Rock Legend

by Tara Leigh

  Landon

  At the sound of the front door opening, I darted into the foyer, the mouthful of apologies and explanations pressing heavily on my tongue eager for escape.

  But it wasn’t Piper that came through the door.

  “Don’t look so happy to see me,” Travis deadpanned, reading the disappointment written across my face.

  My eyes flicked to the mirror on the wall. It didn’t take a mind reader. I looked like someone had run over my puppy.

  “I, uh—” I turned away, walking into the kitchen, Travis following. “I was expecting Piper.”

  “She’s sick.”

  “Sick?” When Piper ran past me into the bathroom, I just figured it was because she didn’t want to take me home. And I didn’t blame her.

  “Yeah. Puking sick. I sent her home.” He glanced at the open pill bottle on the counter, his eyebrow lifting.

  “They’re prescription,” I said defensively, swiping the bottle and putting the cap back on, but not before giving a quick glance inside. Shit, there were only a few left. I shoved it into my pocket and crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re telling the truth about Piper?”

  “Probably caught a stomach bug. She looked pretty green.”

  “You sure it wasn’t because of m—”

  Travis barked a laugh. “Don’t give yourself so much credit.”

  I allowed myself a small sigh of relief. “Got it. I’ll check on her tomorrow.”

  “You’ll check on her?” Travis slapped his hands on the granite and shot me a skeptical glare. “Jesus. What the fuck’s going on with the two of you?”

  “Nothing. We’re friends.”

  “Friends.” He chewed on the word. “The kind with benefits?”

  I held his stare but kept my face impassive.

  He shook his head and groaned. “She’s my goddamn employee, Landon. And a good one, too. I figured if anyone was smart enough not to spread ’em for you, it would be her.”

  My eyes narrowed at the crude comment. “It’s not like that.”

  “Oh no? Then explain it to me, because right now all I see is a talented, hardworking kid I’m about to fire because you can’t keep your dick in your pants.”

  “You can’t fire her.”

  “Oh really? And why is that?”

  “Piper and I, we know each other. We have history.”

  “Ah, let me guess. She was president of your fan club and couldn’t resist your charm when she met you in person.”

  “Don’t be an ass, Travis. It doesn’t suit you.”

  He quirked an eyebrow, then sat on one of the barstools tucked beneath the counter. “I’ll have you know, I’m an ass to most people and it suits me just fine.”

  “The day you treat me like most people is the day I’ll have a new manager.”

  “Landon, you know damn well I treat you better than you do yourself. But I’m not going to employ a starstruck fame-chaser on your word.”

  “That’s not who Piper is, and you know it.”

  “I thought I did. Now I’m having serious doubts.”

  I sighed. “If I’m about to rehash history, you might as well know that it’s your fucking fault things ended badly between us.”

  “My fault?” He shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over the empty stool beside him. “Now this I have to hear. But first, it’s been a long day, and I’m starving. You have anything decent here?”

  I opened the fridge and took out a few pint-sized containers, pushing them across the counter toward Travis. “Decent is arguable, but everything in this house is anti-inflammatory, organic, and a whole bunch of other things they say are good for me.”

  He popped a slice of mango in his mouth. “All right, tell me. How is your romance gone wrong my fault?”

  I reminded him of the day he called me, Jett, and Dax into his office, understanding slowly clicking into place as I painted the scene. “You were with Piper that long ago? Jesus, was she even legal?”

  “She was a freshman in college, Trav.”

  He grabbed another container, and I slid a fork across the counter. “So, let me get this straight. You have a great couple of months, then went away for a bit and didn’t look her up when you came back?”

  I flinched at the truth, but Travis wasn’t through. “I mean, you’re not a guy who doesn’t go after what he wants. How many other chicks have you fucked in the past six years? You really telling me it’s my fault you didn’t go after the one who actually meant something to you?”

  He shook his head at my silence, a disbelieving look on his face. “I’ve done some pretty questionable things in my life, Landon. But that one, that’s all on you.”

