Let it Burn: Sons of Sinners Part 2 (A Rock Star Romance)

by Grace James

  “Oh…okay.”

  Mel backing down like that was something that hardly ever happened – not when she had something to say. And the look that she gave me then was so sympathetic, so pitying, that I wanted to shut my eyes and un-see it.

  I changed the subject. “Sooo, this time next weekend you’re going to be Mrs. Jeffries,” I said to Hayley. “Can you believe it?”

  She just beamed.

  “Yeah, she can believe it,” Mel said, grinning too. “It was the only way this was ever gonna end.”

  I hated myself for it, but right at that moment I was so jealous of Hayley. I felt like every time I allowed myself to believe that one day I’d get to have what she had, it got pulled out of my reach.

  The whole flight home, I kept replaying Blake’s words in my head, I’ll be back in a couple days…it’s just a couple days.

  And I tried to believe him.

  80

  “Amy, this is just sad.”

  Harvey plopped down next to me on the couch in my office, swiped the laptop from my knee and closed it with a snap, cutting off the video I had been watching on YouTube of Blake and Derren performing at The Academy a few weeks before.

  “Hey! I was –”

  “Going all Taylor Swift in White Horse?”

  “Oh, please, I am not,” I scoffed. “And how do you even know what Taylor Swift does in White Horse?”

  “I’m a musical chameleon,” he said with a shrug. “More importantly, how the hell do you know what Taylor Swift does in White Horse?” He pointed a finger in my face. “Oh, my God, you’re a secret Swiftie!”

  I ignored him and reached for my laptop – but he just held it up, out of my reach. “Wanna come scout some talent with me?”

  I dropped my hand back to my lap. “Um, we’re supposed to be working.”

  “And we’re soooo busy,” he said dramatically. “Look.” He gestured to both our Converse (mine – white, his – red) resting on the coffee table. “Rushed off our feet.”

  “Well, I am busy and I would be working if someone would give me my computer back.” I looked at him pointedly.

  “No, you wouldn’t, you’d be mooning over Maxwell and pretending to work. Lance and Candice have got this, we’re both just sitting here with nothing to do –”

  “I’m working, Harvey.”

  “And scouting for talent is working, too!”

  “Not the way you do it,” I muttered.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said smugly. “Galvanize have Sagev Sal on tonight – that ska punk band I love – and I wanna book them for the nineties throwback night we’re putting on next month.”

  “So call them, or I’ll call them –”

  “Why call when we can go watch and talk to them after?”

  “Because we’re working!”

  “Oh, my God!” Harvey exclaimed, frustrated. “This is work!”

  No, it’s not. This is why you need me, I thought wryly.

  “Just go watch the show, Harvey,” I said, getting tired of arguing with him. I was tired of pretty much everything lately. Since Blake still wasn’t back from New York three days after he called me at the airport, I just felt kind of…listless.

  He sighed in defeat and handed my computer back. “Can’t say I didn’t try,” he said as he pushed himself up off the couch and headed towards the door. “Cody’s still downstairs, by the way. He says he’s gonna hang around until you’re ready to go back to the hotel.”

  “What? I told him this morning that I was going back to my place tonight.” Because I’d decided that there was no way I would spend another night alone in Blake’s suite. That just felt too pathetic at that point. “And there haven’t been paparazzi there in days according to Mrs. Flint.”

  Harvey shrugged. “I know, but he just said he had his ‘orders’ and he was gonna stick to them.”

  Of course. His orders from Blake.

  Blake, who had called me every night to engage in five minutes of stilted conversation while I tried not to cry and ask him why he was avoiding me…so maybe I’d already passed ‘pathetic’ and was heading straight towards ‘tragic’…

  Ugh. I WON’T be that girl again.

  I shoved myself up off the couch and slammed my computer down on my desk way harder than I had intended, but I was getting mad.

  If Blake thinks he can dictate where I stay from the other side of the country – or AT ALL for that matter – he can think again.

  I stormed down the stairs and into the main room of the venue to find Cody. He was sitting at the bar, drinking iced water and chatting with Candice. When he saw me approaching, and the expression on my face, he pulled in a deep breath. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

  “I’m not going back to the hotel, Cody. I want to go home.”

  “Well, Blake wants you at the hotel, but I can’t – and won’t – make you go there if you don’t want to. I am going to make sure you get wherever the hell you’re going safely though.”

  “But no-one’s even following me anymore!”

  “That could change at any time –”

  “I have your number, I’ll call you if there’s a problem.”

  “Sorry, Amy, no can do. I’ll drive you home, make sure the place is safe and leave you to it ‘til the morning, but I won’t leave my post altogether until the boss says so.”

  I bit my tongue because Cody was just doing his job.

  It wasn’t his fault his boss was a jackass.

  81

  When I left work a few hours later, Cody drove me home and walked me up to my apartment. It took all of about three seconds for him to check the windows and make sure that everything was secure. He made me promise to call him if I had any problems and not to leave my apartment the next day without calling him first, but then he made good on his promise and left me alone.

