Songs of the Heart: Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 3

by B. Rose, Charli

  “Read me the note first,” I said, stalling.

  Rayne cleared her throat and read:

  Dear Dawson,

  I’m a very loving and forgiving person. We can move past the whole Izzy thing. I dealt with it all those years ago and was the bigger person. I knew you needed to get her out of your system. I can forgive her too. I know how irresistible you are. But she needs to know you’re mine.

  NOT hers. I’ll let her know, so you don’t have to worry about hurting her feelings.

  Love,

  Me

  My heart raced with the implications of the words.

  “So, we should’ve had this warning that Izzy was in danger before anything happened to her,” I whispered.

  “Based on the postmark, yes,” Rayne confirmed.

  I punched the couch cushion. “Damn it. Had we known, I wouldn’t have let her come to the concert. And I’d have made her take the bodyguard.”

  “I’m sorry, Dawson. I know how worried you are.”

  “Are you at my place?” I asked.

  “Yeah. When I realized the pieces completed the puzzle, I came straight here and texted you when I arrived.”

  “Show me,” I demanded.

  The phone shifted, and my kitchen table came into view. There on the poster board was a completed image. And though I imagined it would be like this, I still wasn’t prepared to actually see it.

  Me and Izzy. Embracing and kissing passionately in front of the Eiffel Tower. Izzy’s face was marked out with a black X.

  Instantly, I got to my feet. The edges of my vision went fuzzy. My skin heated. So much rage built up inside of me, and I had no outlet for it. There was nothing satisfying to punch. I couldn’t roar in rage. I couldn’t play angry music. I couldn’t even pace properly because of all the easels scattered about.

  “Dawson,” Rayne’s voice filtered through the angry haze, “are you OK?”

  “No. Text Joe a screenshot of the letter and the completed puzzle. I have to calm down. I can’t let Izzy see me like this. We only have few hours left together before I have to leave.” I forced my breaths in and out slowly.

  “OK. See you soon,” she said.

  The call disconnected. Immediately, I dialed Joe, pacing a short stretch of open space.

  “Yo, D. It’s a little early for you to be up, isn’t it?” Joe’s chipper tone filled my ear.

  “Yeah. Rayne called. She just picked up my mail. Seems there was a delay in a letter arriving. She’s texting the image to you and the completed puzzle. I need you to make sure that Deke has a couple other people stay here with him to watch over Izzy. I have a bad feeling. I’m not willing to take any more chances with her safety.”

  “Are you going to tell her about the security?” Joe asked.

  Sinking to the couch, I cradled my head in my hand. “I’ll tell her about Deke and give her his info in case she needs him. Let’s just keep quiet about the other two. I don’t want to worry her more. She’s already so stressed about finishing up her pieces for the show.”

  Being unable to stand in front of an easel for hours on end the past couple of days had really messed with her head. Yesterday she painted while locked away in the spare bedroom for a few long stretches.

  “You got it. We can introduce her to Deke this evening before we leave,” Joe offered.

  I hated the verbal reminder that my time with Izzy was winding down.

  “Later, man,” I said as I hung up.

  As I was contemplating slipping out to pick us up some breakfast, Izzy wandered into the living room. When she stood in front of me, all the rage dissipated and was replaced by a love so intense that I couldn’t contain it all. I stared at her in awe. She was so beautiful with her messy bed hair and sleepy face.

  “What are you doing out of bed? I thought you were going to sleep some more,” I said as I took one of her hands in mine and tugged her to me.

  She settled across my lap. “I couldn’t sleep without you next to me.” Her head burrowed in the crook of my neck as she made herself at home.

  “Sorry for waking you,” I mumbled against her head.

  “It’s OK. The only reason I didn’t want to get up yet was because I wasn’t ready for this day to start. I’m not ready for another goodbye,” her voice trembled on the last word.

  My arms tightened around her. “Me neither, baby. Me neither.”

  ♪ Piece of Your Heart by Mayday Parade

  And with this nutjob stalker on the loose, our goodbye might be longer than either of us would like.

  “I know. I just feel…”

  “Feel what, flutterby?” I asked, nerves making my voice tremble.

