His Surrender

by Jaclyn Osborn

  Ivan poked his head out of the front door, brushing his teeth, and waved at me. I returned the gesture, and he went back inside. His appointment was at eight, but he had to leave early because it was nearly an hour drive away since the doctor he had to see wasn’t in our area.

  “Hey, Foss the Boss,” I said, when Foster opened the door.

  He smiled at the nickname and slid into the passenger’s seat. “Thanks for doing this.”

  “Anytime.” After getting on the main road and going in the opposite direction I’d been heading, the sun blinded me and I had to put on sunglasses. Emery said I looked like even more of a prick when wearing them. He wasn’t wrong.

  There were more cars than I expected when we arrived at the school. Most of them probably faculty.

  “You don’t have to park,” Foster said, after I snagged a spot up front. “You can just drop me off.”

  This will be awkward, but…

  “I actually need to talk to your teacher really quick,” I said as casually as possible, glad for the sunglasses shielding my probably tense expression. But kids could smell fear, and Foster was no fool.

  He cocked his head. “You seem on edge. Why?”

  “Look, I didn’t want to say anything, but I kind of know Remi—er, Mr. Barnett. Not well but enough. I won’t be long.”

  Foster stared at me blankly before he curled his nose. “Oh geez. Are you sleeping with my teacher?”

  Funny how I didn’t care what anyone thought of my bed hopping—not Emery or the nurses I told my insanely high sexual partners number to—but having my nephew point out my slutty ways made me a little ashamed. If only a little. For most of his life, I’d only visited him during holidays or the occasional birthday since they had lived so far away, and now that he was close enough for me to see every day, I cared what he thought.

  “No, I’m not,” I answered. Even if I want to be.

  “I’m not judging if you are.” Foster unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door before dragging his backpack from the floorboard and resting it on his shoulder. “I didn’t think he’d be your type.”

  “Yeah?” I met Foster around the front of the car and walked with him toward the building. “What do you think my type is?”

  He scrunched his face up. “I don’t know. Maybe someone who works out a lot and looks like a model.”

  “Damn, Foss. Might as well come out and say I go for shallow men.” He wasn’t wrong, though. Other than Emery, that was mainly the type of guys I banged.

  “Not shallow,” he corrected, his eyes widening with panic. “I’d never think that about you, Uncle Jay. I just meant I think you’d go for guys more on your playing field.”

  My sexuality had never been an issue in my family. Before I’d come out, I had feared it would be. But I’d worried and spent all those years hiding for nothing. Ivan teased me about it sometimes, but it was always in good fun. I knew how lucky I was. Not everyone’s family was as supportive as mine.

  It made me happy Foster felt the same.

  We entered the building, and kids were already in the cafeteria eating breakfast. They must have arrived on the early bus.

  “Band room’s this way,” Foster said, veering left.

  Our steps echoed in the hallway, more audible since the place was mostly vacant at the moment. There weren’t teenagers slamming locker doors, knocking each other out of the way to get to class, or being rowdy in the halls with their friends—I’d definitely been the latter while in school. A total goofball jock.

  When we reached the room, the sound of a piano playing came from inside.

  My stomach rolled a little, and I had to take a deep breath. Why was I nervous? I only planned to talk to Remi, apologize, and leave. He was nothing but some guy I had wanted to fuck. No one special.

  The sooner I got this over with, the better.

  Chapter 4

  Remi

  Music in the morning always perked me up. It helped me start the day off right. I’d gotten to the school early to meet Foster for practice and had been drawn to the piano as I’d waited for him to get there.

  As I played, I heard someone enter the band room. My back faced the door, but I assumed it was Foster.

  But then I heard a voice I didn’t expect.

  “Good morning.”

  My fingers went wonky on the keys, making a cringe-worthy sound as I hit the wrong chord, and I flipped around. Jay stood behind me looking way too gorgeous for so early in the morning. Hair brushed back with the exception of that one strand that liked to fall across his brow and clothes that emphasized his impeccable form without being over-the-top. Business casual at its finest.

  “I’ll go get my bass clarinet while you guys talk,” Foster said with a sly smile before walking toward the back room.

  I stood from the piano and stepped toward Jay. “Why are you here?”

  “Wow.” His brows rose. “No good morning or even a hello? Not very friendly, Mr. Barnett.”

  “Sorry,” I said, though I didn’t feel very apologetic. I’d thought I had made it clear to this infuriating playboy that I wasn’t interested. And now he showed up at my work? The guy had some nerve. “Hi, Mr. Foley. Now why are you here?”

  “Ouch.” Jay tsked before flashing his pearly whites. Beneath the smile, though, I saw something else. A hardness in his eyes. “I came to apologize for the other night. I shouldn’t have come on so strong, and I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I hope we can put this behind us.”

  “This isn’t really the best time to discuss it,” I said, glancing at the back room where Foster had been for a bit too long—more than likely eavesdropping.

  “I understand.” Jay moved his suit jacket aside and put a hand in his pants pocket. The action was sexy for some damn reason. Then again, everything about the blond was. “That’s all I wanted to say. You won’t be bothered by me again.”

