by Lauren Rowe
“A few miles south in Pacific Beach. Our condo was a block from the beach.”
“Nice.”
“That’s what happens when you get knocked up by a rich man who wants to get rid of you so his wife won’t find out. He buys you a nice condo a block from the beach.”
There’s an awkward beat.
What am I doing? I’m coming across like such a Bitter Betty right now. I clear my throat. “So, tell me about your hometown. I’ve never been to Seattle.”
“Ah, the Emerald City,” he says reverently. “I love her so.” He tells me a bit about his beloved city. And then he says, “It rains a ton, though. And it’s freezing, compared to Southern California. If you come, no matter what time of year, make sure you bring a jacket and wear layers. Tourists are never prepared.”
There’s another awkward beat. That didn’t sound like a personal invitation to come to Seattle. It was more like a travel advisory. Okay, I’m suddenly feeling like I’m drowning here. Like I’m way more into Dax than he is into me. Like maybe, when it comes down to it, he’s going to decide moving ahead with me, moving beyond fuck buddy status, simply isn’t worth the headache.
I pull away from Dax’s embrace in the bed and look out at the night sky through the window, suddenly feeling anxious. Insecure. Rejected. If I’m being honest with myself, this situation is beginning to feel too stressful to enjoy. I can’t get enough of this boy. I’m addicted to him in a way I’ve never experienced before. But I’m beginning to realize I want him for real. Not like this. I know why we agreed to keep things on the down low. It sounded like a perfectly rational idea at the time. But, slowly, I’m beginning to feel like Dax and I are staving off the inevitable. Hurtling at the speed of a snail toward a brick wall—a brick wall that’s undoubtedly going to smash my heart.
“Is something wrong?” Dax says.
I pause, trying to decide how to explain the rising dread I’m feeling. The certainty slowly descending upon me that he’s ultimately going to hurt me. Leave me. Not want me. Shatter me. “I think I’m having a bit of a harder time with this fuck-spies arrangement than I thought I would,” I admit softly, still looking at the moonlit sky through the window.
Dax strokes my hair. “I just need a little more time, Vi. It hasn’t even been a week. “
Of course, when Dax puts it that way, my brain knows it’s objectively unreasonable for me to be feeling this sense of doom—for me to think, even for a minute, he’s dragging his feet or stringing me along. Frankly, it’s verging on crazy for me to even hint that he should be willing to shout about his feelings for me from the rooftops this soon, especially in light of the potential consequences. But my heart feels ready to take this thing public now. And knowing he doesn’t feel the same way is killing me. “I guess it just feels like it’s been a lot longer than a week to me,” I say. “I feel like I’ve known you for months. Years, even.”
I look at him. He looks stressed. Beautiful. Earnest. Like he’s holding his breath.
And I suddenly realize I’m being unreasonable. Clingy. Surely, I’m letting my abandonment issues get the best of me. Dax is between a rock and a hard place and simply trying to find his way. I need to give him the time and space to do that. I touch his stunning, moonlit face and smile. “Pretend I never said anything, okay? I’m good.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “I was just overthinking things.” I pause, trying to get a grip on a thought niggling my brain. “I think maybe I got a bit triggered when Aloha said Reed’s made so much money off RCR, he should have paid me a finder’s fee. That kind of stressed me out.”
“Yeah, I could tell. But she wasn’t being literal. She was just saying Reed owes you so much for finding the band that put his record label on the map, that’s all. She just meant he lucked out, big-time, that you pestered him like that.”
“I know she didn’t mean anything. She just hit a nerve, that’s all. Reed and I barely knew each other back when I took him to see that RCR show. Sometimes, I wonder if Reed would have stuck around to become my big brother the way he did if he didn’t feel like he owed me something. Did he love me, just for me, or did he love me for finding his first big golden goose?”
“Oh, sweetheart. Of course, Reed loves you. I saw the way he looked at you at the wedding. He adores you.”
