Only for You

by Marquita Valentine

  She sways back, avoiding my touch. I barely keep it together. Maybe I need to apologize again? Maybe I need to send flowers… or write a song just for her.

  A smile kicks up my lips. I’ve never done that, for any girl.

  My dad, Everett Morgan, wrote almost all Violet’s and my songs. God, I hate that controlling bastard. That sick son of a bitch ruined everything, and I let him. For years I’ve let him, but I had no other choice, and I’m not sure when I do confess my soul to Violet, that she’ll believe the truth.

  Hell, there are times when I don’t believe it, but it’s my life. Has always been my life. My carefully scripted, fucked-up life, starring a mom who’s tried to kill herself a half dozen times and a dad who drives her to the brink by cheating on her with girls twenty years younger.

  But no one needs to know all that. Or how I have to—not going there. Not tonight.

  Violet’s brows draw together beneath the brim of my hat, like she knows something is bothering me.

  That’s right, baby doll. You know me that well, I want to say. Instead, I flash her a smile and her eyes close. We’re at the good part now. The bringing it home part.

  “Holdin’ onto you. Holdin’ onto me. This is us. This is you and me,” I sing. “There’s no other place I’d rather be.”

  I mean Every. Damn. Word.

  She’s always been the one good and pure person in my life, and I fucked it all up. Whatever it takes, I’m getting her back.

  Finishing up the last song, we thank everyone for coming, thank our band and each other, then head off stage while the crowd stands for us, screaming our names.

  “Just like old times,” I say with a smirk.

  Instead of letting Violet go off with the entourage that surrounds her at all times, I grab her wrist.

  “We need to talk,” I say, my words low.

  She smiles sweetly and my heart catches. “Drop dead.”

  “Violet Rae Givens, you will listen to what I have to say,” I growl, and then want to kick myself. Ordering her around will completely change her mind.

  “I don’t have to do anything, Jackson Cash Morgan.” Yeah, so she’s one of the few people who actually call me by my real name instead of my stage name, Jaxon Hunter.

  “Please,” I insist, before glancing around the corridor. Leaning against the wall, Bliss Davenport, the assistant wardrobe chick, peers at me through square-shaped glasses, her mouth flat. Always that girl is spying on me, with her big brown eyes. Or are they green? Damn if I know, or care.

  Liar, a small voice in my head taunts.

  I cut my gaze back to Violet, her blue eyes blazing at me.

  “The last time we were on your bus, you got me pregnant. This time, I’ll keep my distance.” She yanks her wrist out of my grasp and strides off in the opposite direction. No flouncing away, like the old Violet would have done. “Stay the hell away from me, Jaxon,” she calls out over her shoulder. Loudly. Unlike Bliss.

  Despite the grim reminder of our past, of what we both lost that one night, I smirk at her retreating form. The cocky grin is forced. It’s painful and I wish like hell I didn’t have to keep up this pretense of nothing ever bothering me.

  “That wasn’t an invitation to try again, you know,” Bliss says as she breezes past me—or tries to. “Maybe you should try a different approach, like not at all, since you’re engaged to someone else.”

  I grab her elbow, and lean in real close. Her pretty eyes, green like the forest in summertime, blink at me behind her glasses. Lips the color of roses part. Oh shit, the poetry won’t stop in my head. “Maybe you should come to my bus.” My voice is huskier than I want it to be. “It gets real lonely on the road, unless you’ve been sneaking guys into your hotel room.” My fingers tighten a little, making her gasp, but it’s not from pain.

  Oh no.

  She wants to come to my bus, and I’m enough of an asshole to let her. To take what she would give to me. She wouldn’t be there to talk about what color shirt I should wear for my next interview. She’d be there for very naughty reasons—clothes definitely not required.

  Unless she wore lingerie.

  But I don’t want her. She’s not Violet, and no matter how many times Bliss Davenport pushes Violet out of my head with just one look, she’ll never be her.

