“So… you didn’t fuck her?”
Logan knew everything about me. The good, the bad, and the very ugly. There was no use lying. “I didn’t just fuck her. I have feelings for her. I want to take her back to Austin. See where it goes.”
I waited for Logan to laugh. Or maybe try to talk me out of it. Instead, he grabbed two beers from the fridge. “Do you love her?”
I yanked the bottle from his hand with a snort. “I just met her.”
“That’s not what I asked.” He eyed me as he twisted off the cap on his beer. “It’s not the worst thing in the world, dude. All I’m saying is you better be sure before you drag her back to Austin and leave her sitting in an apartment while we go out and tear it up on the road. Unless she’s down for that. Having a steady piece when we’re not touring is cool, as long as she knows the score.”
It was like he’d shined a light on all my fears, the doubts I hadn’t voiced. But I had. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the song I’d written. “It’s more than that. I just don’t know if I can do it without fucking everything up.”
Logan arched a brow when I offered him the paper. “Those are just words,” he said. “Tell me how you feel.”
I shook my head, and I might’ve laughed. We didn’t discuss feelings. But when I opened my mouth to remind him of that, it all poured out. All the feelings I hadn’t admitted, not even to myself.
When I finished, Logan eased back, crossing his legs at the ankle. “You won’t fuck it up. Not if you meant even half of what you just said.”
“Do you think my old man meant it?”
The thought slid out with ease, like it was there all along. Waiting to break free. Tyler Noble was a terrible father, and an even worse husband. But my mother had loved him. Hell, she loved him still. And at some point, the feeling was mutual. But that didn’t stop him from doing all the terrible things he did.
Logan’s gaze shifted to the window. “We don’t all turn out like our daddies.”
I nodded, more for his benefit than mine. As bad as Tyler was, Logan’s father was worse. “I guess you’re right.”
The heavy mood lifted, and Logan smiled. “‘Course I’m right. I’m always right.” Leaning forward, he clinked his bottle against mine. “A toast to your balls. May they have a long and peaceful life. In Lily’s purse or wherever the hell she’s keeping them.”
I grinned. “If you knew what that girl did to my balls, you wouldn’t be laughing. You’d surrender yours in a heartbeat. It’s that fucking sweet.”
Logan lifted a brow, intrigued. “Do tell. Sharing is caring, ya know.”
Shaking my head, I polished off the rest of my beer. “Not this time, bro.”
***
After rehearsal, the band filed into one of the luxury suites at the stadium to face the reporters Lindsey had assembled for our press conference. I let my mind wander while Christian regaled everyone with tales of his adventures at the hospital.
“My question is for Cameron.”
Snapping my attention to the woman in the front row with her hand up, I swallowed hard when I noticed the name on her press pass. Sandy Gruber. The same name on the byline in yesterday’s story.
I jerked a nod, and she stood up.
“Would you care to give us a statement about the nature of your relationship with Lillian Tennison?”
I flicked my gaze to Lindsey, hoping she’d head this off at the pass. But she seemed as interested in my answer as everyone else.
“No comment.”
Moving on, I pointed to a reporter in the second row. But before he could get his question out, Sadie blurted, “Is there any truth to the reports that Miss Tennison is now with Chad Dyer from Crimson Five? Our source confirmed she’s staying with him at the Omni Hotel.”
I opened my mouth to spit out a denial, but at the last second, the truth coiled around my tongue. “You need to check your sources. Because Lily’s with me.”
Sadie inclined her head, surprise painting her features. And I was surprised myself. “So I can confirm that you’re involved with Lillian Tennison?”
Snatching my sunglasses from the table, I pushed out of my chair. “You can confirm anything you want. But I don’t have any further comments about my girlfriend.”
A flurry of follow up questions rang out as the guys followed me to the adjacent dressing room. Once the door was closed, Logan fell into a chair and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Rookie mistake, Cam.”
I shot him a scolding glare. “No shit.”
This was Media 101. Kindergarten stuff. The reporter wrote a society column, for fuck’s sake. It wasn’t even a hardball question. Clearly, I wanted to say it. To declare it. I wanted Abigail Tennison to choke on her tea when she read it.
Lindsey teetered in on her usual heels, a broad smile plastered on her face. “Simply wonderful,” she said, her voice rising to a cackle. “Normally, I would take your head off for the lack of self-control, Cameron. But Lily Tennison? Your fling is going to make the papers from here to Houston.”
“How did a society columnist get access to this press conference?” I asked.
Lindsey’s eyes widened to saucers, her usual unflappable demeanor crumbling. “She called and requested an interview. I didn’t see the harm in extending the invitation.”
“How did she know about Chad?”
She bit her bottom lip and I knew—she leaked it. Still, I waited for the confirmation, glaring daggers in her skull.
She lifted her chin. “I might have mentioned it.”
Logan jumped to his feet so fast he knocked the chair back two feet. “Get out! You’re fucking fired!
Lindsey’s mouth dropped open, and her gaze darted to Christian and Sean. Finding no comfort there, she shifted her attention back to Logan. “You don’t have to tell me twice,” she sputtered. “If I have to spend another day in this godforsaken state, I’ll tear my hair out. Good riddance.”