“All this time, I’ve had this fairytale in my head about my relationship with Reed. He swooped in when I needed him most. When I needed someone to take care of me. He’s the one man in my life who’s never abandoned me. Not yet, anyway.” I swallow hard. “But, sometimes, I do wonder why he’s done so much for me. All this time, I’ve thought he was so generous to fund The Superhero Project and my schooling. To give me a rent-free apartment and pay my bills. But in comparison to what he’s made off RCR, I’m sure it’s hardly anything. I’m not saying I deserve more, not at all, or that he owes me anything... I’m saying maybe he thinks it’s the least he can do, not because he loves me, or wants to help me out of love, but because he feels he owes me something, and by doing these things for me, and spending time with me, he’s actually getting off comparatively easy.” Tears prick my eyes at my startling admission. I’ve thought about all this before, secretly, but I’ve never admitted any of it out loud, not even to Miranda or my therapist.
“Oh, Violet. No,” Dax coos. “Baby, no.”
I wipe my eyes. “I sometimes wonder about Caleb, too. He and I got together only after Reed came into my life. Would Caleb have made a move on me if I didn’t suddenly have a new big brother with a record label?”
Dax looks anguished. “Violet. Caleb loved you. He still does. He told me so himself.”
“I’ve never said any of this out loud,” I confess. “Not about Reed or Caleb. Not to anyone. But I’ve thought it.”
“Baby,” he whispers, pulling me to him.
A dam breaks inside me. The insecurities I’m feeling about my relationship with Dax mingle with the ones I’ve felt for years in other aspects of my life, and I suddenly lose it. “I just don’t understand why nobody wants me,” I blurt, tears streaming out of my eyes. “Why I’m never enough.”
Dax looks horrified. “What are you talking about? Violet. You’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever met.”
“I just want to know that someone, at some point, is going to go all-in with me because they love me. Because they want me and only me. I want someone who’s going to stick around and not leave and not be ashamed of me. I don’t want to have to sit by the phone and wish and hope to get a call. I loved my stepfather and he disappeared from my life. I thought he wanted to be my father, forever, and then, he just... left. I understood why, but it still hurt so much. And now, here I am, doubting my brother, too? But I can’t help it. Everyone says he’s a player and a dog. That he’s ruthless in business. And I always say, ‘You don’t know him like I do. He’s a sweetheart. So generous. So kind.’ But does he really love me, unconditionally, the way I love him? Or does he love me because I’m the girl who brought him his first big fish?”
Dax grabs my face. His eyes are fierce. “Sweetheart, listen to me. Listen to my voice. You’re worthy of love. Reed loves you. That’s why I thought he was your boyfriend. That’s why I was jealous. Because he looked at you in a way he’s never once looked at any of the women I’ve seen on his arm. He looked at you like he adores you. Respects you. Admires you. Loves you.”
I start crying harder. Not about Reed, really. Not about Caleb or my stepfather or father. Not even about Jackson, specifically. About everything. About my life. My heartache. This constant feeling of rejection and doubt and loss. I’m just so stressed out by this state of limbo I’m in with Dax. This weird audition I’m on. Will Dax pick me to be his girlfriend or not? Will he decide I’m not worth the trouble or will he decide I am? I feel like I’m in a pressure cooker and I’m not holding up well. I want Dax. I want him like I’ve never wanted anyone in my life. In fact, no, I don’t just want him. I need him. But I can’t be the reason his band
falters. Or his friendships falter—not just with Caleb, but with Dean and Clay and Emmitt, too—and then, if things turn to shit, perhaps, with Fish and Colin, as well. What if Dax chooses to be with me, and his next album bombs? Will he blame me for that? Will he say it’s because RCR’s fans turned on them? Am I damned if I do and damned if I don’t here? I’m beginning to feel like this is a futile situation.
“Sweetheart, why are you crying like this?” Dax says. He looks panicked. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s too complicated to explain. I’m just... tired. There’s an egg timer on me, Dax. Tick-tick-tick! Will you decide you like me more than you like Caleb and Dean and Clay and Emmitt? I want you to want me, but not if being with me is gonna fuck up your life or make you feel like an asshole.”
He looks stressed. “Please, just give me some more time, sweetheart. Until Wednesday. I’m seeing my therapist then, and I’ll talk everything through with him then. Give me that.”
