“Gage seemed really nice. I’m glad you want to help him.”
“He was nice. He kind of reminds me of myself a few years ago, but I think he’s a little overwhelmed since his parents are making him pursue a college degree. It’s hard to find balance,” he said, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin below my ear and stroking his fingers along my upper thigh. Thank goodness we were almost back to his place.
“What’s that?” I asked as the headlights illuminated something hanging from the gate at his house.
“I don’t know. Stay here,” Dawson said as he moved to open the door.
“You stay here too,” Joe ordered as he drew his weapon and got out of the car, leaving Ty behind the wheel.
Dawson and I both leaned forward, trying to get a good look at what Joe freed from the bars of the iron gate.
“It looks like flowers,” I said.
Joe got back in the car with a bouquet.
“Probably some fan,” I remarked.
“Yeah,” Dawson mumbled.
As soon as we got inside the house, Joe thrust the bouquet at Dawson and ordered us to stay by the door while he checked the house.
Now that we were in the light, I looked at the flowers. “They’re black calla lilies.” I hadn’t ever seen that shade before. I reached out and brushed my finger along one velvety bloom. Then I lightly touched the ribbon binding the stems. It was a bright blue. Almost like indigo.
“Is there a card?” I asked in a whisper.
“Let me look.” Dawson twisted the bundle around until he found a small, white rectangle.
He opened it. Cut out letters spelled out the message.
D,
Still waiting. Hope you enjoy your pink Barbie while you can.
Love,
Me
His fingers trembled as he kept staring at the note.
“Is that from your stalker?” I asked in a trembling voice.
“Yes,” he said, throwing the flowers across the room as he sank to the floor.
I dropped down with him. His body shook as I pulled him to me.
“Guess she didn’t disappear after all,” he whispered against me.
“No, but she’s getting sloppy,” Joe said as he came down the stairs.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“All her other communication has been sent through the postal system. This was hand delivered to your door. All the properties around here have security cameras. We may have her on tape, and that envelope is from a florist. Maybe she paid for the flowers with a credit card.”
“If she did, you’ll have a name. That’s great,” I said.
“It’s definitely more promising than anything we’ve had to work with so far. Anyway, Deke is going to stay out front tonight. Ty is going to stay in the pool house, and I’m staying downstairs on the couch, so I’ll be close to the door. That cool?” Joe said.
“Whatever you think is necessary, man.” Dawson got to his feet then helped me up.
“Let me get you a pillow and blanket,” I said and dashed up the stairs to where I knew Dawson had extra linens stored.
When I returned, the two men were huddled together, speaking in low voices. I sidestepped them and went to make up the couch for Joe.
By the time I was done, they were done talking.
“Goodnight, Joe,” I said and gave him a hug.
“’Night, Izzy.” He squeezed me.
“Thanks for everything,” Dawson said before turning to follow me up the stairs.
Once we were behind his bedroom door, we slowly undressed each other. Each move was deliberate and purposeful.
We climbed beneath the covers and kissed for a long time.
“I’m so scared, flutterby,” he whispered against my hair. His hold on me tightened. “Maybe you should go back to your place early.”
“No. I’m not running,” I said firmly.
“What if she gets close to you again? What if she hurts you again? Or worse?” his voice hitched on the last word.
“Shh. We’re going to be careful. Everything will be fine. We can’t stop living and loving just because we’re scared. I already did that once, and so did you. No one is going to take this away from us again.”
“Can I just hold you?” he asked. His tone was so vulnerable.
“Always. And I’ll hold you,” I whispered. “Forever.”
* * *
It was showtime. I stood backstage and watched Dawson work the crowd into a frenzy. He was a natural. My heart soared as he owned the stage and stole the hearts of every person in the crowd.
“Hey, Izzy,” a voice called from behind me.
As much as I hated to, I took my eyes off Dawson and turned to the person greeting me.
“Oh, hey, Cleo. Wow, I see you took my advice,” I said.
She fluffed her dark hair now striped with indigo. “Yeah. What do you think?”
“I think it looks fabulous on you. But the real question is, what do you think of it?”
“I like it. I think. But the pink made a bolder statement. I’m nothing if not bold,” she said, smoothing out the small scraps of fabric covering her important bits. “Anyway, didn’t mean to bother you. I’m actually on my way out. Got some stuff to take care of. Tell the boys I said hey.”
“I will. See you later. Maybe,” I called out after her.
“You definitely will. LA’s not that big.” Then she disappeared down the hallway.
Chapter 22
Dawson
The rest of our time in LA passed without incident. Joe had followed up with the police in South Carolina. They had no leads on the motorcyclist with the pink hair. The security footage from my neighbors only showed a figure wearing dark clothes and a hoodie. And of course, the florist had been a bust too. She’d paid cash. They did have a signature from her, but the only letter that was legible was the big C. So, we knew her name started with a C. Not a lot to go on.
Now we were in Ohio about to see my mom. I hadn’t seen her since before I went into rehab. The last time I couldn’t even remember because I was too high. Hopefully, she’d forgiven me. I’d find out soon enough.