  “I don’t know exactly. Unsettled, I guess.” She shrugged.

  “Want to talk it out?” It was what we always did in the past when one of us was struggling to make sense of something.

  “Part of it is because my exhibit focal piece is still incomplete. It’s like bits of me are in flux or something.” Her fingers moved over my tattoo as she spoke.

  “I get that. It’s how I feel when I’m trying to finish a song and the lyrics or melody just won’t come together.” It was a feeling I’d lived with a lot the past couple of years—except for when I was high. “So, what’s the other thing leaving you unsettled?” My guts churned in anticipation of how she would answer.

  “You. Me. Us. I mean, you’re here, and we figured out all the stupid stuff we incorrectly assumed back then. And we still love each other. And this—” She motioned her hand between us. “—feels so right. But we’re still in limbo,” she rambled.

  I cupped her cheek in my hand and gazed deeply into her eyes, hoping she could see all the love and adoration I had for her. My feelings hadn’t faded in the two years I existed without her.

  ♪ When I Look into Your Eyes by Firehouse

  “I know. And believe me, it’s not that I don’t want what we used to have, and more. I do. More than I want to write my next song. I’d give up everything for you—the money, the band, the music, everything. I just think we should hold off on making decisions until the person who’s wreaking havoc on my life and now yours is caught.” I couldn’t promise her forever if there was a chance being with me would put her in danger.

  Even surviving the past two years without her, I was able to at least draw breath knowing she was in the world. If she was no longer…

  Nope. I couldn’t even think the words in my mind. But if the unthinkable happened, I wouldn’t survive. I swallowed down the agony over the thought.

  Izzy’s eyes ticked back and forth as she studied me. She’d always been able to read my every thought. Her fingers drifted to my face, tracing my lips, making me yearn. She shifted in my lap, turning so she was straddling my thighs.

  Clasping her arms around my neck, she pressed me firmly against her in a hug that was equal parts comforting and tormenting. I absorbed both in identical measure, knowing I’d need to draw strength from them in the days to come. Her mouth moved along the column of my neck, causing blood flow to redirect in my body. Comfort was erased with each nibble, lick and suck on the tender flesh of my throat. Longing sizzled along every nerve ending in my body.

  “Let’s not talk about her. She doesn’t scare me. She pisses me off,” Izzy mumbled against my mouth.

  Before I could answer, her tongue licked along the seam of my lips. With a groan, they parted, allowing her admittance. One of my hands wound around her waist, pressing her center more firmly against my cock. My other hand traced up her spine to cup the back of her head, anchoring her mouth to mine.

  I knew I should stop what we were doing. She was still recovering from the accident. The accident that was my fault. Not to mention that it was unfair to her for us to cross this line while we were in limbo as she said. But all the blood was fleeing my brain, making it hard to think coherently.

  “Let’s go back to bed,” she suggested.

  “Are you sleepy?” I asked, a pleading note in my tone. It was easier to
stay out of trouble when we were sleeping.

  As if the word caused the feeling to manifest, she yawned. “Maybe a little. But I had something else in mind...” She sucked my earlobe into her mouth and rocked her hips against mine. I gripped her waist, holding her still.

  “I think we should rest some more. We can go back to bed and sleep some more if you want,” I offered as my hand stroked soothingly up and down her spine. I prayed she’d take me up on the offer. It’d be easier to resist her in bed where I could tuck layers of sheet and blanket between her warmth and my cock. I’d been resisting her for over forty-eight hours. At her checkup yesterday, the doctor said no strenuous activities yet.

  My willpower was waning. And with her perched on my lap, I kept replaying all the times we’d been in this position before with nothing between us—sitting up in bed, in the treehouse, in my car, on couches, backstage at shows. The list was endless. None of those times would be as sweet as this one though.

  ♪ Sweetest Thing by U2

  Only four layers of fabric stood between reuniting our bodies in the way we both longed for. It’d be so easy to untuck myself from my sleep pants. And I’d had plenty of practice slipping her sleep shorts and panties to the side.

  Her mouth drifted back to mine. I was powerless to resist her siren’s kiss. Love, lust and need won out over willpower and chivalry for a few minutes longer.

