Never Leave a Rockstar (Never Trust Book 4)

by Sarah Darlington

  Luce touched my back. She tried to step around me. But no. Hell, no. This was my fucking mess. I stepped with her, keeping her hidden behind me. I heard her mutter the word ‘honesty’ against my back.

  We’d had several, up-all-night conversations about honesty. About how I put on a persona. About how I have so much anxiety because of the way I work so hard at presenting only one version of myself to the public. I don’t know. It was all a cover for something, I guess. My insecurities maybe. A cover I still wasn’t letting anyone other than Luce have a glimpse under.

  Which was why I loved this boat and the cozy life I’d created hiding out here with Luce. It was us and just us, and it was perfect. But I guess the rest of the world had caught up with me today. My craziest fan had found me.

  I had to return to the spotlight soon enough, anyway. I needed to figure out a way to approach this. I guess honesty was a start.

  “April. I have issues. I used to sleep around with literally everyone, abuse drugs, and put on this act in front of everyone,” I confessed. “The guy you slept with when we were together… I don’t know even who he is anymore. I didn’t really even know him back then. But I can tell you who I am now. I’m a guy who likes to pre-plan dinner meals with my girlfriend. A guy who goes to Sunday matinee movies at the two-dollar theater. A guy who likes to spend afternoons on the beach watching my girlfriend read book after book. A guy who has been researching surfboards because it’s almost summer and my girlfriend is finally going to be healthy enough to surf again.”

  I swallowed hard, shaking my head, thinking of how I didn’t want to let anyone, or anything, fuck with this new life of mine.

  It was simple. It was easy. It was ours.

  I knew now without any doubt, that if I saw tomorrow, I’d be buying a ring to propose to Luce in Paris. Hell, if I could wait long enough to make it to Paris.

  “I think our night together was fun.” Well, that was a lie because I could barely remember it now. “But this boat, this woman behind me—this is my life. I don’t want other girls sharing me. I don’t want the Rockstar life I used to think I loved. I just want her. I just want to be left alone. I just want to be happy. And we are. We really are. You think so, Luce?”

  “Yes,” she simply said. But that single word, even in the middle of this craziness, meant everything to me. Luce loved our life, too.

  “So I’m going to say it. I’m going to say it as nice as I possibly can. Get the fuck out, April. I’m not yours. I never was. I never will be. I’m home already. Please, respect that.”

  I spoke as gently as possible, and I don’t know what part of that terrible speech resonated with her, but something must have. Because April nodded, tears still in her eyes, and she stepped away. She went out through the door onto the boat’s front deck, and she left the way she came.

  I breathed out. “Christ.” I took a gulp of air, leaning over my knees. My body was shaking. “We’re moving to another dock on another part of the island,” I whispered. “And getting some sort of security system.”

  “Did you mean all that?” Luce came around me. She touched my face, dropping to her knees. “About the dinners and the matinee movies and the surfboard? About me being your life?”

  “Yes.” Didn’t she already know that? “You’re my whole life.” I closed my eyes. “But I’d understand if you didn’t want to stick with me because of the baggage that comes with dating me. Case in point—April.”

  “I’m sticking with you, Ollie. Forever, remember?”

  I gave her a big, kind of sloppy kiss on the cheek. Then another and another. I loved her more than anything. Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever.

  Always.

  She was my whole life.

  ~ Bonus chapter ~

  One year later.

  LUCE

  Oh God. What was Ollie up to? He had me blindfolded and on what had to be the loudest, smallest plane. “Where are we going?” I shouted over the noise, squeezing his hand.

  “Just relax.” I felt his hand on my back. He pulled me closer against his side. Then he spoke into my ear. “I’m taking you somewhere you’ve already been before.”

  Already been? Considering we didn’t get on this plane at a normal airport, that we’d boarded off a dock, that I could smell the ocean—I had a pretty good idea where we were going. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about it. But I could feel Ollie’s excitement; I could hear the smile in his voice. So I went along with it.

  “We’re landing,” he told me a minute later.

