Mr. October: A Rock Star Romance (Calendar Boys Book 10)

by Nicole S. Goodin

  “You came back.”

  The words are hanging in the air between us before I can contemplate how desperate and fucking stupid they sound.

  She nods slowly. “I came back, and I’ll be here until you tell me to leave.”

  She’s lingering in the doorway of my bedroom and as much as I was craving that bottle of booze, it has nothing on how badly I want to close the distance between me and this woman.

  She’s an addiction of the most terrifying kind.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. Two words that have never crossed my lips before this moment.

  “For what?” she questions, her head tilting to study me carefully.

  She’s asking me the question, but she already knows the answer – I can see it in her hazel eyes.

  I shrug, always the asshole.

  “Masen,” she breathes, her tone begging.

  I don’t know what she’s asking me for – I don’t know how to be what she’s looking for.

  She steps into my room, and I lose the last of my self-control.

  She sighs as I eat up the distance between us and hold her tight against my body. I might be all fucked up, but I know one thing, it seems like less of a big deal when she’s around.

  She presses the side of her face against my chest – her hands gripping onto my shirt like she’s afraid this is all going to be over soon.

  “I need to tell you something,” she whispers, and my heart rate accelerates further.

  Nothing good ever follows a sentence that begins like that.

  She pulls back, tipping her head up so she can look right at my face.

  Her palm settles over my racing heart and I sink into her touch. It’s not enough, it’s never going to be enough, but I don’t know how to get more.

  “What is it, sugar?” I murmur, terrified of the answer.

  She looks scared, and I don’t blame her, she should be scared. What she’s about to say has the power to break me. I can feel it.

  “I love you – I’m in love with you, Mase,” she whispers.

  A feeling of dread rips though me – it must take my facial features with it because she pulls away like I’ve physically slapped her.

  “No,” I growl as I pace. “No, no, no.”

  I sink down onto the edge of my bed, my head in my hands. “Fuck.”

  “Masen, look at me,” she pleads, dropping to crouch in front of me.

  I can’t do it. I can’t look at her.

  Josh was right.

  She fucking loves me, and I’m going to destroy her because I’m not capable of loving her back.

  No matter what I do now, she hurts.

  She hurts because of me.

  I need to make her leave before this goes any further, just like he said. That would be the best thing for her, the kindest, but the idea of setting her free for someone else to claim makes my hands shake.

  I don’t know what I’m meant to do without her.

  She tugs at my hands, trying to pull them from my face, but she can’t make them budge an inch.

  “Look at me, Masen,” she demands. “Look at me and tell me you don’t feel something for me too.”

  I feel something – I know I do. But it’s not enough, it’s not everything. It’s not what someone else could give her. It’s not what she deserves.

  “Masen, please,” she whispers, tears threatening her voice.

  I want her. I want her so badly I don’t know how I’ll breathe without her, but I can’t risk this – not with her.

  This is her heart on the line.

  She’s offering me her heart, and if you give someone that, you give them the power to crush you.

  I can’t be the person responsible for doing that to her. Not my sugar.

  She’s good.

  Sweet.

  Perfect.

  Mine. My brain tells me, but I ignore it.

  I lower my hands, and she breathes a sigh of relief as our eyes meet, but it’ll be short-lived – I know that much.

  “I told you, sugar, it was just sex,” I say, doing my fucking best to keep her from seeing the anguish on the inside.

  She frowns, but she’s not giving up – not yet.

  “But that was before,” she says softly.

  “Before what?” I ask lazily, like this isn’t the most fucked up moment of my life.

  “Before us,” she says, her tone rising.

  “There is no us.” I get to my feet, the volume of my voice rising with me. “There. Is. No. Us. There was just fucking, plain and simple.”

  She scrambles to get to her feet, and my girl is strong, because she matches me toe to toe – not backing down for a second.

  “Fuck that, Masen, I know it was more than that. I know you, you just have to let me in.”

  “Whatever you think you know is a lie. Just like this relationship. You’re just a girl who’s being paid to be here.”

  Raw, real hurt crosses her face, and I hate myself for it.

  “I want you to go, Billie. I’m telling you to leave.”

  She nods slowly, over and over again. “Alright. I get it. I see what you’re doing, and I just want you to acknowledge that this isn’t me leaving you – I’m not your parents, Mase – I’m not leaving you – you’re pushing me away. Okay? And for the record, I don’t want your money… you can keep it.”

  She takes a step back, and I have to physically stop myself from pulling her back closer.

  “Whatever,” I mutter, my voice cracking, betraying me.

  She turns her back on me, turning before she gets out the door.

  “You know what? This won’t work. You can’t stop people from loving you. You might not be able to accept my love, but it hasn’t stopped me from giving it to you anyway.”

  My heart pounds as she disappears from sight, closing the door softly behind her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Billie

  Tears spill down my cheeks as I run down the stairs towards ‘my room’. I want to slam the door but I won’t give him the satisfaction, instead closing it the same way I did his – like he hasn’t just ripped my heart clean out of my chest.