Joe, Izzy and I were staying at Mom’s because she insisted. The rest of the guys were staying at a hotel in Cleveland. I just prayed it wouldn’t be awkward.
Joe pulled the rental car into the driveway of the house that had been my home for most of my life.
“Ready,” Izzy asked, squeezing my hand.
Before I could answer, the front door flew open, and my mom bounded down the steps.
I opened the car door and got out, dragging Izzy out behind me.
“Baby, I’m so glad you’re home,” Mom said as she threw her arms around me.
“It’s good to see you too, Mom.” I squeezed her to me. Maybe my worries were for nothing.
After several long moments, she stepped back. “Let me look at you.” She held me at arms’ length and looked me over. “You look so much better than the last time I saw you,” she said with tears in her eyes.
“I’m a lot better now. I’m sorry about the way you had to see me last time. Please forgive me,” I begged around the lump in my throat.
“Of course, baby. Mommas always forgive.” She gave me a big smile then turned to Izzy.
“Izzy, you’re a sight for sore eyes. I’ve missed you so much.” She drew Izzy into her embrace and hugged her just as tightly as she had me. “I’m so sorry about everything you went through. I was so worried about you. But you look good. Are you OK now?”
“I’m better now. Still have bad days scattered here and there. But so far so good.”
“Come on you guys. Let’s go inside.” She looped her arms through both of ours and led us into the house. “You too, Joe,” she called over her shoulder.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He followed with our bags.
“Are you guys hungry?” Mom asked.
“No. We ate on the plane. But thanks for offering,” I said, giving her another hu
g.
“OK. Well, I’m definitely cooking breakfast in the morning. I know it’s late, and you have an early morning. I’m not going to keep you up chatting. We’ll have time to talk more when you visit again next month.” She patted my shoulder.
We had to leave right after the concert, but the whole band was coming back next month to catch up with our friends and families here.
“You’re right. And I’m sorry we can’t start right now, but we’re exhausted,” I said as Izzy tried to stifle a huge yawn.
“I changed the sheets in your old room for you and Izzy. And I’ll show Joe to the guest room. Richard should be home tomorrow sometime. Goodnight. I love you,” she said and hugged me once more.
“I love you too.”
She pulled Izzy in again. “Love you too, pretty girl,” she whispered to Izzy.
My heart lightened, watching these two women reconnect. I loved them both so much. They were the most important women in my world.
I grabbed our stuff from Joe and led Izzy down the back hallway to my old room. When I opened the door, it was like stepping into the past. Band posters lined one wall and Izzy’s artwork and photos lined the other. Everything was just like I left it, only neater.
“Your room is still the same. Just like mine was,” she said with a giggle.
“Definite blast from the past.”
Izzy took her bag and dropped it in the corner by my closet door, where she’d always stashed her stuff whenever she’d visited me here.
“You know, I never asked, but I always wondered. What happened here?” she asked, running her fingers over the fist-sized hole in the closet door.
“I always expected you to ask me about it,” I admitted, rubbing my hand along the back of my neck. “How about we get ready for bed then I’ll tell you about it?”
She nodded and pulled out her pajamas.
I followed suit. Once we were settled in our customary spots in my old bed, I said, “The whole thing is a little embarrassing now that I’m an adult. But when I was sixteen, I was pretty miserable.”
I closed my eyes and could picture it all still…
* * *
When I walked in the garage, I chucked my backpack onto the torn armchair in the corner. Then I swiped my hand across the table where my sheet music lay, sending it scattering all over the concrete. Brooks watched silently as I kicked over the metal music stand. As I drew my fist back to punch the wall, he finally intervened.
“Dude, whatever this tantrum is about isn’t worth breaking your hand over. If you break your hand, you can’t play. If you can’t play, we lose our first paying gig at Casey’s party next week.”
I sneered at him. He was right. But at the moment I couldn’t find a damn to give about ever playing again. I refrained from punching the wall and my best friend. I threw myself onto the couch Mom had discarded out here with the chair. Her new boyfriend, Richard, had bought us new furniture. Better furniture, at least according to him.
“Wanna tell me what has you so bent out of shape that you’re trashing the song you were so happily writing last week?” he asked as he settled next to me.
“It’s nothing,” I grumbled and ran my fingers roughly through my hair. “It’s everything. Nothing is right anymore.”
Brooks let me stew silently, knowing I’d finish my thoughts soon enough.
“Mom’s moving on. Dad’s been moving on. And Izzy’s moving on with freaking Jessie. Prick used to be my friend until he moved in on my girl. The girl he used to make cry,” I growled.
“Whoa, whoa. Your parents are divorced, man, and have been for years. You had to expect they’d find someone new at some point. Do you want them alone and miserable?” he asked seriously.
“Of course not. But I always kind of hoped Dad would grovel, and Mom would take him back then we’d move back to South Carolina.”
“And leave the band behind?” Brooks asked quietly.
