Complication (Rock Stars & Romance Book 6)

by A. K. Evans

  Complication

  Rock Stars & Romance: Roscoe & Sienna

  A.K. Evans

  Copyright © 2021 by A.K. Evans

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Cover Artist

  Cover artwork © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  www.okaycreations.com

  Editing & Proofreading

  Mackenzie Letson, Nice Girl Naughty Edits

  www.nicegirlnaughtyedits.com

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Epilogue

  Preview of Broken

  Also by A.K. Evans

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Sienna

  A cliché.

  That’s what I had officially become.

  If I could go back in time and tell my fourteen-year-old self about the predicament I was in right now, there was not a doubt in my mind that she’d be overjoyed at this news.

  But the present-day me, the thirty-year-old woman who had work, responsibilities, and a very clear understanding of what this little mess meant, felt nothing but sheer terror.

  It all started a few weeks ago at my best friend’s wedding, and it involved years of longing, a charming best man, and a one-night stand.

  Yep.

  Definitely a cliché.

  Because now I was staring down at two pink lines.

  Pregnant.

  Never in a million years did I think it would feel like this. Maybe I lived in a fantasy world—there was no question I always tried to look on the bright side in every scenario—but I always imagined myself learning about my first and subsequent pregnancies while I was in the bathroom of the house I shared with my husband. I expected we’d be thrilled about the positive test, and we’d immediately start making plans for the nursery.

  This was definitely not that.

  This was me sitting on the edge of the bathtub in my one-bedroom apartment, seeing those two lines, and feeling a wave of nausea come over me that had nothing to do with morning sickness.

  I was so conflicted. On the one hand, I’d known for years where he stood. Settling down with just one woman was not of any interest to him. Having a kid was even less desirable.

  I knew he’d never be mine, but that didn’t stop me from giving in to him weeks ago. Maybe, somewhere deep down, I was naïve enough to think that I could be different, that I could be the one he’d suddenly want to consider a future with.

  And that’s why I was so confused. Because while I’d known for so long how he felt about his lifestyle, there was one thing I couldn’t overlook.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d been that night. Charming, attentive, and hungry. God, he’d made me feel like I was the only woman in the world who mattered. Perhaps I was simply seeing what I wanted to see. Maybe I just wanted to believe I was special.

  It wasn’t like I’d made it all up in my head, either. He communicated it to me with his words. Before he left my apartment the following morning, he kissed me long and hard in the front seat of his SUV and said, “I’ll be back from the tour in a few months, Sienna. If you’re up for it, I’d love to come back and reconnect with you.”

  That had to mean something good, didn’t it?

  One

  Sienna

  Sixteen Years Earlier

  “Crunchy is better.”

  I shook my head as I looked at my best friend. “No, Addy, chewy is the way to go,” I argued.

  Staring across the kitchen island at me, she allowed the baking sheet with her recipe to clatter to the countertop. I shot her a look of disbelief.

  “Chewy will just fall apart in a glass of milk,” she pointed out.

  “Chewy is already soft enough that you don’t need milk,” I countered. “Especially if you eat them right out of the oven.”

  This was, by far, the most ridiculous debate we’d had yet. Then again, this type of thing was par for the course when it came to our friendship.

  Addison Perry and I were fourteen years old now, but we’d been best friends since we were six. The funny thing was, even though we loved each other to death, we could never seem to agree on anything when it came to our likes and dislikes.

  She liked cherry; I liked grape.

  She liked horror; I liked comedy.

  She liked it loud; I liked the quiet.

  She liked the sun; I liked the snow.

  We were the utter definition of opposites attract.

  And I loved that. I loved that we could be so very different and still have so much respect, appreciation, and love for one another.

  Our current disagreement would be no different.

  It was late at night, at the end of December, and we were currently on winter break from school. Christmas was two days ago, and I was having a sleepover with Addy for the first time since the holiday. We’d both spent the last two days with our families and relatives but were now making time for each other. There was no doubt in my mind that we’d spend a good chunk of the remaining time off from school hanging with one another—either she’d be at my place, or I’d be at hers.

  We’d spend our time doing a multitude of things that teenage girls liked to do. For tonight, because we were both still feeling festive, we decided to bake chocolate chip cookies. But after we’d found a couple of recipes that looked good, we were stuck.

  Because I had always preferred chewy chocolate chip cookies while Addy preferred crunchy. So, we decided on a bake-off of sorts.