  Piper

  Leaving my Mini at the venue, I sprawled on the backseat of a waiting town car and gave the driver my address. Travis had told me to go back home, but even if he hadn’t, I didn’t want to see Landon. Or anyone else, for that matter. I felt weak and shaky, though not feverish. But exhausted, as if I hadn’t slept in days.

  I dozed the entire way, and once I got home, somehow managed to wash my face and brush my teeth before crawling into bed fully dressed.

  The next thing I knew, my bedroom was bright and Adam was standing over me. I groaned. “Jesus, Adam. What are you doing here?”

  “I was about to ask you the same question.”

  “Me? This is my apartment.”

  “I texted you last night, said I was going to swing by to grab the last of my things. Figured I would do it while you were out.” He pointed at the clock on my nightstand. “You’re usually at yoga right now.”

  I blinked at the neon-green numbers. My early Sunday Bikram class—my favorite one of the week. I flopped back in bed, groaning. What happened with Landon was a lead weight pressing on my chest.

  “Late night?”

  “No, actually,” I said. I’d gotten home before ten. “I must be coming down with something.” Like a bad case of heartbreak.

  Adam perched on the side of my bed. “Can I get you something? Soup, or toast?” I shook my head, my stomach giving an uncomfortable lurch. “Oh, they have this new place around the corner that makes the best mocha cappuccinos—”

  I bolted upright, needing to get to the bathroom, immediately. Except that my legs got stuck in the covers, and Adam was in my way. I would have tumbled out of bed, headfirst, except that Adam caught me by my shoulders, concern streaking across his face. “Got it, no mocha—”

  That did it. I threw up all over him.

  For a second, neither of us said anything, staring wide-eyed at the mess I’d made of his salmon-colored button-down shirt and flat-front khakis with tiny sailboats on them. “Oh my god, Adam. I’m so sorry.” And I was, not to mention mortified.

  To his credit, he merely sighed. “First things first: are you okay?”

  I wiped my face on a sheet I’d be throwing in the wash in a minute. “I feel a little better now.”

  He stood. “Okay. Do you need help?”

  “No, no.” It was bad enough Adam was wearing my vomit; he didn’t need to clean it up, too. “Go take a shower, I’ll handle this.”

  Toeing off his shoes, Adam walked gingerly down the hall and into the bathroom. As soon as I heard the click of the door, I changed into a bathrobe and stripped the bed, stuffing the foul-smelling pile into the washing machine tucked into an alcove off my bedroom.

  After scouring my hands with soap and rinsing my mouth out in the kitchen sink, I was sucking on a peppermint at the table, hoping it would settle my stomach, when the peal of the doorbell sounded, quickly followed by several sharp knocks.

  I wasn’t expecting anyone. Which meant…no.

  I tiptoed across the floor and glanced through the peephole.

  Landon Fucking Cox.

  Of course.

  More knocks shook the thin door. Pushing the mint into the well of my cheek, I opened it a crack. “This is a really bad time. Can we talk later?” When I didn’t look like a chipmunk, smell like vomit, and my
ex wasn’t in my shower.

  Landon’s face was pained, and completely oblivious. “About last night—seeing the guys on stage without me, I fucked up my medication and I couldn’t get the damn button of my jeans un—”

  I cut him off. “I believe you. I’ll call you later, I promise.”

  His brows pushed together over the bridge of his nose, the wiry hairs a few shades darker than the messy locks flopped over his forehead. He put his hand on the door. “You’re still upset, I can tell. Can I come in?”

  “It’s a bad time. I’ll come over in an hour, okay?” My voice climbed to a high-pitched whine.

  Dark eyes blazed with regret and confusion. “Pippa, please.” His tone was rough and gritted, but somehow still soft, and my heart clenched at the vulnerability bleeding from those two words.

  “Hey, are my clothes still—”

  I jumped, the door swinging inward.

  Looking over my shoulder, Landon’s expression transitioned from naked yearning to shock to outright fury.

