by Lauren Rowe
Violet whimpers behind me.
“I’m sorry, Violet,” Ryan says. He’s shaking with adrenaline. “I never would have barged in on you two, otherwise. Obviously. But I had to stop you.”
“I understand,” she squeaks out. “Thank you.”
Ryan sighs. “Zander is making sure the footage is deleted and that it’s not on the cloud somewhere. He’s got Henn on the phone right now, making sure there’s absolutely nothing he’s missing.”
“Thanks,” I whisper. I look at Violet. She looks on the cusp of bursting into tears. “I’m sorry. It didn’t even occur to me.”
“I know,” she says. She wipes her eyes. She’s shaking.
“You’ve got to be extra careful, Daxy,” Ryan says, his tone turning genuinely sympathetic. “There are plenty of people in the world who’d think nothing of making a buck off you. A sex tape featuring you... I’m sure that would be a goldmine in the wrong hands.”
I exhale and rub my face. And then I flash Violet a wan smile. “Hey, on the upside, at least it would have taken care of our little Caleb-and-Reed problem, huh? No decision required. We’d be officially out.”
I meant the comment as a joke. A little dark humor never hurt anyone, right? But, clearly, I’ve said something deeply offensive to her.
Violet looks at Ryan, her jaw set. “Thank you, Ryan. It would have been devastating to me to have that out there.”
“I’m sorry I embarrassed you.”
“Thanks. I’m grateful.” Without looking at me, Violet marches toward the door of the home gym. “I need to find a bathroom for a minute. Excuse me.”
When she’s gone, Ryan whacks me across the shoulder. “Dumbshit.”
“I gotta go after her.”
Ryan grabs my arm. “Give her a minute. I’m sure she needs to be alone to cry. That had to be the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to her.”
I pace the room for a moment, adrenaline blasting through my veins. My chest is tight. My breathing shallow. I feel like I’m physically suffocating. I stop pacing and cover my face with my hands. “I’m crazy about her, Ryan,” I choke out. “She’s the most amazing girl I’ve ever met... and I think I’m royally fucking this up.”
Chapter 41
Violet
The minute I stride into the hotel room, I burst into tears.
“Violet, talk to me!” Dax booms behind me, following me into the room. “I know you were embarrassed, but I was, too. That’s no reason to give me the silent treatment the whole drive back.”
I whirl around. “It wasn’t the silent treatment. I didn’t want to say anything until we were alone because I knew I’d burst into tears.”
Dax tries to hug me, but I push him away. And that pisses him off.
He shouts, “You think I knew we were on camera? You think my diabolic plan was to unwittingly lure you into making a sex tape that would get leaked?”
“God, you’re clueless!”
“Yeah, I guess I am, because you’ve been shooting daggers at me since we got into the car and I have no idea why!”
I begin darting around the room, gathering my clothes. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“This! This fuck buddy situation. I’m not a fuck buddy kind of girl, Dax, and I refuse to be one, even for you.”
“Fuck buddy? Violet, stop that.” He grabs my arm to make me stop collecting my stuff. He makes me face him. “You’re not my fuck buddy. I’m the one who said we should be exclusive, remember?”
“Yeah, exclusive fuck buddies.”
He throws up his hands, releasing me, so I march to the closet to gather my hanging clothes.
“When you found out about the video,” I say, “your first thought was, ‘Oh well, at least it would solve my Caleb and Reed problem.’”
“That was a joke. Oh my God. You thought I was serious?”
“A joke rooted in truth. You’re looking for any excuse not to have to look Caleb in the eye and tell him you’ve banged me. Maybe it’s subliminal, but, if you’re being honest—”
“So, in your mind, I subconsciously wanted some video I didn’t even know was being recorded to leak and—”
“No. I’m saying when you found out about the video, your first reaction was that it would at least make a decision for you—a decision you don’t want to make. A decision that’s tearing you up inside and tainting what we have.”
Now it’s Dax’s turn to pace around the room. “This is nuts. It was a joke.”