  I felt the plane make its descent and land. Just about the smoothest landing I’d ever felt. I figured that was because we were landing on water instead of land.

  A moment later, Ollie was guiding me off the plane, onto another dock.

  I stood in a spot I knew I’d been before.

  “They’re leaving. We’re staying for one night.” Ollie took my blindfold off, gently. His pretty brown eyes in the afternoon sun were the first thing I saw on the other side. “Surprise,” he said a little half-heartedly.

  The island came into view behind him. Our island. The one we’d been stranded on over a year ago. “Ollie,” I muttered, a little in protest.

  “I know. I brought a tent, plenty of food, plenty of electronics, a satellite phone, and...” He bent down. Sure enough, there were like four suitcases at his feet that he must have grabbed off the plane.

  Speaking of the plane, it was heading back over the water, gliding effortlessly as it took off into the sky. We were stuck on the island once again.

  “And wine,” he said, grabbing a bottle from the bag. “I promise—” He stood. “It will be much better the second time around. “Bug spray. I brought bug spray, too.”

  He started to bend down again, but I stopped him. “It was good the first time around. I knew I was crazy about you the first night we shared here. When you held onto me in the rain. It just took me a while to admit it to myself.”

  This playful, completely one-hundred percent genuine Ollie-smile lit up my husband's face. His smile could stop traffic. And it made my heart race wildly every time he gave me one of those beautiful things.

  “I love you, Luce Mills.”

  He moved into my space, punctuating those words with a slow, honest kiss, his lips hot on mine, lighting up everything inside me. “So, come camp with me? We never made love on this beach. I want to change that tonight.”

  I smiled. That sounded kind of wonderful. “You should have led with that,” I whispered. “And the wine.” I hugged him. I hugged my ruggedly handsome, over-the-top, always thoughtful husband. Who was I kidding? I’d follow the guy anywhere. Even back to this same island.

  THE END

  * * *

  Want even more Sunset Revival??

  You can find the short story ~ NEVER FUCK A ROCKSTAR ~ featuring Ethan Luck, the newest member of Sunset Revival, in the ROCKED TO THE CORE Anthology. Subscribe to Sarah’s NEWSLETTER to be notified when the anthology goes live!

  And coming next…

  INKED (A Kill Devil Ink Novel) by Sarah Darlington

  Click here to find out more.

  Or keep scrolling…

  INKED (A Kill Devil Ink Novel)

  A standalone in the Kill Devil Hills World. Coming Summer 2020. Preorder now.

  ~ CHAPTER 1 ~

  NICK

  “Is this an impulse decision?” the girl with pink hair and a tattoo gun in her hand asked. “You sure you’re sober? I can’t do this if you aren’t sober.”

  I turned to look over my shoulder. My bare ass was on display for the room, for this pink haired beauty to glimpse, and neither was a concern. I felt like I was stuck buried deep under sand. I’d felt that way for a couple weeks now, maybe longer if I were being honest with myself. I hoped this small amount of pain might shock my senses somehow, help me feel something again. At the very least, this was a parting gift... to me from myself. Tonight was my final night in town. Tomorrow I planned to quit my job and drive back to Maine.

&n
bsp; Good riddance, Kill Devil Hills.

  “Not an impulse decision,” I clarified. “And I’m sober.”

  “It’s just... it’s a sea turtle on your ass.” She cringed. “On your virgin skin, no less. I feel like I should make sure this is really what you want.”

  “What do most guys get? Barbed wire around their biceps. A topless mermaid on their calf. No thank you, sweetheart. I know what I want. This is what I want.”

  She bit down on her bottom lip, giving me a reluctant nod. Shit, she was a beautiful girl. For a brief second, I wondered what her story was. Was she from this hellish beach town, born and raised, or had she escaped here just like I had, thinking it was the solution to everything when it really wasn’t?

  I rested my face on my forearms, lying still for her, waiting for her to get started. Finally, the needle hit my skin. It stung. But it was a very bearable kind of pain.

  I don’t know if helped or hurt the dull ache in my chest. After a couple minutes of lying there, my butt cheek just felt numb. I felt numb along with it.

