by A. m Madden
“They had to pump his stomach.”
And then guilt over not trusting him crushed me along with that news. “They what?”
“Like I said, he’s fine. Apparently, their opening night in Portland had been a challenge for him. I don’t know if nerves hit him hard, but he fumbled through the show, and we all know that is unlike him. Cannon tried to talk to him, and Jack offered to fly out, but Shane insisted he was okay. But when they played in Seattle next, he used booze to chill out and went a bit overboard.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. That wasn’t Shane. “You weren’t going to tell me this?” I asked incredulously.
“We didn’t want to put a damper on our visit and were just trying to figure out when a good time to tell you would be.” My father cupped my face, skimming a thumb across my cheek to catch a tear. “And I probably shouldn’t have told you now, but you looked so lost.”
My insides twisted. “Why would he do something like that?”
“Livi, we can’t judge him on his behavior. Christ knows, of all people, I can relate why he needed to numb himself. We can only be there for him and ensure he moves back into familiar territory… the place where he isn’t dependent on shit like that to get through.”
“Is he okay now?”
“Yes, he is.”
“Then why hasn’t he called me?”
“In his defense, he probably assumes you don’t know yet. He wanted to be the one to tell you, and knowing we’re here and being ashamed is what is holding him back.”
“How am I supposed to process this? What am I supposed to say to him?” More tears came just as I croaked out, “How am I supposed to help him?”
Dad bent his knees and raised his shades to ensure I stared right into his eyes. “You need to be patient with him, understanding, and most of all supportive. It’ll be hard to do when he’s so far away, and he’ll push back or even become confrontational, defensive. That’s not to fight you… it’s a way to fight with himself.”
And just like that, my euphoria evaporated into thin air.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Shane ~ Three months later
After fucking up royally right out of the gate, I was so ashamed I couldn’t get out of my own head and talk to Alivia about it. Sure, I offered a lame apology and said I’d learned my lesson… but that was all I was willing to say on the subject. Predictably, she tried to be supportive, only for me to shut her down. I admitted the last thing I wanted was to cause her even more distress and asked her to please drop it.
So she did.
Thank Christ I’d pulled my head out of my ass after my fuckup. I somehow found a way to immerse myself in the experience and relish in the dream I was fortunate enough to live every night. Cohabitating on the bus with the guys didn’t suck like I thought it would, nor did they annoy me like I’d assumed they would.
Since Cannon lost the battle, there was a ton of hookups that I had to deal with. Our lead singer had been spared, having the bedroom in the back. That left me with the hard-on twins as bunkmates. Listening to someone having sex directly below you wasn’t as hot as one would think. I now understood all the stories I’d heard of Trey wanting to kill Scott and Hunter when they were single while on tour.
It wasn’t all X-rated. A huge highlight for me happened when my family flew out to see us play in Chicago. Surprisingly, Trey, Camilla, and Trestan came as well. Having a cheering section there had been bittersweet. I loved that they did that as a show of support but hated the one person I really wanted to be there couldn’t be.
The claim she’d made before leaving for Florence to come see me at some point had never been mentioned again. I was sure it was difficult to stop everything and fly back to the States for one concert. And I knew mentioning it would make her feel bad, so I never did.
Midtour put us in LA for a three-night run, so I was able to hang with Chase. He behaved himself and, weirdly enough, admitted he missed Kim. Apparently, he’d had a situation the first weekend after his move. The chick had been hot as fuck, older by a few years, and sexually aggressive. All a wet dream for Chase. But when she’d pulled out a ball gag, dildo, and handcuffs, he’d gotten the hell out of there. Although the visual had caused me to laugh my ass off at his expense, he now treaded cautiously with the female persuasion.
The weeks went by quicker than I thought they would. I used my free time to write songs, and I wrote a shit ton of them. I also kept a journal so there wasn’t a detail I’d forget to tell Alivia. She loved seeing pictures I sent of each stop we made, and of bus life with the guys. It felt like we were on better footing, although the distance was fucking torture. She kept encouraging me to make sure I truly experienced it all… more to do with that damn regret bullshit she held on to.
That opportunity came two months to the day after the tour began.
We were in Vegas, and it also happened to be November 7, my birthday. After our show, which was probably the best one yet, the guys took me to a strip club to celebrate. I hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since Seattle and allowed myself the night to let loose. I also allowed myself to be the nineteen-year-old that I was.
No, I didn’t cheat on my girl… but the way I beat myself up afterward, I may as well have. And a picture of a very incriminating lap dance that hit the internet the next morning also said otherwise.
I knew Alivia stayed off social media and rarely went online. Still, I needed to tell her, especially when we got back to the bus and in my bunk was a large, wrapped package. The brand-new glossy black Fender bass guitar with my name engraved on the back acted like a sucker punch to my gut.
Before I could fuck up again, before I bottled it all up from shame, I called her right there and then. She’d barely said a groggy hello when I rushed out an apology, saying it was stupid and reckless and not at all what it appeared to be. At first the silence that followed was torture, until she gave me an out, reminding me that I had every right to experience Vegas properly. Strip clubs were a rite of passage, and she wasn’t going to deny me that.