I follow him around the room, shouting at him. “And what about at the hospital yesterday, when you kissed me in the hallway, right in front of all those nurses with their phones out? Was that a joke, too? Because we both know a little piece of you was hoping a photo of us would get posted somewhere, and do your dirty work for you.”
He freezes like a guilty man. And, just that fast, I know my hunch is right. That kiss in the hospital wasn’t merely the reckless act of a boy in love. It was the act of a coward. A flare gun set off by a man drowning in a sea of indecision. An invitation to fate to take the wheel. Well, fuck that shit. Fuck it!
I step forward and wag my finger in Dax’s face. “I refuse to be your booby prize, Dax Morgan! I refuse to enter into a relationship with you by default, simply because you were too chicken shit to shout from the top of the highest mountain about your feelings for me. If you want me, for real—and not just to fuck me in secret—then you’re going to need to make a decision. I want to be the woman you want. Not the woman who happens to you because someone else took it upon themselves to ‘out’ you. I’m not going to be your dirty little secret you hide from your friends. I understand intellectually why you’re hiding me. But I can’t be that girl anymore. It’s making me feel ashamed of myself. Like a tramp. And I’m not a tramp!”
“Of course, you’re not,” he says, emotion ravaging his voice. “Violet, you know why I’ve been keeping us a secret. It’s not that I’m ashamed of you, or because you’re not amazing. It’s killing me not being able to take you everywhere and—”
“No. That’s bullshit. ‘Not being able to...’ That’s not true. You’re ‘able to,’ Dax. You just choose not to. For reasons that are logical and understandable? Yes. But you’re conducting an analysis here, whether you realize it or not. Weighing the pros and cons. And by not making me your girlfriend, for real, by hiding me away and inviting Keane and Maddy wherever we go and looking like you want to barf rather than mention Caleb’s name, you’re telling me the answer to your analysis: being with me isn’t worth the damage I’ll cause you.”
Dax looks heartsick. And I’m right there with him. I feel like I’m going to keel over from the pain ravaging my heart.
“Violet. Please.”
“Frankly, I think your analysis is correct. I think we’re doomed, regardless. Even if you pick me, we can’t last. If everything goes to shit on you, then you’ll hold it against me. If you pick me, I’ll feel like I have to be the world’s most perfect girlfriend to deserve it, some kind of superhero. But the truth is, I’m not a superhero. I’m just a girl. How could I possibly be ‘enough’ for a guy like you, when you’ve got the entire world at your feet and you could have any woman you want? When there are a thousand women out there who are way sexier than me, who’ll say, ‘Oh, yes, Dax, keep me hidden!’ Girls who wouldn’t wreak any havoc on your life whatsoever?”
“I don’t want anyone else, Violet,” he says, his voice strained. “I want you.”
“Yeah, you want me. The same way my father wanted my mother. Secretly. The same way my mother wanted that dude she had an affair with—the one that blew her marriage to bits.” My voice is trembling. “My entire life, the one thing I swore I’d never be is anybody’s shameful secret. I feel dirty and used and guilty. Ashamed. You think I can’t see the guilt that twists your face every time you think of Caleb? I understand why, Dax. And, frankly, I respect that about you—your sense of loyalty. But I’m done being the source of your guilt.”
I stride to my suitcase in the corner, bring it to the bed, and throw it open, intending to pack the pile of clothes I’ve amassed on the bed and get the hell out of here.
“Wait, Violet,” Dax says, rushing to my side. “I just need a little more time. I talked about you with the therapist during our appointment. I didn’t tell you that part. He said, ‘Be careful this girl isn’t just another drug you’re taking to numb the pain. Take it slow. Be sure she’s not just another bottle of booze or a little white pill.’ So I’m trying to be cautious. I’m trying to do this right. I want to be sure.”
I shove a pair of shoes into my suitcase. “It’s good advice. Take all the time you need. But I’m not gonna sneak around with you while you take it.” Tears streaming down my face, I march into the bathroom to collect my makeup and toiletries.