  I pulled back. Without severing full contact, I planted a succession of three quick kisses on her lips, then buried my head in her neck. I inhaled her sweet scent and tried to slow my heart rate.

  “Izzy, we have to stop,” I groaned.

  “No, we don’t. I’m feeling a lot better today,” she panted in my ear. “Please, Daw. I need you. I need our connection back. Even if it isn’t official.”

  I groaned. “You’re killing me, baby. I want nothing more than to obliterate everything between us. Nothing has ever felt more right than being connected to you. Fully immersed in you—mind, body, heart and soul. But we can’t do this. Yet. We can’t cross that line until things can be official with us. We can’t be friends with occasional benefits like we were when we were younger. That would be too much and not enough all at the same time. Please understand,” I begged.

  She rested her forehead against mine and sighed deeply. Her lip jutted out in an adorable pout. But thankfully, I saw the resignation in her eyes. I’d won this round.

  For now.

  “If you’re not going to give me any, then I guess you’d better fix me breakfast while I go have a shower and take care of myself,” she said saucily.

  I moaned at the thought. “You can’t tempt me to break my resolve, temptress. And I’m pretty sure masturbation doesn’t fall under the category of taking things easy.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, increasing the amount of cleavage visible. “Fine. I’ll be good, under one condition…”

  I was probably going to regret it, but the playful sparkle in her eyes had me agreeing, “Name it.” I’d never been able to deny her anything if she really pushed, and she knew that.

  “I get to pick the movies today, and we get to make out occasionally like a couple of horny teenagers.” She looked hopefully at me.

  “Deal. But you’re only getting halfway to second base.” I deserved a freaking medal for the amount of self-control I’d had to exert the past couple of days.

  “Hmmm?” Her finger tapped her chin as she thought over my stipulation.

  “Izzy, the doctor said at least two more days of no strenuous activities,” I said in a stern voice.

  “Oh, all right,” she agreed. She pressed her lips to mine for a short but heated kiss. “I’m still going to shower. I need to see if I can stand long enough by myself. You fix breakfast. Then I’ll be back for our Netflix and chill date.”

  She climbed off my lap. My body mourned the loss of the heat and weight of her. “Netflix, no chill,” I teased as I swatted her on the butt.

  With a squeal, she darted down the hallway.

  “No, running inside,” I scolded.

  “Yes, sir,” she called over her shoulder before she disappeared into her room.

  Rather than fix the bowls of cereal I knew she was expecting, I raided the fridge for the ingredients to make scrambled eggs like her mom did. Hopefully.

  The small apartment soon filled with the sound of her shower running and sausage sizzling in the pan. After a few minutes, I transferred the sausage to a plate to drain. Then I began cracking the eggs. I had no idea how many it would take. Once six yolks swam in the pan, I fished out the bits of shell with a fork. Women made it look so easy to crack an egg. It was not.

  By the time the scrambled mix of eggs, cheese and sausage was done, Izzy sauntered into the kitchen. Both our mouths dropped open.

  “You cooked?” she asked in astonishment.

  I stared at her. Her blonde hair hung down in waves, begging to be sifted through my fingers. She was clad in that tiny pink teddy she’d bought as my gift on our one-month anniversary so many years ago.

  “Dawson, did you hear me?” She snapped her fingers in front of my face.

  “What?” I said.

  “I can’t believe you cooked for me.” She nodded towards the pan.

  “What can I say, I’m a man of many talents.” I waggled my eyebrows at her.

  “All I hear are promises, promises. No delivery,” she teased as she took her plate and carried it to the living room.

  I followed behind her. When she flopped down on the center cushion of the couch, the silky fabric billowed out, revealing a helluva lot more temptation to pound against my resolve.

  “You don’t play fair,” I stated as I set my plate on the coffee table.

  “All’s fair in love and war. And whichever this is, I aim to win,” she retorted.

  “Impossible. I’m already the winner because you love me. But the rules of engagement of Netflix and not chill must be adhered to,” I stated matter-of-factly.

  “Oh, really?” she said, her eyebrows lifting in curiosity.

