Heartstrings (A Rock Star Romance Novel)

by Hadley Danes

  The car rolls to a stop, and I look through the tinted windows to see where we’ve ended up. I’m surprised to see the neon lights of the now-familiar diner that Slade brought me to on our first day together. I turn to him for an explanation.

  “It’s a tradition,” he says quietly, “Whenever we have a show within driving distance, we always come back for some chow.”

  “Oh,” I say, trying to smile and failing, “Thanks for bringing me along.”

  He lifts his eyes to mine. Pain has hardened his gaze beyond recognition. I can feel him closing down to me, cutting off our unspoken bond and communication. “You know that I care about you Julia,” he starts.

  I can tell there’s a “but” coming. I wish that I could hold it back.

  “I know,” I say, my voice thick with unspent tears, “I care about you too.”

  “All my life,” Slade says, “I’ve been keeping people safe. My mom and my sisters. I couldn’t keep my dad from dying, but I was there for them. I kept them out of harm’s way. That’s been my job since I was ten.”

  “You were just a kid,” I say softly, “You didn’t have to—”

  “Yes I did,” he cuts me off, “If not me, then who?”

  “You don’t always have to be the savior,” I tell him.

  “I can’t put you in harm’s way,” he says, ignoring my words, “My job is to protect you. As someone I love, you’re my responsibility. I will keep you safe, no matter what it takes. And if that means that we can never see each other again...”

  “No,” I breathe, “Slade, you don’t mean that. You can’t really mean that!”

  “I would rather know that you’re safe and happy somewhere else than have you in danger at my side,” he says. “I’d rather you find someone, have a house and babies and all that with another man, as long as you’re out of harm’s way. It would be better than knowing that something could happen to you on my watch. I’d trade your safety for having you in my life, Julia. I would.”

  “I wouldn’t want that,” I insist, “You don’t get to make that call, Slade. I’m a grown woman. I can do whatever I please.”

  “Not if I won’t have you,” he says quietly.

  “You can’t do that,” I say again. “I won’t let you do this, Slade.”

  “Please stop,” he says, “Let’s just leave it for now. We have a tradition to uphold. We can talk about it later. Or not talk about it...I don’t even know anymore.”

  He throws his dirty shirt back on and pushes past me toward the door. I follow, numbed by his proposition. He can’t really mean what he’s saying...He can’t really be ready to leave me behind out of fear of the unknown...can he? I stumble out of the car and follow him into the old diner. I feel my cell phone vibrate against my skin, and withdraw it from its hiding place in my bra. I have a text message waiting for me. My heart sinks a little when I see that it’s from Penny. I open it up with dread.

  “OMG,” it reads, “Your pictures are all over the Web already. I can’t believe he pulled you onstage! What the hell happened?”

  My heart tightens, and it’s just too much to go into. Penny’s enthusiasm is twisting the knife of Slade’s threatened abandonment. “Long story,” I write back, “Can’t talk now.”

  A moment passes before a short, “OK. Text me later” pops up on my screen. I shut down my phone and slip it away. I can’t deal with any news from the outside world right now—I have a crisis to deal with right here. God forbid my parents call and muck up my thought process further. I spot another town car in the parking lot—the rest of the band must have beat us here. Slade opens up the door to the diner, his eyes hard with pain. I hesitate for a moment before going in. Why am I torturing myself like this? His mind seems pretty made up. Still, there might still be a chance of salvaging things between us. I put on a brave smile and walk into the diner with my head held high.

  A raucous cheer goes up as Slade and I walk through the door. The diner is empty save for one big table in the back. Joe, Annabelle, Dodge, and Eddie are all enjoying a round of beers, and Maggie the waitress is standing by, beaming ear to ear. The sight of their happy party makes my heart ache. I want to be able to celebrate with them. I want Jackson to enjoy this victorious moment. But the cloud of our disagreement hangs heavy overhead.

  I steal a glance at Slade and see that he’s grinning ear to ear. Either he’s a wonderful actor, or he isn’t as devastated by this whole mess as I am. I hope that it’s the former as I slide down into a chair opposite Annabelle. She notices my forced smile right away, and clasps my hand sympathetically over the table.