“Don’t leave, Violet,” he says, following me into the bathroom. His voice is sheer panic. “I love having you here with me.”
Fuck. My heart skipped a beat when Dax started his sentence with the words “I love...” and then dropped into my toes when he didn’t finish with the word “you.” Wordlessly, I gather the last of my shit from the bathroom and march to my suitcase in the bedroom.
“Violet, stop. I need you.”
“No. I’m done auditioning for the role of The Girl Who Fucked Up Your Life. And I’m certainly not going to stand here, tapping my toe, pushing you to do something you’re not ready to do—something you’ll eventually regret. You feel like you haven’t had enough time to decide if I’m worth the damage? Cool. I get that.” I’ve finished cramming everything into my suitcase and now I close it up and start zipping. “You’re sane to feel that way, Dax. No sane person could possibly fall in love this fast. Especially when you’re hiding away in a little fantasy together and nothing is real. Whatever you’re feeling for me isn’t worth gambling all your chips on. I totally get it.”
My bag is packed and zipped. My eyes and nose are leaking. Holy hell, I’m a goddamned hot mess.
“Violet, you’re just freaked out by what happened at that house today. If you calm down and—”
“I don’t need to calm down!” I shriek. “I need to get out of here and save myself. That’s what I need. I don’t want to be your girlfriend by default, simply because you self-sabotaged. I want you to choose me.”
Dax swallows hard. His eyes are glistening. He doesn’t speak.
“We’re in a no-win situation,” I say. “Every bit as much as we were eight months ago. Only it’s worse now. Back then, my worry was you’d get kicked off the tour if Caleb found out about us. Or if Reed thought you’d used me. But I stupidly thought, once the tour was over and your band was a huge success, you’d be bulletproof, and we could do whatever we wanted. But what I didn’t anticipate was that you’d come back from the tour feeling genuine love for Caleb and Dean and the guys. You became brothers with those guys on tour. How can I possibly compete with that?”
Dax grimaces, revealing I’ve hit the nail on the head. His indecision isn’t about protecting his career. He doesn’t care about money or fame, any more than he cared about it when I first met him. He cares about betraying his friend. He cares about love and loyalty and brotherhood, and he can’t reconcile choosing a relationship with me over those things.
I step forward, my anger supplanted by heartbreak. I touch his face. His gorgeous, tortured face. “I wish you all the happiness and success in the world. But I have to step out into the light now, without shame or secrets. My whole life has been secrets and betrayals and abandonments and loss. I’m done with all of it. You’re too paralyzed to make a decision? I’m making it for you.” I hug him and he clutches me fiercely.
His body heaves. He’s shaking violently, like a junkie going through withdrawal. “Don’t go, Violet,” he whispers fiercely. “Please, baby. I don’t think I can live without you.”
I pull away and begin wheeling my suitcase toward the door, my jaw and mind set. Because, unlike Dax, I know for a fact I can’t live without him. If Dax doesn’t know that about me, with absolute certainty, then I’m most definitely doing the right thing. “Take all the time you need,” I say, my voice steely as I roll my suitcase across the room. “This isn’t an ultimatum, Dax.” I wipe my eyes and open the door. “This is goodbye.”
Chapter 42
Dax
In one hand, I hold the unopened bottle of Jack Daniels that came with the room. In the other, I press my phone to my ear. “I need a one-day hall pass on my promise to you, Colby.”
“Ryan just told me what happened,” Colby says. “I’m sure it was embarrassing, but that’s no reason—”
“I don’t want a drink because I almost made a sex tape!” I shout. “Violet left me, Bee. She’s gone. And now, I’m gonna drink myself into oblivion.”
“Go ahead. But if you do, I’m taking you to rehab.”
“Fuck!” I slam the bottle down on the table. “This is so fucking stupid! I’m not an alcoholic. I just want a drink after a horrible, shitty day, the same way you wanted a drink at Henn and Hannah’s wedding. The same way you wanted a margarita in my dressing room before my show. If you can do all that and you’re not some kind of addict, then why can’t I have a drink after Violet leaves me?”