  “So why the turtle?” the girl asked.

  I sighed. “C’mon, this isn’t a hair salon.” Again, I glanced over my shoulder. “You don’t have to bother with small talk. Not with me.”

  She looked at me with these big, kind of sad blue eyes. I’d offended her. Fuck.

  “Hey.” One of the other tattoo artists that worked at this place stepped into her area. “I’m going to pop next door and get some dinner. Want something Amanda?”

  “No,” she muttered. “Not hungry.”

  “Want something?” he asked me. “You’re probably going to be on that table for three hours. Want some dinner? The place next door is actually decent.”

  I cleared my throat. “No, thanks.”

  “Alrighty.” The massive guy with tattoos up to his neck stepped away. It wasn’t a busy night. Without him here, it meant it would just be the two of us now.

  I dropped my head back to my arms. I heard the bell on the door chime as he exited the shop. “He’s stupid,” I mumbled into my arms. Her name was Amanda. Thanks to Meat Head, I knew her name was Amanda now. “It’s stupid for him to leave you by yourself. It’s just us. It’s late. Even if it’s only for ten minutes, something could happen in those ten minutes. You don’t know how many creeps there are in this world. In the future, you should make him get the place next door to walk your food over.”

  My words were probably out of bounds. I’d never been great at minding my own business. But it was stupid. To leave her alone with one of her customers—just plain dumb.

  “I hate this sea turtle,” she suddenly said. She stopped working, setting down the tattoo gun, peeling off her gloves. “I hate it. Like in the past year I’ve probably done this same sea turtle six other times. Exact copies. All of them on eighteen-year-old females. Fuck, it’s lame. Come with me.”

  “What?”

  “Pull up your pants. Come with me.”

  I had no choice. She was leaving me. I glanced down at the ink on my skin. She’d barely even begun. I jumped off the table, yanking up my jeans over the tiny black blob on my ass, and I followed her. She led me deeper into the shop, past a couple other unoccupied stations, toward a back room. It looked more like a break room than anything. She sat at a computer, patting the chair next to her.

  Hesitantly, I sat down beside her. Had she gained nothing from my lecture on safety and strangers? I guess not.

  After a moment waiting on the computer to boot itself up, she typed “sea turtle tattoos” into Google, and started scrolling through images. “The designs from the book that John has drawn,” she started talking. I didn’t know who John was, the owner of this place I guessed. Her boss? “They’re good and all but not unique. Because anyone who walks in the front door can look in John’s books and choose it. You’ll be on the beach this summer, and I promise you’ll see someone walk by with your same turtle on her shoulder. Or on her foot. Maybe on her ass just like you.”

  I’d be in Maine this summer. But even if I were here, it would be the least of my concerns. “Maybe I’ll find my soulmate that way,” I muttered. “We can have matching turtle ass tattoos and ride off into the sunset together.”

  She smiled at my dry humor. Which was amazing in itself because most people never got my jokes. “I have an idea.” She left me and the computer. At the table in the room, she grabbed a piece of plain white paper. She began to sketch something. Her own turtle. It wasn’t at all what I had in mind when I decided I wanted this tattoo. The one I’d chosen from John’s book was truer to real life. But her version—it was made up of all these cuts and lines. Completely abstract. It was a piece of art. I don’t know why, but I loved it. Something about it spoke to me. And then the back of the turtle, instead of giving it a back, she gave it sails. It was half turtle and half pirate ship. Who knows what the fuck it was? But I love it. I loved it something fierce.

  She shrugged when she finished, passing over her design to me.

  I took the paper. “I like it. Let’s do this.”

  “It’s weird. I know.”

  “It is weird, but I’m choosing this. Can you put it on my ass now Amanda? Please?”

  Again, she smiled at me. Damn, she had a pretty smile. “One turtle ass tattoo coming right up.”

  ~ CHAPTER 2 ~

  AMANDA

  This guy was strange. Like ‘super, impossible-to-figure-out, this-conundrum-will-drive-me-insane’ kind of strange.