  He was giving up so easy? I’d assumed he’d be more relentless in his pursuit. Dodging a bullet should’ve been a relief, yet all I felt was confusion. And disappointment—which made no sense. Because I didn’t want anything to do with him.

  “Okay,” I said.

  Foster came back into the room with his instrument, pretending to be oblivious. His pink cheeks gave him away. Yep. He’d definitely been listening in.

  “Have a good day at school, kid,” Jay said, hugging Foster. “Your dad said he’d be able to pick you up later, but I’ll see you for dinner.”

  “Cool.” Foster smiled and went in for another hug before pulling away. It was clear he really loved his uncle, proof that Jay couldn’t be all bad. “Love you.”

  “Love you too,” he responded before heading toward the door and leaving. Not looking back once.

  “Ready to get started?” I asked, shoving away all thoughts of Jay. Or trying to.

  “Yeah.” Foster sat in one of the plastic chairs while I took a seat across from him. “Before we start, though…” His pink cheeks darkened even more. “Never mind.”

  “You sure? You can tell me.”

  Foster shifted in his chair. “It’s just… my uncle’s a good guy. I don’t know what happened between you two, but he’s a good guy to have in your corner.”

  “A misunderstanding was all that happened between us,” I responded. It was more or less true. “Things are okay now.”

  He nodded and looked at his bass clarinet. I went over the basics of the instrument then and answered his many questions, all the while keeping part of my attention still on a certain blond.

  Perhaps there was more to Jay Foley than what met the eye.

  The session with Foster lasted for about an hour, and by the time the first bell rang that sent all the kids hurdling toward their classes, he seemed more confident. All he’d needed was some one-on-one time and a little guidance. He had a talent for music.

  “Thanks, Mr. Barnett,” Foster said, after putting away his instrument and jogging toward the door. A few kids met him outside the band room and wal
ked off with him, the five of them talking excitedly about what sounded like a video game.

  I was glad Foster was making friends. His first semester, he’d been a major loner. I’d often seen him eating alone at lunch and standing by himself before school started. Over the past week, though, I’d seen him start hanging with a new group—all good kids.

  The day continued as usual; I taught middle school band students in the morning and high school after lunch, with a free period between to work on music arrangements and brainstorm the end of school year concert. I stayed in my office for an hour after school just in case a student needed anything, and then I got in my car and left.

  My day had been going great despite a weird start to the morning with Jay. So, of course, that nice day went to shit with the simple ringing of my phone. It didn’t matter how many years passed with me being out of his house, just seeing his name flash across my screen was enough to freeze my insides.

  “Yeah?” I answered, turning down the stereo that’d been blasting my favorite easy-listening jazz station.

  “Is that any way to greet your father?” Dale Barnett said in response, his voice just as cold as always. Colder, even.

  I bit my tongue to keep from saying what I really wanted to—that he was no father of mine.

  “Have you given any more thought to my offer?” Dale asked when I said nothing.

  “My answer won’t change,” I said, my jaw tightening. “I’m happy with my career.”

  “As a lowly high school band teacher?” The disgust in his voice had its own physical form almost, a dark shape with even darker eyes and a downturned mouth. “I raised you to be better than that, Remington. I’m offering you so much more at my company, a company that has been in our family for generations. You’re just too stubborn and too ungrateful to seize the opportunity.”

  “Yeah. I’m so ungrateful for not wanting to uproot my entire life for a job I have no passion for.”

  Dale scoffed. “Who needs passion when you have financial security? Assets? You’re wasting your life at that school.”

  “I’m helping kids,” I shot back. “For many of them, all they have is music. It’s the one thing that gets them through the day.”

  I was speaking from experience too. When my mom passed, music was what saved me. How many of my students went home at the end of the day to bad environments? How many of them put in earbuds, closed their eyes, and counted down the days until they could leave their shitty lives? If I could reach just one of them, that’s what mattered.

  “You let Johnathan fill your head with rubbish,” he said. “You need to grow up and do what’s best.”

  “Best for who?” I said through clenched teeth, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. “For me or you? Because I’m happy.”

  I’m happy despite the hell you put me through.

  “When you’re ready to make something of yourself, give me a call,” Dale snapped before disconnecting the call.

  I tossed my phone in the passenger’s seat and worked on the breathing technique my therapist had taught me all those years ago. I tended to have anxiety attacks in all kinds of situations, but mostly if I was overwhelmed or experienced a sudden bout of stress—which Dale Barnett gave me in spades.

  In no mood to cook, I ordered takeout from the Thai place down the street and walked over to pick it up. The wind was cool, but the sun was warm, though the days were still too short for my liking as the sun inched toward the horizon. I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets and waited at the crosswalk for the signal to cross.

  The men in my family had all worked at Barnett Industries, a company started by my great-grandfather when he was just twenty years old—a fact Dale liked to drive into my head over and over. “So young and he already had so much success. You could learn a thing or two from him.”

  At twenty-eight, I was proud of where I was in life, and I didn’t need a six-figure salary to feel that way.

  After grabbing my food, I walked back to my apartment and spent the rest of the evening alone. And as I got into bed that night, I couldn’t help but think of a certain blond with the prettiest green eyes I’d ever seen.

