Down To You: Rockstar Romance (Sixth Street Bands Book 5)

by Jayne Frost

  Her sentence died when she picked up a french fry and dipped it in ketchup.

  “Why would you run away if it wasn’t bad?”

  Peering at me through her lashes, she smiled sadly. “I just wanted to come home. So I … um … stole some money from one of the counselors and I bought a bus ticket.”

  My bite of burger turned to sawdust in my mouth. I chewed and chewed but I couldn’t get it down. I finally reached for the chocolate shake so I wouldn’t choke to death. “Where did you go?”

  “Here. I was looking for you, but Daddy said you were already gone. He called the cops on me and they took me back. I ended up in another home that wasn’t as nice.”

  I could guess the rest. Drugs. The strip club. All because of him. The anger I’d been working so hard to push down roared to life. A firestorm, boiling my blood and charring my insides.

  “Why, Laurel? After all that, why are you taking care of him?”

  She opened the wrapper on her burger and peeked under the bun. “Same reason you are, I suppose. You hired those round the clock nurses. That can’t be cheap. And that bigger apartment. Chase isn’t charging me additional rent. You’re paying for that too, right?”

  A headache brewed behind my eyes, little flashes of blinding light dancing at the corners of my vision. “I’m doing that for you. Because you won’t put him in a home. I don’t want you alone with him.”

  She laughed then, a bitter sound that I could taste on my tongue. “What do you think he’s going to do to me? He can’t even hold a fork.” Before I could stop her, she reached over and ran a finger over the scar above my eye. One of the many that Jake had put there. “I’m sorry he hurt you, Lo. But I hurt a lot of people too. When I was using. And still, you came looking for me. Even after you found out what I was, you forgave me.”

  I shook my head. “It’s not the same thing. You’re—”

  “It is the same. I’ve done some terrible things. And this is like … karma. Maybe I’m supposed to take care of the monster because I used to be one myself. And when it’s over …”

  Tori’s words came to me in the silence. “You’ll be even.”

  A tear spilled onto her cheek as she nodded. “I knew you’d understand.”

  I didn’t. But maybe I wasn’t supposed to. This was about Laurel and what she needed. The unconditional love we were both promised, and never granted. And since my love for her was stronger than my hate for him, I trapped my objections behind tight lips. And we ate burgers. And watched the sunset. And we didn’t speak about Jake again.

  63

  “Up,” Chase said, taking me by the arm. “Now, Logan. I’m not kidding.”

  With the gaggle of press camped out in front of Twin Souls, there was no way he was kicking me out. Even if his girl put him up to it. Yeah, Taryn told me to leave. But I wasn’t budging.

  “I’m just waiting to talk to my manager,” I said calmly as I shoved to my feet.

  Anger flashed in Chase’s hazel eyes. So much like Cameron’s, but different. Crazier. Sure, Chase hid it all behind a calm exterior. But underneath, the dude had a fuse like mine, and from the vein bulging in his neck, he was about to blow.

  “You did speak to your manager,” he growled, his eyes darting to the receptionist who’d taken a keen interest in our conversation. “She told you to carry your ass home.”

  And wait.

  But I was done waiting. I’d been waiting my whole life.

  “My other manager.” Victoria. The little thief who stole all my tomorrows when I was only eight. She’d been holding them in her pocket ever since. Even if she didn’t realize it. I held up her copy of Wuthering Heights. “I’ve got something that belongs to her.”

  Rather than continue our chat in front of witnesses, Chase yanked me toward the hallway with the executive offices. My heart sank as we passed Tori’s open door. The lights were off, and her desk was clear of any clutter. She wasn’t here.

  Chase gave me a shove, and I stumbled over the threshold and into Taryn’s office. He closed the door, and for a minute, I was a little worried. His girl looked ready to rip my head off, and I wasn’t so sure that Chase wouldn’t let her.

  Rounding the desk, Taryn headed straight for me, flames dancing in her stormy blue eyes. “What about ‘go home” do you not understand?”

  Chase cut in front of her at the last minute, steering her over to the sofa and urging her to take a seat.

