Make You Mine (Nixon Brooks Book 1)

by Tess Keeler

  “How long were you with him?” he asked, his eyes searching my face.

  “Eight months,” I answered, still floored by the length it lasted.

  “That’s a while. Were you two serious?”

  “Not at all. It was toxic,” I laughed ironically, tired of myself. “Something odd happened when I went to break up with him. Two months in, I told him that I didn’t have time to maintain a relationship while I was on the road. He quit his job and joined me.”

  He pursed his lips, his eyebrows lowering and lifting again as he worked through whatever thoughts he had about my issues. “In an attempt to save the relationship?”

  “I think so. I was impressed—no one had ever done that. It was awful, though. So dumb of me.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. We all have to make mistakes sometimes. It helps us figure out what we truly want.” The way he spoke to me made me feel like everything would be okay from now on—that I should never think of those things again.

  “You’re right…” I said, watching him look at me through the screen. “Nixon, I did some not so great things when I was with him, and I don’t want you to think less of me when you find out.”

  “Never,” he said quickly.

  I had learned that if he answered fast it meant he was confident. I knew I could trust him. He was trusting me with much more prized information.

  “He was an addict. I didn’t know that, obviously, but eventually…” I trailed off, struggling to get the words out. “I was participating.”

  “You have to be strong to get past that, you know,” he reassured me.

  “Thank you for saying that.”

  “I mean it. My best friend, Asher, struggled with it. He has a hard time staying away from it, and he’s tough.”

  “It’s insane how badly you feel like you need it.” I shook my head, ridding myself as the sensations of those months of horror crept back in. “I’m sorry he has to deal with that.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He looked weary to speak again, his lips somewhat permanently parted between sentences. “Have you ever been in love?” he asked.

  A lump formed in my throat, but I forced it down. “Never. Have you?”

  “Nope.”

  I wanted to ask about Rosie. “How many serious relationships have you had?”

  “Just the one.”

  “Will you tell me about it?”

  “Of course.” Propping himself on his elbow before preparing himself for the talk. I knew this ex was serious—it was the reason he was apprehensive about us. “Rosie was a fan from Dallas, and I met her on my first tour. I was with her for a little over a year, and we fought all the time. She was crazy jealous of every little thing, but I found out the hard way that it was a projection of her own guilt. She had been sleeping with my previous photographer for almost half of our relationship, blaming me for never being there as the reason. And she was convinced that I was fooling around on her, regardless of what I said.”

  I didn’t want to see what face I was wearing, because I thought Nixon was the last person to deserve the pain she had put him through. I’m sure it took form as a bitchy expression. If I ever saw her, I would tell her exactly what I thought about her. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry she did that to you.”

  He continued, my heart hurting for him, “After her, I decided I couldn’t have a normal relationship and I was better off not pursuing anything at all. You changed my mind, though. Obviously.” His smile was smaller than normal, but it was still just as beautiful. “That’s why I wanted us to really get to know each other, make sure that it was worth the risk of you losing your anonymity.”

  “I’m sorry I pushed you today. I should have trusted you,” I said sweetly.

  “If the roles were reversed, I’d be heated too, baby. We’re okay.”

  “Baby? That’s a new one,” I teased him, my smile transforming into one that matched my words. “I miss you.”

  “I miss you, too,” he said before he yawned. “So, about Tulsa... what do you say? Bella can’t wait to meet you.”

  “You’ve told Bella about me…?” I asked, shocked. Blake knew, but because he had to. My parents didn’t know yet, and I didn’t know when I would tell them

  “Yes. Right before our night out in Omaha.”

  Omaha… I sighed. It was one of the best nights of my life. Every moment with him had been the best of my life so far. Why wouldn’t I meet his family? “I’ll be there. When is it?”

  “Two weeks from today. I’ll be there four days. Two before my show, the day of, and the day after. I wanted to take this opportunity to show you around. And you know, I selfishly want some quality time with my girl.”

