Sex, Decisions & Rock n' Roll (Redemption Tour #2)

by Michelle Lee

  I contemplate her words. Logically, I know there’s some truth to her words—a lot of truth, really. But even so, I can’t wrap my brain around it. The conversation with Blake still plays in my head. I know I’m stupid to listen to him. I know he’s only out to break me. Even knowing this, I can’t help my thinking. As much as I want to, I can’t. Old habits die hard.

  “Jules?”

  Val’s voice pulls me out of my head. “Um… sorry… yeah?”

  “Tell me you know and understand this. And tell me what changed that would lead you to believe that Dash could do such a thing to you. Please, just tell me.” Her pleading look makes me want to tell her everything, but I know I can’t. If she knew Becc was Blake, she would go ballistic. There was a silent underlying threat to my conversation with Blake. Besides, I know it won’t do any good or make a difference—Blake Collins no longer exists.

  Val gives my hand a reassuring squeeze. With a heavy heart, I attempt to answer her. “I… I understand what you’re saying. It doesn’t make sense, and I know the paps try to spin things for their benefit. I’m intelligent enough to know and accept that. Even though I know all of this…”

  “You still have difficulty truly believing that Dash really loves you and only you. Someone or something put the idea in your head that you weren’t good enough for him, but whoever or whatever did that, Jules, is wrong—dead wrong. You are more than good enough for him. Shit, at times I think you’re too good. Don’t get me wrong. I like Dash, he’s a good guy, but I’m always going to think no one is good enough for you.” Val gets up off the couch and starts pacing the room. I know there’s more she needs to say; she’s giving me a moment to process what she’s just said, to allow it to truly sink in. I swear Val could always have a backup career in psychology or therapy. I’m lucky she’s a part of my support system.

  She stops mid stride and there’s determination in her eyes, imploring me to continue after digesting what she just said. “You’re right. Someone… reminded me…” She stops me midsentence with a stern look. “Someone said that I wasn’t enough for Dash and that Nadia and him looked truly in love. She’s the kind of woman he needs, not me. I couldn’t possibly give him what he really needs. Their words turned up old feelings and… and I guess there’s still this part of me inside that, no matter how much I’ve grown and changed, will always believe that. I know I shouldn’t. I know that Dash loves me. But…”

  “Who?” The anger in her voice isn’t a shock, but when I look at her, Val is practically vibrating with it. Her whole body is on the verge of pouncing.

  “Does it really matter who?”

  She goes rigid and then relaxes. “No, I guess not. I swear I could just murder whoever said that to you. With my bare hands even.”

  “I love you for that, but it won’t do any good. I think there will be a lot of people who will feel that way about me. I don’t think we need the streets lined with victims, and I don’t need my best friend going to jail,” I tease, hoping to lighten the situation.

  “It’d be worth it. You’re worth it. Always.”

  “I love you for saying that. Orange may be the new black, but it’s so not your color.”

  “True.” She makes her way to the kitchen, blowing out a sigh of relief as she grabs her purse. “Jules, you need to call him.”

  “I know.”

  “Now.” With that, Val walks toward the door. I follow behind her.

  When she gets to the door, she turns around. “I hope you can put what they said out of your mind because it’s complete and utter bullshit, Jules. Bullshit. Call Dash. Let him explain the truth behind those pictures. I know it looked like something it wasn’t. Dash loves you, Jules. You. That you can believe in your heart and soul. So, believe it. I’ll see you in a few hours to go shopping, okay?”

  “Sure.” She pulls me into a hug before she leaves out the door. When it clicks shut, the sound echoes in the silence. I walk to my bedroom and grab my phone. I stare at it, my finger hovering over Dash’s contact information. I hesitate a moment and hit send. My heart lodges in my throat as it begins to ring. Nervous energy courses through my body, causing it to shake. It rings two more times before he picks up.

  “Sunshine?”

  “Hi.”

  “Thank fuck. I’ve been going crazy out of my mind not being able to get in touch with you. Val said you’ve been super busy at work, but I get the feeling there’s more to it. Am I right?”