  “Then again, I’m not really feeling your type tonight.” I run a critical eye over her. She’s average height, with an above-average body—all curves. Hell, even her dark hair is all curls, all the way down to the middle of her back. She’s all soft, with a soft name and soft voice. All touchable.

  All mine.

  I blink. Where in the hell did that come from?

  Bliss flicks her gaze to where we’re touching, skin to skin. Hers is warm and smooth beneath my palm. The calloused tips of my fingers itch to caress her baby soft skin. “I’m not that kind of girl, Mr. Hunter. I don’t screw my employer, or guys with significant others.”

  Those dark eyes of hers pin me to the wall. I want to drown in them, spend time watching them widen as I touch her in all the right places. Watch her lashes flutter the first time I kiss her, the first time I slide inside of—

  Son of a bitch.

  I practically shove her away, my mouth already telling lies I won’t be able to take back. “Honey, I wouldn’t fuck you, even if you put on a blond wig to cover up all that frizzy-ass hair, lost about twenty pounds, and started calling yourself Violet Lynn. So, don’t flatter yourself.”

  She stumbles, hands coming to brace against the cement walls, before she straightens. “I knew you were an asshole, but that… that was downright cruel, even for you.”

  Better cruel than a quick fuck and thanks for the ride, before I started pursuing the one who got away again. “No, that was all me.”

  Then I turn, heading in the opposite direction of Bliss, not caring where I’m going.

  When I hear her breath catch in a sob, I almost turn around and apologize. Then a flash of blond hair, and I’m forgetting all about Bliss.

  Instead, I catch up to Violet, grab her arm, and pull her to me.

  “Do you mind?” Disgust shines in her eyes and I clench my jaw. Last year love and tenderness shone in her blue eyes whenever I caught her staring at me.

  “Answer one question for me and I’ll let you go.”

  “Fine.” Her chin tips up, lips thinning.

  “When you wanted to help Cole, who was the first person to come to mind?” She has to acknowledge that it’s not over for us. That when the rubber meets the road, she’ll always come to me first.

  “The biggest publicity whore I know, of course,” Violet says, batting her lashes at me. “Now. Here’s what’s going to happen next: You’re going to stop badgering me, and you’re going to stop being an ass to Bliss, which involves staying away from her. A nice girl like that doesn’t need a bad boy like you.”

  I’m not sure how making Bliss forbidden fruit will make me want to stay away from her. And the bad boy description—yeah, not a compliment from her. “You were a nice girl once,” I say with a little smirk, thinking of our first time together. She’d been nervous and I’d been excited, then shocked when I learned that it had been her first time, with anyone. I thought she’d been one of my dad’s conquests.

  I thought I’d take her from him, and show that asshole who was the better man by seducing his latest piece of ass. But I’d been wrong. So wrong.

  Guilt made me send her flowers the next day. Guilt for taking her virginity on a couch made me book a suite for the two us. But all that guilt had eventually turned to love. Real love, not just the shit I’d automatically said back to her in the beginning.

  “Didn’t seem to have a problem with me, then,” I add.

  Her expression changes, annoyance giving away to pity. “That’s because you were a nice guy. Once.”

  “The hell with you, Violet.” Leaning into her, I put my mouth right in line with hers. Nothing. Our close proximity does nothing for her. Anger and frustration burns
my insides like acid. “Don’t forget who called who in October. I was perfectly fine without you in my life,” I practically snarl.

  “So was I,” she says flatly.

  This time, I’m the one to let go and walk away first. Along the way, I grab a bottle of Cirq from a roadie, and then some random chick standing just outside the backdoor.

  “I’m—”

  “Don’t care, baby. You’re perfect for what I have in mind,” I say and she giggles.

  Twenty minutes later, the bottle’s empty and I’m screwing whatever her name is into oblivion against the wall of my bus.

