by Tara Leigh
Delaney
“You tired?”
Standing in the foyer of Shane’s beach house, the glare of headlights bouncing from wall to wall as the driver backed out of the driveway, I was anything but. “No. You?” Even without any of the details, Shane’s revelation made me feel closer to him.
Shane shook his head, his face softer, more vulnerable somehow, after our conversation in the car. “Come on, I think a little sand in our toes is just what we need.” He grabbed a bottle of wine and two glasses from the kitchen, and then the thick blanket lying across the back of his couch.
The wind was strong but warm as I followed him through the sliding glass door and down the deck stairs to the beach. “I thought you called the people who drink out of glasses on the beach assholes,” I said, when I caught up with him.
A few feet from the water’s edge, Shane was glancing up and down the stretch of shoreline. Was he checking for photographers? I wanted to ask, but there were too many other things on my mind. I laid out the blanket while he opened the wine.
“I said that?”
“Yeah, right after I stepped on the broken glass.”
We sat, and Shane poured each glass three-quarters full, before making a well in the sand and putting the bottle into it.
“Guess I’m one of them,” he responded, tempering his sarcasm with a wink that had me choking on my first sip.
After I got control of myself, he lifted his glass in a mock toast. “You survived your first Nothing but Trouble concert. Bravo.”
I laughed. “Well, it was pretty tough to take. I wasn’t sure I would make it.”
“Not to worry. You came through with flying colors.”
We both sipped, staring out at the water as our toes wriggled in the sand. “Aren’t I supposed to be keeping you away from alcohol, not sharing a bottle with you?”
Shane’s eyebrows lifted. “If I’d wanted to get drunk I would have grabbed a different kind of bottle, and I wouldn’t be sharing it either.”
A thought occurred to me, flying off my tongue. “Did you drink to feel closer to Caleb, or to forget him?” Immediately I wanted to chase after it with an eraser, rub away the intrusive collection of words as if I’d never said them.
There had been nights when missing my mom had felt like a bitter blade, cutting into me a little deeper with each breath. I tried to dull the pain with vodka once, but after two drinks I’d just fallen asleep on the couch and awoken with a massive headache in the middle of the night. Missing her more.
Facing the water, Shane said nothing, scanning the horizon as if he were searching for the fine line, far in the distance, where sea met sky.
“Crap, I’m sorry. That’s really none of my business,” I backpedaled, the blunt intimacy of my question staining my cheeks pink.
Shane didn’t seem to mind. “No, it’s fine. Don’t apologize. It’s been a long time and talking about him doesn’t hurt the way it used to.” As he spoke, Shane ran his fingers along the ridges of my spine, sending a tremor of awareness racing along my nerves. “Sometimes. But usually it was so I could forget. Forget about everything, actually. Alcohol, drugs—they create a void you don’t have to fill. You can just float. It’s almost peaceful, you know.” His broad shoulders shrugged. “Until you wake up in your own vomit, not remembering where you are or how you got there. That part’s not so fun.”
Waves rolled in, filling the silence. “What made you stop?” I asked, my voice wavering.
“Life. Fate. I was fucking things up. Forgetting lyrics, sometimes showing up too far gone to get onstage at all. Most days I wasn’t even thinking clearly enough to write. Our label was on the verge of dropping us.” Shane shook his head at the memory, which obviously still haunted him. “I wanted out. So I bought enough drugs to OD, but I got caught in a bust. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, too, until I learned the guy next to me was there because he’d left his kid alone so he could work a double shift to pay rent. The kid climbed out the window and had to be rescued by the fire department. Now he’s in jail and his son’s in foster care. Another was arrested for shoplifting to pay for his brother’s chemo.”
“I’d wasted years wondering: Why me? And that night I finally realized something. Why not me? Shit storms don’t discriminate.” Shane took his last sip and let the glass fall on its side in the sand. “I don’t know what strings Travis pulled or even why he bothered. But somehow he got the charges dropped and I walked out of that cell. Nothing I do will ever bring Caleb back, but I realized that if I got my head out of my ass, I could have a career that allowed me to help people like the ones I met in jail. I didn’t finish high school, but my voice gave me options. There are a lot of people out there who don’t have any options at all.”