  Even given the circumstances, it felt good to be back home. Staying with Blake had been fun – perfect even – but I had started to miss my little studio apartment. I’d happily put up with that when Blake was around, but with him gone I just wanted to be in my own space with my own things surrounding me.

  I’d just slipped under the sheets when my cell started to ring. I didn’t even glance at it as I settled my head onto the pillow. I already knew it was Blake. I also knew that if I had to endure one more conversation with him in which we both pretended everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t, I was going to scream.

  So, I ignored his call, closed my eyes, and tried to force myself to sleep.

  It must have eventually worked, because when the knocking on my door came at about 6AM the following morning, I rolled over and ignored it. When it continued getting louder, I started to think that maybe the paparazzi were back –

  Oh, God, has another story broken? Has Blake been snapped doing something in New York and now they want to get my reaction?

  Every headline I’d ever seen of him flashed through my head.

  I stumbled out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and stumbled toward the door. I checked through the peephole, but I couldn’t see anyone – definitely not a hoard of cameras – so, making sure that the chain was on, I opened the door a crack…and was greeted by my hot mess of a boyfriend, who was leaning against the doorframe.

  Waves of bourbon fumes washed over me.

  The really unfair part of it all was how he managed to look like walking sex, even when he’d clearly drank enough to disable an elephant.

  His lips slid into a slow smile when he saw me. “Heeeey, there y’are,” he slurred.

  I just stared at him through the crack.

  He had his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, so I assumed he’d come straight from the airport. “Y’gonna let me in?”

  For a second, I thought about slamming the door in his face, but I knew that wouldn’t deter him – he’d just end up beating on the wood and yelling. Mrs. Flint didn’t deserve to be woken up by that…and, okay, even in that state, I wanted to see him.

&nb
sp; I closed the door long enough to take the chain off and then opened it to let him in. He stepped over the threshold, immediately dropping his duffel bag to the floor and wrapping his powerful arms around me as he nuzzled into my hair.

  “Fuck…missed you,” he muttered, tightening his hold on me, squeezing me against him.

  Unable to stop myself, I curled my arms around him and held him back. “What’s going on, Blake?” I asked softly.

  He pulled back, blinking down at me as one corner of his mouth quirked into a crooked smirk. “I won two mil at poker.”

  I tried to process that. “…what?”

  “Two milllllion dollars, Princess. You shoulda seen my hand – fuckin’…shoulda seen my hand…”

  “You won two million dollars? God –”

  “But then…then I lost eight hundred thou…” He moved past me into my apartment, stumbling a little as he went. “Y’got cheese? Could nail a grill’ cheese ri’now.”

  I closed the door and followed him into my small kitchen, where he was rummaging through my fridge, pulling out what little I had in there – mainly condiments and fruit juice – and dumping it on the counter.

  “No, I don’t have cheese,” I said a little shortly as I started to grab up the stuff he was removing and shove it back inside the fridge. “I didn’t go shopping yet, I only got back here last night.”

  “Yeah, tha’s what Cody said,” he mumbled as he lifted his hands in surrender and backed away when I slammed the fridge shut again. “Y’pissed at me, Princess?”

  I folded my arms over my chest. “How about we talk about this when you can see straight?”

  “Aw, c’mon, I just had a couple on th’plane.”

  “Looking at you, I think you drank everything on the plane.”

  Managing to only sway a little, he walked slowly towards me, his heavy boots stopping inches from my bare feet. He lifted his hands to sweep my hair over my shoulders so that his fingers could rest against the column of my neck. “I don’t tell ya enough how goddamn beautiful y’are, do I? Jesus fuckin’ Christ, you’re perfect…and I’m a fuckin’ dick for not tellin’ y’that every day.”

  I bit back the irate retort that was on the tip of my tongue, something like, If that’s what you really think, then why did you just avoid me for DAYS?!

  Instead, I took one of his hands in mine and led him to the bed, telling him to lie down so that I could pull off his boots.

  He was passed out before I even set them by the door.

  Cody picked me up at around 10AM so that I could go meet Hayley to help her with some final wedding preparations. Blake was still asleep on my bed, so I left him a note on my kitchen counter, telling him I’d be back later.

  As I left, I wondered if he’d even still be there when I returned…

  But I absolutely refused to let myself dwell on that around Hayley. She was so beyond excited, and I wasn’t about to throw a dampener on that for anything.

  After several hours of running errands and going through checklists, I stopped by the market to pick up some groceries before I headed home.

  As I slotted my key into the lock, I prepared myself to be greeted by an empty apartment – which is why the smell of coffee brewing and the sight of Blake standing over it, wearing just a pair of sweat pants with his hair still wet from the shower, made me stop in my tracks.

  “You’re still here,” I murmured.

  His brow furrowed as he turned towards me. “Hey, I – yeah, of course I am.”

  Although he looked tired and a little paler than normal, his eyes were clear and he looked sober. Judging by the state of him that morning, he must’ve been nursing a killer hangover, though.

