“Have your lawyer send everything to my lawyer. Whatever you want is yours. And after that, I never want to see your fucking face again. Consider us done from here on out. You’re not my son anymore. You’re nobody to me.”
“Likewise, Alistair. The feeling is very mutual.”
And then, the door slams shut. I can’t even resume my place on the couch before Jamie is back in the room.
“Couldn’t help yourself, could ya?” He offers an amused smirk.
I shrug. “Sorry. I just was afraid of how he was going to react.”
Jamie sits beside me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close. “Not going to lie. I was a little concerned I was going to end up with a matching black eye.”
I sit up, staring back at his face. “Okay. Who in the hell gave you that? I honestly thought it was your dad. But obviously, that’s not the case. So what the hell, Jamie? How’d you end up with that?”
“If I told you a bar brawl, would you believe me?”
I shake my head.
“Fell down a flight of stairs?”
“Nope.”
“What about the lead singer of a band we’re both familiar with?”
“What?”
“I might have met up with Dylan and the guys in London for the album release.”
“Bu-but that doesn’t explain the shiner? Did you guys get in a fight?”
He shakes his head. “In my defense, I did not fight back. And in his defense, I think he couldn’t hold back all of that pent-up aggression that’s been building over the past couple of months.”
“He punched you?”
Jamie nods, smirking. “Yeah, baby girl. I’m finding you incite quite the reaction from your male admirers.”
I throw myself back on the couch, burying my face in a pillow.
His hand touches my back. “Don’t freak out. It was a good thing, I promise. One that needed to happen.”
I groan, and he responds with a soft chuckle. “I gotta tell ya, sweetheart. Your boyfriend has quite the right hook. It nearly knocked me on my ass.”
I sit up, removing the pillow from my face. “He’s not my boyfriend, Jame. I messed things up too badly between us.”
He points to his eye. “I’ve got a black eye that says otherwise. I think if he were really done with you, he wouldn’t have even bothered. He’s in love with you, and this is the kind of reaction love spurs in people.” Jamie grabs my hand, holding it tightly. “I think you need to go to him, Brooke. I think you need to fix things between you two. Actually, I’m kind of demanding you to do just that. I can’t stand another day watching you sit around like the walking dead.”
I’m shaking my head. “I don’t even know where to start. I don’t think he can really forgive me.”
“I think situations like these call for big gestures, wouldn’t you say?” He smiles a secret smile. “I did my big gesture. The press conference. Pouring my heart out while the entire world watched on. Now it’s your turn.”
I stare at him, skeptical. “You say that like you already have something in mind.”
He nods. “Oh, believe me, I most definitely have something in mind. And it includes getting on a plane to London for MTV’s EMAs.”
My hands gesture wildly at my sides. “And I’m just supposed to show up and do what?”
He grabs my hands, holding them to his chest. “I promise you’re not going to regret this. Okay? Let’s go get the man of your dreams, baby girl.”
If not regretting this means Dylan will forgive me and give me another chance, there are no limits to the lengths I will go. “Okay…but Jamie? What about the man of your dreams? Shouldn’t you get to fall in love, too? I shouldn’t be the only one.”
His hands cup my cheeks. “Brooke, don’t you know? I already fell in love, sweetheart.” Lips crest into a beaming, heartfelt smile. “I fell in love with the way you’ve loved me.”
Live From The Red Carpet: Coverage of the MTV EMA’s.
RedRedCarpetGossip.com
We’re live at the MTV EMA show tonight, and the red carpet is pulsating with glitz and glamour. Some of the world’s favorite musicians are here, ready to celebrate a night of music and awards.
The biggest questions of the night revolve around tonight’s performances. Award shows are known for being mapped out, staffed, and rehearsed months ahead of time. But sometimes, shows must be good at ad-libbing when real life blows up the script.