I was quiet for a long time, absorbing Shane’s words as I sipped slowly from my glass, the tart bite of the wine enhanced by the misty breeze. Was I supposed to meet his confession with my own, like calling a bet in a poker game?
I opened my mouth, but only to take a sharp inhale. No. I wasn’t ready, and the risks were too high. Instead, I pushed aside my own memories, my own guilt, and focused completely on the man in front of me. I wanted to acknowledge his admission while adding a bit of levity to our heavy conversation. “When we first met, I pegged you as some kind of singing Ken doll.”
Shane’s bark of laughter was carried away by the wind. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but Barbie’s boyfriend is a first.”
I leaned into Shane’s side, nudging him gently with my elbow. “I’m just saying there’s more to you than I expected.”
He looked down at me, a smile slanting across his face. “Same here.”
Goose bumps pricked at my arms. “So, what do you do now? When you need to forget, to escape?”
Shane didn’t bat an eye. “I fuck.”
I gulped down a damp breath. “Oh.” His blunt honesty sent my heartbeat lurching into overdrive, unexpected jealousy rushing through my veins at the thought of Shane with other women.
“Or write.”
“Oh.” Much better. “What do you write about?”
The slow twist of his lips sent me spinning. “Lately…you.”
Me. “Do you write about all your fake girlfriends?”
Tension swelled as Shane waited a beat, then another. “No.”
Why the hesitation? I chased my confusion with another sip of wine, another question. “Is that why you asked about my family? Because you think it would make a good song?” A thin ribbon of suspicion threaded through my words.
The waves rolled in, each one getting closer to our feet. Shane stretched his legs out, salt water foaming between his toes. “It might. But that’s not why I asked.”
I set my glass in the sand and turned to face him again, waiting to speak until he’d angled his head toward me again. “Then why did you?”
His voice softened, as if he were a pediatrician holding a needle behind his back. “We’re going to be on the East Coast in about a month or so. You know, if you want to visit your father.”
I could feel the blood drain from my face. Not even the smooth timbre of Shane’s voice could dull the sting of my father’s prison sentence. “I thought you said the road was a good place to hide.”
“Hey.” Shane placed a hand on my shoulder, his thumb sweeping along the line of my collarbone. “If you don’t want to see him, it’s your business.”
A shiver wrestled through me. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I said, the lie quick on my tongue. “I just don’t think it’s a very good idea.”
“How long has it been?”
Too long. I released a ragged sigh, trying to tamp down the panic I felt at Shane’s suggestion. “A while.”
He squinted at me, his voice brimming with concern. “What are you hiding from, Delaney?”
The truth. “It’s just…I don’t know if I can handle seeing him in there.”
“Because you blame him for your mother’s death?”
I chok
ed on my last sip, sputtering as Shane rubbed my back. His incisive questions were chipping away at what remained of my conscience. “No, of course not,” I finally wheezed. I knew exactly who was responsible for that, and it wasn’t my father. “He doesn’t want me to visit. He made me promise, just before they took him away.” After what I’d done, keeping that promise was the very least my father deserved from me.
Shane
I recognized the fear and sadness tightening Delaney’s expression, bleeding into her voice. Two emotions I’d been on intimate terms with for as long as I could remember. “And you can live with that? Not seeing him for years—maybe never?”
“I don’t have a choice.” Her eyes were as turbulent as the churning sea.
The wind picked up, blowing thick handfuls of hair across her face. “You always have a choice, Delaney.”
A breathy sigh. “I’m not so sure about that.”
We weren’t talking about her parents anymore. I reached out, smoothing the wayward strands back, my touch lingering on the silky shell of her ear, the curve of her jaw. But in an instant, that soft vulnerability shuttered closed, her tight body bristling with anger as she stared off at a point in the distance. “Is this another photo op?”