“This isn’t an ultimatum, Dax. This is just me, being honest with you about my insecurities and feelings. I don’t know if all my feelings are fair or rational. All I know is what I feel. You asked what’s wrong and I’m telling you the truth. I’m struggling to figure out how this is gonna end, and thinking about it ending without me being with you, out there in the real world, is breaking my heart.”
He clutches me. “Violet, I want you, too. Can’t you see that? Don’t you understand? You’re the most amazing girl I’ve ever met. I can’t get enough of you.” He wipes my tears. “God, you’ve been through a lot in your life, haven’t you?”
I nod and sniffle.
He pulls me to him and kisses my hair and cheeks. He whispers everything is going to be all right. He tells me I’m a beautiful, gentle soul and I light up every room I walk into. “Violet,” he says, “everyone who meets you falls in love with you at first sight.”
Oh, for the love of fuck. I know Dax didn’t meant to do it, but he just mind-fucked me some more. Everyone falls in love with me at first sight? Including him? Or was that merely a figure of speech?
But since there’s no way I’m going to ask for clarification—and since that was surely the closest thing to a declaration of love I’m going to get from this boy any time soon—I kiss him and clutch him to me and try to force my brain to stop thinking so much.
In reply to my desperate body language, my obvious need, Dax cradles me and strokes my back. And, finally, when he begins softly singing “Fireflies” to me... my salty tears dry... my ragged breathing slows... and, soon, I drift off to sleep in Dax’s arms, his soulful voice a lovely Band-Aid over my aching heart.
Chapter 40
Dax
“Dude, I’m not a forty-year-old accountant with a wife, three kids, and a mini-van,” I say as we head up the walkway to the latest house.
“Don’t judge it by the outside,” Ryan says.
“There’s no cool factor at all.”
“The inside is cool.”
“But it’s nowhere near the beach,” I say.
“I just want you to see what you can get in your price range, if you’re willing to move twenty minutes inland. Lots of celebrities live over here, Dax.”
“Do the celebrities gather for bingo and shuffleboard in the clubhouse? Because this place looks like a fucking retirement community.”
“Jesus, Rock Star. Stop acting like a twat.”
“I told you I wanna live near the beach.”
“For the hundredth time,” Ryan says. “I want you to see what your budget can buy you so you can make an informed decision at the end of the day. Your money stretches like crazy over here. Yes, you’re making a shit-ton of money right now. And I hope that continues for you. But if it doesn’t—if your second album doesn’t smash—then you’re gonna need to be extra smart with your money. You’re twenty-three, Dax. What if the well has run dry by the time you’re thirty-three? You might need to live off this first album’s success for a long time. And if not, if the train keeps rolling down the tracks, then, great, you can upgrade—get a house like this one, but by the beach. But for now, we’re gonna keep to the budget we talked about. And that means you can afford a tiny condo right on the beach or a big-ass, sprawling compound out here.”
“A tiny condo is fine with me. Something like Fish’s place.”
“You need more security than Fish. Plus, I know you. You’re a homebody. You’re gonna want your place to be the hang-out.”
“He’s right about that,” Keane says. “You don’t get FOMO, brah. You get JOMO.”
Zander and Fish agree.
Ryan says, “Just give it a chance. It’s got a home theater, a home gym, a full basketball court out back, a pool and Jacuzzi. A game room with a pool table and a bar. State of the art security system and cameras. You might not want all that stuff, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t show you this kind of place, just in case. Now stop being a whiny little rockstar bitch and let me do my job.” He turns to the group. “Tell my rock star brother to stop being a whiny little rockstar bitch, please.”
“Stop being a whiny little rockstar bitch,” everyone chants in unison.
And by “everyone,” I mean the entourage that’s accompanying Ryan and me on today’s house-hunting expedition: Zander, Keane, Maddy, Fish, and... my beautiful, sexy addiction. Violet Rhodes. Goddamn, I’m addicted to this woman. So much so, when it came time for me to leave Violet in the hotel room today, I simply couldn’t do it. And not only because I’ve become physically addicted to her, but also because I just plain respect her opinion.
Which is why, when Ryan came to pick me up at the hotel, I invited Violet along... and then quickly invited Keane and Maddy, too, employing the same strategy we used for the children’s hospital.