  “And what happens tomorrow, after they’ve sat for a few hours?” Addy asked. “They’ll no longer be warm out of the oven, and they’ll still fall apart in the milk.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t have to have my cookies dunked in milk,” I remarked as I got up off the stool and moved toward the tray that just came out of the oven. “But I’m willing to give yours a try so we can end this debate once and for all.”

  “I already know how it’s going to go,” she insisted. “Crunchy is coming in first place.”

  I sighed as I took one chewy cookie and one crunchy cookie off the cooling rack for myself and pulled off one of each for Addy. She poured two glasses of milk.

  With everything we needed in hand, we each grabbed a stool and sat back down.

  “Which one should we eat first?” she asked.

  “Since we should save the best for last, I recommend we start with crunchy,” I answered.

  Addy growled but lifted her favorite off the napkin in front of her. I did the same. She dunked hers in milk while I simply brought it to my mouth and took a bite. When my best friend opened her mouth and took a bite, she
moaned.

  “This is the best,” she announced, not having bothered to chew and swallow her food first.

  “From a flavor standpoint, it’s good,” I admitted. “But it makes no sense to me. You’re just making your crunchy cookie soggy by dunking it into the milk. You should just have a chewy one from the start and be done with it.”

  She shook her head. “Nope, no way. Besides, I’m making sure my bones stay healthy with the extra calcium.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right. Being health conscious is your concern at nearly eleven o’clock at night when you’re stuffing your face with cookies.”

  Addy giggled, and I did the same.

  “Ready for chewy?” I asked as I held mine up in my hand.

  My best friend scrunched up her nose in disgust as she picked up the cookie that followed the recipe I had chosen. We both took a bite. It was like heaven in my mouth. Once I swallowed, I said, “Now that is a cookie.”

  “It’s too gooey,” Addy declared. “There’s a difference between being softened by the milk and feeling like it’s undercooked.”

  “It’s not undercooked.”

  She grimaced. “Feels like it.”

  I ignored her and finished eating mine.

  Just as I popped the last bite into my mouth, the front door to the house opened.

  “That must be my brother,” Addy said. “He was out with the band tonight.”

  I wanted to sigh again but for completely different reasons than I did only minutes ago. Addy’s oldest brother, Roscoe, had recently become the guy I’d set my sights on. I’d known him for years, but it wasn’t until sometime in the last few months that I started noticing him in a much different way.

  Knowing of him and actually knowing him were two different things. When it came to Roscoe—actually, when it came to guys in general—I got a bit tongue-tied. He wasn’t around much these days, considering he played the bass guitar in a band.

  The guy was just plain cool.

  And drop-dead gorgeous. He didn’t exactly fit the bill for a typical rock star look.

  He had short dark hair that was shaved close to his head on the back and the sides. The top was left slightly longer, and he had these lips that were impeccable. A plump bottom lip and a perfectly shaped upper lip. His body was lean and strong, and if he continued to put on size, he’d definitely be a force to be reckoned with.

  Sure enough, just seconds after Addy guessed who had arrived, Roscoe walked into the kitchen.

  “Hey, Ad,” he greeted her.

  “Hey, Roscoe,” she returned. “How was practice?”

  Nodding, he replied, “Good. We’re busy coming up with some new material that’s completely killer.”

  “I can’t wait to hear it,” she said.

  Roscoe looked like he was going to respond to her, but instead, he took in the scene before him. We hadn’t yet cleaned up all the ingredients, and the countertop was still covered in a mess. “You’re baking now? At this hour?” he asked.

  Addy hopped down off the stool and moved toward the cooling racks. “I’m actually glad you’re here,” she returned, completely ignoring his questions. “Sienna and I are having a bit of a debate about which type of cookie is best. You can be our tiebreaker.”

  “There are only chocolate chip cookies there,” he noted, jerking his head toward them.

  “Yes, but one is chewy, and one is crunchy,” she explained. “Try one of each and tell us what you think. I won’t tell you which is mine and which is hers so you can make a completely unbiased decision.”

  Apparently, Roscoe didn’t need to be asked twice to consume freshly baked cookies. He lifted the crunchy one to his mouth, took a bite, and chewed. It was clear to see he enjoyed it, but he made no verbal indication one way or the other about it. After finishing Addison’s recipe, he brought mine to his mouth. I held my breath as I watched his delectable mouth close around the cookie. Once again, he seemed to appreciate the cookie, doing it without saying a word.

  After he’d eaten both of them, Addy pressed, “Well, what do you think?”

  His eyes moved back and forth between the two of us. Part of me thought I was on the edge of my seat because I was anticipating his response, but the other part of me simply knew that it was because he was looking at me at all that had me squirming.