  The words I want to say get stuck on my tongue and the nervous energy overwhelms me, causing tears to well in my eyes.

  As if sensing what I desperately need, Dash says the words that stab straight to my heart. “I love you, Sunshine, so much.”

  A tear falls down my cheek, and I feel my world slightly right itself.

  “Did you hear me, baby? Only you. Always.”

  I reign my emotions in. “I love you so much Dash, so much.”

  I hear his voice hitch on the other end. “I can’t fathom how I got so fucking lucky. Hearing those three little words from you is my undoing, Sunshine. God, I fucking miss you so damn much. I want to feel you in my arms. Touch my lips to yours. Bury myself so deep inside you. I hate being so far away from you. Soon can’t fucking come soon enough. Please tell me you’ll be here, like, yesterday. I’m fucking desperate for you.”

  “Dash.” My voice is filled with want and need that I can’t hide.

  “I know, baby, I know. Now, please don’t hide anything from me, ever. Please tell me what has you so upset. And don’t tell me nothing… I can hear it in your voice. And it’s killing me knowing you’re hurting and I’m so far away. So please tell me.”

  I take a deep breath. He needs to know, but I’m still scared. “I saw some… pictures…” I close my eyes, the images flashing over and over. I need to shut them out and shut down what I’m feeling. Build a huge-ass wall around it and them.

  “Pictures of what?”

  I open my mouth to tell him, but nothing comes out. Come on, Bennett. Just tell him.

  “Sunshine?”

  The words come rushing out of my mouth. “Pictures of you and Nadia—together—kissing.”

  I’m met with silence. My heart stutters in my chest, and my lungs seizing. Blake was…

  “Fucking vultures. Jules, please tell me you didn’t believe them. Please tell me. You have to know that I would never… I could never…”

  “I…” My voice wavers, my lips trembling.

  “Fuck! Son of a bitch! I swear to God I’m going to wring each and every one of their necks. Jules, yes—Nadia is here, but there’s no fucking way she’s with me. She’s with Roland. Apparently at the after-party when we met, they hooked up and started seeing each other. I think the pictures you saw are when we all went out to dinner one night. I never fucking touched her. Fuck, I didn’t even talk to her the entire night. Damn it! I told Roland to keep her on a fucking leash that night when we knew the paps were waiting out front. I swear I’m gonna…” He doesn’t finish. I can imagine him running his fingers through his hair in frustration like I’ve seen him do. I’m sure he’s pacing as well.

  “Dash, I…”

  “You believed it.” His voice is flat, unlike before.

  “Yes, a part of me did. Even though I know deep down you love me, a part of me did believe those photos.” My voice cracks at the end. For whatever reason, I feel this might be the end of us. Dash will see how weak I truly am, even though I’ve fought so much to be and stay strong. He’ll see that I’m still broken.

  “I thought so. Is that why you’ve avoided me lately? Wait, you don’t have to answer. I already know it’s a yes.”

  “I’m sorry. I should have…”

  “Had a little more faith in me, in us? Listen, I need to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow if I get a chance; our schedule tomorrow is pretty tight.” The change in him is instant, and it’s killing me that it’s me and my fucked-up-ness that’s caused it.

  “Okay.” I feel him slipping away.
/>   “I love you.” He says the words without conviction—it feels robotic.

  “I love you too.”

  “Bye, Jules.”

  “Bye…” And before I can say anything else, the line goes dead. I slump to the couch, tears threatening, my heart aching in my chest. I feel like I’ve just been punched in the gut, and there’s this gaping hole where part of my heart should be.

  Blake.

  Blake did this to me, to Dash, to us, and I just let him.

  Anger begins to swell inside, and all I can think about is Blake and his vicious words; how pleased he was with himself when he showed me that magazine. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly how to play me. He knew exactly how I would react. I fell for it, but never again.

  I’VE BEEN ON auto pilot the last few days. Dash hasn’t called, and I haven’t tried to call him. Apparently, his schedule has been extremely hectic, with practically no down time at all. Val confirmed it. Still, it hasn’t made the ache in my chest lessen or the feeling that what I once had with Dash is a thing of the past.