I dropped my hand, pulled back. “What?”
She gestured to the wineglasses, the blanket. “Did you stage this? Just another publicity stunt, like the other night?”
Delaney must have spotted something, a flash or a flicker of movement. Feigning a calm I didn’t feel, I scanned the beach where Delaney had been looking, but didn’t see anything untoward. “It wasn’t a stunt.” Grabbing for the empty wineglasses, and the still half-full bottle, I hoisted myself to my feet and headed back to the house. Leaving Delaney to follow, or not.
I wasn’t angry with her, not really. It was a fair question, one I should have addressed before Delaney felt the need to ask.
But…didn’t she feel what I was feeling? Most of my life had been a revolving door of bullshit and betrayal. Delaney was the first person to make me think that maybe, just maybe, it had only been a phase. A trial to get through so I’d be worthy of what came after. Like a rainbow arching over the misty remnants of a storm, beauty rising from debris.
Except with just one sentence, Delaney had accused me of being the bullshit and betrayal in her life.
Rationally, we’d been together only a few days. The accusation shouldn’t bother me. It shouldn’t, but it did. It fucking did. And I didn’t even try to hide it.
Delaney’s muffled curse was only slightly louder than the surf, and by the time I opened the sliding glass door, she was right behind me. “I want to believe you, but…” Her voice trailed off, ending in a murmured, “I’m sorry.”
“Forget it.” I choked out the words, slamming the glasses and bottle onto the granite countertop. “All of it, actually.”
Her brows knitted together as she gave the sandy blanket a quick shake and came inside. “What do you mean?”
I swallowed hard, resignation straightening my spine. “I’m going to tell Travis to pay you in full and rip up the contract. And I’ll make sure your father is transferred. Go pack your suitcase and I’ll take you to a hotel tonight.”
Delaney’s eyes were swimming with confusion, and I took some small comfort in knowing she wasn’t immune to whatever crazy roller coaster we’d jumped on together. “I don’t understand. What about the tour?”
“Fuck the tour,” I gritted out. I would probably regret everything I was about to say, but a dam had burst and the words kept coming. “You were dealt a bad hand. I get that. But I’m not the dealer. I’m not out to hurt you. Every intimate moment between us isn’t some phase in a PR campaign. You’ve thought the worst of me at every turn, and a week ago you would have been right.” My gut twisted as I forced unfiltered honesty through my clenched jaw. “But seeing myself through your eyes, it’s a pretty fucked-up picture.”
I huffed a resigned sigh. “I don’t want to be that guy, Delaney. Not anymore.”
Chapter Thirteen
Delaney
I stared at Shane for a beat, not believing my ears. Not wanting to believe that Shane meant what he was saying. “So don’t. Don’t be that guy. Prove me wrong.” Fight for me.
“Prove you wrong?” An incredulous expression twisted his features. “How can I when the truth is—I think you’re fucking right? What if that guy is who I really am? I’m doing you a favor, Delaney.”
I set my hand against the wall, needing to lean against something solid because it felt as if Shane were ripping the ground from beneath my feet. “I don’t need any favors. What if all I need is—”
An ugly sound ripped from his throat. “Don’t even say it. I was just using you, all right? Using you to pretend I’m someone I’m not. But the show’s over.”
“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t.” The hurt clenching my heart made my voice quiver, like I was asking a question rather than stating a fact.
Shane only shook his head and turned away. I considered going after him, but I needed a moment, some time to pull myself together before I lost the only man I’d ever wanted. Time to figure out how to convince him that learning to trust each other was a process and that we needed to cut each other some slack. Sure it would take a bit of effort, but Shane Hawthorne was worth it.
And damn it, so was I.
I trudged upstairs, my heartbeat loud and sluggish as I struggled to breathe through the cage enclosing my lungs and absorb everything Shane had just said. He was right. I had thought the worst of him at every turn. Singing Ken doll. Blackmailing asshole. Publicity (man)whore. Why would he want to have me around?