  I sucked in a quick breath and the mint shot past my tonsils like a hockey puck, scraping a minty path down my esophagus. Swallowing it down, I glanced from Landon to Adam, clad only in a towel wrapped around his waist, standing in the space between my bathroom and bedroom, and then back again. Except for the vein throbbing at his temple, Landon’s profile could have been carved from stone. “I swear, it’s not what you’re thinking.”

  He turned, leaning toward me. The full brunt of his anger was like a knife in my ribs. Straight through my heart.

  I took an instinctive step back, banging into the wall.

  “You have no idea what I’m thinking.” Spinning on his heel, Landon stomped off down the sidewalk. I wanted to run after him, chase him down and tackle him until he believed me. But I was frozen, clutching my robe to my throat.

  “Was that Landon Cox?” Adam asked. “I was too distracted to recognize him last time, but that was him, right? Drummer for that band that swept the Grammys last year?”

  My answer was to slide down the wall, bury my face in my hands, and break into sobs. I heard Adam curse, felt his shadow and a gust of wind as he closed the door.

  He kneeled down in front of me. “Landon Cox shows up at your door when you’re sick and PMSing? I think I’d cry, too.”

  Slowly, Adam’s words penetrated my heartsick daze. I pulled my hands away from my face, staring at him as if he were a ghost. “What did you just say?”

  “Sorry,” he replied, cringing. “That came out wrong. I just meant that when a rock star swings by, you probably—”

  I waved him off. “No, before that.”

  “What, the PMS thing? I’ve only seen you weepy just before your…” Adam paused, looking uncomfortable. “Your time. It’s got to suck being both sick and hormonal.” He stood, extending his hand. “Come on. You need to shower and then I’ll tuck you back in bed with a cup of tea.”

  I let Adam help me up, my ears ringing. PMS. Hormonal. PMS. Hormonal.

  When was the last time I had my period?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Landon

  What the fuck just happened?

  Did Piper’s ex really walk out of her bathroom wearing only a towel? Was Piper naked beneath that tiny pink robe she’d taunted me with a few weeks ago?

  I know he did. I know she was.

  I just didn’t want to fucking believe it.

  I slammed into my truck, the one I shouldn’t have been driving yet, instinctively heading for the Hollywood Hills. Pulling up to my own home, one glance at the unfamiliar cars parked in my driveway reminded me that my floors were being refinished and stained this week.

  I wanted to bang my head against the wheel in frustration, but self-harm hadn’t worked out very well for me lately. Instead I turned the music up to an almost intolerable decibel and peeled away.

  Outside my tinted windows, it was a perfect Californian day. The sun was bright, the humidity low. Half the cars on the road were convertibles with their tops down. A perfect fucking day.

  I hated everything about it.

  Breathe, I reminded myself. Just breathe.

  I opened the windows, needing to push air in and out of my lungs that wasn’t recycled through a machine first.

  Arriving at my temporary home, I was still just as angry and unsettled as I’d been when I left Piper.

  Nothing about my life felt steady, not even the ground beneath my feet.

  Everything important to me—my career, my home, the girl I’d finally realized was as necessary to me as breathing—was covered in question marks.

  The fingers of my right hand were twitching. It was an involuntary motion, something the doctors had told me was merely a side effect of my nervous system working to repair and reestablish the connection between my brain and my hands.

  Useless. If I couldn’t play the drums anymore, couldn’t dominate a stage with my skills, my hands were fucking useless.

  Music was my soul. My touchstone. Not just what I did but who I was.

  And Piper…she was my heart.

  A heart that I’d left, broken and bloody, just outside her front door.

  I needed music and I needed Piper. Had I lost them both?

  I fucked up last night, I know that. But had I fucked up badly enough to warrant getting back together with her ex?

  I didn’t think so.

  And Piper wasn’t the type to get in a dig at me by having revenge sex with her ex.

  Which meant Piper got back together with him because she felt nothing for me. And that was worse. So much worse.