Storming out of the room like she was the aggrieved party, she slammed the door behind her. Sean was the first to laugh, and after a beat we all joined in.
Logan threw his arm around my neck. “Like your mama always said, Cam, you can’t trust a chick that ain’t from Texas.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
* * *
Cameron
The forty-five-minute drive back to Dallas took over three hours with traffic and my little detour to the mall. Closing my eyes, I turned the tiny box over and over in my hand. It was a token. Nothing really. A guitar pick made of white gold with a diamond in the corner and Lily’s name engraved on the back, along with the date we met.
Music was my first love, and I wanted to share it with Lily. If I could be as faithful to her as the words I put on paper, we could get through anything.
I jumped out of the limo as soon as we coasted to a stop in front of the Mansion.
“Hey!” Logan called after me. “Where are you going? We’ve got a ton of shit to go over.”
Skidding to a stop, I let my head fall forward. He was ruining my fun. “Like what?”
Joining me by the door, he lowered his voice so no one else would hear. “Like…I just fired our manager and we’ve got nobody to handle our tour now.”
I thought I might be able to get one day of peace before Logan started second guessing our decision. And I got it. Changing managers was a big, scary move. But I hadn’t fully come to grips with my other big, scary move. I only knew Lily was waiting for me, and I didn’t have time to waste standing around worrying about Lindsey.
Blowing out a breath, I pinned on a reassuring smile. “What’s done is done, bro. We can’t worry about what might happen. I’ll call Chase. He’ll know what to do.”
Logan rubbed the back of his neck, unconvinced. “The label is gonna shit. They handpicked Lindsey.”
I softened a little. He was right. And it didn’t matter that most of this shitstorm was about me. Metro would blame Logan and his fiery temper.
“Dude, Lindsey needed to be fire
d,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “And we shouldn’t be listening to the label anyway. Not when it comes to our management. We need to hire someone local. Someone from Austin. Like Twin Souls.”
He rolled his eyes. A band didn’t hire Twin Souls. They hired you. The boutique management company had the three biggest bands in the country in their stable, so they could afford to be choosy.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I said. “We’re just as good as anyone on their roster.”
Appealing to Logan’s ego was the easiest way to get him out of his own head. Worked like a charm, too. Because he puffed out his chest and said, “Fuck yeah, we are.
Mission accomplished.
“I gotta go. We’ll talk more later.” Much later since I planned to have Lily under me for the next several hours. “Don’t worry about anything. It’ll all work out.”
He gave me a shove. “Get out of here. Go find your balls.”
“Right here, buddy.” I grabbed my crotch. “Look on the bright side. If I’m off the market, you might actually get some quality pussy.”
I made a break for it, ducking inside the front door before he could chase me down and make me eat my words. Keeping my head down, I avoided making eye contact with the staff as I traipsed across the lobby. A smile crept over my face when I saw the little bungalow. Home. Not quite. But with Lily there, that’s what it felt like.
“Hey, baby… I’m back!” I called as I pushed open the door. “I hope you’re naked.”
God, I really hoped she was naked. Or not. Stripping her down was almost as much fun. But she didn’t answer. And it was dark. And quiet. I flipped the light on and a small twinge worked its way from my chest to my throat. The room was pristine. Untouched. Like no one had been here all day.
“Lily?”
I paused at the bedroom door, panic spreading to my limbs. But I didn’t go in. Because if I didn’t go in, it wouldn’t be real. But I knew it was. Lily’s clothes, along with any trace of her, were gone. My shirt, the one she wore to bed every night, was folded on the dresser.
Willing my feet to move, I peeked inside the bathroom, where not so much as a strand of her hair remained.
Stumbling backward when my knees went weak, I felt around for the edge of the bed. But I missed the mark, and landed on the floor with a thud.
Wrestling my phone from my pocket with shaky hands, I dragged my finger across her number. Straight to voicemail. I tried again with the same result. And again. I finally gave up and typed out a text.
Baby, answer your phone. Please.
I didn’t care that I sounded desperate. Hell, I was desperate. I waited for a reply. Five minutes. Eight. Twenty.
Closing my eyes, I let the truth sink in. She was gone. Back to her life. The world where I didn’t quite fit. And then it came to me. I was never afraid of hurting Lily. All along, I was terrified that she’d see what I had to offer and it wouldn’t be enough.
And in the end, I guess I was right.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
* * *
Cameron
My head was pounding.
Pounding. Pounding.
Jerking up, I ran my hand over my bare chest, my eyes adjusting to the single beam of light filtering through the blackout curtains.
“Open the fucking door!” Logan’s voice and more pounding.
Throwing back the comforter, I climbed to my feet.
“I’m coming!” Stumbling out of the bedroom, I rubbed my eyes. “Stop the fucking —” Yanking the door open, I reeled back, blinded by the harsh sunlight, “pounding.”
Logan glared at me. “I’ve been calling you for an hour.” Without waiting for an invitation, he shouldered his way in. “The limos going to be here in a half hour. Shit…what the hell happened?” He looked around at all the devastation before settling his gaze on me. “Where’s Lily?”