  I’ve submerged myself in work. Going on a short excursion to a nearby vineyard. Taking a trip to Portland to interview this amazing new chef that’s just come on the scene. Anything and everything to keep me busy and my mind off of Dash. Any assignment that Hank has put up for grabs, I’ve grabbed. I work long hours and by the time I get home, I crash. I hope and pray for a dreamless sleep every night, but that never happens. Every night I have the same nightmare, although it changes up a bit. But no matter the change up, it still ends the same—Dash leaves me standing alone in a hallway and walks through a door at the end of it into Nadia’s waiting arms. Needless to say, I wake up immediately, my body trembling, sweat covering my skin, and my lungs gasping for air.

  Last night I didn’t sleep. I didn’t want to close my eyes and watch the dream play over again. I’m downing my twelfth cup of coffee when there’s a knock on my door. I look up¸ and Jill is standing in the doorway with a very large bouquet of white calla lilies and very dark red roses, almost appearing black in color. She’s holding it with two arms.

  “Delivery for you, obviously.” She walks in and places them down on the table in the corner. “I wonder who they’re from,” she says as she heads back to the door. Her tone suggests they’re from Dash, like it’s obvious. I want to believe her, but for whatever reason I don’t. We haven’t talked since he found out I doubted him, doubted us. So, thinking these are from him isn’t a possibility in my mind. Although it would be something Dash would do—a gesture to let me know he’s thinking of me. The flowers are the most gorgeous blooms I’ve ever seen. Each one looks so perfect, they look almost fake. If it wasn’t for their fragrance filling the room, I would think that they were. The roses are extraordinary and so unusual. I can’t help but wonder what the meaning is behind them—they are truly something special. I’ll have to google that.

  “Thanks, Jill.”

  “Sure. You’re one lucky girl. Does Dash have any brothers that are single?”

  I shake my head and laugh. “Sorry, he doesn’t.”

  “Damn it,” she mutters as she leaves my office.

  I approach the flowers, my stomach littered with butterflies. There’s only one way to find out if they’re from Dash. With a somewhat shaky hand, I reach for the card tucked inside.

  I was never insane except upon occasions when my heart was touched.

  —B

  The card floats to the floor. My body trembles, and I feel the burn of tears in my eyes. Blake. They’re from Blake. For some bizarre reason, I thought maybe after our encounter he would leave me alone. It was more of a dream than anything else. But instead of the dream, I’m in a nightmare. The room begins to spin, and I catch myself on the chair before I crumble to the floor. I begin to panic, the icy edge of blackness creeping in. Breathe, Jules, just breathe. I can never seem to… I can’t get away from my past. Ever. Breathe. Remember what Dr. Hoffman taught you. Breathe. I will my body to calm down. I take a deep, shuddering breath in and quickly let it out. My body shakes as I do. I can’t fall apart here, not now.

  On shaky limbs I pull myself up and walk to my desk to grab a tissue, dabbing away the tears that have fallen down my cheeks. I smooth my hands down my skirt and then my hair. Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on that.

  In.

  Out.

  In.

  Out.

  My body starts to relax, even though my mind is still racing. I slump into my chair and pull up Google. Even though it sounds vaguely familiar, I have to know about that quote. I have to know the meaning of those flowers, especially knowing they’re from Blake. He doesn’t do anything accidentally. Everything is done with purpose—with meticulous purpose. The browser pops up, and I type in the quote first. It takes me a few tries, considering my hands are still shaking.

  In an instant, images of Edgar Allen Poe pop up as well as several sites relating to his work. I click on the first one and quickly scan the page. Apparently the quote is from a letter he wrote, and its meaning can be interpreted many ways. But they all seem to suggest that Poe was a tortured man because of the loss in his life, especially with the death of his wife. He was basically a lost, dark, and tortured soul who drank himself to death. Some felt he was insane, and love or the loss of love made him that way. My heart stops. Is Blake suggesting being without me has made him insane? That what he’s done to me is out of love? Anger underlined with fear boils in my veins. Deep-seated fear. With shaky fingers, I clear out the search and type in the meaning of the two flowers. My heart sinks as I type in the first flower—the deep red rose, that looks more black than red. I’m not surprised by what I see. Maybe I was wishing I was wrong, but unfortunately I’m not. A deep red rose—black rose—symbolizes death. My mind doesn’t have to question whose death. It knows. Mine. Without hesitation I type in the next flower, a little more than worried as to what I will discover.