  Once she was settled, he tipped his chin to the chair, and I obliged.

  “I need to talk to her, Taryn,” I said.

  “You and everyone else. Have you seen the press outside? I told you to wait. The concert’s in two—”

  “I’m not waiting. Her phone is off, and I want to know she’s okay.”

  Chase’s hand came down on Taryn’s shoulder when her butt rose off the cushions. “Of course she’s okay. Do you think I’d be sitting here if she weren’t okay?”

  I fingered the copy of Tori’s note, tucked in the pages of the book. “Not good enough. I want to see for myself.” I took a deep breath and softened my tone. “She left me, Taryn. Not the other way around.”

  Technically, it was true. But I hadn’t given her much choice.

  “And do you really think you two are going to ride off into the sunset after you went to LA to make that deal with Mac?”

  My gaze flicked to Chase, and I didn’t know whether to strangle the dude or commend him for his loyalty. He knew I was in LA, and more importantly he knew why.

  Slowly, and with purpose, his gaze shifted to Taryn’s office phone on the desk. A single light shone brightly on the panel below the keypad. It took me a second to catch on. I was on speaker and Tori was listening.

  Releasing a controlled breath, I began, “I didn’t go to LA to make any deals with Mac. I didn’t even see Mac while I was there. If you don’t believe me I’ll call him right now and tell him to go to hell. Again. I don’t want a solo career or a record deal with Metro. I want to be here. My heart is here.”

  With you. Always with you.

  Staring at the tiny beacon on the phone, I willed Tori to answer. But all I got was silence. And when the light flicked off, my world went dark right along with it.

  I stared at the phone, hanging on to Logan’s every word. I could swear he was talking straight to me.

  He wasn’t leaving.

  My heart is here.

  He hadn’t mentioned that in his voicemails, only saying he needed to see me. Which, of course, I took to mean he wanted to tell me in person that he was taking Mac up on his offer.

  “Pride is one of those seven deadlies,” came the voice from across the room.

  My head snapped up, and I found Miles propped against the wall, ankles crossed one over the other. And I don’t know why— maybe because I knew he was right—but I hung up. And then dismayed, I blinked at the screen.

  A laugh from my drummer. “Jesus Christ, Belle. You are so fucking stubborn.”

  I set down the phone and ran a shaky hand through my hair. My heart raced as if I’d just run a marathon, and my skin felt too tight. Was I having a heart attack? I rubbed at the tender spot on my chest.

  “Let’s get back to work,” I said thickly.

  He sighed and then hobbled over while I jotted some notes on the sheet music I’d been working on.

  Lost and found, you turned me around, and it all came down to you.

  Our song, the one that Logan and I had composed on our cross-country journey. The lyrics blurred, shimmering under the canned lights in Miles’s studio.

  “So you don’t even want to talk about it?” he said, taking a seat beside me.

  “Nope.” I scrambled to retrieve the paper when Miles plucked it from my hand. “Give it back!”

  Settling sideways into the corner of the sofa, he glanced over the song. “Pretty sappy stuff here, Grayson.” His gaze darted to mine, and all the humor left his face. “Are you still Grayson?”

  My shoulders sagged, and in that inst
ant, a little piece of me fell away. And I knew why I kept going back and forth with Logan. Yes, I was ready to move on. But who was I if I wasn’t Belle Grayson? It went deeper than some persona the media had gifted me. It went all the way to my soul. To the memories shared with every important person in my life. It was much more than a name. It was his name.

  Had I really let go?

  I eased back against the cushions, frowning. “I don’t know.”

  Miles tossed the sheet music on the table and scooted over. “Do you still want to be?”

  I cut my gaze to his and shrugged. I fucking shrugged. Not from ambivalence. The answer held so much weight, I couldn’t force the words from my lips.

  If I said yes, did that doom my future relationships to fail? Consign all others to some secondary status? And if I said no, wasn’t that giving up a part of me I wanted to preserve? The music and the memories and, yes … the pain. The pain was part of me too, like my scars. There was beauty in those scars. A truth in the imperfections. Logan had helped me see that.