Her name was like a dagger straight through my heart.
Trudging past him, I sidestepped the empty bottles from the mini bar and the petals from the centerpiece littering the floor. “Gone.” He sank into the closest chair, waiting for me to elaborate. But I couldn’t. Not yet. “I gotta grab a shower. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“Are you sure?”
I tried for a smile. “Pretty damn sure. Unless you want me to go to the gig looking like this.”
Dropping onto the sofa, I threw my arm over my face, hoping he’d take the hint. And for once, he did.
“Call me if you need anything,” I nodded, and he pushed to his feet. Lingering by the door, he sighed. “Dude, I’m sorry.”
Me too. So fucking sorry I could hardly stand it. And as bad as it was last night, today was shaping up to be even worse. “Yeah.”
The doors snicked closed, and I was alone. More alone than I’d felt in a long time. When the silence was more than I could bear, I wobbled to my feet in search of pain killers. Finding my phone on the bed, I checked my messages. Nothing from Lily.
I waited for the aspirin to kick in, then doubled back to the living room to clean up my mess. I’d just finished dumping a handful of empty bottles into the trashcan when something shiny under the coffee table caught my eye. I snatched up the gold guitar pick, the booze in my stomach threatening to make a reappearance as I brushed my thumb over the inscription with Lily’s name.
Get over yourself, it’s been less than a week.
Following my own sound advice, I took the fastest shower in history, packed my clothes, and ambled to the desk to stow my laptop. My knees went week when I spotted the charcoal drawing on the keyboard—the sketch of me that Lily had drawn that morning at her apartment. On the bottom, beneath her signature, she’d scrawled a message.
I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.
Dragging my thumb over her farewell, I smudged the letters until the edges blurred and the letters faded. Then I dropped the sketch into the wastebasket and watched it float to the bottom.
A knock at the door drew me out of my haze.
The bellhop greeted me with a smile. “Mr. Knight. May I help you with your bags?”
“Sure.”
I took a step back to make room for the cart.
Once he was on his way, I looked around for anything I might have left behind. Only the memory of Lily lingering in every corner remained. Shoving the thought of her down deep, I closed the door and trudged toward the lobby. But I only made it to the end of the path before the band around my heart tightened to the point I couldn’t breathe. Retracing my steps, I flung the door open and marched straight to the desk. Plucking the drawing from the trashcan, I smoothed the paper with my palm.
I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.
And I didn’t. Not even a little bit. And that was worse.
Folding the sketch in half, I stowed the only piece of Lily I had in the hidden pocket inside my backpack. Someday, maybe I’d be able to look at it again. For now, just knowing it was there was enough.
***
All conversation ceased when I slid onto the seat in the limo. From the way Sean and Christian looked anywhere but at me, I assumed they knew about Lily. And strangely, I didn’t care. Because it made it real. And someday, when the pain went away, I could look back and remember her fondly, the first girl I’d ever loved.
Even if she didn’t love me back.
When we hit the freeway, I cleared my throat. “I’ve got to make a stop, y’all.”
Logan and Christian nodded but Sean just continued to stare out the window with a pained expression. And for the first time, I got it. Sean was the only one of us who’d left a girl behind when we started the band. Anna, his high school sweetheart. He’d crawled into a bottle when she married someone else, and stayed there for months. At the time, I thought it was weak. But if alcohol would make the ache go away, I’d bathe in it.
Christian passed Logan the local paper when he thought I wasn’t looking. But they didn’t need to bother. My social media was off the chain, my phone buzzing with the latest reaction
to my “confession.” My declaration. My disaster.
Downing my vodka and orange juice, I placed the glass in the cup holder when the limo glided to a stop at the apartment complex.
“I’ll be right back.”
Stepping onto the cracked pavement, I searched for any landmarks to jar my memory. But there was no need, because my feet remembered the way, and I ended up at Lily’s door. Pushing the rug aside, I laid the plastic bag with the gold pick and the lyrics I’d written next to the key. And then I hauled to my feet. But instead of leaving, I rested my forehead against the door. And even as I stood there, cursing the day we met, I prayed that Lily would find me. That she’d choose me. That I’d be enough. But I wasn’t. So I took what little pride I had left…and I walked away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
* * *
Lily
“He’s gone,” Tess said from the door of my room.
Tears lined my eyes as I continued to toss clothes into my suitcase. “Good.”
She flopped onto the side of the bed. “Is it?”
I only had a few hours left of freedom, and I didn’t want to spend them arguing with my best friend. Or talking about Cameron. Guilt lanced through me at the thought of him, and how I’d left things. But I chased it away.
“Just tell me why,” Tess implored, grabbing my hand.
Considering her logical nature, I didn’t think I’d need to explain. From a strictly financial standpoint, my decision made sense. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Reclining on her palms, Tess surveyed me with a narrowed gaze. “For two years you haven’t taken a dime from your parents’. So, no. It isn’t obvious. You’re three months from the finish line, Lily. Why are you giving up now?”
“I need my d-diploma. You read my mom’s email. They’re not g-going to help me unless—”
“This isn’t helping you! It’s blackmail! And don’t tell me you don’t have another choice. Cameron offered—”
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