Sources have informed us that Italian artist, Fabrizio Mallora, will be unable to perform tonight. The famous singer, known for his opera-like vocals and dramatic range, was forced to cancel due to emergency vocal cord surgery. He has had reoccurring issues with hemorrhaging and underwent surgery in Rome two days ago in attempt to stop the latest.
Thankfully, he’s expected to make a full recovery. But the producers of tonight’s show have kept Mallora’s replacement hush-hush. Sources have revealed we should expect a “do not miss” kind of performance. It’s rumored that the band Careless Cockups—whose debut album hit platinum mere days after it released—is somehow involved.
We caught up with Careless Cockups on the red carpet, and when we asked Dylan about the band performing in tonight’s show, he seemed genuinely confused.
This only leaves us with more questions.
Is Dylan just a really good actor?
Or is something else in store for us tonight?
Stay tuned for more as this story develops.
If you can’t tune in to tonight’s awards show, find a way to set your DVRs. We have a feeling this show will be one you don’t want to miss.
Brooke
We’re standing stage right, waiting for our cue to go on. This is the big moment. In a matter of minutes, I’ll be on that stage, in front of thousands of people, not to mention the millions at home watching from their televisions. Talk about a big gesture. This is the biggest gesture in the history of biggest gestures.
But Dylan deserves this from me. He deserves to hear me beg for forgiveness. And that’s what I’m going to do. Through the only right song choice for this moment, I’m going to ask for a second chance. I’m going to beg to come home.
Because Dylan is my home.
And that’s why I’ll be singing the song that not so long ago, Dylan told me was his theme song. I might not have understood it in that moment, but I do now. I just hope it still rings true for him.
“Jamie, do you have my cell?” I ask, gesturing towards him.
He walks towards me, confused. “Uh, yeah, but why do you need your phone, Brooke? You guys are going on in like two minutes.”
I hold out my hand. “I just need to do something.”
He shrugs, handing it to me.
I find Dylan’s name and send him a text message, hoping he’ll check his messages before we go on stage.
Because I miss you isn’t enough.
Vous êtes absent de moi. (You are missing from me)
You’re my home, Dylan. Please let me come back home.
Instead of waiting for a response, I shut my phone off, hand it Jamie, and grab my guitar. We’re given the cue to head onto the darkened stage.
“You okay, love?” Jesse whispers, sitting on the stool beside me. He’s a saint for agreeing to this last minute. It took some convincing, but I think once he saw how much I truly love his brother, he really couldn’t say no.
I nod, the unlit stage shadowing my face, hiding the fear and uncertainty in my eyes.
He slides the guitar strap over his shoulder. His eyes are on me, and then his large hand grips my knee, anchoring me. “You got this, Brooke, okay? If I didn’t believe in you, if I didn’t believe in the fact that you two belong together, I wouldn’t be sitting here doing this with you. Now, it’s time to believe in yourself, love. It’s time to take back what belongs to you.”
His words spark something inside me.
Ed Sheeran is back on the stage, introducing our last-minute duo to the crowd. I shut my eyes and inhale
a deep breath, calming my nerves and finding my determination.
“We’ve got a bit of a surprise, tonight. Two wonderfully talented people have come together for an unexpected duet. Please welcome Brooke Sawyer, one of the most talented producers I’ve ever met. A girl I love dearly and who’s now about to show the world all of her beautiful talent. And Jesse Bissette, one of the fiercest drummers I’ve ever seen. Tonight, he’s setting his sticks down for our acoustic enjoyment.”
I stand up from my stool and fear fills Jesse’s eyes.
Placing the mic in the stand, I shake my head. “I’ve got this, Bissette. I’ve fucking got this.” I don’t want to sit down for this. I want to stand. I want to sing my heart out. I want to put myself out there. I’m standing on my own two feet now. I’m ready to stand on the ledge and take a chance. I’m not hiding anymore. No matter what happens tonight, I want to prove to myself that I’ve given it everything.
He grins. “This is yours tonight, Tink.”
The stage is still dark as Jesse begins to play the opening chords, and then I’m breathing the words into the mic. I want my second chance. I want to come back home.