  ***

  Jay didn’t come to the 906 for the show the following Saturday night. He didn’t come to the one the next week either. I guess he’d been serious when he said he wouldn’t “bother” me again, but I hadn’t expected him to disappear.

  This is what I wanted.

  So why did I find myself snapping my head toward the door every time it opened that Friday night, holding my breath at the thought of it being him and then sinking back down when seeing it wasn’t? Why did my heart beat faster each time I saw a head of blond hair from the corner of my eye?

  Simple. Even though I knew Jay was nothing but a heartbreak waiting to happen, I had liked the attention he’d given me. It had been a depressingly long time since I’d been laid. He would’ve made one hell of an awesome lay too. No guy could have that much confidence otherwise.

  “Get your head outta the clouds, kiddo,” Johnny said, gently slapping the top of the piano. “Gig’s startin’ soon, and you’re up first.”

  “Right.” I took a deep breath and bounced my leg as I sat on the bench, waiting for Johnny to give the okay. The first song was slower and was mostly a piano piece with the drums coming in periodically. Once he nodded for me to start, I played the first chord, then the quick procession of notes following it.

  The noise of the bar faded away as I got lost in the song, in the rhythm. The song was called “I Fall In Love Too Easily.” Damn if it wasn’t painfully accurate. I could tell myself I would’ve had amazing casual sex with Jay if I’d given him a chance, but in reality, my heart didn’t work that way.

  Maybe it came from my almost desperate desire to love and be loved, but I fell for people easily. I got attached to people fast, often getting my heart crushed in the process.

  Love was supposed to be this beautiful thing, but for me, it was out of my reach. Something I wanted but could never touch. It had always been that way.

  The next song was more upbeat, starting with a few chords of the piano before the saxophone wailed and the drums came in. Freddie smiled and bobbed his head as he played the upright bass, looking like a cool cat with his shades on and his hat cocked sideways. Johnny leaned back as he went to town on the sax, his foot tapping to keep rhythm, and Ace did a rat-tat-tat on the drums.

  Mike should’ve been in my place. A small tumor had been found in his brain last summer, and though the surgeon had removed 98 percent of it, some of it was inoperable because it was too close to the brain stem. He was going through rounds of chemo now, and he’d been too tired to play with the guys over the past few months. I hoped he got back on his feet soon.

  While I had fun playing with them, the old band deserved to be complete again.

  After the set, I helped the guys put everything away and then grabbed a cigar and lit it up. Normally I didn’t smoke, but the atmosphere of the bar was hard to resist. Johnny and the guys left to go home to their families. Not ready to call it a night, I sat in a plushy chair toward the back of the bar and decompressed. All that was missing was a drink in my hand, but I’d given up alcohol years ago.

  The phone call with my dad weeks ago, and the few since then, were nearly enough to push me over the edge and give in to the numbness I craved, though.

  “Need some company?” a woman asked, placing a hand on the back of my chair and cocking her hip, emphasizing her curves. “I loved your performance.”

  Women frequently came on to me. There was something about a man in a band that attracted them like crazy. Was that why Jay had assumed I was straight or bi? Because he saw me talking to them after my shows?

  I smiled. Had he been jealous? God. I couldn’t get him out of my head.

  “Thank you,” I said, nodding to her before taking a drag off the cigar. “As for your question, I’m the only company I need right now. But I appreciate the offer.”

  �
�Worth a try,” she said. “Have a good night.”

  I returned the sentiment and sat alone while the bar came to life around me. More people bustled in, some drunk and others halfway there. The 906 was a more upscale establishment, but it drew in a younger crowd sometimes who wanted to see what the place was all about. They usually got bored after a few minutes and walked back out.

  “Haven’t seen you here in a while,” Brent said to someone behind me.

  Out of reflex, I turned… and made eye contact with Jay.

  After nearly three weeks of not seeing him, my walls crumbled a little. My memory hadn’t done him justice at all. He wore a tailored suit, and every hair on his blond head was in place. His undershirt was unbuttoned, showing a peek of his collarbone. How was it possible for him to be even more attractive now?

  “Been busy with work,” Jay answered Brent but kept his eyes on me. Then, he looked at the waiter. “Be a doll and bring me a beer, yeah?”

  Brent, much too eager to please the man in front of him, nodded and rushed toward the bar.

  Jay regarded me again, a sexy look in his eyes. However, he made no moves to approach me. He just held my gaze for a moment and looked away.

  “Good evening, Mr. Foley,” I found myself saying before I could stop it.

  “Oh, so you do know proper greetings,” he said with an arch to his brow. “I questioned your ability the last we talked.”

  “Are you always such a smart-ass?”

  He shrugged. “Depends on the day.”

  Brent returned with his beer, and Jay thanked him, his gaze lingering on the waiter much longer than was necessary. A flirty smile lifted his lips as he spoke quietly to Brent, causing the younger man to get flustered. Was he doing it to get a rise out of me?

  It’s working.

  Once Brent left again, Jay’s gaze locked back to mine. He looked pleased with himself, the bastard. “Are you frowning this time, or is it just your face?”

  “It’s not cool to lead people on.”