  Chapter Twenty

  Violet

  It’s been a week since I’ve warned Jaxon away from Bliss, but I don’t think he listened. But I had to do it. I can deal with his crap, with his flirting and outrageous expressions. Bliss can’t. There’s no way she can. She’s far too nice and sweet to figure out that he’d just be using her.

  No one was there to protect me from guys like Jaxon, so it’s my job to protect Bliss. More than likely, I’m going to have to sit her down and have a heart-to-heart with her

  “I know. It’s so sad,” I hear Callie say. She’s pacing beside the bus we share.

  Only Everett would think to have buses segregated by gender, but maybe he thought it wasn’t fair to the rest of us, since we could have our boyfriend or girlfriend on the tour.

  Besides, it’s better to listen to Callie complain than her bang my ex.

  Spotting me, she stops and smiles. “For a real long time. You don’t even know… and I think she’s drinking again.”

  Incredulous, I stand there and listen as she spews lies about me.

  “Yep, I tried to get Violet to go to rehab soooo many times.” Callie fakes a sniff. “She’s such a closet party girl—but no one will listen!”

  I roll my eyes at her theatrics. At her claims of trying to get me to go to rehab and being a closet party girl.

  Growing up, we were equal parts dumb at sneaking liquor into her room, but we’d only done it twice, because the second time we’d gotten as sick as dogs the next day. We’d taken turns holding each other’s hair back.

  “Only a best friend would do this, you know,” I pointed out, scooting away from the toilet. I gather Callie’s hair and close my eyes. My head’s pounding so hard it feels like someone’s dropped an anvil on it.

  “No, only your best friend would shove her finger down your throat to make you puke, so you won’t die from alcohol poisoning,” Callie said, and then groaned.

  “This is the last time I’ve ever getting drunk.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask, once she puts her phone away.

  She stares at me, and then says, “Because while you were gone my career finally took off, and now you’re back. Well, I can’t take the chance of being in your shadow.”

  “Is that why you changed your looks and stole my boyfriend?”

  “I didn’t steal your boyfriend, Violet. God, you’re such a kid.”

  “You’re three months younger than me.”

  Her mouth flattens. “Then you’re a washed up has-been.”

  “Not according to Billboard. My old songs are kicking your new one’s ass.”

  She makes a noise, stomping away, but I call out to her. “Sure would be a lot easier for both of us, if we just pretended to get along.”

  Flipping me the bird is her answer.

  I sigh. So much for that. I didn’t want to become best friends with Callie again, but doing a little repair to our broken relationship might have made the tour more bearable for everyone else.

  My phone buzzes and I take it out of my pocket, glancing at the screen. My hearts does that familiar little dip whenever my brain realizes that it’s not Cole.

  Jaxon: Rehearsal in five.

  Me: On my way.

  I’m walking on stage when I catch Jaxon staring at Bliss. She’s oblivious to it all, talking with Anita about wardrobe type stuff, I guess.

  Jaxon picks at this guitar, and then completely stops playing when Bliss walks past him. His gaze follows her.

  Bliss glances back at him. She frowns.

  He frowns.

  Then I catch Callie staring at the two of them, and she frowns, her eyes narrowing

  “Oh crap,” I mutter. I’m going to have to warn Bliss about Callie’s jealousy streak.

  Then Jaxon catches me looking at him, and I frown.

  We’re all frowning, except for Bliss, who has disappeared off the stage.

  Jaxon and Callie are first to rehearse, only they start arguing and she storms off.

  “Looks like it’s just you and me, baby girl.” He winks at me.

  “I’m not your baby girl.”

  “You used to be.”

  “And you used to be a decent human being.” Unlike Callie, Jaxon and I don’t storm off stage. We’ve been doing this far longer, and know how to turn it off when the music starts.

  We sing, pretend to flirt and goof off, just like we always have on stage. But inside, I’m wishing I was with Cole. I’m wishing I was staring into his blue eyes. That it was his hat plopping on my head. That it was him singing about holding on to me.

  The music stops and so do we.

  But it’s not Cole standing there...

  I close my eyes.

