Smash (Trojan Book 3)

by S. M. West

  “How are you?” She wedges in between us, wrapping her arms around him like they’re long-lost friends.

  Has she always done this and I’m only noticing now? My mouth hangs open, troubled by what’s unfolding, and for the first time ever, feeling out of place…in my own home.

  He stares sheepishly, his arms loose around the fangirl, and Henry waddles into the room at a fairly fast clip, crashing into their legs. The collision causes Amy to release her vise-grip. Good boy, Henry.

  “Gaga.” The little boy holds out his arms, and Gray lifts him up like a feather.

  Gray pushes at my son’s shirt, planting raspberries on his baby belly, and Henry squeals. Squirming, his tiny fingers curl into Gray’s hair, pulling for dear life. Ouch.

  That must hurt, but the man doesn’t even so much as flinch nor let up until Henry is utterly delighted. Each second that passes is misery and joy. I love seeing these two together, and I’m also dreading the inevitable—when I have to leave.

  Gray slides Henry down his chest, and my little man clings to his neck, resting his head on the man’s broad shoulder.

  “Where are you going?” Gray didn’t forget where we’d been interrupted, and his expression sobers.

  I struggle to form the words, but they logjam into a lump in my throat. It’s only a date, and Gray is my best friend. Next to Pansy, he’s the only other person I trust with my son’s life. I can tell him anything yet for some reason, not this. Well, not now.

  “She’s going on a date.” Big mouth Amy beats me to the punch, and my fingers ball at my sides, resisting the urge to do just that to her.

  I flounder with my tangled tongue, and he stiffens, lips turning down at the corners. Why do I feel like I’ve betrayed him?

  2

  Gray

  Raging inside

  “What’s in the bag?” The cheery brunette is oblivious to the missile she launched my way.

  A date? What the fuck? Daisy’s going on a date. Since when? And why didn’t she tell me?

  “Oh, I love that restaurant.” She points at the food, and every word out of her mouth buzzes in my ear like an annoying and potentially vicious bee. “Mexican is one of my faves. I’m starving.”

  “A date?” I tighten my grip on Henry, leaning my cheek on the top of his head. The heat of his soft, tiny body next to mine and the pure scent of him helps to calm the raging inside of me.

  Countless questions fly at me like arrows intending to harm. Did I totally fuck things up? Did I wait too long to tell her how I feel? Give her too much space?

  “Ah…yes.” Daisy shifts from one foot to the other, gaze darting around the room to the floor. “Um, I was—”

  “Daisy, is it okay if Gray stays for dinner?” Whoever this woman is, she’s clearly out to lunch and unable to read the room. The air is pressure-filled and gravely silent.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch your name?” I stare into her flushed, excited face.

  “Oh. I’m Amy. We’ve met before. I’m a friend of Pansy’s. I’m babysitting Henry tonight.”

  I nod, forcing my mouth into what I hope is a polite smile but failing when the taut muscles in my jaw ache.

  Why is she taking care of Henry? Why wouldn’t Daisy ask me? What the hell is going on? Is this a nightmare? If so, how the fuck do I wake up?

  “Hi, Amy.” I shift my gaze to Daisy. “I could have taken care of Henry.”

  At the sound of his name, the little guy lifts his head and grins at me. “Gaga, stay. Take care of me.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you had plans—” She waves her hand in front of her and a cream-colored purse dangles from her wrist.

  “Well, that’s why you should have asked.” I try to keep my tone neutral, stifling hurt and anger. “I’m free tonight.”

  I’m pretty much free every night, spending most of my spare time with the two of them. She knows this.

  “That would be great if you stayed.” Amy bounces, clapping her hands, and Henry follows suit. Then, remembering she’s here to do a job, she looks to the beautiful blonde I want to talk to privately. “If that’s okay with you, Daisy?”

  “Sure.” She nods, swallowing with difficulty and avoiding my gaze. “I should get going.”

  “Awesome. Have a great time.” Amy takes the bag of food from my hand, swinging around toward the kitchen.

