Treyton (A Savage Beasts Rock Star Romance Book 2)

Home > Other > Treyton (A Savage Beasts Rock Star Romance Book 2) > Page 4
Treyton (A Savage Beasts Rock Star Romance Book 2) Page 4

by J. Nathan


  I shook my head. “Nothing. Have fun rafting.”

  Realization crossed his face. “You’re pissed.”

  “Why would I be pissed?”

  “Because you weren’t invited.”

  “Nope.” I stepped around him and into the elevator, catching a gust of his woodsy cedar scent as I pushed the button for the fifth floor with vigor.

  “You are pissed.” Trey twisted around and stood in the doorway so the elevator doors couldn’t close. “Come with us.”

  “Oh, you’d just love that, wouldn’t you?”

  His brows inverted. “What’s that mean?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  “I’m not gonna beg, Brie. Either you get over being left out and come with us or you don’t.” He shrugged as if it really didn’t matter to him. “Your choice.”

  “I’m staying here.”

  “Have it your way.” He stepped back and the doors closed, leaving me alone inside the elevator.

  Being alone was becoming the norm for me. But if I really wanted to stay at the hotel instead of take Trey up on the offer to go rafting, why did I feel worse than I had before?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Treyton

  I made my way toward the rear entrance of the hotel to the waiting van. I was pretty exhausted after rafting earlier, but the show must go on.

  “Looks like you didn’t drown,” Brielle’s voice carried through the lobby.

  I stifled a grin as I stopped, twisting around to face her. My eyes widened when I caught sight of her hair hanging in dark waves down to her boobs. What the ever-living fuck? “Do I know you?”

  She cocked her head, shooting me the cut the shit eyes she gave me when I screwed up.

  “Lose your hairband?” I asked, motioning toward her hair.

  “I had a headache. Sometimes the tight ponytail hurts.”

  I stared across the space between us. How was it I’d never seen her with her hair down? I thought the ponytail was a permanent appendage. But now...I never wanted to see the damn thing again. My dick twitched. Brie was not bad to look at. Not bad at all. And admitting that to myself pissed me the hell off.

  She dragged in a deep breath. “I guess there’s always bungee-jumping.”

  “Come again?”

  “Aren’t you bungee-jumping in Italy with Camden? The bungee cord could always break.”

  I laughed. “Did you really just say that?”

  “I did.”

  “That’s twisted, even for you.”

  She shrugged, not even insulted by my insult. “See you at the venue.” She brushed by me toward the front door.

  I twisted around. “Wait.”

  She stopped, turning to look at me.

  “I don’t like heights.”

  Her brows scrunched, confusion flittering across her face. “So, you’re not going bungee jumping?”

  “I said I don’t like them. Not that I wouldn’t do it.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I owed you a fact. Your turn.”

  She pulled in a silent breath.

  It was becoming amusing to watch her hold back her annoyance with me. Scratch that. At having to be civil toward me.

  “I like heights. The higher the better.”

  “Seriously?”

  She nodded, though her tough façade made it impossible to discern if she was telling the truth or not.

  “Does that mean you’ve been skydiving?”

  “I’ll save that fact for another day…that’s if I’m still here.”

  My head shot back. “You planning on leaving?”

  She shrugged, though her eyes stayed locked on mine. “The road isn’t for everyone. I’ll have to see if I can make it…oh I don’t know…another two weeks.” She broke eye contact, stepping around me and walking to the door.

  I stood watching the door after she’d stepped through it, wondering who’d let her in on our bet.

  A tinge of regret formed in my gut for betting on her ability to make it on tour. Or, was it the thought of her leaving? I was just beginning to crack the surface of Brie’s tough exterior. There was more to her than met the eye. And I didn’t mean someone who wore booty shorts and had a belly button ring. I meant someone with a vulnerable side. Someone whose feelings got hurt when she was left out.

