Mustang Daddy - A Single Daddy, Small Town Second Chance Romance

by Sienna Parks

  “Vittoria…”

  “Please, if you care about me at all, just go.”

  He wipes the tears from his eyes, kisses me on the forehead, and makes his way to the door. “I’ll call you tomorrow and see if you’re up to having a visitor. I love you, bella. Always remember that.” As the door closes, and I’m left alone in the silence and misery of my own mind, I give into the realization that my life as I know it, is over.

  I thought it couldn’t get any darker than that day, but here I am two months later, and it’s infinitely worse. I never did let Luca come back to see me. I went through physio by myself. Days and weeks of agonizing pain to get back on my feet. Nothing but darkness, loneliness, pain, and lies. So much time to sit and contemplate all of the bad in my life, and I’ve come to the only possible conclusion – I’m bad, I’m the poison in my own life. Without ballet to center me, to focus my energy, I’ve realized that it was all my fault; Marcus, my injury, Logan. It’s all on me, and there’s only one way to fix it.

  I never open the curtains in my hotel room anymore, and I usually tell housekeeping to leave me alone. Today is no exception. The room is dark and quiet, only the sounds of my breathing to let me know that I can still hear, the feel of my heartbeat letting me know that I’m still alive.

  I am numb.

  I feel… nothing.

  It’s the only way to cope with the pain; both mental and physical.

  I’ve been taking pain meds for so long now, they have no effect on me anymore. They don’t take away my pain, physical or emotional. I tried to stop taking them before the final injury that ended my career, but I couldn’t get through a performance without them. They became part of my day, something that I needed to get me through. I’ve scammed meds from doctors all over Europe, and now here I sit, with two bottles of pills, and a glass of wine from the mini-bar.

  This is what my life has come to – alone, in a hotel room, on the other side of the world from everyone I love. It’s a sad way to end things, but it’s a fitting one for me.

  My phone begins to vibrate on the table in front of me. It’s Logan. I debate whether or not to let it go to voicemail, but a part of me wants to talk to him one last time, to hear his commanding voice saying my name. To tell him I love him. I take a deep breath, before picking up the phone and pressing the answer button, ready to give the performance of my life.

  “Hi, baby.”

  “Hey, little one. How’s my girl? I feel like I never manage to catch you these days. I miss you so much. Only four weeks and we’ll be together again. I’m counting the days.”

  I struggle to speak past the lump forming in my throat. “I miss you, too. More than I could ever explain.”

  “Are you okay? You don’t sound too good, and it’s not the first time. I’m worried about you. You would tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you? We might not be in the same country, but you are always on my mind. I’m here for anything that you need. That’s what being your Master is all about, no matter how far apart we are. I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

  My heart is breaking, knowing what this will do to him, but I can’t go on, it’s too hard.

  “I’m fine. Just tired. I love you so much, Logan. More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

  “I know this is hard, but we’ll get through it. We’ll be together again soon, I promise.”

  I hold my hand over my mouth to hold in the cries that I know are fighting to break free.

  “I need to go just now. Luca is hounding me to rehearse.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.”

  “I… I love you… Master Fitzgerald.”

  I end the call and throw my cell phone across the room, watching it smash against the wall and fall to the floor in pieces. This isn’t how my life was supposed to be. I wanted what every young girl dreams of.

  I wanted to have a happy, innocent childhood.

  I wanted to feel safe and secure.

  I wanted to be a ballerina.

  I wanted to meet a man, fall in love, and live happily ever after.

  I wanted to have all of those things with Logan Fitzgerald. But life is cruel, and unfair, and I don’t deserve any of that happiness.

  I can hardly see the bottle of pills through the tears that are coursing down my cheeks, but I manage to get them open. I take three tablets at a time, placing them on my tongue, washing them down with a mouthful of wine; the sound of Logan’s voice telling me we’ll be together soon, haunting me.

  I take another three. Replaying over and over, the way he sounds when he tells me he loves me.