  My girl. I tried not to smile too big. I failed.

  “I can’t wait to see your hometown. I’ve never stopped in Tulsa.” It was my turn to yawn, forcing him to do the same. Yawns really were contagious. “Quality time sounds perfect. I’m more tense now that you’ve left the country.”

  He let himself rest into the pillows again, the white making him look tanner. He nuzzled the pillow as he nodded in agreement with my statement. “Long distance is hard, but you’re worth it.”

  “I also think you’re worth it.” His eyelids looked even heavier now, and I frowned. “You must be exhausted.”

  “I’m fine,” he said.

  I laughed at his stubbornness. “I wish you were in bed with me. This house is much bigger than what I’m used to.”

  “I wish I was there, too. Or you were here. Either way.”

  “I’d love to see what’s outside of the US. One day.” What time was it there? It had to be close to midnight or one in the morning.

  “Maybe next time I go on my European leg, you can join me.”

  My stomach flipped at the thought of me going on tour with him. Was he that serious about me? “Blake will actually kill you.”

  “Worth it.” He smiled, his eyes nearly closed now. He was going to pass out. “He’s going to have to get used to this.”

  “I’m going to talk to him,” I said. It would be better coming from me, right?

  “We can talk to him together. If you want,” he suggested.

  “That might work.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.” His words were slower, and I couldn’t help but admire how soft his face was when he was sleepy or sleeping. “Strength in numbers.”

  “Everything will work out. I know it,” I said, watching his face sink a little deeper.

  After a few moments of silence, I heard his voice just above a mumble, “I’m glad we’re okay.”

  1

  Make You Mine

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Nixon

  The flights back into the states were long and exhausting. My schedule overseas was always hectic, and I felt depleted. All I needed was some rest. My crew flew back separately— with the exception of Mason. He was visiting with family in London. While it was awesome to get to meet my friend’s family, I was grateful that Blake got me an earlier flight. It gave me an extra half a day in my hometown. Harper was flying in the next morning, and I really wanted to be rested up and ready to spend time with her. She definitely didn’t deserve me in this state; I felt worthless.

  I texted Harper to let her know that I had landed as I waited for Asher to pick me up. My best friend was always late. After waiting for almost fifteen minutes, he pulled up to the curb, his energy already frustrating me. It made me feel guilty, though. I should be happy that my best friend was excited to see me. Instead, I was being irritable.

  I agreed to grab a late lunch with him, and we were able to catch up then. I drank coffee to snap out of my mid-tour funk.

  “So, why did I have to find out about you talking to some girl through your little sis?”

  The question made me lift my eyebrow as I looked across the table at my disheveled best friend. His natural blond hair was a mess like he just rolled out of bed. His dark brown eyes might as well have been black, and I could
tell he hadn’t shaved in a few days. We were opposites in a lot of ways, but I was sure that’s what made us work as friends. He got bullied a lot in school and would mask his pain with drugs and being the class clown. We became friends in sixth grade when I saw a few of the football players shoving him around in the hallway. I’m not a fighter, but I stepped in. It was my first black eye, but I gained a best friend out of it. Two loners just trying to get through it all.

  When I got signed, it was hard on Asher at first. We worked through the distance the best we could. There were a few times I made him come out and stay on the road with me for a few days at a time in an attempt to get him away from the partying and drugs he had leaned on in my absence. Sometimes, I still blame myself for the state of my best friend, even though I knew everyone makes their own choices.

  I cleared my throat, the bill of my hat providing a little bit of anonymity. “I tell Bella everything. I didn’t want to jinx it by talking about it too much.”

  “How did you meet her?” he asked, lifting the coffee mug to his lips. Licking the remnants of coffee from them, he kept his hand around it. The silver ring he wore on this thumb clanking against the ceramic finish. “I thought you were done with relationships after Rosie?”

  Sighing, I sat back against the red cushion of the booth behind me. “I met her by chance in KC, at a bar.”

