Our Secret Song: A sweet brother's best friend, rockstar romance (For Love and Rock Book 1)

by Emily Childs

  I shake my head, grinning. “Yes. Fine. We’re going.”

  “Thatta girl.”

  Chapter 32

  Alexis

  Everyone should have an Ellie Walker when attending concerts. She’s a force to be reckoned with when guys catcall, telling her to show skin or strip all together.

  “Enigma records has a clause in my contract that I can’t hit stupid guys simply for being scumbags,” she tells one guy who’s clearly had too much to drink.

  “It’s okay, baby,” he slurs. “You can hit me all you want.”

  “Oh, I like the sound of that.” She winks, and gestures to a door near the access tunnel. “Come in here.”

  The guy gives his friends sloppy high-fives, with a whole lot of indecent comments on what he’s going to do with Ellie Walker. I’d like to introduce him to Quinn if I knew where my basement assassin was.

  Ellie curls her finger at him, back against the door as she slides it open. She shoves him through, then slams it at his back. He shouts at her through the steel about being out in the parking lot, but she’s already moved on to the security guards in the tunnel. “That guy stays out, got it?”

  One security officer nods and stands by the door.

  Ellie flicks her hair off her shoulder, links her elbow with mine, then practically skips down the tunnel. “Do they really think we’re going to swoon when they talk like that to us?”

  “I think some people actually do.”

  Ellie starts to lead me to one of the wings where we can watch the show, but a voice stops me.

  “Alexis.”

  “Quinn,” I say. “We could’ve used you two seconds ago.”

  “I should give you a whistle,” he says.

  “As long as it’s one only you can hear. That would make it epically cooler.”

  Quinn smiles. “He was hoping you’d come.”

  I snort, but my heart is already racing. “I’m not here for Mr. Cole. I’m on a date with Ellie Walker.”

  “That’s right,” Ellie adds.

  Quinn doesn’t play along. He stands stoic, marbleized like a broad, handsome statue. I can standoff with him. Stare him down. Hold steady. I’ll win this. He lifts a brow. I swallow. Quinn lazily chews on his gum. I wring my fingers.

  He inspects his fingernails. Inspects. His. Fingernails.

  This man is on another level with his patience.

  “Ugh, fine, Thor. Fine. I’ll go wish the entire band good luck.” My body is already humming in anticipation. Eleven days without Bridger Cole’s annoyingly addictive face is too long.

  “Sure. Whatever you say. Right this way.”

  Ellie wiggles her fingers at me. “Have fun.”

  Quinn takes me up the stairs to the same greenroom where I agreed to pose as Bridger’s hometown girl. I smooth out the black skirt I borrowed from Ellie and tuck my hair behind my ears as Quinn opens the door.

  My breaths come in little gasps. Adam and Tate and Lance—they aren’t there.

  Bridger has his back to me, adjusting one of the leather wristbands he wears when he performs. My fingertips prickle, yearning to touch him. When he glances over his shoulder, I’m shattered. His green eyes memorize me, study me; they pick up the pieces one by one.

  Quinn backs away without a word, and soon only me, Bridger, and the silence between us remains.

  “Al,” he says in a strangled kind of gasp. Bridger crosses the room in three strides, stopping a foot from me. “You came.”

  “With Ellie.” I hug my middle. “We’re on a date.”

  “I don’t care who you’re here with. You’re here.”

  “Well, you should care. It’s getting serious between us.”

  He grins, takes a step closer. My back hits the door. “Were you really not going to call me back? I’ve been waiting for an angry voicemail.”

  Unbidden, the sting of tears burns behind my eyes. “I’ve wanted to call about a thousand times, but this is more serious to me than a fight we’ll brush away in two days.”

  I love him and I need to say it. If he doesn’t feel the same, I can’t stay.

  The door opens and a guy with a headset peeks in. “Five minutes Bridger.”

  He’s gone in another blink.

  Bridger reaches one hand for me. His callouses scrape my cheek. I shudder and lean into his touch.

  “Al, I haven’t brushed anything away. I’ve thought of you and nothing else this entire time. Will you be backstage? I want to find you out there.”