  “Hey,” Z called from behind me, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I turned as he strode toward me, alone for a change. He was unrecognizable to lobby guests with his hat pulled down low.

  He glanced to the door where Reggie stood ensuring no fans entered the hotel. As much as he loved our fans, he loved his privacy more. “What are you doing?” he asked me.

  “I was just talking to Brielle. Have you seen her today?”

  His face scrunched. “Why would I see her?”

  I shrugged. “She’s just been acting weird lately.”

  “Weird or bitchier than normal?”

  “She just said something about leaving. And her hair was down.”

  “Down? Like no librarian ponytail?”

  I nodded.

  “That is weird.”

  “I’ll deny it if you ever repeat this,” I said. “But she looked…hot.”

  Laughter burst out of him. Z rarely laughed unless it was with Aubrey. But he didn’t stop. His head fell back and he howled.

  “Dude? Do I need to hurt you right now?” I asked.

  His laughter subsided. “Do I need to remind you how much she hates you?”

  “I just said she looked different.”

  “Hot. You said she looked hot,” he corrected me.

  Aubrey stepped up beside us. “Who looked hot?”

  “No one,” I answered.

  Z chuckled.

  She looked to Z. “Tell me.”

  My eyes cut to Z’s, shooting daggers.

  Z shook his head, amused. “Nothing worth repeating.” He draped his arm over Aubrey’s shoulders and walked her toward the back door.

  I scrubbed my hands over my face, needing to snap out of the Brie induced daze I’d temporarily been caught up in.

  Brielle

  Backstage at the indoor venue, I met with the representative from Make a Dream Come True. She introduced me to Mihoko, a fan who made a wish to meet the band. Mihoko was one of many kids whose dream it was to meet Savage Beasts through the remarkable charity that granted sick children a dream come true.

  When it came to charity work, the guys were very generous with both their time and money. And, they’d been granting “dreams” all around the globe this summer.

  Footsteps behind the closed door had me glancing over my shoulder. I loved this part. The door swung open and Z stepped through it first. Mihoko, in her Z T-shirt, clapped her hands over her mouth and bounced on her heels. A huge smile spread across Z’s face as he greeted Mihoko, wrapping the teen in his arms.

  “Why does Z get all the attention?” Trey called out as he stepped into the room, immediately beelining it to them.

  Z released Mihoko, and Trey swept her up in his arms, making sure to hold her gingerly as he knew she suffered from an illness.

  “I’m tired of the lead singer getting all the attention,” Trey teased. “Drummers need love, too.”

  Mihoko giggled as he placed her onto her feet.

  Cam and Marcus received their own hugs before the five of them moved to the sofa, two guys on either side of Mihoko, all giving her their undivided attention. They spent time chatting, laughing, and teasing her and each other. Mihoko’s smile couldn’t have stretched any wider. Mihoko’s dad, BJ, Aubrey, and I stood back, giving them privacy while taking in the sweet scene.

  Eventually, I grabbed a bag full of merchandise and walked over, placing it by Trey’s feet. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me down so he could say something to me. Heat coursed up my arm. What the hell?

  “Grab me my drumsticks,” he whispered.

  I blinked hard, trying to ignore the feel of his hand on my arm. “Don’t
you need them tonight?”

  He shrugged as he released me. “I want her to have them. I have others.”

  I hurried off to retrieve Trey’s drumsticks while trying desperately to shake off whatever the hell just happened to me back there.

  * * *

  The following morning before we left Japan, the band sat on stools in front of a room full of reporters for a broadcast on a popular Japanese music television station. I sat to the side of them acting as the moderator as the Japanese press asked questions while an interpreter interpreted the questions to the band. “What’s been your favorite thing about being in Japan?”

  “The fans,” Z answered. “Their energy is magnetic.”

  The interpreter interpreted his words, and the reporters applauded, obviously fans and loving his response.

  I pointed to a reporter in the front row. “You.”