All I could think when we hung up was, What the serious fuck? I almost preferred that she yell and scream. Despite her enabling my behavior, I felt like shit over it. Especially when the Vegas incident sparked another round of obsession with me in the media.
Suddenly I became the rock star’s son who was a chip off the old block. With that, old articles surfaced about my dad and even my mom. They both seemed unfazed and claimed it was nothing they hadn’t seen before. As hard as it was, I needed to ignore the whole thing.
That was easier said than done. Those press pricks even pulled out pictures of Alivia and me, using them to play the “wronged” girlfriend card. And during it all, for the first time I was actually grateful she wasn’t in New York.
Not surprisingly, the mania did hit Italy. Alivia said one of their gossip channels ran an exposé that everyone was talking about. Strangely enough, no one made the connection in her small circle of friends. If the two girls and one guy she’d been hanging out with had an opinion on Alivia’s background, they didn’t show it. Except, I worried every damn day that at one point that could change… and that would bring a fucking tsunami to the doorstep of the place she went to escape it all.
It couldn’t have been easy hearing any of that shit, or even ignoring it now that she knew it existed. The domino effect had every conversation, every video call, every text after that day becoming more and more strained between us. It had gotten to the point where she said worrying about me ironically caused the distress that I claimed I didn’t want to cause. Because of it, her school work, her experience in Florence, and her nerves all suffered.
So I’d spent the last few weeks on tour acting like an altar boy to stop from hurting her, and I counted down the days until we reunited. Meanwhile, there would be days that went by without contact. Long stretches of time without communication—something that had never happened to us in all the years we’d been together.
Life went on
around us. Lori had scheduled us to play in the city during Thanksgiving. Being with my family provided a comfort I hadn’t realized I craved. Usually, Alivia and her family were part of our meal. This year, Trey, Camilla, and Trestan were obviously absent. At the last minute, they’d decided to spend it with Alivia in Italy instead of flying her home. I suspected my Vegas stint had a lot to do with that decision.
It didn’t matter. I let it go and enjoyed the end of the tour. The reviews were amazing, and chatter on whether I would be joining Cannon’s band permanently seemed to be the common thread. Cannon left it vague for my benefit. It was something we needed to discuss. I wasn’t sure that was the route I wanted to take. I was young, had proven my talents thanks to Cannon, and now had many options because of it. I had experienced things at a young age, something the rock stars in my life hadn’t had the privilege to do. As my father said, I could write my own ticket now, and it had nothing to do with my name. Mission accomplished. That had been my purpose all along.
But none of that meant a whoop to me at the moment.
I had only one thing on my mind.
Even though Alivia was supposed to come back to the States in two weeks for winter break, I hopped a flight to Italy. My parents knew, but I didn’t tell hers and made mine swear to keep the secret.
After arriving in Rome and having to wait for another flight to Florence, it was evening by the time my car service pulled up to her building. As the driver dragged my suitcase and guitar case out of the trunk, I stared up, wondering which window on the fourth floor was hers. Knowing I would be seeing her in less than a minute had my heart pounding in my chest.
Grateful that it seemed to be a new building with ample security, I shamelessly charmed my way past the concierge. By pulling out pictures of me and Alivia together since childhood, I managed to convince Sofia not to ruin my surprise. I wasn’t sure I would’ve had the same luck had it been a man and not a pretty young Italian woman.
When the elevator deposited me on her floor, I practically ran the short distance to her door before knocking on the gray-painted wood.
“I’m coming!” she said before going completely silent. I eyeballed the peephole and winked just as she yanked the door open. My heart went from pounding to flipping behind my chest wall at the sight of her standing there.
“Shane!”
“Liv.”
“What are you doing here?” She remained stone-still in the doorway, in a state of shock. I truly couldn’t blame her. Meanwhile, I struggled to keep a distance between us for fear I would pounce on her like a lion catching a gazelle.
But after a few seconds had passed, I smirked and asked, “Can I come in?”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Of course.” Moving aside for me, I walked past her into the apartment and placed my luggage next to the door. “Can I take your coat.” I shrugged out of it while checking out the place.
It was small yet adorable, and so very Alivia. Pictures of us and her family decorated tables and windowsills. The furniture was modern and bland, but the colorful pillows and some trinkets she must have picked up added plenty of color.
When that familiar hissing that I actually missed sounded behind me, I regarded the white ball of fur and smirked. “Miss me?” I swear that cat scowled.
“Yes! I am so happy to see you.”
But just as I turned toward Alivia, she catapulted into my arms, forcing a huff of air to escape. “I was actually talking to Miss Evil… ,” I claimed with an amused half chuckle. “But I’m glad to hear it. For a second I wasn’t so sure that you did.”
“Of course I do.” She squeezed me hard before putting distance between us as she took me in from head to toe. Her fingers fiddled with the dog tags around my neck while I failed to contain myself and gripped her face, kissing her long and hard.
Memories of our lovemaking rushed to the surface, competing for space in my mind along with relief to finally have her in my hold. But I needed to take it slow.