  I try to smile to hide the tremble in my lip. “Yeah. Um, I’ll be in the wings. Bridger . . . we need to talk after. I’m still—”

  “Angry.”

  “A little. But there’s more.”

  “I know. We’ll talk after. Okay?” He smiles. I don’t pull back when he steps closer. His lips hover near mine. “Al?”

  “Yeah?” My breath is hardly more than a whisper.

  “I wrote you a song.”

  My chest squeezes. He writes his emotions. “Well, it better be good, Cole.”

  “Get excited.”

  The stage crew comes for Bridger, he leaves the greenroom with his eyes on me. Somewhere out there I hear a rushed, “Break it down,” shout from the band. I press a hand to my heart as I go to find Ellie. She’s seated with Becca and Parker on the east side.

  “Lex.” Parker stands, holding his arms open.

  I roll my eyes and hug him. “I came. Happy?”

  “Very.” He squeezes me hard enough my back pops.

  Like the last concert, the crowd explodes the moment the thin curtains fall and golden sparks shoot on the edges of the stage. They start hard. Bridger and Adam play chords so fast I can’t keep up with their fingers. Tate tosses his drumsticks as he plays.

  There is an energy on the stage I crave. This concert is all Perfectly Broken, and based on the roars of the crowd, they prefer it this way.

  When Bridger sings a song where he does the scream, chills dance up my arms, as if his voice reaches some piece of me no one else can. My throat is raw. Parker has tried to throw them off twice, but we’re drowned out by the noise.

  Until Lance and Adam start to play a low, simple tune in between sets. Bridger takes the microphone and addresses the crowd with a grin. “Everyone having a good time!”

  The stadium trembles under the roar.

  “Thank you paramedics!” Cheers erupt. “Thank you to the EMTs, the nurses, the doctors. You people who save lives day after day.”

  When the crowd settles, Bridger goes on.

  “These concerts mean a lot to me. They started as a tribute to my dad. He, like many of you, ran in when others ran out.” Bridger holds up his arm again with the fire shield. “He died saving lives.” Bridger stalks the stage like he owns every inch of it. “But this concert, the medical life saving measures this crowd gives—you all hold a special place for me.”

  Cheers are subtle. They want him to continue. And he does.

  “It’s no secret I owe a great debt to people like you.” My heart stills. Is he going to . . . he’s never talked about this publicly. Bridger clears his throat and goes on. “I wouldn’t be standing here today without the quick response and actions of brave men and women like you.”

  Ellie smiles, I think she swipes a tear from her face. Parker squeezes my hand. I watch Bridger. Vulnerable Bridger is a new kind of desirable.

  “But.” Bridger turns his gaze to the wing. My stomach backflips. He holds my gaze for a long pause, then faces the crowd again. “Someone else also deserves a lot of credit for keeping me alive.” He looks to us again. “Al.”

  The crowd (mostly women) lose their minds at the mention of my name. My face burns like hot coals. Bridger talks to me from his place on the stage. A stadium of thousands, and it’s only us.

  “You saved me. In every way a person can be saved.” Bridger returns the mic to the stand and readjusts his guitar. “So, I want to sing a new song. This is for Alexis.”

  My knees bounce. Parker takes
my hand again, grinning.

  “Did you know about this?”

  My brother shrugs with a sly grin. I blink my blurry eyes back to Bridger. The lights dim in, a soft beat rolls over the stage and into the crowd.

  The words I wanted to hear in the hospital room come differently. His deep, rich voice says them and more. So much more. No one knows the words, but as he sings the crowd sways. Each word pierces my heart until my chest aches.

  Afraid I won’t be me again

  Afraid to be wrong

  Give in and fall tonight, so

  Your tears are all that’s left behind.

  I can’t find my way to you

  But after all that we’ve gone through

  And after all I left in pieces

  You’re still the dream that life is not yet done

  I’ll always run to you

  Because you are still my reason.

  You’ll always be the best of what’s to come

  Down the lonely road, night closes in

  Waiting for sunrise

  I’m afraid to let go.