  Logan …

  It all came down to you.

  Minutes passed, and Miles didn’t say anything. He was always the strong, silent type. Not one to impose his will through rhetoric. Unless it was really important.

  “Belle?” I cringed without meaning to, and his gaze caught mine. I could see the wheels turning in his head. “You don’t want to be ‘Belle’ anymore?”

  He looked confused, and maybe a little crestfallen. And that was the problem. So many expectations. Even from those who had my best interests at heart.

  “Nobody was supposed to know about ‘Belle,’” I said quietly. “Belle was something between Rhenn and me. And when he died …”

  Miles nodded slowly. “It’s painful, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And the Grayson?”

  “I don’t mind the Grayson.” I frowned. “Do you think that means I haven’t moved on?”

  He pondered for a moment and then lifted his shirt. Over his heart he wore the same R with the crown that was inked on my back. And above that, a flying guitar with a ribbon that simply read “Paige.”

  “Does this mean that I haven’t moved on?” He shook his head in answer to his own question. “It’s a tribute, Be … Tori. Like this.” Holding his wrist next to mine, the two birds etched in the far corner became four when they joined the ones inked on my skin. We all had them—Taryn, Dylan, Beckett, even fans. Everyone whose lives Rhenn and Paige had touched with their music, and their love, and their light.

  An idea came to me suddenly, and I grabbed my guitar. “I want to make a change to the last song in the set.”

  Miles snagged his drumsticks from the table and then looked over at me with a smile. “Anything you say, Tori Belle.”

  Tori Belle …

  I could live with that.

  64

  My self-imposed dry spell ended with the first shot of Jameson. I didn’t even like Jameson. But it was all I had in my loft. I looked around the place with a rueful sigh. Home. Except it wasn’t. I’d felt more at home in every hotel I’d shared with Tori. And in the car.

  After I’d left Twin Souls today, I’d considered dumping the Mustang in the lake. Everything in that rolling piece of metal reminded me of Tori. The chain she’d made of Big Red gum wrappers hanging from the rearview mirror. The two Goldfish crackers on the passenger seat that I’d looked at a dozen times but couldn’t bring myself to sweep away. Her hair bands in the ashtray. And even the Dr. Pepper stain on the floorboard.

  The Mustang wasn’t a fucking car anymore. It was a time capsule. A roadmap of our journey. I could either stick the car in storage and never drive it again or learn to live with the pain. Sadly, there was no third option.

  Another shot.

  As the alcohol burned a path to my roiling gut, I wandered over and opened the window overlooking Sixth. What was it about this street?

  Lost and found, you turned me around, and it all came down to you.

  It wasn’t the street. It was Tori. She was everywhere. In every face and every sound. Even the breeze held a hint of sugar and cinnamon. Sweet, like her. And so fucking bitter I could barely stand it.

  The Jameson wouldn’t wash it away. So why bother?

  I held the bottle up to the light. “You took that away from me too, you little thief. I can’t even enjoy this shitty fucking liquor. Are you happy now?”

  A knock at the door drew me out of my thoughts. Pizza. I vaguely remembered ordering it. Stalking across the room, I grabbed my wallet from the table where small bags of Pepperidge Farm cookies in all varieties sat open.

  Sweeping the crumbs off my T-shirt with one hand, I reached for the doorknob with the other.

  And then Tori was there, standing in front of me.

  She didn’t say anything, and for a moment I wondered if I’d conjured her. So I did the only thing I could do. Threading my fingers through her silky hair, I pulled her mouth to mine for a kiss. Taking her air when she gasped, I claimed it as my own. Her tongue darted out, and oh my fucking God, thank you. Thank you for this. Whatever it was—hello or goodbye—if I kept her here, right in this very spot, I’d make it last forever.

  “Lo,” she murmured, and I tightened my grip. Her palms molded to my chest. “Logan.”

  Reluctantly, I pulled away and let my hands fall to my sides. It was a small victory, breaking the connection before she had a chance. Pride—I still had a little. It was in there somewhere.