My guitar joins Jesse’s as his voice backs up mine. Even though we didn’t get an actual rehearsal, and our sound check was a ten-minute ordeal, it doesn’t matter. This is bigger than us. This moment is motivated by love, and no amount of rehearsal can compare to that.
The song is building. My heart follows it’s rhythm, pounding steady and strong inside my chest. I’m consumed with it, eyes open wide and taking this in.
Dylan sits in the front row. He’s watching me—his eyes never leaving mine. And we might as well be alone in this room. I’m on stage, letting him know through this song, his song—Hold Back The River by James Bay—that I’m sorry.
The song slows briefly until we’re hitting the climax, the power of the words take hold, and I’m sliding my guitar around my back, holding the mic with both hands.
My soul is bared. Heart on the stage. I’m begging him to understand I didn’t mean what I said. That I want to take it all back because he’s everything to me.
He’s all I want.
I’m not hiding this anymore. My love for him flows freely like a river and is plentiful like the ocean. It will always be there. It will always be a part of me. It is a constant. A given. A truth I will never deny.
I don’t realize I’m crying until I finish the last note. Tears run down my cheeks and drip onto my arms.
The crowd is on their feet, clapping and cheering, but I can’t see them through the fog. And even though we’re in the middle of a live awards show, Dylan is walking up the steps of the stage and striding towards me. His smile is brilliant, and his eyes are looking at me in that special way that’s only meant for me. Bright Eyes. He’s Bright Eyes again.
And before I can say anything, before I can react to his presence, he’s pulling me into his arms, lifting me up and swinging me around.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper into his neck. “I’m so sorry. I love you, Dylan. You’re my heart. You’ll always be my heart.”
He grips me tighter. “God, I’ve been waiting for what feels like forever to hear you say those words.” Dylan leans back, gazing into my eyes. “I love you too. And yes, Brooke, I want you to come back home.”
I have no idea if the cameras are still on us. And even though, we’re standing on stage with thousands of people watching from their seats, and Lord knows how many people witnessing from the comfort of their homes, I’m pressing my lips to his and kissing him with everything I have.
He chuckles against my mouth when I finally take a breath.
And I’m crying and smiling and laughing.
Jesse is standing beside us. Clapping and wolf whistling, shouting “It’s about bloody time!”
Dylan finally sets me down, tucking me into his side. He leans into the mic, smiling into the crowd. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen my girl. I guess I got a little carried away.”
The crowd’s response is overzealous. I can’t help but smile up at him, love and adoration on my face. My girl? I’m his? I’m really his?
“That’s right, love. You’re mine. Get used to it,” he whispers into my ear, smiling against my skin.
“Yours.” My smile gets bigger, nearly splitting my face in half. “Oh god, please don’t do anything crazy like get down on one knee,” I tease.
He leans back, smile warm. “Love, I don’t need a ring on your finger to know that we’re forever.”
“Wait a minute.” A hand goes to my hip. “You sayin’ you’re not planning on marrying me someday, Bissette?”
“No, that’s not what I said, sassy.” He laughs, nuzzling my neck. “And you can bet that sweet little arse of yours that one day soon, I will get on one knee, and I will ask you to marry me, and you will say yes. But right now, we’ve got other plans.”
I raise a brow. “We do?”
“Yeah, baby. We’re about to get the fuck out of here so we can really make this official. I’ve been waiting a bloody long time for this.” He slides the guitar off my shoulders, handing it to a stagehand.
Instead of simply walking off stage with me, he goes caveman and throws me over his shoulder, striding towards the nearest exit.
Mine, my heart whispers. Home, my soul agrees.
As we rush out of the venue and towards somewhere much more private, my colors flash before my eyes. Vibrant hues of white and yellow and red and green and pink polka-dots. Colors, that at one point meant pain, no longer hold that power. These colors aren’t my pain, they’re my journey. And it took all of those colors combined to get me here, with Dylan.
