow, that’s embarrassing.” She has a smile in her voice.
I hate to bring her down, but I need to make sure she’s okay. “Do you want to talk about what happened out there with your dad?”
She’s quiet for a moment, contemplative.
“That shit about your name…” I swallow hard.
Her finger draws circles on my chest. “Do you know who Taylor Oakley is?”
“Who doesn’t?”
He’s only the greatest singer-songwriter of all time. The guy has enough awards and platinum records to rival Stevie Wonder.
She says, “Prophet used to be Taylor’s personal security guard. From what I hear, my dad had no problem taking advantage of all the perks that came along with his position, and that included one die-hard Taylor Oakley groupie named Tori Alexander.”
“No shit?” I’ve been in this business long enough to guess what happens next, but this is her story to tell and I get the feeling she needs to tell it.
“My mom hooked up with my dad to get access to Taylor. When she found out she was pregnant, she thought it was Taylor’s.” Her shoulders curl in, making her feel smaller in my arms. “I guess there’s a chance it could’ve been. Taylor was married and put a million lawyers on her, and after a paternity test proved he wasn’t my father, Prophet stepped up and claimed I could be his.” She picks at her short nails. “He didn’t have to do that. Prophet could have slipped away and my mom could’ve had an abortion or something, but he knew there was a chance I was his and he went after her for me. They were never in love and I don’t remember them ever acting like a real couple. My dad quit the security job and started catching cases. Bad blood between him and Taylor after Tori got in there and fucked everything up.”
I rub her back, hoping to coax the rest of the story from her and wondering how painful it is to say these truths out loud.
“My dad lived most of his life on the road. He wasn’t there when my mom gave birth to me, and she named me Taylor Oakley Marsten as a big fuck you to my dad. What’s worse than having your daughter’s name as a reminder of who my mom was really after? My dad never called me Taylor. He’s only ever called me by my initials.”
“T.O.M.” Taylor Oakley Marsten. Not Tom for tomboy.
“I still don’t know why he hates Taylor Oakley so much. But you can see now why he doesn’t want his only daughter to have the same fate as Tori. Falling for unattainable men.”
I squeeze her hard enough for her to feel me, really feel me. “I’m right here, baby. Ain’t nothing unattainable about that.”
She settles deeper into my arms. “I just wish my dad could see that too.”
“Give it time. He will.”
“How much time?”
Thrown by her question, I don’t answer.
She pulls out of my arms to look at me with eyes shuttered in concern. “Ethan?”
“What?”
Her eyes narrow. “What happens after the tour?”
I run a hand through my hair, feeling the heat of her gaze like a spotlight. “I don’t know. You live in LA, right? I guess we’ll hang out.”
“You guess.” Her face pales.
“No, I don’t guess. We will, we’ll definitely hang out.”
She blinks and stares past me at the wall. “Until I leave again. Or you leave again. I only saw my dad a couple times a year and for only days at a time. My life is on the road.”
“We’ll figure it out.” I reach for her, but she slips away to the far end of the couch. “Taylor—”
“I can’t believe we didn’t think of this before,” she says as if speaking to herself. “How is this possibly going to work out?”
My pulse throbs in my ears and I feel as if I’m losing something I only barely had a grasp of. “What are you saying?”
Her stormy eyes come to mine and I flinch at the determination in her gaze. “Prophet was right. This will end badly.”
I scoot to her end of the couch, crowding her, caging her in place. “Don’t say that.”
“We have to be realistic. There’s no future for us after the tour.”
“Bullshit.”
She tries to move, but I hold her in place with my body. “Let me go.”
“Not until you start making sense.” I only know one way to get her out of her head. I bury my face in her neck and kiss her softly. “I will not let you go. Not now.” I lick up her throat to her earlobe. “Not ever.”
Her breath hitches when I bite gently on the shell of her ear. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” A soft moan escapes her as I kiss along her collarbone and down her chest. “I don’t want to get hurt.”
“And you think pushing me away will protect you.” I tug at the neckline of her tank top, exposing one firm round breast. I kiss her soft skin, avoiding her tight nipple that calls for my tongue. “I won’t let you sabotage us.”
“But—”
“Shhh…” I blow on her nipple, watching it tighten even further. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”