  So far, I’d gathered that he was wealthy. Like super wealthy. It was like I could smell it on him. Like, literally, as I pressed the tattoo gun to his fair skin, I thought this in my head. I’d never smelled anyone who smelled as good as this guy. It had to be what money fucking smelled like. I wouldn’t know, I’d never had much in that department, but he smelled like he cost a fortune.

  Then his sea turtle choice. I mean... what? Why? Seriously, of all things, why would a guy, any guy, want that? He had no other ink on his skin. He had virgin skin. So why this tattoo as his first tattoo? Why on this random Wednesday night had he walked into this tattoo shop wanting that of all things?

  I’d hijacked his tattoo too. I’d called it lame after he gave me that small, annoying lecture on my safety. Then I’d drawn something I never thought he’d be into. Sometimes my brain worked in pictures. I’d see images in real life, and I’d want to chop them up, rearrange them, make them into something new. Most days, here at work, I stuck to the book, copied John’s artwork onto people’s skin, and never deviated. But tonight I deviated. And it floored me that this white-collar guy, who smelled like heaven, who was one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen in real life, was into my design.

  Still, all of that, wasn’t what had my skin buzzing. The little hairs on my arms were prickling being so near this guy. Not out of fear; it wasn’t fear I felt around him. But my senses were on high alert, and I kept trying to dissect him to figure out why I felt this weirdness around him.

  “You really sure about this?” I asked again. “You want my design on your skin forever? You can be honest with me. It won’t hurt my feelings if you hate my artwork. I mean, most people just choose the stuff from the book. And—”

  We were walking down the hall, me following him, back to my station. But he stopped on a dime and turned to me. I nearly bumped into him. “Stop it. Stop doubting yourself. Stop questioning me.”

  He stared at me with these insanely fierce blue eyes. The seriousness in those eyes made my heart race like a stampede of wild horses. They were eyes that could make a girl drop to her knees if asked. I was certain of that.

  “You are talented. I want you to put your design on my skin.” He stepped closer. His voice unwavering. I stared up at him feeling paralyzed. “Then I want you to tear that paper in your hand to pieces after I leave. Don’t put it in the book for anyone else to get. Don’t post it on Instagram for the world to copy. I want it to be only mine.”

  He was intense. My conundrum over who the hell this
guy was suddenly multiplied by one thousand. The way he spoke. The way his chest moved in a slow even rhythm as he breathed. Not to mention, the way his shirt fit over the lines of his chest. All of it had me at his mercy.

  Completely at his mercy.

  He had an invisible tether tied straight to me. I nodded, unable to speak. Then he touched me. His hands went to my neck.

  In the four years I’d been working here, I’d never had a customer touch me. Not like this. His comments about my safety earlier—I’d ignored them. I’d never felt unsafe here. Finn was huge, he’d be back any minute, and I felt certain he could protect me from anything.

  But then again, this guy’s sudden touch wasn’t unwelcome. The opposite actually.

  He had his hands on my neck. They were warm, wonderful. One of his thumbs traced over my skin, sending shivers all through me, and I’d never wanted anything more. Yes, he could have squeezed those hands around my neck. And it’s possible I wouldn’t have been able to fight him off. But he didn’t squeeze. He moved closer. He pressed his lips to mine.

  My eyes fluttered closed just as he kissed me. This guy had the softest lips. The gentlest lips. His kiss wasn’t fast or greedy. It wasn’t angry the way I’d felt anger in his words. He took his time. He moved in slow motion. Even when he deepened the kiss, and I tasted him, he still moved carefully. Fuck, it was nice. It felt like he was savoring me. For minutes we stood there kissing and enjoying each other.

  Until he broke away, and I opened my eyes. “That kiss was...” incredible.

  “Inappropriate,” he answered, finishing my sentence for me, moving a step backward. “I’m sorry. I’m having a shit day. I shouldn’t have done that. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  What?

  Asshole.

  “You shouldn’t have,” I agreed. “I have to go make a transfer for the drawing. Go lay down.”