  I keep taking the pills until the first bottle is empty, and then I pour myself another glass of wine, before starting in on the next bottle.

  When I can’t take anymore, I grab one of Logan’s T-shirts that I brought on tour with me, and the letter he left for me in Paris. I’ve read it every day, multiple times, memorizing every last word, but I still want to read it one last time; to run my fingers over his penmanship and remember the last time he made love to me. I curl up on the bed, with his letter in one hand and his T-shirt clutched tightly to my chest. It still smells of him, and it gives me a twisted sort of comfort as I feel myself losing consciousness. I say goodbye to the pain, the hurt, and the guilt I’ve carried with me for so many years, ready to let it all go, to let it all… stop.

  He is the love of my life, even in death.

  If only things could have been different.

  If only I could have been different.

  We could have been so happy… together.

  Today started like any other day; mundane and ordinary. It’s disturbing how quickly tragedy can throw your world into disarray. How a single moment can catapult you from monotonous to monstrous; temperate to terrified, in an instant.

  When my alarm went off this morning, I hit the snooze button, like I do every morning. Then, after another nine minutes of pretending I could fall back to sleep, I grabbed my phone and checked to see if Vittoria had messaged me. It becomes a habit when you’re constantly living in different time zones. A few months back, I would find a handful of messages in the morning. Sometimes funny, sometimes cute, and on a regular basis, downright filthy. Even now that the messages have become fewer and farther between, and the phone calls have all but stopped, I still find myself… hoping. There were no messages, and as I dragged my sorry ass out of bed, exhausted from a late night with the band, I felt disappointed.

  I’m doing my best in a bad situation. It’s difficult to exercise control over your submissive when you’re on different continents, but she knows that I love her, and that I want to make it work. So why do I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach about her?

  I’ve tried to ignore it, telling myself I’m just feeling a little overprotective of our relationship after speaking to her last night. She tried to sound upbeat, but something in her voice wasn’t right. It’s gnawing at me, and I just can’t shake the feeling, as I go through the motions of my day.

  I’m sitting having lunch with Campbell and the boys when my phone rings. It’s not a number I recognize; it’s international.

  “Logan Fitzgerald speaking.”

  “Mr. Fitzgerald, do you know a Miss Vittoria de Rossi?”

  My heart begins to race, and my stomach churns. “Yes. She’s my girlfriend. Can I ask who I’m speaking to?”

  “I’m a nurse. I’m calling from Kelen Hospital in Budapest. Your girlfriend was admitted to our emergency room today. Yours is the last number she spoke with on her phone.”

  “Hospital? Is she okay? What happened?” I can barely hear over the sound of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.

  “She was found in her hotel room by the housekeeping staff. She… it looks like she tried to commit suicide.”

  My mind starts racing, this can’t be right. They must have the wrong person. Vittoria would never do that to herself, or to us.

  “You must be mistaken. I spoke to her last night.” Please be wron
g. Please let it be someone else.

  “I’m sorry, sir. There’s no mistake. I’ve spoken with her, and she advised me to call this number and no other contact in her phone.”

  “She’s talking? Thank God. Is she going to be okay?”

  “Yes. Physically she’s going to be fine. Emotionally, she needs a lot of support.”

  “I’ll fly out today, but it will be tomorrow before my flight arrives. Can I speak to her?”

  “I’m sorry, but she’s not well enough to use the phone at the moment. She’s resting after the procedure.”

  “What procedure?”

  “They had to pump her stomach. It was an overdose. Vicodin.”

  Holy fuck. This can’t be happening. “Please, tell her that I’m on my way, and that I love her.”

  “I will, Mr. Fitzgerald.”

  I can’t think straight, a thousand thoughts going round my head at a million miles a minute.

  “Can you give me the address?”

  “Of course.”

  She gives me the address, and as I stare down at the napkin in front of me, my handwriting almost illegible because my hands are shaking so much, I realize that she said Budapest.

