Rock Star Romance Ultimate Volume 2

by Mankin, Michelle

  Elle stared at me some more, then did the last thing I expected. She laughed. A short, humorless sort of laugh. “Honey,” she said, “if I can’t handle a little public embarrassment, I’m in the wrong game.”

  “Oh.” Well that had to be true. And maybe that should’ve occurred to me before now. But it still didn’t mean she deserved what she’d got. The media had been merciless, like vultures picking over the scraps of the breakup, sniffing for dirt. Rubbing all those shots of Jesse and me making out in her face. It hadn’t seemed that way to me at the time, because I liked seeing pictures of myself with Jesse. I just hadn’t thought about how it would feel for her to see them.

  She studied me, then uncrossed her arms and drew the door open a little farther. “You want some chili?”

  “Um. What?”

  “Just made some.” She stepped back, swinging the door wide, inviting me in.

  Even though I’d already had dinner, I was tempted. I stepped over the threshold, and after Elle shut the door, I followed her deeper into the house. Once my eyes adjusted, the art on the walls snagged my attention. There was tribal art everywhere, pieces she’d obviously collected all over the globe.

  We passed a room lined with guitars and big plush pillows on the floor. She had a massive black-and-white painting of Jimi Hendrix on one wall in the living room, which had a vinyl collection to rival my own. I recognized many of the spines and it was safe to say she had incredible taste in music; Bob Marley was playing over a surround sound system.

  She also had two incredibly hot men in her kitchen.

  Could this chick be any cooler?

  Dylan was sitting on a bar stool at the island and Ash, wearing a frilly apron, was pulling a pan of something that smelled amazing out of the oven when we walked in.

  “Katie!” Dylan stood and pulled me into a rib-crushing hug, which I was grateful for. It was a relief to see a friendly face. Not that Elle had been unfriendly, exactly, but at least now I knew she wasn’t planning to hack me up and put me in her freezer. Not with witnesses.

  “Where’s that bony fucker of a boyfriend of yours?” Ash greeted me, giving me a hug as well. Which was funny, since bony wasn’t a word I’d use to describe Jesse Mayes. Though Dylan did overshadow him by several inches and probably fifty pounds.

  “He’s playing in Portland tonight.” I glanced at Elle. She was cutting into the pan Ash had pulled from the oven.

  “You want some jalapeno corn bread?” she asked me.

  “It’s Elle’s grandma’s patented recipe,” Ash said. “And we’ve got margaritas.”

  “I’ll pass on the margaritas, thanks.” I took a stool next to Dylan. “I’m still sweating off the last batch you served me. And I just had dinner, actually. But I’d love to taste the corn bread.”

  I hung out with the three of them while they ate chili and talked about some side project Dylan was working on. Apparently he was going to be an underwear model. Which made a lot of sense. I’d seen the man in a kilt.

  When they were done with the chili, the guys refilled their margaritas and made themselves scarce. Maybe Elle told them to go; I didn’t know. But when we were alone in the kitchen, she said, “He ended it.” She looked at me with a cool, level gaze. “Knowing Jesse, he probably let you believe our breakup was mutual, out of respect for me. It wasn’t mutual. He knew we weren’t right, he ended it. I didn’t see it, not then. I get it now. Took a while for me to get to that place. I’m there now. That’s all you need to know.”

  I digested that.

  I appreciated her honesty. And that she thought enough of me to tell me. Not to mention the courage it took to admit that, aloud, to me.

  But when I looked into her steely eyes, I remembered our confrontation in the washroom, only days ago, and I had to wonder if she was being honest. Fully honest. If she’d really gotten to that place... or was still getting there.

  “Okay,” I said. There didn’t seem to be anything more to say, though it felt like there was something left undone. I just didn’t know quite what it was.

  I could tell, as I’d sat here in Elle’s home enjoying her hospitality, that she wasn’t keen to have me here. And I couldn’t blame her for that. Even so, she was a perfect hostess, which just reminded me that she was a seasoned pro at all of this, and I was still so fresh. So unsure. For all I knew she felt like the enemy had landed, unannounced, in her kitchen, but she played it like it was second nature to her to treat Jesse’s new girlfriend with nothing but respect.