  “You must be so shaken up,” she says kindly.

  “What?” I ask. How could she know about our fight already?

  “After what happened in the pit, of course,” she says.

  “Right,” I say hurriedly, “The pit. Yeah. That was pretty awful.

  A look of curiosity crosses Annabelle’s features. Her big, perceptive eyes don’t miss much. She can tell that I’m omitting something, but she’s nice enough not to press me about it in front of the group. Across the table, Eddie raises his beer in a celebratory toast.

  “To Flagrant Disregard!” he says happily, “And the kickoff of another excellent tour!”

  “Cheers!” everyone says, clinking beer bottles. Slade won’t meet my eye as I offer my bottle to his. I’m starting to get riled up by his cold shoulder routine, but I swallow my annoyance as best I can.

  “What’s everyone having?” Maggie asks, pad at the ready.

  “I’d say a round of cheeseburgers,” Joe says, “Everyone OK with that?” The group choruses assent, and Maggie heads back to the kitchen to fetch our food. Dodge leans into the table, eyes reverently resting on Slade.

  “That was pretty epic what you did back there,” he says.

  “It’s starting to become a bit of a habit though, isn’t it?” Eddie jokes, “Rescuing the helpless from the depths of the pit?”

  “I’m not helpless,” I say sharply, glaring at the swarthy manager, “I was attacked.”

  “You probably shouldn’t have been in there in the first place,” Joe says, “You have to warm up to that kind of thing.”

  “I was forced in,” I tell him coldly, “By—”

  “It was an accident,” Slade interrupts me, “Let’s change the subject.”

  I look at him incredulously. Why did he stop me from ratting out that trio of evil band groupies? Is he trying to protect them, or something? Preserve their place in the group, so that once I’m gone, there will still be women on demand for the guys’ needs? I take an angry swig of beer to keep from interrogating Slade.

  “I’m just glad you’re both OK,” Annabelle says, “Now we enjoy the rest of the tour together, bandages and all. You are coming on tour with us, aren’t you Julia?”

  All eyes turn to me as I try and think of something to tell them. I look to Slade to supply an answer. I’m out of them myself.

  “No,” he says quietly, “Julia isn’t coming. She has a trip of her own planned.”

  “Well, ditch those plans!” Dodge cries, “Come with us instead!”

  “She doesn’t want to,” Slade insists, “Rock isn’t her thing.”

  “I’ll be the judge of what my ‘thing’ is, Slade,” I say heatedly. He’s not allowed to speak for me, even in band matters. “But no. I won’t be coming. I’ve been looking forward to my own road trip for months. So. That’s what I’ll be doing.”

  Slade’s jaw twitches, and the rest of the table falls silent. Our cloud of tension has engulfed the entire table. I feel terrible for dragging down the mood of the celebration. All the more reason I should get out of their hair as soon as possible.

  “Here we are,” Maggie says, returning to the table with trays piled high, “Five cheeseburgers. Medium rare. I should have just brought an entire cow out to the table, I imagine.”

  “Thank you Maggie,” Joe says. “These look great.”

  “Well, I know how you like them,” she sm
iles, “God knows you've all been coming long enough.”

  I look around the table, wondering what these people must have been like before stardom swept them away. Were they better off for their success or worse? Suddenly, their fame seemed like a burden rather than a blessing. What if I had met Slade before he was famous? Or what if he had come to my hospital as a regular man? Would we have had a shot then? It was impossible to say. But it certainly seems like the preferable fate right this minute.

  The rest of the group digs into their burgers. I do my best, but I can’t do much more than pick at my fries. My appetite has long deserted me. All I want to do is crawl into bed and cry for a week. I can’t even look at Slade across the table. It’s too painful. The others babble happily as they fill their stomachs with diner food. Only Slade and I are silent. But the party wraps up soon enough, and Eddie slaps the table with his hands.

  “OK gang,” he says, “We’ve got a while to travel before we can call it a day!”

  “What?” I ask, “Where are you—?”