  She asked her question, and the interpreter interpreted it to the guys. “What’s your second favorite thing?”

  “The food,” Trey said, to the amusement of the reporters and everyone else in the room. Apparently, food was a universal word.

  I pointed to another reporter. “Next question.”

  She asked her question, and the interpreter said, “Now that Z is an engaged man, will the rest of you be following suit?”

  The guys all laughed.

  “That’s a no,” I answered for them.

  “We’re just having fun while waiting for the right women to come along,” Trey clarified.

  Once the interpreter interpreted his response, the female reporters giggled. Of course they did. He was great at the one-liners.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Brielle

  The whirring of the plane’s engine filled my ears as I tried futilely to sleep. Would Hungary, our next stop, be it for me? Would I relent to my father’s wishes and fly back to LA?

  “I was adopted,” Trey’s voice carried into my subconscious.

  I turned to my left and opened my eyes.

  Trey’s blue gaze was locked on mine from the normally empty seat beside me. “I hadn’t told you anything today with all the press stuff this morning, and I’m a man of my word.”

  “It would’ve been fine if you skipped a day,” I assured him, trying to forget the feeling of his hand on my arm. My body’s reaction had been totally unexpected and traitorous.

  “Then I would’ve missed out on your fact,” he said.

  The trouble with Trey was you never knew when he was being sincere. He’d gotten so good at the lines that the real Trey was a mystery. And, he was only trying to get to know me for selfish reasons. But how could I let him tell me something so personal and not respond? “Why were you adopted?”

  He shook his head.

  “You brought it up. You can’t just squash it.”

  “I can do whatever I want. The rule was one fact. No elaboration required.”

  I rolled my eyes, questioning why I’d ever agreed to this game with him. “My father wants me to come back to LA.”

  He tipped his head. “Why?”

  “No elaboration required.”

  He chuckled. “Fine. You tell me why he wants you back in LA, and I’ll tell you the reason I was adopted.”

  I nodded, surprised he’d tell me seeing as though he’d kept that information under lock and key. “Deal.”

  “My birth mother was a heroin addict.”

  My eyes widened.

  “Which she graciously passed on to her newborn.”

  Dammit. The no-drug policy all the crew had to sign now made sense. I’d wondered why that clause was so important to a rock band.

  “And, to top it all off, she didn’t even want me.”

  If something was ever going to change my mind about Treyton Collins, this might just do it. Not only was I stunned by the information, but the irony of being unwanted held an uncanny similarity to my life.

  “The woman who rocked babies in the nursery took a liking to me,” he continued. “She said it was the way I looked at her. Apparently, newborns, especially drug addicted newborns, don’t make eye contact. She said I did.”

  Goosebumps coasted up my arms.

  “She thought it was a sign telling her we were meant to be in each other’s lives,” he explained, while wringing his hands uncomfortably in front of him, like he’d never been this open with anyone before. “She said she would’ve moved heaven and earth to have me.”

  Tears stung my eyes, picturing this woman willing to fight to have Trey in her life, when my own father didn’t do the same for me. “She sounds amazing.”

  He nodded and his eyes drifted away.

  I wondered if he too was holding back tears. I knew all too well that it was one thing to possess difficult memories. It was another to tell someone else about those memories.

  “Most people don’t adopt drug-addicted babies because of the long-term effects.” He looked back at me. “It’s really an epidemic. Drug addicted babies not getting adopted. They’re needy and normally the care is a lifelong commitment. Luckily, for my parents, I didn’t have any physical or mental birth defects.”

  His story was heartbreakingly beautiful. How had I not known any of this? I grasped hold of his arm, suddenly having this need to comfort him. “Trey. I don’t know what to say.”

  He looked at my hand on his arm, and for a split second I wondered if my body’s reaction to his hand on my arm had elicited the same feelings in him. “There’s nothing to say. Shit happens.”