  I throw myself onto my bed and let it all come out – the hurt, frustration, anger… it all spills onto my pillows in waves.

  I want to hate him, but hate is a hard thing to feel for the man I left upstairs.

  I love him – plain and simple, but more than that, I feel for him so deeply that I can see past his hurtful words.

  His pain destroys me. He gets cut and I’m the one who bleeds.

  He truly believes he’s alone in this world.

  He’s accepted that Josh is here, but I don’t think he’d be surprised if one day he just stopped turning up for him, and that’s after twelve years – I’ve only been here five minutes.

  He’s never been able to rely on anyone or anything for most of his life and that breaks my heart far more than any of the lies he just told me ever could.

  I wrap my arms around myself, I feel like I’m being torn in half.

  I couldn’t make these feelings go away even if I tried, but I can’t make him let me in either.

  That’s the real sick part of it.

  You can’t make someone do something they don’t want to do – even if you know it’s something good for them.

  I pick up my cell phone and type out a message to Avery.

  To: Avery

  From: Billie

  He pushed me away and it really fucking hurts.

  Admitting that to my best friend brings on a fresh wave of tears. I swipe them away, angry at myself for being so sensitive to something I should have seen coming a mile away.

  My phone dings.

  To: Billie

  From: Avery

  I’m so sorry, babe, want me to come over?

  I shake my head – not that she can see, but I just want to be alone in my misery.

  What I really want to do is pack my bags and get the fuck out of here for good – he told me to leave after all,
but the idea of not coming back here – not seeing him every single day makes my chest ache.

  I’m not ready for that – not yet at least.

  There’s a knock at my door and I fly off the bed, rushing to answer it in the hopes it might be him.

  I fling open the door and when it’s Morris standing there and not Masen, my stomach clenches.

  “Morris, sorry, I thought it might have been….”

  “Sorry, Miss Tatum, I didn’t mean to disrupt you.”

  He reaches out like he might pat my shoulder, but thinks twice about it, his hand dropping awkwardly. It gets a small smile out of me. He’s the sweetest.

  “It’s fine, Morris, did you need something?”

  My stomach tightens. He’s probably here to carry my bags out for me.

  He has to do all of the shitty jobs for Masen, and I bet evicting his fake girlfriend is one of them.

  He opens his mouth to explain, but I cut him off.

  “I’ll just get started on the packing now and I should be out of your hair in about half an hour, is that okay?”

  He frowns at me, confused. “I don’t mean to sound foolish, but where are you going?”

  It’s my turn to frown now. “Home.” He still looks confused, so I continue, “He didn’t send you to move me out?”

  He shakes his head quickly. “No, Miss Tatum, he did not. I haven’t spoken to him.”

  “Maybe he just hasn’t had time to ask you –”

  He interrupts me. “It’s not my place to say, but girlfriends weren’t exactly covered in my contract and if I’m honest, you’re the first one he’s had, so please excuse me if I’m overstepping my boundaries here, but I don’t think Mr. Lennox wants you to go at all, in fact, I think he’s just crying out for you to stay.”

  “I’m not really his girlfriend,” I correct him.

  “I’m aware of what you are to him,” he says, his old eyes knowingly looking into mine. “He might not have figured it out yet, but he just needs a little push.”

  “I think I pushed pretty hard,” I admit. “It might be the problem.”

  “Give it one more shove,” he says, and then without another word about my impending departure, he turns and walks away.

  I watch him leave with a mixture of confusion and unease.

  He doesn’t want me to give up on Masen. Truthfully, I don’t want to give up on him either, I don’t want to be another person on the long list of people that have let him down in his life.

  I want to be more.

  I want to be his.

  ***

  I pause outside his bedroom door. I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking – I’m not up for another round of that.

  One more hurtful word and I’m going to cry in front of him, and I hate the idea of letting him see how weak he’s made me, but it’s nothing compared to the thought of him thinking I’ve walked out on him.

  He needs me. I just have to trust that he feels what I’m feeling.

  I turn the handle slowly and gently push open the door.

  A whimper slips from between my lips as I take in his form, sitting on the floor, his back against the bed, knees bent, elbows resting on them and his face in his hands.

  He snaps around in my direction as he hears me, and something sparks in his eyes that has me rushing across the room and dropping at his side.

  His expression is tortured. He’s hurting.

  I’m crying now, my plans of staying strong and hiding my feelings from him, long forgotten.

  “Masen,” I rasp, my voice thick.

  He doesn’t answer, just drops his face back down again as I wrap my arms around his shoulders.

  He stills for a beat, and I prepare myself for the rejection, but it doesn’t come. Instead he lifts his head, breathes in deeply and murmurs, “Sugar.”

  “I’m here,” I promise. “I won’t give up on you.”

