Her kisses tasted so sweet as warmth filled my chest. She pulled me in more, kissing me harder, allowing her tongue to dance with mine.
I felt her need, her want, and that only made me yearn for her more. Our bodies were pressed up against one another, and I was certain she felt the hardness of my cock against her thigh, but she didn’t push it away, and I didn’t try to hide it. I wanted her to know what she did to me, how she made my body react to her touches, to her kisses, to her.
If heaven was a kiss, it lived against Hazel’s lips.
She pulled back slightly and nibbled gently on my bottom lip before lying back down against her pillow. I lay down facing her, and both of our breaths were heavy. Her eyes were dilated and wild, and she refused to look away from me.
Her cheeks blushed, and she combed her hair behind her ear. Her mouth parted, and she nodded once. “Again?” she whispered.
Fuck, yes . . .
Again.
18
IAN
“I’m going to fucking vomit,” Marcus groaned as we walked toward Max Rider’s house. We’d landed in Los Angeles the night before, and I swore not one of us had been able to sleep a wink. It felt like we were five-year-olds waiting for Christmas morning—waiting for our dreams to come true.
My mind was dazed and confused as we walked up the pathway to Max’s front door. We were literally meeting the star maker at his freaking mansion to have a meeting about our music. What was this life? How did us dumb small-town boys end up having a meeting with Max Fucking Rider?
Grams called it destiny.
Hazel called it talent.
Big Paw called it hard fucking work.
Whatever it was, I was thankful for it. All I prayed was that we didn’t blow the opportunity when we stepped inside of that house.
Max’s assistant, Emma, welcomed us into the house. She led us to the studio, because Max Fucking Rider had a freaking studio in his home. We waited for a while, maybe an hour or so, and we were quiet as damn mice. It was almost as if we were afraid if we made a sound, poof!—the dream would be gone.
“Is anyone else sweating like a sumo wrestler?” Marcus muttered, loosening the tie that Eric made us all wear. “I swear, my balls are swamp-level moist. My dick feels like a sticky Slip ’N Slide.”
“Too much of an awful visual, Marcus,” James commented.
“I thought it was tastefully stated,” a voice said from behind us, making us all turn around.
There he was in all of his glory. Max Fucking Rider, walking in on a conversation about Marcus’s swamp ass.
If that wasn’t a great first impression, we were screwed.
We all leaped to our feet with our mouths hanging open. Then, like freaking morons, we all started greeting the man at the same time, rambling on and on about how excited and honored we all were and bullshit.
“It’s so great to meet you!” James said.
“We’re so lucky you’re taking the time out of your day,” Eric commented.
“You have no clue how much this means to us,” I tossed out.
“Dope fucking shoes,” Marcus swooned.
Couldn’t take Marcus anywhere.
“Okay, okay, enough ass talking. Let’s just get down to business.” Max took his seat in his oversize swiveling chair in front of his sound system, and he turned to face us. He clasped his hands together and nodded once. “I think you got something.”
OhmyGodwehavesomething!
“Not saying that it doesn’t need work. From what I heard, it was good, but not . . . great. It’s missing magic. I asked you to come out here for two reasons. One, to see if you would actually make it happen on such short notice. To work with me, you have to want the dream.”
“Oh, we want it!” Marcus exclaimed. “More than fucking anything.”
Stop cussing so much, Marcus.
“Good. And two . . . I do better hearing bands live. Anyone can sound good online with all the whistles and bells, but to be able to perform live, as a unit, that is what takes the ordinary and makes them extraordinary. So go ahead.” He gestured in front of us, where a set of drums, a bass guitar, a keyboard, and a microphone were waiting for us. “Show me your music. And not those same tracks I heard before. I asked for better. Give me your best. Impress me.”
We all took a breath and walked toward his equipment. Before walking to our locations, we huddled together, and we had James lead our pep talk. We did it before every small-town performance, and if ever there was a time for James’s hippie mumbo jumbo, it was when we were about to perform in front of Max Fucking Rider.
We held each other’s hands and bowed our heads.
“We want to send out waves of love, light, and energy to the universe as a thank-you for bringing us all here today. This place, this experience, has been nothing but powerful to us all. This is more than we could’ve ever asked for and more than we deserve, but we swear to do good with this gift. We’ll give our music so it can heal. We’ll give our music so it can challenge. We’ll give our music as a way to make this fucked-up world a little better. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Until forever,” James said.
I squeezed the two hands that I was gripping, and they squeezed back as we all said in unison, “Until forever.”
It was the pact we’d made since we were kids. To always be there for one another, until forever.
Then we took our rightful spots, I gripped the microphone, and we began to play. We played five songs for Max. It was hard to tell if he was into it at all, because he had a stone-cold expression as he listened, and his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses. Whenever we finished a track, he’d wave his hand in the air and say, “Next.”
When he finally held up a halting hand, we all took a breath, exhausted, but more than willing to play all night long if need be.
“All right, come on out.”
We were dripping with sweat and excitement as we stood in front of Max. Still, it was almost impossible to read him. I couldn’t tell if he liked what he heard or loved it. Up until he took off his shades and gave a half grin.