  “New York, baby!” says Joe happily, “We’re gonna press on until we get to the next city. Our tour bus will be here any minute. Talk about service, huh?”

  “Yeah,” I say weakly, “That’s...really cool.”

  “Can you at least come with us that far?” Dodge asks.

  “No,” I say, “I’d better not.”

  “Probably for the best,” Slade says. His words are like ice picks digging into my warm, bleeding heart.

  “How are you getting home then?” Eddie asks.

  “Oh,” I say, “My car is back in Philly.”

  “Take a town car,” Annabelle says, “They can catch up with us later.”

  “Is that OK?” I ask Eddie.

  “Sure,” he says, “That works out. Let’s get a move on then, crew!”

  We all say our goodbyes and thank you’s to Maggie and head out into the night. Sure enough, an enormous tour bus swings into the parking lot as soon as we emerge. I stare at the gigantic vehicle—it’s practically a airplane, it’s so big. I look despondently over at the waiting pair of town cars. They’re my ride, I suppose. I give Joe and Dodge big hugs, and even let the slightly creepy Eddie fold me in his arms for a second. Annabelle squeezes me tightly before handing me off to Slade.

  He grabs hold of my elbow and walks me to Anders’ town car. With his mouth pulled into a straight, serious line, he opens the door and helps me inside. I go without protest, trying to salvage what little of my pride is left to me. Slade leans into the cabin, looking at me with hard eyes.

  “Take care of yourself,” he tells me, his voice gratifyingly thick. Maybe he cares, even a little, that we’re saying goodbye.

  “You too,” I tell him, “Change that bandage soon.”

  “OK,” he says, lingering, “Julia...I really do care about you.”

  “I know, but this could never work, we both know that,” I tell him, tears welling up in my eyes. “Goodbye Slade.”

  “Goodbye,” he says, and he slams the door.

  I watch his retreating form through a veil of tears. Finally alone, I let the heaving sobs I’ve been holding in all night take me. I bury my face in my hands, hot salty drops course down between my fingers. From beyond my range of vision, I hear the tour bus roar to life and take off. He’s gone. After everything that’s passed between us during this incredible week, he’s gone from my life just as suddenly as he fell into it. I let the weeping cries tear through my throat with abandon. I feel like I’m mourning someone who’s passed away. I suppose he may as well be dead—he’s gone from my life forever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  * * * * *

  I jump as I hear the car door ease open and feel someone sidle in next to me. It’s not Slade, I know the weight of his body well enough by now. I peer through the tears that cling to my eyelashes. Annabelle closes the door behind her and turns to pull me against her small body. Our engine roars to life as the drummer hugs me tightly. I feel a fresh wave of tears pouring down my face at her simple act of compassion. I pull away just slightly and look up into her concerned face.

  “Wh-what are you doing here?” I ask, sniffling. “You’re supposed to be on the bus!”

  “The town cars are both coming with us,” she says, “I can hitch a ride with them.”

  “But...why?” I ask, “I’m sorry. That was rude. It’s just...what are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” she says. “We should both be on that tour bus, but here we are. Headed in the exact opposite direction. I can tell when something’s wrong with Slade, you know. I’m pretty perceptive. And you, my dear, are rather an open book.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say again, “You don’t have to worry. I’m just a little emotional after tonight. I’ll be fine. You should go back and join up with the guys.”

  “Too late,” she says, as the car begins to move, “You’re stuck with me now. And I want to know what’s going on.”

  “Won’t Slade be mad that we’re talking?” I ask. It would be wonderful to talk to a woman about what’s going on with me right now, but I don’t want to cross any lines.

  “It’s fine,” she assures me, “Slade is a big boy. But I’ve known him since he was a little boy, you know. We’ve all known each other all our lives. Which means that I was there when his dad died, and he became the man of the house at age ten.”

  “That must have been horrible,” I say softly.

  “It was,” Annabelle says, “Slade locked himself in a suit of armor and refused to be anything to anyone but the rescuer, the protector. Which was fine with his mom and sisters, but when girls became a part of the equation...Well, let’s just say that Slade’s longest relationship has lasted about three months. He’s always refused to let anyone in, because once he does, he feels solely responsible for them. And he can’t do that to himself anymore.”