“You can. But then I’m taking you to rehab.”
“Fuck!”
“Talk to me, Dax. Why did Violet leave?”
I get up and pace around the room, eyeing the bottle on the table. “Fuck this shit! This is so stupid!”
“Dax, tell me why Violet left.”
“She said she didn’t want to be my fuck buddy anymore!”
“Your fuck buddy?”
“That’s what she said!”
“But you’ve been obsessed with her for months. You wrote her that fireflies song.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, practically panting. “Exactly! I wrote her that song and sang it to her in front of the entire world. And she was the one who came up with the ‘secret fuck-spies on the run’ thing, not me. And now she’s gone because she says she doesn’t want to be my guilty pleasure and I want a fucking drink.”
“She obviously feels like you’ve been sending her mixed messages. She must feel strung along.”
“I never strung her along! That’s total and complete bullshit. I was up front with her, and we both agreed on the arrangement.”
Colby audibly shrugs. “Something must have changed for her, then. Somewhere along the line. She obviously doesn’t like the arrangement anymore.”
My heart feels like it’s physically breaking. I clutch my chest and mutter, “I gotta go.”
“To drink?”
“No. A promise is a promise. It was a stupid promise—a totally unnecessary one—but I made it, and I’ll keep it. Even though, to be clear, it’s fucking stupid and you’re an asshole for doing this to me and I hate you.”
“Do you want me to send Ryan over there? He’s taking the late flight back to Seattle tonight, but I’m sure—”
“No. I’ll just play my guitar until I pass out. I’ll get drunk on music, rather than Jack, even though Jack would have been a whole lot quicker.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
“Dax, don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying. Especially about the part where I said I hate you.”
Colby exhales. “Call me again if you need me. Day or night. Anytime.”
I end the call with Colby and immediately press the button to call Violet, but my call goes straight to voicemail. Again. I hang up without leaving a message, yet again, shouting obscenities to myself. If I knew what to say to her to change her mind, I’d leave a voicemail. But I don’t know what the fuck to say to her that I haven’t already said. And not only that, I’m so fucking pissed right now, I feel like I’m going to punch a hole in the wall if I don’t have a drink.
I eye the bottle again. “Fuck!”
My heart racing, I pick up my guitar, sit on the bed, and start
strumming. Cursing and strumming. Stuffing down tears and strumming. And, slowly, I begin to calm down a bit. I play whatever the fuck pours out of me, and soon, my angry, aimless strumming becomes a repeated riff. And then a specific chord progression on a running loop. My curses turn into humming. My humming turns into gibberish. And, finally, the gibberish turns into coherent lyrics. Until, soon, I’m writing a full-blown song. A fucking awesome one, at that. No, actually, I’m not writing it. I’m channeling it. Holding onto the song’s tail as it hurtles, on its own, like a comet through outer space.
When my phone pings with a text, I glance down, praying it’s from Violet—and when I see it’s from Dean, I stop playing, my heart in my throat.
Looking forward to our songwriting sesh tomorrow after your meeting with Reed. Around what time do you think you’ll be here? Can’t wait to write something dope with you, Boy Wonder.
At the end of the text, Dean attaches his address in Malibu and a code for a gate.
“Shit,” I mutter. I stare at the text for a long moment before calling Violet again. When my call goes to voicemail, I hang up and shoot her another text, begging her to call me. Again. What I’ll say to her when and if she calls, I don’t know, but I can’t do nothing. I’ve at least got to try to convince that woman to come back to me.
When I’m done texting Violet, I feel frantic. I glance at the bottle of booze across the room on the table again, physically craving it. “Motherfucker,” I whisper. I get up, grab the bottle, and set it outside the room in the hallway. And then I grab my phone with white knuckles and press the button to call my sister.
“Hey, honey,” Kat says, answering my call.
“She left me,” I say, my voice tight and steeped in pain.
“Violet?”