  Surely she’d been through it all with him. The fame, the media, the women. And Katie Bloom wasn’t about to make her sweat.

  I could probably learn a thing or two from this woman. Though I kinda doubted she’d be letting me in on the secrets behind her steel-gray eyes anytime soon.

  I didn’t want to outwear my tenuous welcome, so it was probably time I get a move on. Before I did, I excused myself to use the guest washroom, where I checked my phone, which had buzzed while I was eating my corn bread.

  It was Jesse.

  What r u doing?

  Clearly, he’d heard from Flynn.

  I’d texted Jesse to let him know I was in L.A., but not why I was here. Other than that, I hadn’t been in communication with him, since it was harder to obsess over everything I’d done wrong and what I was going to do to make it right when I was obsessing over what I should say in reply to his texts. I couldn’t even think about getting him on the phone. But it seemed unfair to leave him hanging in this instance.

  Eating corn bread, I replied. Then I added, In Elle’s kitchen.

  I waited, a good four minutes, for his response. During that time, I pictured him pacing, running his hands through his thick, dark hair, maybe rubbing the back of his neck, eyebrows drawn together in thought.

  God… I so missed him. Brooding and all.

  My phone buzzed.

  When r u flying home?

  Tomorrow, I think, I texted. If your ex-girlfriend lets me out of here alive. And then, just in case that joke didn’t land, I added a winky face.

  What r u doing, Katie?

  I answered, Just something I need to do.

  Then do it and come home to me.

  Jesus.

  The man had me reeling.

  Those were not the words of a man who didn’t care. I was pretty sure of that.

  See you when you get there, I texted. Because I’d probably reach Vancouver before he did.

  When I emerged from the bathroom, Elle was waiting in the kitchen. “I should get going,” I said, and as she walked me to her front door, Jesse’s words repeated in my head.

  ... come home to me.

  Words that made me feel warm, and nervous at the same time. Because Jessa’s words were in there too.

  I’m not coming home.

  I turned to Elle, determined to make the most of this moment and not fuck it up. Because who knew if I would ever get another?

  I didn’t exactly expect another dinner invite anytime soon. It was fair to say that Jesse’s ex and I were never going to be BFFs.

  But that didn’t mean we couldn’t be civil.

  “Look,” I said to her. “I know you’re a celebrity and all the attention, good and bad, is part of the deal. I mean, so they tell me. I’m just figuring it out myself. I can’t possibly know what it’s like to be you. But I do know what it’s like to be left, and I know how it feels when it happens in public, and how hard it is to process when everyone’s watching and saying cruel things that aren’t even true. I know I didn’t replace you overnight, no matter what they say. I know that you’re family to Jesse, and that means he loves you. Other than that, I don’t believe a thing they say. Unless I hear it from you. And whatever they say about us, about me, I hope you won’t believe it either.”

  “Okay,” she said. And that was all.

  She opened the door and I hovered on the threshold. I smiled a little, but she didn’t. I just hoped I hadn’t made things worse by coming here, but just like after my din
ner with Jessa, I wasn’t sure.

  “I know it’s over between Jesse and me, Katie,” she said, her steel eyes on mine. “But the heart needs time to heal. You know him. I’m sure you can imagine the kind of time that might take.”

  Um, yeah. I could imagine.

  It was pretty much all I’d been imagining for weeks now.

  And I could do the math.

  It had been four and a half months since the end of their relationship. Before that, Jesse said there had been several months of a “prolonged breakup.” My breakup with Josh had taken two years of my life, and I couldn’t even imagine how I would feel if during that time his new girl had shown up at my door to eat my corn bread and wave a white flag.

  I had a lot of respect for Jesse’s ex-girlfriend just now.

  “Thank you for the corn bread.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “Don’t ask for the recipe.”