  “Is that why he’s closed off to me?” I ask.

  “Closed off?” Annabelle says, “Julia, you’re the first woman I’ve seen him open up to. Ever. He already cares about you, I think he even loves you, in a way that means he has to protect you no matter what."

  Did she just say he loves me?

  "He’s not sending you away to keep you at arm’s length," she continues, "You’re in his heart, now. He’s just doing what he thinks he has to, so that you’ll always be there. He’s trying to do right by you the only way he knows how.”

  “It doesn’t feel right,” I say, “Leaving him feels so wrong.”

  “That’s because it is,” Annabelle says, “You two should be together. I’m not saying you have to settle down and get a dog and a backyard. I’m saying that right now, you’re important to each other. I can see it. There’s something between you that has to be consummated. Pardon the phrasing. You owe it to each other to see this thing through, wherever it leads. And this time, Julia, you have to be the bigger person. You have to go to him and refuse to leave. You have to cure him of this delusion once and for all. I know it’s unfair, but it’s what you have to do.”

  “What if he doesn’t want to be cured?” I ask.

  “Then you’re out a trip to New York. Big deal,” she says. “Blow off your road trip and come get your man. He wants you, I know he wants you. He just has to let himself, without worrying about consequences. And you do to.”

  We travel on in silence for a while, and I let Annabelle’s words sink in. She’s perfectly happy to let me dwell on her orders. When we finally reach Philly and stop beside my parked car, I pull myself out of the seat and take deep, steadying breaths. Annabelle peers out after me as I approach my little car.

  “You know what’s right, Julia,” she says, “Don’t deny yourself. I hope everything works out. I hope that you get to be happy.”

  “Thank you Annabelle,” I say.

  She smiles and closes the door. The town cars race away, leaving me alone in the abandoned parking lot. I’ve never been more conflicted about anything in my life. I sink into the
driver’s seat of my car and stare through the windshield. Do I go home, get my things together, and head West on my solo road trip? Try and force Slade out of my mind with the open road and the breeze in my hair? Or do I head East to New York City, force him to move beyond his fears and doubts, and accept the gift we’ve been given. I turn the key and close my eyes. In my most secret of hearts, there’s only one option. And I’ve known what I have to do all along.

  I put my car in drive and head East toward the man I need.

  Chapter Fourteen

  * * * * *

  The highway carries me from state to state, and I’m bearing down on the big city with every inch that I travel. My focus doesn’t waver once. The only thing on my mind is Slade Hale, and the only thing I’m concerned with in the world is telling him once and for all how I truly feel. Not how I feel about the rest of our lives, but how I feel in this one precious moment in time—a moment I don’t intend to waste.

  My breath picks up as the glittering lights of New York City, as immeasurable and beautiful as the stars in the quickly brightening sky, begin to appear on the horizon. I don’t know anything about New York. When I was growing up, Philly was my city. There’s something enchanted and terrifying about the Big Apple that has always made it seem unattainable, unfathomable. But I don’t have time to be nervous, now. Slade’s tour bus has a head start as it is, and I need to catch him as quickly as I can, before he writes me off for good.

  Men like Slade survive by segmenting parts of their past, relegating bad memories and missed chances to little mental storage boxes where they can’t do any more harm or cause any more heartache. I don’t want to be the wasted opportunity that Slade refuses to think about ever again. I don’t want to be a far off regret, held at arm's length and never again examined. I don’t know what I want to be to him exactly—a girlfriend, a playmate, a significant other. But I do know that I want to be in the present tense, always.

  The New York skyline looms up before me, hard and imposing against the light gray sky. Soon, the air will be alive, and the sky painted with the pink and orange hues of sunrise. Soon, the city will come to life, and millions of people will rub the sleep from their eyes and begin another day. And today, I’m going to be one of them. Today, I am going to put everything on the line for this mysterious, frustrating, unbelievable person I’ve fallen for. And where better than New York to risk a thing like this?