  “Hey, princess.”

  My tone was so casual that she looked up at me, confusion lining her brow.

  Yes, I just kissed you.

  Maybe if I didn’t make a big deal of it, she’d forget about the last month. And we could pick up where we left off. But then I thought of her in that church, at the place where we ended, and reality crashed in.

  “I wanted to talk to you,” Tori said as she peered into the apartment. “Unless you’re busy.”

  Did drowning in a pit of my own despair count as busy? Probably not.

  “Nope. Not busy. Come in.”

  Standing aside to let her pass, I drank her in while she took a look around the place.

  “This is nice,” she said as she took a seat.

  It wasn’t nice. It was empty as fuck. Platinum albums propped against the wall. Boxes I’d never unpacked stacked up in the corner. A dead plant, leaves yellow and shriveled, sitting on the window sill.

  That about summed it up.

  Smiling, I plopped down next to her. “Thanks.”

  “So I guess you heard about the concert?” She flinched. “Of course you have. You’re in it.”

  If I were smart, I’d ask why she was here. Put an end to this agony. But I was down for the pain if it meant a few extra minutes with her.

  “Yeah … I was a little surprised by that.” When she cocked her head, I added, “The concert. It’s not something I thought you’d be into.”

  Her gaze dropped to her lap. “I’m not, really. I’m doing it for someone else.”

  Her whispered words were like an arrow to the chest. Another reminder of what she was: the brightest star in someone else’s sky.

  “Miles,” she added in a voice even fainter than her whisper. “I owe him that.”

  Miles …

  “He’s not in a wheelchair?”

  Tori’s head snapped up. “No … where did you hear that?”

  I shrugged, my gaze darting to the Jameson. A few more shots might loosen the knots in my tongue. “I don’t really know. But nobody’s seen him in what, years?”

  “He keeps a low profile. He’s been to rehab a couple of times.” She shifted her gaze to the window. To something beyond this conversation. “Things have been hard for him.”

  A knock shattered the silence, and Tori whipped her head to the door. “If you’re expecting someone …” She was halfway out of her seat before I could stop her. My fingers coiled around her wrist, and she looked up at me.

  “I’m not expectin
g anyone. Nobody’s ever been here except the guys. That’s my dinner.”

  She sagged against the cushions. “Oh, okay.”

  I pressed a kiss to her palm and then dropped her hand and spun for the door without waiting for her reaction.

  When I returned with the pizza, she was holding her copy of Wuthering Heights. “You had this?”

  Lifting a shoulder, I dropped the box on the table. “You left it.”

  She hummed, and I felt it down to my balls, remembering every time I’d coaxed that little sound from her throat with my tongue, or my fingers, or my cock.

  Stop.

  But it was too late. My dick was now fully aware of her presence. Painfully aware. Forcing my brain to conjure thoughts of zombies and that killer clown from IT, I went about plating a slice of pizza. Mushroom and bell pepper. Her favorite.

  “Here you go.”

  Taking the plate without looking up, her gaze remained on the pages in the book. “Did you read any of this?”

  And I knew right then, Fate had intervened, giving me the perfect opening. I’d made my peace with the goddess, but I still thought her sister was a bitch. Yep, I was relatively certain that Irony was waiting in the wings to fuck things up.

  Still, it didn’t stop me. Sliding the book from Tori’s hands, I gazed at the cover. “I didn’t read it.” I plucked the note from the front flap and looked her in the eyes. “Or this. Or the contract you found in my backpack.”

  With the connection we shared, I thought that might be enough for her to put some of the pieces together. But she just stared at me with a scrunched-up brow.

  “I can’t read, princess. Not a word.”

  That wasn’t really true anymore. In just under two weeks I’d learned the alphabet. Simple words of the three-letter variety were jumping out at me now from everywhere. I’d also learned a name. Funny enough, it was Tori’s and not mine.

  “You can’t read … I don’t understand.” She scooted closer as if she could find the answer on my face if she looked hard enough. Maybe she could. With her knees pressed against my thigh, I wasn’t going to stop her from trying.