  Unable to control myself and clearly a glutton for punishment, I once more drink in Daisy’s slinky blue dress, bare silky arms and legs, and the skyscraper high heels.

  Who the fuck is she going out with looking like that? Although she could be wearing sweats and she’d still be gorgeous.

  “You look beautiful.” My voice is a low rasp, fighting past the growing stone in my throat. “Have a good time.”

  I mean it even if it’s like sucking on a lemon. If this is what she wants, what will make her happy…fuck…I want to make her happy, give her what she wants and needs.

  With Henry in my arms, we stroll away from the entrance, and only once the front door shuts do I release the breath I’ve been holding.

  Dinner with Amy gives me a headache.

  She’s a nice woman and all, but boy can she talk. And while I’m not one to pay much attention to my stardom, she won’t let me forget who I once was. The drummer for Trojan, a world-famous rock band. And there’s no two ways about it, she’s into drummers or maybe just me.

  Once our meal is done, I get rid of her. Maybe it’s a little harsh, but she’s giving me huge clinger vibes, and to lessen any guilt, I pay her generously for the couple of hours.

  No surprise, she’s reluctant to leave, even pouting as Henry and I wave goodbye from the front door. I can take care of him, and as much as I’d rather not hear about Daisy’s date, I want to be here when she gets home.

  Daisy’s date with some guy, someone who could become more in both their lives, brings on an overbearing sensation as if I’m losing something, and no matter how hard I try to grasp it, it’s just out of my reach.

  This agonizing impression is so heavy on my chest that it flattens my lungs and compresses my heart. The muscle’s unable to fully beat.

  While Henry should be in bed, I can’t resist the impulse to spend more time with him, and I decide to take him out for a bit. I’ve got a key to Daisy’s home—we traded keys early in our friendship when I quickly became a staple in both their lives.

  We go to his most favorite place in the world. The beach. We don’t stay long, since it is late for him, but the time we have together is spent collecting shells and getting our feet wet.

  Once back at his home, I give him a bath and read him a bedtime story. He’s like a shooting star when it comes to getting him to settle. At first, he burns bright, a million questions coming at me as he echoes every word I utter from the book. Then, just as quickly, he passes out midsentence, his light falling silent and fast asleep.

  I tuck the blanket around him in his big boy bed, as he calls it, and crack the door to his room on my way out. Not too long ago, he was still in a crib.

  Luckily, I’d been here the night the little guy sauntered into the kitchen as if we hadn’t just put him to bed. We were shocked and speechless. He’d climbed out of the crib, and since then, there was no going back.

  My phone vibrates, and before dropping onto the sofa, I fish it out of my back pocket. It’s a text from Eli, my closest bandmate and friend. When I joined Trojan, we bonded almost overnight.

  While most of us have gone our separate ways career wise since Trojan, we remain close, figuratively speaking. Eli’s thousands of miles away in New York City and has been there now for ten months pursuing an acting career, but we still talk about once a week.

  Eli: How’d the studio visit go?

  Instead of typing out a reply, I call him, smiling as his familiar, friendly voice booms over the line. “The studio was that good, you had to call?”

  “Hey. The studio was great. Perfect.” I lift my feet onto the coffee table, settling in. “There’s more than
enough space for offices, a couple of sound booths…”

  “Cool, but it sounds like there’s a but.”

  “Yeah, I need Silas on board.” I blow out a frustrated breath.

  Silas Palmer is the lead singer of Trojan and the “S” in our company—SG Productions. We went into business together a little over a year ago now, producing records for up-and-coming musicians. We’re doing well, so much so, we need our own recording studio.

  “Sure, but he’ll understand if you lay it all out.” Eli believes people have the best intentions, which for the most part is true when it comes to Silas.

  “Yeah, but he’s too close to this.” I rake a hand through my hair, resting my head against the top of the couch.

  Being the youngest in the band and the last to join, I fell into the unenviable position of the de facto last vote. Unfortunately, this sentiment has continued even with the retirement of Trojan.

  When Silas and I joined forces, I made it clear to him that I had as much say as he did and if he couldn’t live with that, then SG Productions wasn’t happening.