  Following a beat of silence, he said, “They’re honestly both really good. I’d eat either one of them.”

  “You have to choose,” Addy demanded. “You’ve had one of each. If you were going to choose to eat just one more, which would you pick.”

  Roscoe looked back at the cookies on the cooling rack before shifting his gaze to his sister and finally me. Then he moved toward the cookies, picked up a chewy one, and took a bite. I smiled as Addy cried out, “You can’t be serious.”

  “Sorry, Ad,” he lamented.

  She huffed and started stomping around the kitchen as she began cleaning up.

  Roscoe began moving out of the kitchen but stopped to look back at me. He held up the cookie, smiled, and winked at me. A moment later, he was gone.

  But that wink left me immobile.

  Roscoe Perry had just winked at me, only seconds after choosing my cookie recipe as his favorite. It was the greatest night of my life.

  Eight months later

  The sun was blazing, the music was playing, and everybody was having a fantastic time. Today was Addison’s fifteenth birthday party, and she decided to have a pool party at her house. A bunch of our friends from school were in attendance to celebrate her special day.

  That was Addy, though. She preferred the big, loud celebration. When I turned fifteen three months ago, I opted to spend the day with my best friend. We went out to get manicures and pedicures before getting lunch out. Then my mom picked us up and brought us back home, where we watched movies and had cake and ice cream with my parents after a pizza dinner.

  Just because this wasn’t how I would have chosen to spend my birthday didn’t mean that I wasn’t having a good time. Addy was my best friend. I’d always be there to celebrate with her the same way she’d be there for me.

  And the friends she invited from school were all mutual friends, so it wasn’t as though I was here surrounded by a bunch of people I didn’t know.

  It was fun, and truthfully, I was having a great time.

  Or, I had been having a great time until about fifteen minutes ago, when Roscoe arrived. It wasn’t seeing him that upset me. I often found myself trying to find ways to catch a glimpse of him. Whenever I came to their house, I’d always say hello to him on the rare occasion he was home. I couldn’t muster up much more than that because I always felt so nervous. Beyond that, there were plenty of times when I’d visited that Roscoe was never even around. He was working hard with the band as they pushed themselves to make new music.

  Right now, I wished he was doing that very thing. I felt bad about that because I knew how important Roscoe was to Addy, but I didn’t like how much it hurt to see him here. Apparently, Roscoe had gotten himself a girlfriend.

  She was tall, had long legs, and was absolutely gorgeous. What I hated most about her was that she was all over him. She touched him frequently and kissed him more than was necessary.

  Simply recalling her kissing him and his arm wrapping around her waist to pull her close just minutes ago was enough to make me feel completely downtrodden. I was about ten seconds away from being sick. The last thing I wanted to do was insult Addy’s dad, who’d been manning the grill, by hurling up the hot dog I’d just eaten, so I decided to take a quick trip to the bathroom to pull myself together.

  Wearing nothing but my bathing suit, the same as nearly everyone else there, I walked inside and made my way to the bathroom on the first floor. Just as I walked up, I saw one of Addy’s aunts walking into it with Addy’s four-year-old cousin.

  “Oh, Sienna, do you want to go real quick?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll run upstairs and use the one
up there,” I replied.

  Addy’s aunt smiled and nodded at me as she shuffled her daughter inside.

  I moved past the bathroom, made my way to the stairs, and climbed them. I walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind me. Then, I tried to take a few deep breaths to settle myself.

  This was the strangest feeling.

  I’d never experienced anything like this. Never. Not once before. I was typically overjoyed to see Roscoe. I knew it had everything to do with seeing him with that girl, seeing him kiss her and seeing her touch him and hug him.

  It was… jealousy.

  I was jealous of her.

  As I stood there, hunched over the sink, I heard a noise. Something had hit the wall from the opposite side, the same side as Roscoe’s bedroom. I’d never gone into Roscoe’s bedroom, but I knew where it was. He often left the door shut, whether he was inside or not.

  I stepped back away from the sink and stared at the wall in horror. A soft cry followed by laughter came next.

  He was in there with her. I knew it. He was in there with her, probably doing things he couldn’t do with a crowd of people around. The thought of it made me want to vomit.

  Staring at myself in the mirror, with my light natural brown hair that had a slight wave to it and landed just beneath my shoulder blades, I felt disappointment. Maybe I just wasn’t his type.

  I swallowed hard. I needed to get out of here before I heard any more noise coming from that room, something I’d never be able to forget.