From there, Keane invited Zander, just because he loves him more than life itself and has been missing him so much. I invited Fish and Colin, for the same reasons. Fish said yes, but Colin had plans with his dancer today. And that’s how today’s house-hunting posse was formed.
We reach the front door of the sprawling house. Ryan straightens his tie and knocks. A dude in a designer suit answers and greets us. Ryan acts all businesslike and shit, saying I’m his client and we appreciate the showing and blah, blah, blah. The dude fawns over me for a moment, telling me he loves this and that song—the same way the real estate agents at the last few places have done. I thank him, same as the others. And, finally, the dude says, “Let me give you a tour.”
I take Violet’s hand. “Lead on.”
We snake through the compound, looking at all the bells and whistles and amenities. And I must admit, the place is damned impressive. Regardless, though, it feels like too much, too fast for me. Talk about adulting. If I lived here, I’d need to hire a pool guy. Dude, I’m not ready to have a pool guy. I’m twenty-three.
When we reach the basketball court, Keane picks up a ball and elegantly dunks it. Because he’s a freak of nature. And, of course, that prompts Maddy to pull out her camera and tell Keane to do it again. “Fish, get in there. You two should play a little one-one-one.”
“I suck at basketball,” Fish says.
“Yeah, exactly. Have I ever mentioned this is a comedy show?” Maddy says.
“Ah.”
And away Keane and Fish go, acting like goofballs while getting footage for “Ball Peen Hammer’s Guide To a Handsome and Happy Life,” the YouTube show starring Keane, produced by Maddy, that’s become their precious baby. In addition to providing tons of fun and laughs for Keane and Maddy, the show has turned out to be a fantastic platform for Keane as he continues chasing his big Hollywood dreams. Plus, from what Keane’s told me, it’s a bit of a cash cow for the pair, as well.
“And, of course, there’s a full security and surveillance system,” the agent says as we walk away from the basketball court, leaving Keane, Maddy, and Fish out there, fooling around.
“Oh, I’d like to hear more about that,” Zander says, and Ryan chimes in to say he’
s interested, as well.
Zander asks the guy a few questions that display his newfound knowledge of home security—which makes sense, given that he just finished upgrading Aloha’s to the nines. And off the agent goes with Ryan and Zander to who-knows-where to show them the goods.
“You coming?” Ryan says to me.
“No, I think we’ll wander a bit, if that’s okay.” I squeeze Violet’s hand. “I could use a little alone time to gather my thoughts. You know, try to picture myself living here.”
“Great idea,” the agent says. “Take as much time as you need, Dax.”
“Thanks.”
As Violet and I walk away, hand in hand, I turn to her, a wicked smile on my face. “It’s been far too long since I’ve kissed you, Violet Rhodes. I need my drug, baby.”
She arches an eyebrow. “No argument from me.”
I look around. “Come on.” I grab her hand and lead her through the maze of the big-ass house, until we come upon a home gym. Once inside, I take her face in my hands and kiss her passionately... which quickly ignites me like crazy. As our tongues continue swirling, I pull up Violet’s skirt and slide my fingers inside her panties, and she bucks and jolts with pleasure at my touch. I begin finger-fucking her. Massaging her clit. And she lifts her thigh, giving me full access to her sweet pussy. When she comes, I unbutton my jeans, drunk with arousal. And then I pick her up by her ass, pin her back to the wall next to an elliptical machine, and—
“Dax!”
It’s Ryan.
Shit.
Violet and I scramble.
She leaps behind me to put herself back together while I stuff my hard dick back into my pants and scream bloody murder at my brother for his intrusion.
“There are surveillance cameras in every room of this house, Dax!” Ryan roars. “You’re making a goddamned sex tape!”
“Oh my God,” Violet says behind me.
Ryan’s blue eyes are blazing. “If Z and I hadn’t been in that security room, at exactly the right time, do you have any idea what a clusterfuck this could have been for you? That footage is set to upload to a server every hour on the hour while the house is on the market! God only knows who would have seen it from the security company, or if someone there would have recognized you and sold the footage to the highest bidder.”