  “Budapest? She’s supposed to be in Italy. She left Budapest months ago.”

  “I’m sorry. I know this must be a shock, and I don’t know what she told you, but she is most definitely in Budapest.”

  “Fuck. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to curse like that.”

  “It’s quite alright. It’s a lot to take in. When you arrive tomorrow, give your name at reception and they will tell you where to go. I’ll make sure they’re expecting you.”

  “Thank you.”

  I hang up the phone, dazed, confused, and terrified beyond anything my brain can comprehend. It’s a physical reaction; I feel like my life’s blood has drained from my body, leaving only fear, coursing through my veins, and straight to my heart. I forget where I am, until a thick Scottish brogue cuts through the fog.

  Campbell and the boys excused themselves from the table when I answered the call, taking residence at the bar to give me some privacy. Only Campbell has returned.

  “Are you alright, Logan? You look white as a fuckin’ sheet. I dinnae mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you mention Vittoria before I left the table. Is she okay?”

  I drop my head into my hands, unable to speak, to voice the horrific news that I’ve just been given. If I say it out loud, it makes it real, and this… this cannot be real. Why would she do this? I spoke to her last night, and I asked her if she was okay. She told me she was just tired. She lied to me. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me. I should have been there.”

  “Logan. Say somethin’. You’re really fuckin’ scarin’ me. Is she okay?”

  I take a deep, shaky breath, searching for the right words. “She’s in hospital, in Budapest. She’s going to be fine, I think, but it’s serious. I need to go. I need to be with her.”

  “Fuckin’ hell. I’m so sorry. What can I do to help?

  “I’m sorry, Campbell. I’ll need to find someone to see out the rest of the tour with you. I hate to let you down.” My thoughts are scattered, jumping from one thing to the next. “I need to call Carter. Wait… the nurse said Vittoria doesn’t want anyone else to be called. What the fuck do I do?” I start scrambling around on the table for my phone, and the napkin with the hospital address, rambling like a madman about what I need to do in order to get to her.

  Campbell pulls a chair up next to me, sits down calmly, and pulls me into a hug. He doesn’t speak, he literally just holds me together, letting me gain whatever strength I can from him. I’m not one for hugging other guys, but, in this moment, I need it, and he knows it.

  “Anythin’ you need, Logan, I’m here for you. Don’t gie us or the tour a second thought. We’re big enough an’ ugly enough to get on wi’ it. There are much more important things in life. What matters is that Vittoria is goin’ to be okay. She’s goin’ to get better. What we need to focus on right now, is gettin’ you the fuck outta here and on a flight to Budapest.” He lets go and moves back, giving me space, waiting for me to speak.

  “Okay. I need to find out when the next flight is, and I need to get back to the hotel and pack some clothes and get my passport.”

  “Right. I’ll call the airline and see when the next flight leaves. You take a moment, take a breath, an’ then we can go back to the hotel an’ get yer gear.” He turns toward the bar, signaling Rhuari to come over. “Get Logan a double Scotch, an’ then take the lads an’ make yerselves scarce. I’ll meet up wi’ you later at the hotel.”

  Rhuari gives me a sympathetic look, obviously aware that something is wrong, even if he doesn’t know what it is. He does as he’s asked without question, and as soon as he sets my drink down, he squeezes my shoulder, and leaves with the other boys; each of them giving me a subtle nod as they head out through the revolving glass doors of the restaurant.

  I down the Scotch, needing something to take the edge off my utter despair. I feel helpless, lost, and completely disconnected from reality. Campbell is deep in conversation with the airline as I grab a passing waiter and ask for the check. When I turn my attention back to him, he swears at the person on the other end of the phone and slams it down on the table. “For fuck’s sake!”

  “When’s the next flight, Cam?”

  “The next flight out is tomorrow, an’ it’s fully booked. They said they could put you on standby, but failin’ that, it would be Friday.”