  Closing the space between us, he took the groceries from my arms, setting them on the counter before he grabbed my hips, pulled me towards him and kissed me. The bourbon fumes were gone, and his mouth tasted minty fresh.

  “Where else would I be?” he murmured against my lips.

  I shrugged a little. “Anywhere you can get shit faced and avoid me?”

  He pulled back to look at me. “Ouch, Princess, don’t hold back.”

  “Well, that is what you’ve been doing, isn’t it?”

  For a second, I thought he was going to deny it, but then he closed his eyes and hung his head as his hands tightened on my hips. “…I’m sorry.”

  I ignored his apology. “What’s going on? Is this – are you –”

  “I think I fucked up,” he said on an exhale, cutting off my words.

  My heart pretty much stopped in my chest when he said that – before it started beating double time, pounding against my ribs. Thoughts of groupies and strippers shot through my head…thoughts of him getting on a plane and leaving for good…

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Probably better if I show you.”

  My stomach was in knots as he let go of me and walked over to his duffel bag, which was lying open on top of my bed, and rummaged inside it. A moment later, he pulled out a crumpled envelope.

  “My dad sent me this a couple years ago,” he started as he turned back to me. “Remember I told you I bought the cabin off him?”

  “Yeah.”

  “My lawyer dealt with the whole thing – but when the deal was done and he sent me the paperwork, this was in there with them. Apparently, my old man wouldn’t sign shit unless he agreed to pass it along.”

  “It’s a letter?”

  “Yeah. I never opened it. Just carried it around with me for whatever reason. But hanging out with your dad got me thinking…” he trailed off and shrugged.

  “So, you read it?”

  “Yeah, I read it the day I left for Cancun.”

  “Oh,” I breathed as everything started to click into place. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “‘Cause I just needed to think it over first.” He gave me a wry smile. “And drink a fuck load of bourbon, I guess.”

  “…okay. And now?”

  He held the letter out to me. “Now, I want you to read it.”

  82

  Son,

  Let me start off by saying that I love you, because if you don’t get any further than this sentence, I want you to know that.

  If you’re still reading, I also want you to know that I feel more shame than I ever thought possible every time I think about the way that I treated you after your mother passed. I am truly sorry. It is my biggest regret, and it will stay with me until I die.

  Although I have been sober for going on three years now, I am, and will always be, an alcoholic – doesn’t that sound like the biggest crock of shit you ever heard? No matter how many times I say it, it still feels like an excuse. And you don’t deserve my excuses, so I will only offer you this: I was a weak man who lost the woman who made him a better person, and without her I was lost.

  I also want you to know that I’m proud of you – and not just because you’re a hot shot musician now. I was proud of you before that. Proud because you went out into the world alone and made something of yourself. You never needed me, but I wish more than anything that I had been there for you anyway.

  Son, you became the man that I always wished I could be.

  The next part may be hard to hear, but you need to know it regardless, and I hope that you will understand.

  I remarried a few months after your cousin passed away. I tried to get in touch with you. I wanted to tell you before it happened. I even hoped that you might meet her – but obviously things didn’t work out that way.

  Her name is Helen and she’s a little younger than me, which may go some way to explaining the next part – you have a baby brother named Lucas. He was born five weeks ago, and as I sit here writing this, he’s asleep in his crib reminding me so much of you that it hurts my heart.

  I hope for his sake that one day he gets to meet you. As much as it pains me to think it, I understand that I may have missed my chance to be a part of your life, but I hope that one day you and Lucas will know one another
.

  When – if – you ever decide to give your old man another chance, I’ll be waiting.

  I miss you more than you will ever know, and I love you with all my heart.

  ~ Dad.

  P.S. Now to business: I don’t want your money, and I told your lawyer as much, but he said that he was under strict instructions to pay me the full market value for the cabin, no matter what. You always were stubborn.

  The money you paid is sitting in a savings account and it will stay there until I can return it to you – if that doesn’t happen in life, I will leave it to you in my will. The cabin was always going to be yours, and you were never supposed to pay me for it.

  That aside, I hope you get as much joy from that place as I did. Some of the happiest days of my life were spent there and I wish you the same.

  When I finished reading, I carefully folded the letter and put it back into the envelope, wiping my tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. I’d barely gotten past the first sentence before my eyes overflowed; it was the most depressingly heartfelt thing I’d ever read.

  “He’ll be two now,” Blake said from where he was sitting on one of the kitchen stools across from me, with his back resting against the counter.

  “I wonder if he looks anything like you.”

  His eyes dropped to the floor and his brow creased. “Don’t know what to do.”

  That quiet admission pulled at my heart.

  I walked over and stood between his legs to hug him. His arms closed around me instantly – and everything felt right again. He was back. Him staying away wasn’t about me. I felt myself relax against him, and he seemed to do the same.

  “What do you want to do?” I asked after a little while.

  He took a deep breath and let it out into the crook of my neck. “I don’t know…but I don’t want my brother to grow up thinking I didn’t give a fuck about him.”

  I rubbed his back as I said, “Then I guess there’s only one thing you can do.”