  “A bar?” He barked out a laugh, “You willingly went to a bar?”

  “Mason asked me to go.” I saw Asher’s face twist in slight jealousy. I think it made him not like Mason because of how close I had gotten to him.

  He shook his head, “Mason.” He huffed but continued before I could issue a rebuttal. “Is she a fan?”

  I nodded, trying to not let his snide stab bother me. “She is. Ironically, she’s Blake’s sister.”

  Asher almost spit out his coffee and laughed harder than I expected. “Wait, you’re banging your manager’s sister? High five.” He held his hand up, and I pushed it out of my face.

  “Harper and I haven’t had sex yet.”

  “Wait—“ He squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ve not had sex? Do you see her in person?”

  “Yes.”

  He shook his head, his eyes popping open in a judgmental stare. “Seriously, Nixon? You’re so prude.”

  “Hey, fucker.” I leaned forward, pointing at him. “I really like her, alright? I don’t want to fuck it up by moving too fast.”

  “Like you did with Rosie?”

  Ugh.

  “Stop talking about her, dude.”

  Holding his hands up in defense, he agreed to stop mentioning my ex. Finally. “Fine.” The subject shifted. “Are we going to get those tattoos while you’re here? Daniel was asking.”

  Daniel Gulledge was the tattoo artist I got all of my tattoos from. He was the best in Tulsa— no, the country— in my humble opinion.

  “Shit, I want to. When can he get us in?” I asked, looking at my watch at the time. 3:04pm.

  I could see a smudge of oil on Asher’s torn white t-shirt as he lifted his phone to check the time. “When I found out you were going to be home earlier than planned, I got in touch with him. He said he can squeeze us in at 5pm.”

  “I’m in.” I humored him with a fist bump. It’d be okay to spend some time with Asher before heading home to see my family, right?

  “Too good to visit, huh?” Daniel greeted me with comments like that all the time, so I was used to it. After some banter and filling out paperwork, Daniel got his work area ready and gave us some hell for what we were getting. Best friend tattoos that were Harry Potter related only seemed reasonable when I considered what to get inked with Asher. We both loved that world, and going to the movies when they came out was a big tradition for us.

  The wand with yellow and grey magic coming from it decorated the right side of my middle finger, and the exact same tattoo but green and grey decorated Asher’s finger. Hufflepuff and Slytherin. They were perfect, regardless of how much shit we got from our favorite artist.

  I paid for both, tipping a significant amount like I always did before we said our goodbyes.

  “Seriously, Nixon, don’t be a stranger,” Daniel called out to me and I nodded at him before closing his shop door behind me.

  “Thanks for paying, dude. You didn’t have to.” Asher was looking at the bandage, silently debating whether or not to take it off. He never kept them on long. “I make decent money at the shop I’m at now.”

  Asher had finally gotten his GED and was now doing fairly well for himself as a mechanic. He was amazing with cars, and I was proud of him for making a living with his own passion.

  “A hand tattoo for a mechanic seems like a bad choice.” I nudged him as we neared his Subaru.

  He shrugged, unlocking the older vehicle. It was insanely nice, though. “As it does for a guitarist?” He laughed, “How could I pass up a chance to finally get our bro tattoos?”

  It was dark when I finally got to my childhood home in Jenks, and Asher helped me carry my bags. I was slumping, I could feel the exhaustion in my bones. I wasn’t even quite to the door when my little sister flew out the front door, exclaiming my name as she flung her arms around me.

  “Bubba! You’re finally home!”

  I picked her up and spun her around, my bags falling in the grass in the process. I didn’t care; I had missed her.

  When I put her down, I could see how much taller she had gotten. She was almost five feet tall, and it made me realize just how much of her life I had missed out on.

  After another hug and her trying to help me with one of my bags, the three of us made our way inside. The hunter green walls greeted me as we walked in the front door. To my left, my dad was sitting in his recliner, playing a video game on the large screen mounted on the wall. I could hear my mother moving around the kitchen, and I could smell her cigarette smoke wafting through the house.

