Surrender

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Me: Wait, wait, wait, how does she look at me?

  Ty: OMG, Drew, do you think that she maybe likes you?

  Zane: Bro, I can write her a note. Let me just grab my college-lined paper and a number two pencil. BRB.

  Jaymeson: This has disaster written all over it: Can I have movie rights?

  Alec: I would watch this movie.

  Demetri: Disaster Movie, produced and directed by Jamie Jaymeson. The true story of how a washed-up rockstar falls in love with his protégé’s mom and ends up tragically killed by the protégé as he seeks his revenge after hot mom’s heart breaks.

  I was suddenly extremely uncomfortable with this conversation.

  Me: Guys, I promised Braden no details. Stop giving me shit. I like her, okay?

  Trevor: Like, like like her? Or just sort of like her?

  Me: FU

  Will: I think it’s good.

  I nearly choked on my spit.

  Me: Uh… I literally don’t know how to respond to that. Are you being serious or sarcastic?

  Will: I’m serious. She’d be good for Drew. She’s hot — No offense, Braden — and we’re all the same ages or close to it. It’s not like she’s a cougar. She just got started early on kids.

  Braden: Not by choice, man. My dad’s a piece of work.

  Me: My turn to kill someone.

  Braden: I got dibs.

  Me: Fair. I’ll be your second.

  Jaymeson: Are you guys dueling or killing?

  Demetri: I just imagined Jaymeson saying that in his British accent, and it made me laugh.

  Alec: Oh, did you? LOL.

  Demetri: Shut it.

  Zane: As much as I tease, I think I agree with Will on this one. They would look good together and Drew, at least, now that he’s no longer a drug addict, knows how to treat a woman right.

  Me: Thanks for that…

  Will: Hey, at least you aren’t alone in that confession. Raise your hand in this group text if you’ve been clean your whole life.

  Braden: I raised my hand.

  Zane: Sit down, young protégé. I, too, raised my hand. But to be fair, the whole facade was that I did cocaine with strippers so… putting hand back down.

  Will: Exactly.

  Jaymeson: All right, I gotta run. I have a pair of five-year-old twins who just got really quiet, and it’s not because we’re on set.

  Demetri: I just shuddered on your behalf.

  Trevor: May the force be with you, and may no Legos exist on your chosen path.

  Me: Amen.

  Ty: Legos are the devil.

  Zane: It only takes one to crush your soul. What else can you say that about?

  Demetri: Birds?

  Me: Horses?

  Braden: You guys are weird.

  I checked the time.

  Me: OK, I gotta go. I’ll text when I’m getting ready to go record.

  Zane: And may the odds be ever in your favor as you try to seduce Braden’s mom.

  Ty: Blessings, child.

  Braden: Could we not encourage him?

  Will: He never needs encouragement to whip it out.

  Braden: LA LA LA LA LA LA LA. I didn’t see that.

  Me: He’s not wrong…

  Trevor: And on that note.

  Me: Guys, I have some good songs ready, I promise. I just want to spend as much time with her alone as possible, without Braden breathing fire down my neck. Plus, she’s inspiring me.

  Ty: Yeah, she is… haha.

  Braden: Sigh.

  Demetri: Good luck, bro.

  Alec: Don’t crash and burn, and when all else fails — flowers.

  Ty: Wise words.

  Me: Thanks.

  I tossed my phone on the bed and smiled, not because my friends and bandmates were hilarious idiots, but because Will, somehow, believed in me.

  And I had proof he’d said it.

  My smile didn’t last long. As I stared down at my screen, it lit up with Skye’s name. I really needed to get a new number, but I’d been so distracted with Bronte, and I didn’t want to have to take any time away from her.

  I ignored the number.

  And the sinking feeling in my gut. But as I walked into the shower and tried to rinse the smell of fear off my body, slowly my grin returned. Maybe things were looking up.

  And tonight… I was calling in all the favors from Bronte.