  He agreed, but it’s hard to deny your nature. Silas is outspoken and used to getting his way. The hunt for a studio proves that, and it’s beginning to feel a lot like old times. My partner wants to build our own studio—which isn’t a bad idea, but just not now.

  “Look, his studio’s too small. He’s even said so himself, and building something right now would take too long and stall business. It sounds like you’ve found the perfect spot.” Eli echoes all the points I made weeks ago to Silas when we realized renting studio time wasn’t a solid long-term plan.

  “Yeah, but he isn’t listening.” I kick off my combat boots. “He’s looking at real estate and talking to construction companies.”

  “Seriously? And you’ve told him you don’t want to go that route, right?”

  Rather than answer, I allow the silence to speak for me. Eli’s known Silas longer than I have, so he’ll figure it out.

  “Damn, Gray, you need to talk to him before this goes too far.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know. He won’t even check out places with me. Anyway, enough about me. How’s it going with the show?” I bring the beer bottle to my mouth and take a swig of the now lukewarm liquid. Tastes like piss. Yuck. “Your balls fall off yet?”

  The cooler weather in Manhattan is a running joke. When he got a major part in a New York-based drama series, I was both happy for him and bummed for me.

  LA isn’t the same without him, and I can’t resist joking with him about freezing his balls off and missing the sunny California weather.

  “The fall is awesome in New York.” He chuckles. “And the show’s good. Critics like it and we’re building a fan base. I’m still getting used to things. I worked late tonight so I’m wired.”

  “That last episode was epic. If I didn’t know you, I’d have believed you are a cold-hearted bastard.”

  He laughs again, the smile carrying in his tone. “Thanks. It’s crazy how the fans love you, or the character, even if you do despicable things.”

  I snort, imagining fans swarming him. He’s used to it and it’s nothing new from our rock star days. “Ah, well, you’re used to that. Enough about you, how’s Crystal?”

  “My girl’s amazing. She misses you, everyone, like crazy and she’s so excited to be in LA for Christmas.”

  “We miss her too. And we’re looking forward to seeing both of you in a few months. Give her a kiss and hug for me.”

  “I will. And how are Daze and Henry?” His question picks at the fresh wound left by her date, and I release a harsh grunt. “What did I miss?”

  I groan, scrubbing a hand down my face. “Would you believe she’s out on a fucking date?”

  “What? Daisy?” Relief should wash over me at his skeptical tone. At least I’m not the only one having a hard time wrapping my head around this, but I’m still annoyed.

  “Yeah. I came over with dinner tonight only to find her on her way out.” I grimace and the barbacoa burrito bowl suddenly leaves a nasty taste in my mouth. “She had a babysitter and all.”

  “Damn, that hurts. Who’s the guy?”

  “No fucking clue. She could barely look me in the eye much less answer my questions. I told the sitter to go, and I’m here with Henry.”

  “Are you going to tell her?” He’s referring to my more-than-platonic feelings toward Daisy.

  He was the first to call me on it nearly three years ago when Daisy showed up on her sister’s doorstep pregnant and alone. She’s gorgeous—just one look and you’re a goner—but that isn’t what captured my heart and grabbed me by the balls.

  No, it’s her vulnerability and kind heart that she keeps buried under her armour of beauty. I glimpsed the real woman fairly early on in our friendship, and since then, I’ve been hers.

  “Yeah, I need to talk to her.” I get to my feet at a noise coming from the bedrooms and flick on the hallway light. “For the longest time, she didn’t seem interested in dating.”

  “No, dumbass, she was raising a baby.” His sarcastic tone grates on my nerves even if he means no harm. She put her life on hold for Henry, with no regrets. She’s the best mother I know.

  Eli’s gruff tone cuts through my endless thoughts of Daisy. “And trust me, it takes a lot out of you, raising a child on your own. Making time for the opposite sex just isn’t a priority.”

  “I’m aware of that, jackass.” I lower my voice and head toward Henry’s room at a faint sound, maybe the call of my name, coming from that way.

  “Seriously, Gray, she cares about you. No matter what happens, you won’t lose her or Henry.”