“Where the fuck did that gold music come from?” he asked.
My heart exploded, and I hoped he couldn’t see it happen.
“That was nothing like the recordings I heard on Instagram. This shit is magic. It’s passion. It’s the living, breathing, doing kind of music that I crave. What changed?”
James smirked and nudged me in the arm. “Ian got himself inspired by a girl.”
“It’s always a fucking girl,” Max muttered, shaking his head. “I’m not one to bullshit or to waste my breath, so believe me when I say you got the ‘it’ power. Even your little cheesy family group pep talk before performing was important. You don’t try to overshadow each other. You all shine because you work as a unit. You’re tight, something most bands can’t say about each other. You can easily be the next Maroon 5.”
We all glanced at one another, feeling a little deflated by those last few words.
The next Maroon 5.
I knew what all of the bandmates were thinking, so I cleared my throat to speak up. “With all due respect, Mr. Rider, I don’t think we want to be the next Maroon 5. We want to be the first Wreckage.”
He grimaced a little, his brow low and moody. If there was anyone in the world who was hard to read, it was Max. Fucking. Rider. If he was pleased, you couldn’t tell it. If he was pissed off, there was no way to know. His brain moved quick, and when he made up his mind, he made up his mind.
I felt sick thinking that I’d just shot myself in the damn foot by disagreeing with him about our future. If he wanted us to be the next Maroon 5, then we should’ve been fucking ecstatic about the fact. My answers should’ve been, Yes, Mr. Rider. Whatever you say, Mr. Rider. We will suck your dick if we have to, Mr. Rider.
I would’ve been willing to make the same ultimate sacrifice as the brave men of the Fyre Festival, and I would’ve gotten down on my knees and blown Max Fucking Rider if it called for it.
/> Take one for the team, Ian.
I shifted in my shoes and nervously coughed.
Max put his sunglasses on and stood up. “I think that’s a wrap for today, boys.”
He started walking away, and I felt as if I’d been sucker punched.
“Wait, Mr. Rider—” I started.
“I hope you’re okay leaving the small-town life,” he cut in. “Because we’re going to be busy starting as soon as possible to make you the first Wreckage.”
And just like that, our dreams came true.
19
IAN
“Tell me again,” Hazel said through the phone as I sat in bed that night, reciting to her everything that had gone down with Max Fucking Rider that afternoon. The other guys were in the second hotel room, celebrating the successful meeting we’d held.
Max wanted us to come out in two weeks to be ready to work our asses off. Everything was moving so fast, and I hardly had a grip on what was coming our way.
It felt like an odd dream, and I was terrified I’d wake from it any second now.
I chuckled into the phone. “I’ve already told you three times.”
“I know, but I love hearing the excitement in your voice.”
I couldn’t wait to get back to Eres to kiss her. Whenever I wasn’t thinking about music, I was thinking about Hazel and those full, thick lips of hers. It had to mean something, the fact that when the good news came to us, she was the first person I wanted to share it with. She was the first person who came to mind. She was . . . my person.
“You are my best friend,” I whispered, chills racing through me as the words rolled off my tongue.
More chills hit me as she said it back. “You are my best friend.”
I didn’t say the next words that crossed my mind, because I knew it would’ve been too confusing and too much, but I loved her. I loved her so much, and I didn’t know if it was just a friendship kind of love or a romantic kind of love, but it didn’t matter to me whatsoever.
Because love, no matter what kind it was, was a good thing. She’d taught me that through making me explore my emotions . . . she’d tapped into the love that still lived in me, even though I’d thought it was all gone after my parents had abandoned me. Love was a good thing, and Hazel Stone was a good fucking thing for me. She was the best thing, and I loved her so much it scared me a little.
The last people I’d loved that much were my parents, and they’d walked away and never looked back. Love felt so good, but in the back of it was the fear that it could someday slip away. I wouldn’t tell her yet. I’d keep the love thing to myself and hold on to it as long as I could.
“Confession time,” she said, as I lay against my pillow with one hand resting against the back of my head. “I didn’t sleep that well without you next to me.”
“Confession time. I’ve been hugging my pillow each night thinking it’s you.”
“Confession time. I miss your smile.”
“Confession time. I miss your laugh.”
“Confession time . . .” She took a deep inhalation and released it slowly as each word fell from her lips. “I . . . miss . . . you.”
“I miss you more.”
“Not possible.”
“Always possible.”
“When you get back, can we kiss some more?” she asked.
I chuckled. “Hazel, when I get back, all we are going to do is kiss. In the pigpens. In the house. In the barn house. In the streets. I’m going to steal so many kisses from you to save up for while I’m gone in Los Angeles.”
She went quiet for a second. “You’re really moving to LA, huh? This is really happening.”
That was the first moment it hit me that we were really moving on to Los Angeles. That our lives were truly about to change forever. Shit.
“You realize how big this is, right, Ian? This is the biggest opportunity of your life, and it’s Max Fucking Rider,” she dramatically exclaimed, somehow sounding more excited than I did.