  Then she smiled at me, slightly, for the first time, and I got a glimpse of the girl behind the rock star. The girl Jesse Mayes loved like family.

  And it killed me a little.

  Because if this girl was family, and so many others were all but forgotten... where did that leave me?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  * * *

  Jesse

  Katie was sitting on the front steps when I pulled into my driveway. When I saw her there, the tightness in my chest released. As I parked the Ferrari, I felt like I could draw my first full breath in days.

  “Jesus Christ, Katie,” I said, getting out of the car. “Did you know we were looking for you?”

  I’d spent the last three hours driving between Nudge and Devi’s office and Katie’s apartment and any other fucking place they told me I might find her, around and fucking around—never mind that I was supposed to be at sound check like an hour ago—because she’d pulled a Houdini on Flynn at the airport when they landed and I was going out of my mind. If she was avoiding me this fucking hard, it didn’t exactly bode well for me ever getting to talk to her again.

  Thank fuck Jude had finally found her, at her parents’ place.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, getting to her feet. She looked from me to Jude, who’d just stepped out of the house behind her. Her eyes went wide and I realized we were probably scaring her, more than she’d scared us.

  I flicked my chin at Jude. “Why don’t you head to the venue, man. Give Brody a hand and tell him I’ll be there. Raf can cover for me ’til then.”

  “Sure, brother. See you, sweetheart.”

  “Bye.”

  I waited for the Bentley to pull out of the drive as I collected myself, blew out a breath between my teeth, and turned to Katie. Man, she was a fucking sight for sore eyes in her ripped jeans and little white top, her dark hair blowing loose around her shoulders.

  “Hey,” she said softly. “Did I just get Flynn in trouble?”

  “Don’t worry about Flynn. He can take care of himself.”

  Her eyebrows pinched together. “And I can’t?”

  “That’s not what I meant. Shit.” I raked my hand through my hair. It had been a long fucking day, a long fucking week, without her.

  I walked up the steps, but she didn’t meet me or rush into my arms. She just stood there, leaving a space between us. It was only a foot, but it felt like the whole fucking world.

  “I got all your messages,” she said. “I could’ve come back sooner, but Brody said it was okay to stay in L.A. a couple of days, and I felt like I really needed some time to think about everything. You know, on my own.”

  “Yeah,” I said. Turns out I did, too. Even though I wanted her back by my side and in my bed, the time apart had given me crystal fucking clarity. It had also scared the shit out of me. What if she decided she really didn’t want this? Didn’t want me?

  “It was my first chance to be truly alone in six weeks and—”

  “Me too,” I said. “Kind of hated it.”

  She hugged herself against the breeze coming off the water behind the house, and the corner of her pink mouth twitched in the hint of a smile. I’d missed that look. I’d missed her sweet face. I’d missed every fucking thing about her. Even the way she was always “tidying up” my things so neither of us could find them, and the way she ate food off my plate without asking if I was going to finish it, and the way she always seemed to be losing a shoe. Even the way she sang “Bohemian Rhapsody” in the shower really, really badly.

  Hell, maybe especially that.

  “Come inside,” I said.

  She followed me into the house, which was a rental. Just a place I slept when I wasn’t on tour or wherever. I wouldn’t exactly call it a home.

  A home had people in it.

  Though it smelled pretty homey at the moment, thanks to the giant tray of cookies on the kitchen counter.

  I raised an eyebrow at Katie.

  “Did some baking with my mom,” she said, a little pink in her cheeks. “Helps me chill out.”

  I led her to the living room at the back of the house, which overlooked False Creek. Katie drifted around the room, taking in the floor-to-ceiling windows and the epic view.

  “You want a drink?”

  “No, thanks.” My heart dropped, because I knew what was coming. “I don’t think I’ll stay long.”

  “Katie—”

  “I think I just need some time to process things. In my own bed.”

  Wasn’t that what she’d just had?

  “I mean, I’ve barely even gotten to see my dog, and my place is kind of a mess...”