The only problem was—I didn’t want to leave.
Shane wasn’t the man I thought he was. Maybe he wasn’t even the man he thought he was.
And I wanted to scrape off the layers of paint and pretense and get to know the guy who’d offered to sing me a lullaby like he meant it. The guy who’d hit rock bottom, flamed out, and then rose from the ashes like a damned phoenix. The guy whose songs made me ache inside.
Opening the door to my bedroom, I stared out the window as if I could find answers in the tide. Why did I feel so lost? After only one week, Shane was giving me all the incentives he’d promised at the end of our six-month contract. I should pack my bag and get the hell out of his million-dollar beach house and back to my crappy little L.A. apartment where I belonged. But I didn’t want to go.
Sure, it wasn’t long ago that I’d crushed on Shane Hawthorne: the untouchable, unattainable rock star. But the guy I’d spent the past few days with—Shane—he was guarded and vulnerable, intuitive and volatile. The jury was still out on attainable. But touchable…hell to the yes. I liked Shane. A lot. So what if the circumstances we’d met under were a little unconventional? It didn’t mean that our relationship had to be tainted. Did it?
Or had it already been tainted by my deception?
By the secrets I was still clutching to my chest like a shield. As if they could protect me. Hardly. They were a wall between us. One I didn’t know how to knock down. At least, not until I trusted Shane completely. I wasn’t there, not yet.
And if I left tonight, I never would be.
A breeze wafted in through the open window, carrying all my doubts and extinguishing the tiny flicker of hope within me. What relationship was I trying to save? The fake one created by Travis?
A groan rumbled past my quivering lips and I jerked my suitcase onto the bed, throwing in the few items I’d bothered to unpack and zipping it closed. Blinking away tears, I dragged it downstairs, the wheels battering each step, announcing my exodus with the restraint of a twenty-one-gun salute.
Shane was on the couch, quietly strumming his guitar, an open can of Sprite on the side table. He eyed my suitcase, regret etched into the planes of his famous face. “Ready to go?”
I’d packed while my mind fumbled for a way to salvage the mess I’d made. But I wasn’t ready to leave, and I didn�
��t want to go. Wiping at my wet eyes, I launched myself at Shane, straddling his strong thighs and wrapping my arms around his neck, threading my fingers into his hair and tugging. “No.”
Shane remained still as a statue, barely breathing. As if I scared him. “Why not?”
A part of me cleaved open and the truth slipped out. “Because I want to stay.”
There was movement behind those golden eyes, a softening. I plowed on, desperate to get through to him. “I want to stay with you, Shane. Because of you. Only you.”
“You’re a fool.”
“No.” I brought my hands to his face, my thumbs on the sweep of his cheekbones. “But if I let you throw me away, I will be. You said you needed me by your side, remember? Well, I need you, too.”
Shane’s hands waited a terrifyingly long time before coming around me. But they did, pulling me close. “You sure, Delaney?” His voice was a roughened husk, stoking the fire between us.
I’d never been more sure of anything in my life. “Yes, I’m sure.” With barely an inch between our mouths, I could feel his desire burning as hot as mine, the proof of it throbbing against me. And I was done waiting. I wanted to feel him inside me now. “Shane.” I planted two tiny kisses, one on each side of his lips, before whispering in his ear, “Make me yours.”
He made a noise that was somewhere between a bark and a growl. And then his hands were gliding up my spine, tangling in my hair, his lips teasing mine. When Shane stood, I clung to him like a monkey. He carried me up the stairs and deposited me on the bed gently, reverently. I caught a glimpse of the emotions fighting for space on his handsome face, wanting to reach out my hand, gently trace each plane and angle. Absorb all the need and want and hunger through my fingertips. And I would have. But then my eyes locked on his, and the air left my lungs in a dizzying whoosh. What I saw was piercing, primal. Shane Hawthorne was no pretty-boy, Auto-Tuned boy-bander. He was flawed and fierce. And I wanted to submit to the lust pulsing between us, to be swallowed up in it.