If anything, these colors don’t signify pain. They show love.
Love for Jamie.
Love for Millie.
Love for Dylan.
Love for myself.
Somehow, someway, I’ve come full circle. I’m stronger, healthier, and my heart is bursting at the seams. And I know, my grandmother is looking down on me, smiling the biggest smile that’s ever graced her beautiful face.
Dylan
We didn’t waste time at the awards show.
And we didn’t attend any after parties.
Brooke and I threw our own ‘after party’ inside my hotel suite, where she’s currently wrapped around me like a blanket. Her naked body is draped across mine. Blonde curls are a mess from three rounds of superb make-up sex. A few strands lie across my face, tickling my nose.
I’m in heaven. Real life heaven.
“Love, I’d like to congratulate you on the fantastic performance tonight.”
Her head perks up, chin resting on my chest. “You liked it?”
“Are you kidding me? I fucking loved it.”
She smiles. “I was so nervous.”
“Really? You didn’t seem all that nervous when you were doing that brilliant little move with your tongue. I think you sucked my soul straight through my cock during that last round.”
Brooke giggles, slapping my bare chest. “You’re such a dick.”
Laughing, I wrap my arms around her back, holding her tight. “You were amazing on stage tonight. You belong up there, Little Wing.” My lips are near her ear. “Thank you for putting yourself out there. Thank you for giving me that. Thank you for making me the luckiest bastard on the planet. I love you, my sweet, gorgeous, perfect Brooke.”
“Thank you for giving me a second chance. I love you.”
“Say it again,” I whisper.
“I love you.” Her voice is soft.
“Oh, c’mon. That wasn’t very convincing.” I grin against her skin. “Do you love me, Brooke?”
She leans back, eyeing me with sass. “You know I do, smartass.”
My grin grows wider. “You love me?”
Her nose brushes mine. “I. Love. You.”
“Like you love me a little bit, or you love me a—”
Brooke cuts me off, grabbing my face and pressing her mouth to mine. Her pretty lip
s kiss the daylights out of me. Christ, I’m breathless and ready for round four by the time she pulls away.
“The Beatles got it wrong,” she states.
“They did?”
“Yep.” She nods, grinning. “Love isn’t all I need—Dylan’s love is all I need.”
I laugh, flipping her over and pressing her back into the mattress. “Did you just manage to pull the Beatles into our odd compliments?”
“Uh huh.” She bites her bottom lip.
“Christ, you’re adorable. And you’re all mine, love.”
“Yes. Yours.”
I nip her bottom lip, gently tugging it away from her teeth. “Me and you, we’re forever. No cliffhangers like Sophia and Philippe in Memories of Suffocation. No unrequited love like William Miller and Penny Lane in Almost Famous. This is it, pretty baby. We’re the real-life H-E-A.”
She giggles. “Oh god, I think you’re odd compliment was far more cheesy than mine.” Her eyes turn soft. “But still, so true. You’re stuck with me now, Bright Eyes. Better get used to sassy attitudes and never being on time and forgetting where I put my sunglasses and—”
I chime in. “Good morning blow jobs and an amazing woman sleeping naked in my bed every night—”
“Good morning blow jobs?”
“Morning…Noon…Night…I’m flexible, love.”
“Hmmm…that sounds nice.” That smile of hers turns devilish as long legs wrap around my hips. “Wanna see how flexible I can be?”
“Are you bloody kidding me?” I kneel on the bed, running my hands up her smooth thighs. “My cock was hard before you even finished the question.”
“Round four? Already?”
My mouth waters at the vision of her perfect body spread out beneath me. “Brooke, go ahead and grab ahold of the headboard. This round might make your teeth rattle a bit.”
“This feels like a challenge…”
“Oh, believe me, it is.” I rub the head of my cock through her arousal. “This is a challenge to see who can hold out the longest.”
“Wait…whoever can hold off—” Her words turn to moans when I grip her thighs and slide inside, pushing myself to the hilt.
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