  Jaxon touches my cheek. “Violet, I’m going to kiss you.”

  My eyes pop open and I shove him away as hard as I can. “Get away from me.”

  He stares at me in disbelief. Our band mates snicker. Disbelief gives way to embarrassment and anger, but he doesn’t say anything.

  Instead, he holds out his hand and raises his brows. “Take it, damn it.”

  I know what he’s trying to do. He wants the band to think that we’re okay. That everything we do or say up here is a performance, no matter if the music is on or off.

  I take his hand. “Was that too much?”

  A grin breaks out on his face, but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes. “Maybe a little. I think one kiss at the end will really make them happy.”

  “But you’re engaged to Callie,” I remind him, this conversation doing nothing to change my opinion of him. Even if I wanted Jaxon, I wouldn’t touch him, because he’s with someone else.

  “She won’t mind, for the sake of the show,” he says smoothly.

  “Always got an answer for everything, don’t you?”

  Instead of answering, he leads me off stage. I follow him reluctantly, and then, as soon as we’re out of sight, I jerk my hand away.

  “Don’t you ever do that again. Don’t touch me. Don’t try to kiss me.”

  Jaxon’s hands clench. “Fine, but I’m not going to stop trying to fix things between us. I will get you back.”

  “Not while you’re engaged, you idiot. In what world does it makes sense for the guy who cheated on me to cheat on his fiancée with me?”

  “It wouldn’t be cheating, because I don’t love her.”

  “Yes, it would.” I throw my hands in the hair and huff. “Doesn’t matter, because I don’t want to be with you. I’m over you.”

  “You’re not with Cole.”

  “Are you actually listening to yourself?” I shake my head. “Have you ever done anything in your life that you’re not proud of? Aren’t you embarrassed about perpetuating this Billy Badass persona at the expense of others? Is there anything good and decent left inside of you?

  “I was the one who called 911 that night.”

  *** *** ***

  Jaxon

  “That’s not funny,” Violet says, her face going white.

  “I wasn’t trying to make you laugh. You asked a question, multiple questions, and I answered.”

  “How… what… why?”

  This is one of those moments I’ve been dreading. This is one of those moments where I have to tell the truth without revealing the entire truth. “When you took off in your car… well, Callie and I followed.”

  “You did?”<
br />
  “Yeah, I knew something was off. You only had two drinks that night, one you didn’t even finish, but you were acting different,” I say. “I think, but I’m not entirely sure, someone slipped something in your drink.”

  “Someone drugged me?”

  “Yeah… apparently that club got shut down when another girl was allowed to drink and drive home. She hit a sedan and not a tree. All the passengers in the other car died. Turned out one of the waiters was testing out a new date-rape drug.” I swallow. “The same waiter that was working in the VIP section that night. Two months ago, he confessed to testing it out on twenty people, two of them celebrities. And one of the bouncers was helping him. So…”

  “But-but wouldn’t the doctors have figured it out?”

  I shake my head. I know she wants proof, but all I have to give her is speculation, and my memory of that rat-faced dude.

  “Fast running and damn near untraceable according to the experts that testified.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Callie’s favorite show is Book ‘Em Nashville. They did a reenactment.” What I don’t say is that Callie was at my condo, out of her mind that someone would blame us for Violet’s accident. That somehow we were responsible for Violet.

  For once, Callie was right. We were responsible for Violet. It’s just as much my fault as it is Callie’s that we let her walk out of the club and get into that car.

  “I didn’t see the crash, just your car… I hit the brakes and called 911, then drove up a little ways, parked in the woods, and got out.”

  “You were with me?”

  “I-I couldn’t leave you like that, bleeding all over the place. I was scared as fuck, and out of my mind.” The memories of that night come rushing over me, like a tsunami that wants to suck me under. So much blood, so much pain. She was so pale, so helpless, and so was I. “I held your hand until I couldn’t. I wanted to stay with you, but Everett made it impossible for me to stay.”