  “It’s Tuesday! They’re saying I can’t get to her until Friday? Which means I wouldn’t arrive in Budapest until Saturday morning.”

  “That’s no’ fuckin’ happenin’. I’ll call every other airline there is until I find you a flight leaving today. Fuckin’ ridiculous.”

  “Wait. I might have a way. Call the hotel and ask them to pack up my room right away and have the bags ready at the front desk.”

  “I’m on it.”

  I take out my phone and dial Xander. If there was ever a time to ask him for a huge favor, this is it.

  He answers on the second ring. “Hey, bro. Where the hell are you? Jet-setting all over the place as usual?”

  “Xander, I need your help.”

  He can tell by the tone of my voice that I’m not kidding around. “Anything. What do you need?”

  “I need your plane. I need to get to Budapest right fucking now.”

  “What’s wrong? What’s happened? What’s in Budapest?”

  “Vittoria. She’s in hospital.”

  “Where are you? I’ll have it fueled and ready to come get you within the hour.”

  “I’m in L.A. Fuck, Xander, I’m going out of my mind here.”

  “Have you called Carter?”

  “She doesn’t want anyone else there. I promise I’ll call him as soon as I’ve seen her, but I need to respect her wishes. This is as serious as it gets.”

  “He has a right to know, but I’ll let you be the one to tell him. Do you want me to come with you?”

  “Thank you, but no. I need to do this on my own.”

  “Okay. There’s no point in me getting my plane to come from New York to L.A; that will just waste time. I’m going to organize a private jet to take you straight from L.A.X. That way I can have you in the air within the hour. I’ll arrange transport for you when you get to Budapest and I’ll make reservations for you at a hotel close to the hospital. You just get your passport and get to the airport.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you. I’m losing it here. I spoke to her last night and she was fine.”

  “It’s going to be okay. I’ll go make some calls. You just go and look after her. She’s family.”

  “She’s my life, Xander. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

  “I know, man… I know.”

  I hang up the phone to see Campbell settling the bill.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Shut the fuck up. Now, let’s go an’ g
et yer shit from the hotel. Are we goin’ straight to the airport after that?”

  “Yeah. Xander is arranging a plane to take me from L.A.X.”

  “He’s a fuckin’ stand-up guy. I like him a lot. Now let’s get outta here. You’ve got a plane to catch.”

  We head back to the hotel, and as requested my bags are waiting at the front desk.

  I’m so caught up in what I’m doing, trying to get to Vittoria, that it doesn’t really hit me until I’m outside waiting on a cab to take me to the airport. She tried to kill herself. I feel like I’ve been hit in the chest with a Mack truck, and my eyes fill with tears. I don’t remember the last time I cried. I think it was the day my dad left when I was eight years old. The emotion is too much to bear, and my silent tears are the only release I allow myself, the only weakness I can show before I see her. I wipe my face, unwilling to let myself shed another tear.

  Campbell is standing next to me and I don’t know why, maybe it’s because he’s become one of my closest friends, or maybe it’s because I just need to say the words out loud, but I tell him the truth.

  “She tried to kill herself. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me, and she tried to kill herself.”

  I can’t even look him in the eyes, I’m so ashamed of myself for letting her down.

  “Holy fuckin’ shit!! I’m comin’ wi’ you, Logan. No man should have to deal wi’ somethin’ like this. It’s too much for anyone to shoulder alone.”

  “She doesn’t want anyone else to come, not even her brother Carter.”

  “Isn’t he your best friend?”

  “Yes. This will devastate him. How the hell do I tell him?”

  “I know she dinnae want you to tell anyone, but she dinnae really know what’s best for her right now. You’ll hate yourself if you keep this from her family. She needs all the love and support she can get. Tell them they cannae visit her until she says so, but let them be there for her. You can explain everythin’ to them face to face when you get there, but tell them to come. You need the support as much as she does, an’ if you don’t tell them, then I’m getting’ on that plane wi’ you.”