“No. Yes. I don’t know. I mean I love playing and writing music with you guys. But realistically speaking music is a pipe dream. For every band who makes it, there are hundreds of garage bands that keep playing in the garage until they’re old and deaf. But Izzy… she wasn’t a pipe dream. But she was a dream I couldn’t realistically pursue with me only in the same place as her a few weeks out of the year. I’ve been biding my time until she and I can end up in the same place together for good.” My fingers tore at the hole in the denim covering my leg.
He raised his brow as he looked at me. “Is Izzy aware of this plan you have?”
“Well, not exactly. She’s my best friend, and we’ve always redrawn that line whenever we’ve ventured even slightly across it. We’re both afraid to risk what we have. But in my mind, at least, the two of us are a foregone conclusion. At least until stupid Jessie rewrote things.” My hands clenched into fists.
“Dude, she’s been dating him for a few weeks. He might not be serious about her. I mean, you’ve been on dates yourself. And you’re certainly not serious about any of those girls,” he pointed out.
“He sent me a text today asking for my help picking out a piece of jewelry for Izzy’s Christmas present since I’m her best friend and all,” I said with air quotes to punctuate the tone I read his message in. “You don’t buy jewelry for someone you’re casual about.”
Before Brooks could say anything else, Wilder and the other guys made their presence known.
“Know what you need?” Wilder asked as he sat on the arm of the couch.
“What?” I asked, sarcasm dripping from my voice.
“To get drunk.” He pulled a beer out of his backpack and handed it to me.
Without considering how dumb it was to drink under my mom’s roof, I popped the top and took a huge swallow. It tasted like piss, and I’d probably get my car keys taken away if Mom caught me. But the numbing warmth invading my mind by the time the can was empty was enough to make me not care.
We skipped practice and drank beer instead. When the guys finally left and I was alone in my room, I got angry all over again. I punched the closet door. It hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before, sobering me instantly. I collapsed on my bed, cradling my injured hand and nursing my broken heart…
* * *
“Thankfully, I didn’t break my hand, and Mom didn’t ground me when she found the hole a week later,” I said as I finished sharing my moment of weakness with Izzy.
“You know, if you’d just told me how you felt about me back then, we wouldn’t have wasted so much time. I was in love with you for years before that,” she said and kissed me.
* * *
The next morning, I left Izzy sleeping and went to the kitchen. Mom was sitting in the dim light, sipping coffee.
Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of me.
“Still up with the sun, I see?” I asked and poured myself a cup of coffee.
“Yeah. The question is what in the world are you doing up already, Mr. Rockstar?”
I chuckled. Mornings had never been my favorite time of day. Living on the road hadn’t helped improve that either.
“Just wanted to spend some time with you before everyone else got up and the day got away from us.”
She patted my hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad you did. And I am so glad you’re back together with Izzy. You are back together with her, right?” Mom asked cautiously.
“Yes, we’re back together.”
“I’m not going to ask what the hell went wrong a couple of years ago. I’m just glad you dealt with whatever was going on and are better now.” She sipped her coffee.
“Mom, do you love Richard?” I asked, adding sugar and creamer to my mug.
She looked at me, confusion on her face. “Of course, I do. I wouldn’t have married him if I didn’t.”
“Like you loved Dad?” I prodded.
“Dawson, your dad was my first love. I gave him parts of myself I’d never give to anyone else. And I’m glad for that. Though I love Richard very much, there are times whe
n I wish things had gone differently between me and your dad. I know our divorce hurt you deeply. And I was so hurt, I didn’t know how to help you. I never thanked you for taking care of me when I should’ve been taking care of you.” Sadness covered her face.
“I just don’t understand what made him do it. You know, when Izzy and I were together the first time, there was always this thought lingering in the back of my mind that I could break her heart like Dad did yours. And the thought gutted me. I’d rather die than hurt Izzy. I know that’s ridiculous to say considering how I wound up hurting her anyway, but I never wanted to bring her any pain.” I stirred my coffee.
“Dawson, why on Earth would you think that you could ever hurt Izzy like your father did me?”
“Because if my own dad, who was my hero, could cheat on the woman he swore to love until death, the woman he made a family with, then what could possibly prevent me, his son, from doing the same thing?” My fingers traced the rim of my coffee cup as I stared into its murky depths.
“Dawson, look at me.”
I glanced at her.
“You are not your father. You are your own man, always have been. And let me tell you, yes your dad loved me, but having seen you and Izzy from the very beginning, I can say with complete certainty that your dad never loved me like you love Izzy. He never looked at me like you look at her. Like you’ve always looked at her. I hope you know your heart would never let you betray her like that.” She squeezed my hand.
“I know it now. When we were apart, I could never get past my heart enough to even have a random hookup with a hot groupie.”
“TMI, Son.” She laughed at me. “I’m glad you know you don’t have the capacity for that kind of betrayal in you. You should know, I forgive your dad. Yes, he crushed me. But I let that pain go years ago. And I wish him the best now. You should forgive him too. Hanging onto anger will only hurt you in the long run. I don’t want that for you. Your dad loves you very much.”
Songs of the Heart: Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 3 Page 29