We stayed on the phone that night until Marcus and James came back to the room to crash. After they were asleep, I asked Hazel if I could call her back. She said of course, and I slept with the phone pressed against my ear. We were going to fall asleep with one another, even though we were miles apart.
When I heard her small snores, I let my eyes go heavy too.
20
HAZEL
While the guys were in Los Angeles getting the keys to their dreams, I was back in Eres trying my best to stomp out my nightmares. I’d been writing Mama letters nonstop, looking to get an idea of how she was doing. I assumed they took care of the pregnant inmates to some extent, but based on the knowledge I had on the subject—a.k.a. watching prison documentaries on Netflix and crying real tears during every single one—I had a heavy set of fears.
Was she getting her vitamins? Was the baby healthy with her past drug usage? Would the child really go to Charlie once he got out?
As far as I knew, Charlie was still locked up, and I was thankful for that. What I wasn’t thankful for was the fact that I had no way of knowing how my mother was doing. If she was being cared for, if she was scared.
Of course, she had to be scared. How could she not be?
When my thoughts became too loud and every terrifying thought passed through my mind, I built up enough courage to take myself to my old neighborhood and to knock on Garrett’s door.
I wore one of Ian’s oversize hoodies and had the hood up. I’d been sleeping in his hoodies each night since he left. I liked how they still smelled like him. It almost felt as if he were there with me each night.
My eyes kept darting around the trailer park with hopes that no one would notice me being there. Garrett’s past words kept playing in my head.
You know what happens to snitches?
When he came to the door, he grumbled as he pushed the screen open. A cigarette hung from between his lips, and he huffed out a cloud of smoke. “You got a lot of fucking nerve coming over here,” he muttered.
“Yeah, I know, but I couldn’t think of what else to do. I’ve been trying to get in contact with my mom, but she won’t reply to any of my letters. I’m not allowed to go visit anymore, and I’m worried about her.”
“Oh yeah? You’re worried about the mother you got locked up? How fucking thoughtful of you,” he sarcastically remarked, blowing more smoke directly into my face. He looked wrecked—as if he’d been using more than normal. When we were together, he’d never looked as strung out as his current state. He’d lost a lot of weight, it seemed, seeing as how his jeans were sitting so low against his hip bones. Had he been eating? Was he taking an inch of care of himself?
I swallowed hard and did my best to push the thought away.
Not my concern anymore.
I grimaced. “I just want to know that she’s all right. Have you been in contact with her?”
“Like I’d ever tell you shit.”
“Please, Garrett,” I pleaded. I wasn’t above begging. I needed answers to the questions shooting through my head day in and day out. “I only want to know that the baby is okay and what will happen when it’s delivered, since I don’t know if Charlie is going to be out of prison to take care of it. Do you know any of that, Garrett? Do you know anything?”
Garrett gave me a smirk that sent unnerving chills down my spine. “Maybe I do.”
“Please,” I begged again. I sounded so desperate, but I didn’t care. If he wanted me to drop to my knees in front of his freaking trailer, I’d do it and grovel at his shoes.
“You need to get the hell out of here before I let people know you’re back around these parts,” he threatened, making my chest tighten with fear.
I took a step back. “Okay. But please . . . can you just make sure the baby is okay? I know you hate me, and I can’t blame you for that. I hate myself enough for the both of us. But if you care anything about that child, please make sure it ends up cared for. You know what it’s like growing up in these parts, Garrett. Yo
u were luckier, because your mom is actually a good mom, but you know the lives that most of the kids in these parts grow into. You know the world I grew up in. This child deserves more than that. It deserves more.”
I left it at that and started walking away.
“Hazel.” The sound of my name made me turn around. Garrett stood tall, still smoking that cigarette that was dangling between his lips. “It’s a girl.”
A small breath fell from me as a wave of emotions rushed through me. “I know. She told me.”
He put his cigarette out on his railing and tossed it toward the graveled road. “She hates being pregnant, and fuck, it looks like it’s doing a number on her, but she’s all right. My ma and I went to see her last week.”
“Does she need anything? Money? Supplies? Lip balm?” I blurted out, my heart racing faster and faster each second.
He shrugged. “Everybody needs that shit. If you want, you can drop it off to me in two weeks, when Ma and I go visit her again. And Ma’s going to take in the baby for the time being.”
Sadie was taking in the baby.
The baby girl.
My little sister.
That was good. Sadie had her fair share of flaws, but being a bad mother wasn’t one of them. I remembered being young and wishing my mom did some of the things Sadie had done for Garrett. Taking him to the park. Driving out to go on movie dates. Buying him Christmas gifts every single year. It might’ve been iffy how she got the money to do all of those things, but every cent she’d ever had went to that child.
So much comfort fell over me knowing those details.
“I’ll bring the stuff in two weeks. Thank you, Garrett.”
“Whatever. Get lost, will you?” he said, reaching into his cigarette pack and pulling out another one to light up. “I’m tired of seeing your fucking face.”
I didn’t argue his request. I hurried away with a bit of calmness to my heart as I headed back to Ian’s house. Garrett’s words flew through my head on repeat as I walked.
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