  I had ridden a horse for her.

  And now?

  Now I was going to propose a different sort of riding.

  CHAPTER 16

  Bronte

  I stared down at the alert on my screen. I’d been home for maybe one hour. Had fixed dinner for Amelia and for Drew, who said he was going to shower before he graced me with his presence.

  My birthday was tomorrow.

  Forty.

  Hands shaking, I set the phone down and tried to focus on the positive. Maybe I’d travel? Maybe I’d pick up a hobby? Start running with Amelia?

  The worst part was I didn’t feel forty.

  I still felt in my twenties, just exploring life and learning. I wondered if every parent felt like a fraud as if they were just winging it.

  I felt like that every single day and sometimes wondered how my kids had ended up okay, despite all my multiple failings as a mom.

  My reflection stared back at me via the oven. My cheekbones were high, my jaw sculpted, and while curvy, I still had an okay body. Nevertheless, I frowned at my reflection, wondering what he saw in me.

  Why did my insecurities always come back to haunt me? Was it because my ex had never wanted me in the first place? Was it because he’d abandoned us without a second glance until his son got famous? Any time a man measured your worth and found you wanting, it was impossible not to feel the effects.

  So, if my normal high school boyfriend hadn’t deemed me worthy…

  Why in the hell would Drew?

  Part of me wanted to find an answer for it because if I had a reason that actually made sense, I wouldn’t be waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Today had been too perfect for words.

  I wanted a million todays.

  And I couldn’t imagine tomorrow getting any better unless I woke up in his arms, but that was the problem. I was afraid of giving that last part of myself to him. What if he really did leave? What if this was seven days of him just being generous, and years from now, we’d meet at different concerts or events, and I’d see him with another woman? Or multiple women? What if he settled down at got married?

  I had so many things I wanted to say.

  Questions.

  Insecurities.

  And that was when I felt him.

  He was standing right behind me; his tattooed arms wrapped tight around me as he rested his chin on my head. “Thinking all the thoughts?”

  I wondered if he realized how captivating he was, even when he wasn’t trying. His arms felt safe, he smelled like heaven, and I kept imagining our moment in the cave… over and over again. “Maybe.”

  “You made food.” His grin mirrored mine in the oven. “Does this mean I get to partake?”

  “Mmm, maybe.”

  “Where’s Amelia?”

  “At the movies.”

  He stilled, his body tensing around mine. “So… we’re alone?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  He spun me around in his arms, and before I knew what was happening, he was lifting me onto the kitchen counter, spreading my legs, stepping into my personal space, and kissing the hell out of me.

  Was he never satisfied?

  A groan erupted from his lips as he dug his fingers into my ass.

  No. Apparently, the answer was no.

  “Can’t get enough of you,” he said between kisses. “Want to earn whatever smells so ridiculously amazing. Can I trade orgasms for food?”

  I laughed, my lips parting just enough for him to swoop in. His tongue tasted like minty toothpaste, but his mouth was hot. I had no idea how he learned how to kiss like this, but I wasn
’t complaining.

  Every girl grew up dreaming about her favorite star finding her, kissing her.

  I was doing exactly that.

  The sound of his phone going off filled the empty kitchen.

  “Ignore it.” He kissed me deeper.

  The ringing stopped and then started all over again.

  He jerked away and cursed, yanking his phone out of his pocket and paling as he stared at the screen.

  “Everything okay?”

  He was quiet and then, “Yeah, I just… I need to take this soon, and then I need to punch something or get very, very drunk.”

  I tensed up.

  He smirked. “Kidding, I’m not going to spiral. Don’t worry. I just keep getting sidetracked and really need to change my number. And speaking of numbers, spiraling, and my job, wanna come to the studio tonight?”

  My inner fangirl screamed. “The studio studio?”

  With a sexy grin, he pulled me into his embrace and kissed my nose. “Think you can handle hanging out with a few washed-up rockstars while we record?”