  “Katie, I’m so fucking sorry for what happened in L.A.. Those pictures of you with your niece and nephew. I know that freaked you the fuck out. And I’m sorry it happened.”

  “It’s okay,” she said, stepping a little closer. I wanted to reach out and grab her, pull her to me and never let her go. But she was hovering there in the middle of the room like some frightened doe. I was scared she’d run away if I moved too fast.

  “It’s not okay.”

  “No,” she agreed. “But it’s not your fault, either.”

  “It sure as fuck isn’t your fault.”

  “Well, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s the paparazzi guy who stalked me, took the photos and sold them, and the media agency that put them out there. But that’s life, right?”

  But it wasn’t her life. Not until she met me.

  “Katie. I know it upset you. I know that. And I understand why—”

  “It wasn’t just what happened with my niece and nephew,” she said, coming closer. “You were right. I used that as an excuse. I used them, and I feel like the worst coward in the world.”

  “Katie, you don’t have to—”

  “Please. I need to say this. It wasn’t the thing about me being paid to come on tour with you. It wasn’t even the thing about our relationship not being real. It wasn’t all the pictures of me with your friends either, and being called a ‘party girl’ like they were slut-shaming me.”

  “You’re not a slut,” I said. “I’ve known sluts. Zane is a slut.” It was my attempt to lighten the mood.

  No dice.

  She looked at me and tears gleamed in her eyes. She looked so small, just kind of floating there in the middle of the room, and fragile in a way I’d never seen her look, and I really didn’t fucking like it. I took a step closer, meaning to take her in my arms.

  “It was the photo of me and Josh.”

  I stopped just short of touching her.

  “I just saw the look on my face in that photo,” she said, “and I remembered how it felt when he kissed me. And there it was, staring me in the face, and worse, it was out there for all the world to see.”

  “What was?”

  “It’s hard to explain. I was so confused, Jesse. When he kissed me, I shouldn’t have felt anything but anger, or disgust or annoyance. And I did feel those things.” She looked at me, and it cracked my heart a little, the uncertainty and the disappointment on her face. “I felt confused. It wa
s like everything we’d had was in that kiss. All the questions and memories and the good times and all the shit, five years of our lives, all rolled up in one kiss, and I felt sad. And sorry for him. And flattered, which is truly pathetic. And kind of glad.” She sniffled. “Glad that he wanted me again.”

  “Babe, you have history. And he broke your heart.”

  “I didn’t want him to break my heart.”

  “No one wants a broken heart, sweetheart.”

  “I mean, I wished that I’d never given him that power. I know I pretend I’m over it, but I think I still hate him because it makes it easier to pretend he didn’t hurt me. That he wasn’t ever someone who amazed me and thrilled me and put a smile on my face. That he wasn’t ever the man of my dreams. Or at least, the man I thought was the man of my dreams.”

  I knew I had to tell her then. Tell her the truth about Josh. But I hesitated. I could stand the kick in the stomach of jealousy when she talked about him like that, but I couldn’t take her suffering thinking he was such a good guy.

  “Babe, Josh was the one who gave that image to the press.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  Damn. Didn’t expect that. Why she wasn’t more pissed off about it, I wasn’t sure. But maybe it was a good sign. A sign that she was finally putting it to rest. “Then you know that he wanted you to see it. He wanted me to see it. He wanted you to feel everything you’re feeling right now.”

  It was true. The guy was still trying to fuck with her. And I could send Jude to take care of that. That part wasn’t a problem. The problem was how it was making Katie feel, which was like shit, apparently.

  I moved closer, until we were inches apart. I wanted to touch her so fucking bad.

  I didn’t know if she wanted me to touch her.

  “When things like this happen,” I told her, “it’s often the people around you that you need to look at. It’s not always the paparazzi. It’s people who have access, and a motive beyond just making a quick buck.” I smoothed her hair out of her eye and let my fingers trail down her cheek. “Most of the time the things they say about you, the ones that really hurt, are the ones that are true.”