First to pull away, I saw the lustful gleam in her eye matched mine. She stroked my face before running her hand through my hair. Loving her touch, I closed my eyes, thanking God for bringing us back together. When I opened them, the love in her expression was unmistakable.
“I know you just got here… I know we have a lot to say, and we need to say it all… but please make love to me, Shane.” She didn’t wait for a response before dragging me down a hall toward her room.
No sooner had we stepped through the door than I bent to kiss her, driving my tongue back in to caress every part of her mouth. She reciprocated by sucking on it, sending a crackling jolt directly to my cock. Needing more of a connection, I sank my hands into her hair and held her as though I wouldn’t ever let her go again.
When that still proved not to be enough, I slipped my hand beneath her T-shirt, practically moaning at the touch of her warm, silky skin.
“Baby, I missed so much,” I said, trailing my lips across her jaw and down her neck. I needed to feel every inch of her against every inch of me.
She gripped my head to catch my attention. “Me too.” While we stared deep into each other’s eyes, all the awkwardness lacing our relationship these past few months was forgotten. It was now time to remember how perfectly we fit together.
Slowly, I peeled off her T-shirt, revealing a lace bra that did little to hide her beautiful pink, pebbled nipples. In awe, I skimmed my fingertips across one and then the other, and then gently bit down on one through the lace. She gripped the back of my head, further arching into my mouth.
As sexy as that was, I needed her naked and ran my hands behind her to unclasp her bra. Bringing the straps around with my hands, I exposed her to my hungry gaze and then to my hungry mouth. I resumed nibbling, sucking, licking, and devouring her tits.
I wanted to devour her from head to toe, and I would. There was plenty of time for that later. The most pressing thing I needed to do first was to sink into her warmth, to connect with her, to release the pressure that had been building inside me for months.
Forcing myself to pull away, I removed the rest of her clothes piece by piece. It was her turn to do the same, and she stared at me through hooded eyes. With flushed cheeks and parted lips, she helped me undress, placing random kisses on my exposed skin.
When my hard cock sprang free from my boxers, she gently took hold of it, driving me insane.
“Liv.” She met my eye expectantly. “I need to be inside you.”
“I need you to be inside me.” She pushed me until I was flat on the mattress and straddled me until I nestled against her folds. Her sexy, wavy hair cascaded around us when she looked down at my face.
She lowered to kiss me at the same time as she lowered her hips to slip over my long, hard length. The exquisite feeling of being inside her after all that time immediately sent white-hot pulses shooting through every part of my body. During it, we swallowed each other’s breaths, each refusing to break the kiss. Every pump of my hips sent us both closer to nirvana.
All too soon, she clenched around me, her fierce orgasm squeezing every drop I had to give and hurtled me toward my own explosive release.
The only word I managed to utter once we both calmed was “Finally.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Alivia
His stomach rumbled somewhere around 4:00 a.m.
“Oh my God,” I said on a laugh. “That was loud.”
“I haven’t eaten since the plane…” His sexy smirk that I loved so damn much appeared. “Actually, I’m wrong… not since I ate you ten minutes ago.” To add insult to injury, he ran his tongue over his lips to emphasize the point.
Instantly, my insides clenched at the mention and the memory. “That doesn’t count.”
“I respectfully disagree.” He twisted our bodies to where I was now beneath him. “If that actually could sustain me, I’d never eat anything else ever again.”
“Well, it can’t. So what would you like to eat food wise? I don’t have much here
, but nothing is open at this hour. Your choices are Nutella on Italian bread, pancakes, biscotti, olives, mozzarella, figs. Or… I can make pasta with butter and parmesan.”
He chuckled. “That’s quite a varied list.”
I offered a shrug. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company tonight.”
A pucker appeared across his forehead. “I’m company?” Before I could take his question seriously, he began tickling me. “That’s insulting to hear… company. I’ll show you company.” Within seconds he had me gasping for air and begging between giggles to stop. “Say I’m your world, Liv…”
“You’re my world, Liv.” His fingers moved faster until I screamed, “You’re my world!”
Suddenly, he stilled, the smile falling off his face as the moment went from silly to serious in the blink of an eye. “Am I? Still your world?” he asked, and I understood the change in demeanor.
Wasn’t that my problem all along? Wasn’t that the reason I came to Florence, to find something other than him to fill my world?
“You’re a very important part of it,” I admitted cautiously.
He regarded me and then nodded. “As I should be.” His mouth lowered over mine, and with that slow, languid, lazy kiss we got lost in the one world we never had a problem owning… the physical world.
Somehow twenty-four hours went by, and except to eat or have the necessary human moments, we never left my bed. But when morning came again and we realized we were completely out of food, we reluctantly showered and dressed to head out into the real world.
Shane really had no interest in seeing the sights, claiming photos of being in Florence when we were younger supplied enough memories to last him. He was more interested in spending every moment with me.
We had yet to have a conversation about how long he planned to stay. I also waited with bated breath for the next logical question to be asked—what day was I flying home? With Christmas nine days away, I didn’t know if he assumed we would go home together, or he’d suggest we stay in Italy. Surprisingly, those questions never came, and I cowardly hoped it didn’t happen during our meal.