  On the outside, I was the epitome of cool.

  On the inside, I was wearing my Drew Amhurst T-shirt, chugging Mountain Dew out of my Will Thermos and, painting an Adrenaline sign to hold while I screamed at the top of my lungs and sang every song by heart.

  “Sure.” I managed a normal-looking — I hoped — shrug, though my voice sounded strained. “That could be… fun.”

  Drew smirked and tilted my chin up toward him. “It’s so cute how hard you try…”

  “Try?”

  “…to stay calm,” he rasped, capturing my mouth in another rewarding kiss.

  He had this way of kissing that I’d never experienced before. His lips slid from mine to my chin then my neck, and I was gripping the countertop with one hand, and his shoulder with the other as the pressure of his mouth nipped at my collarbone.

  My head fell back.

  And then both of his hands were on my hips, lifting my shirt just enough to expose some skin. “Is that a yes?”

  What were we even talking about?

  “Yes.” Was it even possible to say no to him? About anything?

  “Mmm…” He abruptly pulled away.

  I felt the loss in my fingertips. I craved his body heat almost as much as his kiss, craved his smell as much as the feel of his mouth on mine. I think the list would be a mile long of all the things Drew made me miss.

  “Good, now I’m going to eat all the food so I can carb up for later, and before you say something like, ‘We’ll see’ or blush, know that we will be sleeping in the same bed later.” He paused. “I guess sleeping is probably the wrong word. Make sure you eat enough so that later tonight when it’s my time to have dessert, you’re not embarrassed by how loud your stomach’s growling while I have my tongue inside you reminding you of all the reasons you shouldn’t let me go.”

  Stunned, I gulped and then nodded.

  “Huh, so all I have to do is get bossy, and you agree with me?” He winked.

  My daze lifted a bit as I snapped out of it. “Sometimes, it’s nice to have someone just make all the decisions for you. Besides, it’s exhausting trying to fight you.”

  He barked out a laugh. “So, basically, I’m wearing you out already?”

  “In the best way, though,” I teased, reaching for a plate.

  He grabbed my wrist. “Sit. I can serve myself, and trust me, you’ll need all the energy for later.”

  “You keep saying that like it’s a threat.”

  “Oh, sweetheart…” He laughed. “…it really is.” And then he muttered, “Three years, three damn years, I’m surprised I haven’t just spontaneously combusted in the middle of the kitchen.”

  “Fourteen years,” I countered.

  His eyes heated. “Ask me.”

  “Ask you wh-what?”

  “Ask me to strip you naked next to the fridge.”

  His eyes flashed, and then he was pressing me up against my own refrigerator. He pinned me against it then looked behind me with a grimace.

  Slowly, he reached around my head, pulled a few of the photo magnets, and flipped them over onto the table. “We wouldn’t want to traumatize the kids.”

  I giggled. “Yes, I’m sure that’s going to make Braden feel better. Don’t worry, champ. We flipped over the family magnets!”

  “I don’t really care about Braden right now.” Drew pressed his body into mine. “Now let me kiss you until my food gets cold, let me drive you so insane with need that it’s all you can think about while we’re at the studio.”

  I stared up into his blue eyes. “It’s all I can think about now.”

  “It’s too bad I want to savor my first time with you. Otherwise, you’d be naked, panting my name.” His hard body slid against mine.

  I let out a whimper.

  “Over…” He rubbed. “…and over…” Again. “…and over.”

  “Drew, Drew, Drew,” I panted and then grinned. “Sorry, just practicing.”

  “Tease.” He nipped my lower lip. “I have a very addictive personality, you know…” His eyes searched mine.

  His phone went off in his pocket. Again.

  With a curse, he reached for it and then finally hung his head. “I gotta take this now. I’ll be right back.”

  His expression was cold hard steel.

  And everything in his body was tense.

  There were two sides to Drew.