  I pull up a site and note that they symbolize beauty and purity. But as I read on, the text goes on to say that they also can symbolize death and are often used at funerals for young people. I feel my heart seize in my chest and more tears well in my eyes. Before the panic settles, I slam my laptop shut and rush over to the table. My unsteady legs make it difficult to make the short distance to it. I won’t let him hurt me. He can’t hurt me. I am in control, not him. Anger deep down inside surges its way through my body. My body shakes with pure rage, and as if having a mind of its own, knowing what I need, my arm flies out and sweeps the vase off the table. It crashes to the floor in a loud thud. The heavy vase cracks, water leaking all over the floor. My foot slams down on the beautiful, yet ugly flowers, crushing them. My other foots joins, stomping them further into the carpet. The adrenaline fueling my anger begins to wane when the last flower is a pulverized mat of color. My chest rises and falls with each lungful of unsteady breath. A sheen of sweat covers my skin as my body shivers. My eyes stare at the ruined display, and a small smile begins to tug at my lips. He can’t hurt me. I won’t let him. After a few cleansing, calming breaths, I make my way around the mess and back to my desk. With a steady hand, I pick up the phone.

  “Hi, John, this is Jules. Could you or one of your guys come to my office immediately? It seems I have made a mess.”

  HANK HAPPENED TO pop in while John was cleaning up my surprise delivery. He sensed things weren’t exactly right, even though I attempted to put on a brave front. He told me to go home, take the rest of the day to step away from my piece and come back with fresh eyes. I’m hoping he thought the mess was a result of my frustration with the article. I doubt it. Hank was there. He knows what happened with Blake. He became the father I needed to get through it. Hank’s still that father I need… will always need.

  I pull into the parking spot right near the fountain. Turning the engine off, I simply stare at it—the way the water rises up and then splashes down, rippling against the lake. Its continuous churning creates a rhythm that soothes me. My heart beat
s softly in my chest as I make my way into the building. The splashing of water behind me continues to be calming as it fades away. Making my way inside, I head for the elevators, hoping I will be okay.

  “Dr. Hoffman will be right with you, Jules. She’s just finishing up.”

  I take a seat as her receptionist goes about her business. The calmness I feel is fortified by the layout, colors, and textures of the waiting room. My phone vibrates in my purse, and I fish it out. I was hoping for a text from Dash, but instead it’s from Hank; he’s just checking to make sure I’m okay. I quickly type out my response and as soon as I’m finished, Dr. Hoffman is at the door to her office. “Jules, come on back.” Gathering my purse, I follow behind her, my heart beginning to thump a little faster.

  I take my seat in my usual spot, as does Dr. Hoffman. She has her notepad and favorite pen in front of her along with her iPad. There’s a knock at the door.

  “Come in, Angela.” Angela walks in with a mug in her hand; the familiar aroma hits my nose, slowing my heart rate. She walks over and places the mug on the table in front of me, giving me a comforting smile before she turns and leaves, the door clicking behind her. Dr. Hoffman leans forward in her chair, folding her hands on her desk. The sun shines through the window, and I can see the fountain. The sun casts a warm light around it, making it look heavenly. A quiet peacefulness settles around me. Taking a deep breath, I reach for the mug, knowing what’s inside is just what I need at the moment. The aroma hits before I even take a sip, causing my nerves to subside even further. The weight of my last conversation with Dash has been plaguing me. I guess the delivery from Blake has set me completely on edge. Bringing the mug to my lips, I take a tentative sip, letting the hot liquid warm me from the inside out. Another couple of sips and I place the mug down, giving my full attention to Dr. Hoffman.