  Our time is all I have to hold

  Will I find my way to you?

  After all that we’ve gone through

  And after all I left in pieces

  You’re still the dream that life is not yet done

  I’ll always run to you

  Because I know you’re still my reason.

  You’ll always be the best of what’s to come

  Won’t turn around, let it all slip away

  But tomorrow’s a new day

  The time has come to release what’s done

  With you the shadows fade

  And I’ve found my way to you.

  After all that we’ve gone through

  And after all I left in pieces

  You’re still the dream that life is not yet done

  I’ll always run to you

  Because I know you’re still my reason.

  You’ll always be the best of what’s to come

  And after that all we’ve gone through

  After all I left in pieces

  You’ll be the dream when all is said and done.

  Release the past, release what’s gone

  Forever, you will always be my reason.

  You’ll always be the best of what’s to come

  Yeah, you’ll always be the best of what’s to come.

  I cover my face. My skin is splitting at the seams. In my head my pulse pounds over Tate’s drumbeat. Adam grins, and plucks his guitar. Lance nods his head; he’s simply lost in his bass. Bridger isn’t singing, but the music hasn’t stopped, so no one seems to know if they should cheer or keep quiet.

  Bridger takes off his guitar and props it against the dais with the drums. He grips the microphone.

  “Al.” He turns to the wing. “No one can see you back there. Mind coming out here? I have something I need to say.”

  No. Oh, no. No way. The blood drains from my face and I shake my head. Ellie nudges me. Parker is beaming and trying to push me out of the chair.

  “No,” I whisper at Bridger. He can’t hear me, but clearly the way he’s about to laugh, he knows what he’s doing.

  “Come on, Al. Don’t be shy.”

  The crowd breaks now, and my name echoes through the stadium.

  “Girl, this is one of those once in a lifetime moments,” Ellie says. “This is yours and Bridger’s moment. Take it.”

  I blink through tears, meet her eye, then nod. This is my moment. Our moment. Smoothing out my skirt again, I crack my thumb knuckles and slowly break from backstage. I keep my eyes locked on Bridger, there is no way I’m looking at the crowd. Their cheers and cries rattle me to my bones.

  Bridger holds out his hand and I reach my trembling fingers out, taking hold of him like I’ll never let go.

  “I wrote that song at my worst. On that night,” he tells me. My forehead wrinkles. I rest my hands on his waist, my brow on his. His fingers trace the line of my jaw. “Even at my worst, you were the one dragging me out. I’m not good at expressing words, Al.” He tilts my chin, so I look at him. “But I love you. I love you so much. I’ve loved you since you gave me a fat lip over Little Women. You are the light in the dark. You are my reason for everything.”

  A tear drips onto my cheek. I curl my fingers around his shirt. “I love you, too. I’ve just always run from you.”

  “I know.”

  “You did not.”

  “I did,” he whispers away from the mic. “This, us, we aren’t always secure, or safe, or tidy. This is big, and wild, and raw. We’ve been afraid of risking it, but the greater risk is never having you. This is better than secure. This is real. It’s forever.”

  I offer him a wet smile. I don’t care if we’re surrounded by thousands, and reach up and pull his mouth to mine.

  My knees give, but Bridger hurries to wrap his arms around me, keeping upright. He kisses me, and kisses me, and kisses me until my head spins and my body melts into him.

  Whistles, cheers, a few calls for Bridger to love them instead, shake the stage. I hardly hear any of it.

  “This,” I whisper through kisses “Doesn’t mean I like you, Cole.”

  “No. It means you love me.”

  And when he kisses me again, I know as messy, as chaotic, as passionate as this is—I’d never want anyone but Bridger Cole. Ever.

  Epilogue

  Bridger

  A star is reborn

  By: Alta Harper, TMZ correspondent

  Hard rock fans across the world helplessly watched the decline of lead singer from two-time winners of Best Album, Perfectly Broken

  Two months ago, in the heart of Sin City, fans went to the internet, screaming to the world, ‘He’s back!’ In a moment of vulnerability, notoriously private, Bridger Cole, delved into his journey to sobriety, addressing recently leaked emails written during his months’ long stay at an in-patient substance abuse treatment center.