  And he’d only shown me the one.

  And that was what terrified me as I sat at the kitchen counter and tried to calm my racing heart.

  Drew wanted to show me the happy.

  And I wondered if he’d ever show me the jaded, the broken pieces that I knew existed beneath the surface.

  Because as much as I was falling for this man, I wanted to fall for all of him, not just the parts he felt were safe enough for me to see.

  He still wasn’t back, so I grabbed my phone and did the one thing I promised I would never do.

  I googled Drew Amhurst.

  And drugs.

  I’d purposefully stayed away from social media since Braden started getting famous; besides, it was never fun reading rumors about your son’s sexcapades, even if they weren’t true.

  I scrolled through with shaking hands and nearly dropped my phone when the first picture that popped up was one of Drew doing a line of coke with a famous supermodel.

  Her top was blurred out because she was naked from the waist up.

  The headline read, “Adrenaline Frontman Out of Control.”

  The date was ten years ago.

  I clicked out of it and kept going.

  Heroin abuse, cocaine, two stints in rehab, arrest for the assault of a security guard.

  My stomach plummeted. It wasn’t fair that he had this all over the internet, that a person could make a snap judgment based off these pictures.

  And I refused to do that, but a part of me needed to know what my heart was getting into.

  After another few minutes, I clicked out of my search and decided to get some fresh air.

  I opened the sliding glass door and sat on one of my favorite chairs. Drew’s voice startled me out of my thoughtful silence.

  Where was he?

  I glanced from left to right and then stood and looked over the balcony. He was right beneath me.

  He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know, I know, I need it, though. Nah, man, that should be good enough. Great, you always got my back. Appreciate that. The usual spot?” He barked out a laugh. “I’m not going to get caught, all right? Cool. Later.”

  He hung up and exhaled with a giant grin.

  While I felt my entire body go cold.

  “Don’t jump to conclusions,” I muttered to myself as he made his way back in the house.

  Quietly, I entered through the sliding glass door and moved back to the table. He rounded the corner a few minutes later, a mask of calm in place of the grin he’d just been wearing.


  What was he hiding?

  And what made me think I had any right to know?

  He didn’t say anything, just pulled me into his arms and kissed me, then said, “I’m going to eat really quick, and then we can go, yeah?”

  He kissed my nose.

  Then he nuzzled my neck.

  My heart had no problem thumping wildly against my ribs. My pulse pounded in my head as if to remind me that was why I had a right to know, that was why I was worried, because if he took the last of those beats without taking special care…

  He would only leave devastation in his wake.

  “Sounds good,” I found myself saying as he gripped my ass with both hands and held me close.

  I exhaled a worried breath and clung to him, all the while trying not to get sucked farther into his vortex.

  But that was what made Drew famous, what made people idolize him; at the end of the day, even with all his sins laid out on the table — every fault, every mistake — you still wanted him to want you.

  And I was stupid to think I was any different.

  Stupid to think that I wasn’t already halfway in love with him and had been for some time.

  “I’m not letting you go,” he whispered into my hair. “I hope you know that.”

  “If you’re going to keep me…” I clung to him. “…just make sure you remember that I may as well be a box labeled Fragile.”

  “That’s okay since my box is labeled Broken.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath and said, “I’m good at fixing things.”

  He stiffened. “I wouldn’t want your fragile heart anywhere near my sharp edges, Bronte.”

  That was what I was afraid of.

  CHAPTER 17

  Andrew

  “You’re literally bouncing up and down on your feet,” I joked, while Bronte listened to the last track we’d just laid in the studio. We were all spread out in different states of disarray.

  Most of us had weird traditions when we recorded.

  I wore the same red bracelet on my left hand that served as a reminder never to touch drugs again; it was right next to the tattoo on my forearm that had the date of my overdose. I stared it down often and reminded myself that I was here for a reason, and that reason was not to get high and ruin my life a second time.