  Like a punch to the throat, air is trapped in my lungs at how easily he’s read my thoughts. I choke out a “yeah.”

  Now at Henry’s room, I lean on the doorjamb, catching my breath, and swing the door open. The little guy lifts his head from his pillow and rubs at his sleepy eyes. “I can’t sleep.”

  I chuckle, marveling at how insomnia, dehydration, or both, hit most children around the same time each day—bedtime.

  “Hey, Eli, I gotta go.” I step into the dark room. “Henry’s up.”

  “All right. Give him a hug for me and talk soon.” He yawns, reminding me it’s nearly one thirty in the morning on the east coast. “And, G, try not to overthink this. Daisy and Henry are your family.”

  “K.” I force the one letter past the rock lodged in my throat and end the call, resting the phone on the small nightstand. “What woke you up?”

  “Dunno.” He plops his head onto the pillow. “Gaga, you sleep with me?”

  I stifle another laugh. Daisy will kill me, but she isn’t here and I can’t leave him like this.

  “Okay, just until you fall asleep.” I scoot onto my side, bringing his tiny body against my chest with my arm around his middle.

  He rests his head on my bicep. “Night, Gaga.”

  “Night, Henry.” I kiss the top of his head and close my eyes at his sweet smell.

  The glow from the hallway light streams into the room, stopping just before the foot of the twin bed. Thoughts of Henry and Daisy swim in my mind. The memory of Daisy pregnant, her belly like a basketball under her shirt, puts a smile on my face.

  Usually, a woman like her—beautiful beyond words—can be intimidating, and in some ways, she used that to keep people at a distance. But not me. When we first met, we fell into an easy friendship. And damn, that’s where I’ve been ever since. Her friend.

  Best friends for sure, but I’m stuck in the friend zone. Some of it’s my doing as I didn’t want to pressure her. Alone and scared, she was pregnant and definitely not looking for a man in her life.

  I consciously parked my feelings for her, content to be what she needed. A friend. And I more than willingly filled the position. I had always wanted more and intended on doing something about it. But as more time passed, Daisy and Henry became family.

  Family.

  Eli hadn’t been wrong when
he voiced my deepest fear. I’d had a family before, not once but twice, only to lose them both times. Losing Daisy and Henry is unthinkable.

  Things are now at a point between us where I won’t ruin our relationship, or lose them, because I’m a greedy bastard. But I’ll be damned if I let some guy make a move on the woman I love.

  3

  Daisy

  Steal your heart

  All is quiet when I get in, a stark contrast to the blood roaring in my ears. Amy’s text earlier in the evening about Gray watching Henry put a smile on my face, but it was brief.

  I desperately wanted to talk to Gray, and I couldn’t shake my need to apologize. Instead, I was at a fancy restaurant, sitting across from a man I barely knew. In that moment, I contemplated using the text as an excuse to bail. But I didn’t. I had said yes to dinner, so I sucked it up and tried to make the most of it.

  Just inside the front door, I remove my heels and wristlet, carrying them in my hands as I stroll through my place, expecting to find Gray. In the kitchen, printouts of the specs on the few beach homes for sale I contemplated seeing—or more like wished I could buy—are spread out on the counter. Was Gray looking at them?

  I put them into a neat pile and turn off the light. Most of the lights are still on, and I’m a tangled mess as I move from room to room, only to find it empty. Where is he?

  I flick the lights off and make my way to the bedrooms. The hallway is lit, and Henry’s door is ajar. Gray better be in there. But what if he isn’t? Why would I even think that? There’s no way he’d ever leave Henry alone.

  Concern rushes in like a rising tide, ebbing and flowing up my throat, and the need to lay eyes on my son—and Gray—is something fierce. I’m quick on my feet, and at the doorway to the room, my heart swells and settles comfortably in my chest all at once.

  Gray and Henry are fast asleep.

  Instead of my usual annoyance at him sleeping with Henry—it’s happened before—a small girlish giggle pushes past my lips. I’m going to pay for this, but right now I can’t bring myself to care.