  “Caroline, can you smoke that fucking thing outside?” The tone of my father’s voice was loud, and I cringed in response. Asher patted my shoulder, and I sighed before looking down at Bella. She didn’t seem fazed, and for some reason that made me angry.

  “Shut up, Andrew.” The scratchy voice of my mother called back. I pulled my lips together.

  “Mom, dad, Nixon is home!” she yelled, causing my mother to appear first. My dad couldn’t be bothered to get up, but instead just called out a greeting from where he was planted. To say that I was used to it would be an understatement.

  “Nixon, honey, it’s so good to see you!” My mother’s brown hair was peppered with grey, and I wondered how she didn’t have a full head of white hair with how often my parents fought. Maybe she still colored it.

  I accepted her hug, squeezing her tight. “Hey, mom.”

  “You must be exhausted. If you have any clothes you need to be washed, leave them in the upstairs hamper.”

  Smiling at her, I shook my head. “Thanks, mom, but I’ve got my own laundry. You do enough around here.”

  “Oh, sweetheart, I love when I get to take something off your plate. You work so hard.” Her green eyes were worn, wrinkles more prominent than I remembered. The way my parents lived was clearly taking its toll.

  I decided not to argue too much, and I simply nodded. She moved to say hello to Asher as Bella began trying to drag my things upstairs by herself.

  “Juni, I don’t think so.” I laughed, taking both bags from her even after she groaned in my direction.

  Her big brown eyes were identical to mine. Except I looked more like mom, and she favored dad. “Fine, Nix, be stubborn.”

  I scoffed, “You’re stubborn, too, kid.” I could hear Asher’s laugh behind us as we pushed up the staircase.

  The bickering from my parents resumed, and I couldn’t wait to get as far out of earshot as possible. No wonder Drew— my older brother— never came home. His occupation as a lawyer kept him busy, too— I’ll give him that. But no matter how busy, I still made sure to check on Bell
a. I tried not to think of all my frustrations with my brother that was eight years my senior, and tried to focus on the present.

  After all of my bags were securely in my room, I took a moment to enjoy the fact that I was in my own room— my personal space.

  I walked over to my prized possession; my black and white, autographed John Mayer Fender Stratocaster was still mounted on my wall. After checking for scratches, I could hear Bella’s voice behind me, “I promise, I didn’t touch it and I didn’t let anyone touch it. No one comes in here, Bubba.”

  “He’s just saying hello to it, Bells.” Asher laughed, causing me to turn around. “Like it can hear him.”

  “Shh, she can hear you,” I teased, and Asher shook his head at me before letting me know he had to head out.

  We said our goodbyes with a hug, and he left, leaving me alone with my little sister.

  Collapsing onto my queen sized bed, I enjoyed the plush memory foam that greeted my tired body. Bella sat down in my office chair, giving me a few moments of quiet.

  “Did you let Harper know you landed?” Bella asked, and I lifted my head to smile at her.

  “Of course.”

  She spun in the chair. “You better have.”

  I laughed before remembering that I had a gift for Bella in my bag. “Oh! I have something for you.” I grabbed my backpack from the floor and dug in it until I found the plush Pokemon I had bought for her in Tokyo— it was her favorite: Minccino.

  “Nixon! He’s so cute!” She freaked out, grabbing it and holding it to her chest. It took her a few moments before she hugged me. I laughed, her happiness brought me so much joy.

  After dinner, we spent almost two hours catching up and just spending time together. It was easier to talk to her than it was to talk to Asher— who was my age. I loved the excitement she got when I talked about Harper. She kept repeating how happy she was for me, and how Harper sounded so cool. The relief I felt over her enthusiasm was immense. But I was still nervous. I wanted them to get along because I could see myself with Harper for the long haul— if she would have me.