  “Yes. I pick your outfit, or there will be no base rounding for you. And I get one movie veto,” I declared. I figured I’d need the movie veto, or we’d be watching the second part of Fifty Shades, which I was pretty sure would do me in.

  She giggled and said, “Be my guest.” She got to her feet to go to her room. I trailed behind, memorizing every sway of her hips, the swish of the silk as she walked, the expanse of skin visible to my hungry eyes.

  Once we were in her room, she dropped to her bed, looking utterly seductive without even trying. Groaning, I marched into her closet and pushed the racks around until I found what I was looking for. I tugged it off the rack and went back to where she waited.

  “Come here,” I ordered, holding up what I’d found.

  Laughter bubbled up out of her, lighting up her entire being. She hopped off the bed and moved to stand in front of me. I held up the luxurious, terry cloth robe so she could slip her arms into it. In a few moments, I had her covered from her neck to below her knees. After I had the belt tied securely around her waist, I reached out and brushed my fingers along the blue Capri Palace emblem stitched on the fabric.

  Her gaze dropped to where my hand rested against her heartbeat. When she looked back up at me, I could tell her mind was traveling back just like mine was.

  During the band’s first small tour through Europe, I flew Izzy out when the band had a break in Naples. She’d been so surprised when I whisked her to the port to board a private speed boat which carried us to Capri. The resort was the perfect place for us to relax and reconnect. Being on tour with an ocean between us had been a hard adjustment, but we’d made it. Our relationship survived. Until it didn’t.

  Before I could let either of us get lost in that series of sensual memories, I cleared my throat. “We should go eat before the eggs get cold.”

  She blinked her eyes rapidly a few times as she drifted back to the present. “You’re right. Cold eggs aren’
t very good.”

  Linking our fingers together in that way that had felt so natural for nearly two decades, she tugged me out of the room.

  Back on the couch, we dug into our moderately warm eggs. They weren’t half bad. Not as good as Sue’s, but they’d pass. And I hadn’t found any bits of shell yet.

  Izzy moaned around her fork, which did nothing to help my semi-aroused state.

  “I still can’t believe you cooked for me,” she said as she swallowed a mouthful. “Like a real meal. From scratch. And it’s my favorite breakfast. Unburnt to boot. You do love me,” she swooned.

  “Was there ever any doubt?” The smirk fell off my face as her smile dropped.

  Crap. Leaning forward, I set my plate down and tilted her chin up. “I’m so sorry you ever had any doubts. If I could go back and change things, I would’ve have quit the band and come back. I swear I would’ve. I—”

  She put her plate aside. Her fingers pressed against my lips, trapping the rest of my apology inside. “Shhh. I know. And I’m so sorry you ever doubted my love for you. Why did you? How could you think I would just walk away?” she whispered, shaking her head.

  “What’s the saying? Loving a lead singer ain’t always what it’s supposed to be?” I joked, trying to shrug off my stupidity.

  “Pretty sure the follow up line to what it’s like loving a music man reaffirms that she stood by him and he’s forever hers. Or maybe I’m remembering the song wrong. I haven’t been listening to much rock music lately.” The look she shot me said she recognized my lame attempt at lightening the mood.

  ♪ Faithfully by Journey

  “Honestly, I always ignored the little bouts of insecurity and doubt I had. Until the thing I feared became my reality,” I admitted softly.

  “You never struck me as insecure. Daw, you get on stage in front of thousands of people and bare your soul. How can you be insecure?” She squeezed my thigh.

  “My whole life, people always talked about how much I favored my dad in looks and mannerisms. When I was a kid, I loved that people thought I was like him. He was my hero. But then he ruined my life and my mom’s. Everything I thought I knew about love as a kid was tainted by his infidelities. I started to worry that I was more like him than people realized. That being unfaithful was my destiny too. That scared the crap out of me. You were always this bright, shining spot in my sometimes hellish darkness. If I ever did something to hurt you like my dad did to my mom, I’d never be able to live with myself. Being around so many other musicians, only intensified my fears. I saw how many of my fellow musicians—guys I truly respected—struggled to stay faithful. Temptation was everywhere. I figured it was only a matter of time before my DNA dictated I crush what we had. So, when you changed your number…”