  How could she feel nothing for me when I felt everything for her?

  Piper was the reason I’d lost my mind weeks ago and tried to drink myself into oblivion. And the reason I hadn’t lost my mind when I woke up, unable to hold a pair of drumsticks. I’d actually begun to believe that things would work out. For me. For us.

  Maybe I wasn’t a legend, after all. Maybe I was merely a court jester.

  A fool.

  Pain thrummed through my veins. It pulsed hot and thick, burning me up from the inside. I deserved it. I deserved to be swallowed up in agony.

  Six years ago, I’d thrown Piper away. Left her behind without a word about where I was going or why I left. Or what she’d meant to me. Came back and didn’t head straight for her doorstep, brandishing flowers and begging forgiveness.

  I hadn’t understood the chemistry between us back then. Had been scared by her hold on me. Felt almost trapped by it.

  Maybe it was fitting that, right now, I was terrified that she’d finally realized I wasn’t worth the baggage and bullshit that was part of my life. Although, if I couldn’t get behind the drums…

  But, no. I couldn’t go there. Drumming was as much a part of me as breathing. It was my life, my career, my identity. And my sole source of income. Sure, I had millions in the bank, but could I rely on some bean-counting accountant’s estimate that it would be enough—not just for my lifetime, but for Jake’s?

  There was so much that was wrong about this situation.

  Everything, really.

  Especially knowing I’d let the guys down. Shane, Jett, and Dax—we were fucking brothers. Had come up in this crazy business together.

  Now I understood why Shane hadn’t wanted us to visit him last year, when he was extradited back to his home state to await trial. Knowing you fucked up was one thing, but having it reflected in the pitying expressions of the people you cared about was much, much worse.

  I didn’t want anyone’s pity.

  Taking a deep breath, I put a lid on my exploding emotions and pulled my shit together.

  Time to stop acting like a pussy.

  If Piper was so quick to walk away, to find comfort in another guy’s arms…Well, fuck her.

  The heat of anger felt good. Motivating. But fake. A lie.

  The only person I was angry with was myself.

  And maybe the ass-wipe she’d chosen over me.

  I wasn’t
angry at Piper.

  I was fucking devastated by her.

  Piper

  I could count the number of men I’d had sex with in my entire life on one hand. Two boyfriends in high school. Landon. A one-night stand from a spring break trip to Mexico. Adam.

  Age was a number, too. I was twenty-five. I wasn’t ready to be a mother.

  I let Adam lead me to the bathroom and turn the water on. “Can you take it from here?” he asked gently.

  The noise I made must have sounded affirmative, because he gave me a pat on the shoulder and left me alone. As soon as he shut the door, I opened the bathroom cabinet and reached for a lone box at the very back, behind the set of hair curlers I’d bought off an infomercial and used exactly once, with disastrous results.

  A pregnancy test. I picked it up a long time ago, thinking it was something I should have on hand. Like a thermometer, or cough medicine.

  But right now, I didn’t feel smart or responsible. Horror. Terror. Pure panic. Those were the emotions streaking through my bloodstream, eating away at my veins like acid.

  With shaking hands, I pushed my thumb beneath the cardboard flap and pulled at the plastic. Quickly scanning the instructions, I peed on the tip and left it on the bathroom counter while I stepped into the shower.

  I couldn’t be pregnant. I just…I just couldn’t.

  Life wasn’t that cruel.

  But it was.

  It was to me.

  When was the last time I’d had unprotected sex?

  My mind flipped manically through the past weeks. Landon and I had used a condom every time we’d had sex. Every single time.

  Adam and I had stopped using condoms six months ago, when I agreed to go on the pill.

  Oh no.

  Adam’s apartment. His phone call with Brian.

  You’re lying to yourself. And you’re using Piper to lie to everyone else.

  I know.

  My pills had been in my hand…until I threw them at Adam’s head. Conditioner still coating my hair, I turned off the water and stepped onto the bathmat soaking wet. Holding my breath, I peered at the stick.