  Cole’s name has rocked the media from reports of his alleged abusive behavior, to a full recant by his accuser, to his candid struggle dealing with fame and addiction. After a two-year hiatus from releasing new material, Perfectly Broken debuted a new single: My Reason.

  Projected to top the charts when officially released, My Reason left fans talking about more than music. They want to know the woman behind the lyrics.

  But when asked, once more, the close-lipped Cole offered little, simply dubbing the woman fans call ‘Al’ as, “My reason.” As it turns out, the answer was enough to break the internet with fans shipping a new relationship for the rock superstar. Is this a rebirth? A new sound? A new muse? Time will tell.

  “Why do I need to wear a tie?” I glare at the mirror and try again to wrap the chokehold around my neck. “I look ridiculous.”

  Alexis peeks her head into my room and snickers. I’ll die happy if her laugh is the last thing I hear in this life. She steps into my bedroom and fingers the mess I’ve made of the black tie. “We need to look professional.”

  “I do not work in an office. This is not my professional attire.”

  She wrinkles her nose once the tie is even worse after she touches it and pulls it off my neck, unbuttoning the top button of my collar. She kisses the tattoo peeking out from my chest. “You’re right. This is more you.”

  Without the distraction of choking to death, I take her in. My throat tightens, and my hands can’t help but touch her. “Al, you look . . .” I blink my gaze to her. The tight lavender dress, the heels she hates, the curls of her dark hair. “Think they’ll notice if we don’t show up and stay here instead?”

  She laughs and curls her arms around my waist. “Do I think one of your best friends will notice you’re not in his wedding line? Nah, I doubt it.”

  I trap her face between my palms and kiss her. Very thoroughly. To tempt her a bit, maybe prove my point that my idea is vastly better. I pull back and Alexis bites her bottom lip, keeping her eyes closed.

  “Adam
will understand.”

  She snorts a laugh and tugs on my wrist. “Come on. We’ll be late.”

  “He hired a band, Al. We’re a band.”

  “Uh, I’m pretty sure Adam wants to hang with his friends at his wedding, not employ them.”

  I pull her against me in the elevator, trapping her with my arms, my mouth, until the doors open and we’re a little more flushed.

  “Quinn,” Alexis says, wiping her lips. “You stand at these doors at your own risk. I’ve told you this a hundred times. You might get a show when they open.”

  Quinn lifts a brow and hands us both fresh coffees as he walks with us to the back door. “Another option would be you two control yourselves during the five second elevator ride.”

  Alexis feigns offense. “Fire him, Bridger.”

  I laugh and slip my beringed fingers into hers. “Quinn, you’re asking too much.”

  He tries to look annoyed, but he grins in his stoic way. There aren’t many people who are happier I’m no longer sulking around my too-quiet house, being used, and wallowing in the past than Quinn.

  “This morning I had no choice but to belly up to the show,” Quinn says. “We need to talk tour.”

  “Now?” I say through a groan.

  “Yes. It’s starting next week. I’ve double checked the security at all the venues, it’s up to par.”

  “And Alexis?” I ask as I hold the door open.

  “She and Becca will have someone available to them twenty-four seven through Arizona and Texas after the holidays. Then, I’ll be there from Louisiana on.”

  Alexis chuckles. “We’re going to have so much fun, Quinn. Girl talk, late nights, mani-pedis.”

  “I will lurk in the corner during all this fun, thank you very much.”

  Alexis snickers and glances at me. “He’ll participate.”

  “Anyway,” Quinn goes on once we’re in the garage. “I also made sure there is WiFi on the bus for Alexis’s classes. And, finally, there is a video meeting, set up the Monday you leave, with a nonprofit attorney to help go through the particulars of Never Forgotten Book Boxes and how to get it off the ground.”

  “Sounds good.” I open the passenger door for Alexis, trying not to laugh as she curses her high heels. “Thanks, man. I’d never make it if you weren’t keeping the details straight.”