  “Sugar,” he repeats, the anguish in his tone chipping away another piece of my heart. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  “Mase,” I whisper. “Let me love you.”

  He reacts then, tugging me into his arms and onto his lap, holding me so tight I can barely breathe.

  We sit like that for what feels like forever, clinging onto one another like we’re the only thing the other can count on – and maybe in a way, we are.

  His face lifts from my neck, slowly, and finally I get to see those beautiful, haunted, eyes.

  “I want you, sugar, I just don’t know how to be enough for you.”

  Fresh tears slip from my eyes. He wants me. He said it aloud.

  “You’re already enough.”

  “I’m nothing. You deserve everything.”

  I run my fingers across his jaw, my twisted, damaged man.

  “You couldn’t be nothing if you tried.”

  His eyes fall to the floor and I follow, seeing the open folder and its contents spread out next to him for the first time.

  “What’s all this?”

  “It’s you, in a folder.”

  I frown, but my eyes scan over the contents. My class schedules, lists of names from my classes… even the name of the boy I dated last year… my teachers… everything. It’s all there.

  Me in a folder.

  “I don’t understand.”

  He shrugs, his dark eyes finding me again. “I had to know. I needed to know everything about you, and it was driving me insane because I had no idea why I even cared.”

  “You can ask me anything, Masen. I’ll tell you anything.”

  He nods, and I can tell that information pleases him.

  I run my fingers through his hair, and he leans into my touch.

  “You care because you love me too,” I break it to him gently, afraid that he’ll bolt on me again.

  “Billie, I can’t… I don’t know how to…”

  I silence him, pressing my finger to his lips. “I don’t need the words, Masen, I’ve got you.”

  “You’re too good for me, sugar.”

  I don’t know how to make him see how untrue that is. Time, I guess. I’ll give him time and one day he’ll stop doubting.

  I’ll give him everything, and all he’ll have to do is learn to take it from me.

  “I love you, Masen Lennox, and you’re just going to have to deal with that.”

  He smiles, a tiny, barely-there twitch of his lips, but it’s enough for me – he’s enough for me.

  “I’m an addict, Billie.”

  I know exactly what and who he is. There’s nothing he can say that’s going to change my mind.

  “I think I might be addicted to you,” he whispers, and I grin.

  I’m sure it’s terribly unhealthy, but I don’t give a shit.

  “Then I must be an addict too, because I’m sure as hell addicted to you.”

  I see the words ticking over in his brain.

  “I wrote you a song,” he murmurs, and I think this is probably the first time he’s admitted what I already know.

  That song is for me.

  That song is his way of telling me how he feels.

  “I know.” I giggle.

  “It’s about you,” he confesses.

  “I know it is.”

  He smiles, a fraction wider this time, and just for me.

  “I had the guitar you were playing made for you.”

  This time I am surprised. “You did?”

  “Just for you, sugar.”

  My heart thumps rapidly. He’s a man of few words, but the ones he does choose, steal my breath.

  I take him by surprise, crashing our lips together in a flurry of passion and promise.

  He might not be a prince charming – not even close – but he’s the only fairy-tale I need.

  He’s my happily ever after, as fucked up as it might turn out to be.

  We break apart, his forehead resting against mine and when he starts to softly sing to me – my song – I melt.

  He might not be able to say those three little words to me, but he
shows me how he feels, even if he doesn’t know it.

  Like right now, as he croons quietly in my ear, he sings his love to me.

  There are twenty-six letters in the alphabet. You can arrange those letters into a seemingly endless number of words, but no matter the outcome, no matter what words he chooses, all I hear when he sings, is love.

  EPILOGUE

  Masen

  I can’t believe I’m fucking doing this.

  There’s not a single person in the world that could convince me this was a good idea, other than the drop-dead fucking gorgeous one at my side.

  I scowl at her as she pokes out her tongue.

  The reporter looks at the interaction between us and smiles the same way people do when they look at puppies. Like we’re cute or some bullshit.

  “So, how long have the two of you been together?”

  “A year,” I answer at the same time that Billie says, “About nine months.”

  I smirk.

  I count from the moment I first saw her, that first day at the office. She counts from the day I finally admitted that I wanted her.

  We exchange a look, but neither of us bother to correct the other, nor do we explain the difference in dates.

  “Ooookay.” She notes down the two separate figures.

  “Billie, what do you do for a living?”

  That’ll score big points with my girl. The only thing she hates more than my smoking habit, is people assuming that she just mooches off me.

  “I’m just finishing my degree right now, but I’ve been helping out with the production side of Masen’s new album with the record label and they’ve offered me a position with them when I’m finished school.”

  She smiles brightly and my chest fucking bursts with pride.

  She’s got talent by the bucket load.

  Saying she ‘helped’ is the vastest understatement I’ve ever heard. She could have single-handedly produced my entire album herself, but like the god damn angel she is, she was happy to take a back seat and pretend the suits there knew something she didn’t.