  Shit happens? Bullshit. He could play it off like it was no big thing, but it’s what shaped him into the man he was today. He could play tough, but I was starting to see the truth of what lay beneath the surface.

  I removed my hand from his arm, and we sat in silence for a long time. I wondered why he’d told me such personal information. Was it all a ploy to get me to stay longer so he could win the bet? Or did he really just feel comfortable talking to me? I wish the small knot in my stomach wasn’t an indication that I liked that idea more than I should. “Tell me about your parents,” I said.

  Trey chewed on his bottom lip as he contemplated my request. He owed me nothing when it came to his personal life. But for some reason, I hoped he’d tell me more so I’d understand him better. Understand why he found himself in inconvenient situations all the time.

  “They were in their late fifties when they adopted me,” he said. “That’s kind of unheard of because they have age restrictions for adoptions. But child services is that desperate for adoptive parents for drug-addicted babies. I guess they figured some time in a stable environment was better than an orphanage or bouncing around foster care. And I did get a stable environment. For ten years.”

  My brows dipped.

  “My mom died of cancer when I was ten.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. Cancer? Ten-years-old? Had the universe been toying with both of us? Was it currently toying with us? I sobered my features so the irony rushing through me—and the sympathy I felt for him—wasn’t written all over my face. “I’m sorry.”

  He avoided my gaze, clicking his tongue ring as he spoke. Was that an indication that it was uncomfortable for him to be talking about this? “My dad suffered a heart attack two months later. Some said he died of a broken heart.”

  Words escaped me. How did I not know any of this? How had I not realized the pain he’d endured so young? How had I not realized the number of similarities we shared?

  “I completely understood my dad’s grief,” he said. “I had double the grief losing both of them in a matter of months.”

  The knot in my stomach tightened as a vision of Trey, alone at ten, plagued my thoughts.

  “They gave me an amazing childhood, but they had no relatives to take me in after they were gone.”

  I knew what that meant and my heart clenched.

  “I bounced around foster care for a while. It’s where I met Z.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  He stared down at his lap. “I was angr
y and lonely, and once I became a teenager with raging hormones, it was a lethal combination. Luckily, I met Z when we were seventeen. We had music in common and used it as an outlet.”

  “Well, I’d say you turned out pretty well.”

  He choked on his laughter. “Yeah, right. You think I’m a screwup.”

  “Not a screwup.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It just answers a lot of questions about why you do…whatever the hell you want to do.”

  He chuckled. “Okay. Enough about me. Your turn.”

  I sat silently, trying to digest all he’d unloaded on me and wondering how I’d never realized how our situations were so similar. Abandonment, purposely or unavoidably, did a number on your psyche. I could write a book on that for sure.

  Trey had backed me into a corner by divulging so much. He’d forced my hand to respond. Damn him. “I’m needed back in LA because I’m representing some new rapper.” That wasn’t a lie. Just not what I should’ve told him in that moment.

  “And?” he probed.

  “And he’s needy.”

  “Needier than me?”

  “Time will tell.”

  He smirked. “So, are you going back?”

  I shrugged.

  His brows shot up. “Disobeying Daddy? Sounds like a recipe for disaster.”

  “So, you’re saying I should go back?”

  “You should do what’s best for you. Don’t you wanna see your accountant man?”

  I shrugged.

  He tipped his head to the side, his eyes narrowing. “You two break up?”

  I shook my head.

  “But absence hasn’t made the heart grow fonder?”

  Admitting the truth seemed only fair after what Trey had told me, so I shook my head.

  “Yeah. Life on the road is tough. But it’s honest. It hides nothing. If there’s a problem in your relationship, it’ll amplify it.” He stood from his seat and stared down at me.

  He was leaving? After everything he’d told me, he was going back to his seat?

  “For what it’s worth, Brie, I like your hair down.” He turned and walked to the rear of the plane, leaving me with not only a compliment, but so much new information he’d just entrusted me with.

 

‹ Prev