by Kacey Shea
Tears splatter, hitting the front of my shirt, and although I don’t give in to the sobs, I cry anyway. We didn’t have many good times together, but those are the times I remember as I regard my dead father’s face. Those are the times I mourn with my sadness, with my tears.
I don’t know how long we sit there, but a soft knock at the door startles me and snaps my attention back to the present. Trent’s arm goes around my shoulders, a protectiveness and source of comfort I lean into, and the woman ushers several others into the room.
“I’m sorry, but we need to move him now. It’s best if you step outside,” she says and I nod, standing and taking one last cleansing breath.
“Good-bye, Daddy,” I murmur. I turn away, and as I do my gaze catches on an open notebook at his bedside. Chicken scratches and messy words fill the entire page, but it’s my name in their midst I recognize immediately. “What’s this?” I ask.
“The past several days, he’s had difficulty speaking. But he could write to ask what he wanted.”
“That’s my name,” I blurt. Her mouth forms the most somber of smiles.
“He’s asked for you for weeks. He never stopped asking, Lexi.”
“May I?” The question leaps from my mouth and, before I can reach for it, the woman places the small notebook in my hand. I press it to my chest, the worn leather heavy against my soul.
They’re too much, the feelings that press on my heart, that grip my ability to breathe like a vice. I run from his room, down the stairway that leads to the grand foyer, and from there turn left to escape out the back door. I step to the edge of the patio, and my heart races with so much speed I have to stop. Leaning over, I grip my knees as nausea takes hold of my gut. I dry heave into a planter of poppies, but there’s nothing in my stomach to release.
“Lexi?” Trent’s voice, full of concern, comes from behind.
I hold up a hand, not able to face reality quite yet. “Give me a minute.” I stand, eyes trained on the cloudy night sky and the ocean as the waves crash on the beach. I try to make sense of it all. How I could both hate and love a person who showed me time and time again he knew nothing of love. It’s a battle, to feel both immense relief and disappointment all at once.
Trent lets me have my space, but I know he’s there behind me, waiting with a patience I don’t understand or deserve. I’m so damn thankful for him.
“Mrs. Mallory, can I get you something? Do you need a ride?” Trent offers and I turn, ready to face him and my mother.
The hostility in her glare keeps me from stepping any closer. Her mouth twists into a scowl I’ve never seen before, and she points at me but lifts her chin to glare at Trent. “You. You can get me a daughter who isn’t a selfish bitch.” Her words seethe from her lips but she’s not finished. She turns her anger back on me. “Why couldn’t you be here? Why couldn’t you give him what he wanted? He knew he was dying, Lexi. He knew he was dying and his baby girl didn’t give a damn.”
I shake my head, unable to take this from my mother when I’m already struggling with enough guilt. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you blame me for this. For him.”
“He wanted you! He kept asking for you.” She steps closer, wagging that pointed finger at my face as her accusations intensify. “Why couldn’t you be here? If not for him, then for me! Why couldn’t you forgive him?”
“Because he left me!” I scream.
“Because you couldn’t behave! You were always a handful!”
“That was not my fault! He left me, he left you, and he left us. He was never there for us, Mom. Not when we needed him. Not when I needed him. He took me to places that weren’t safe for a thirteen-year-old girl, and the minute something bad happened, he didn’t want anything to do with me. I needed him. I needed a father. He let me down.”
She shuts her eyes as though it pains her to look at me, and shakes her head. “He always loved you. He was your father. You were always too stubborn and selfish to see that.”
“Being a father is more than knocking someone up. It’s more than sending a paycheck.”
She opens her eyes, then narrows them with a glare. “The past is the past. He needed you now. He needed your forgiveness. You let him down. I will never forgive you for that.”
“We’re done here.” Trent’s deep growl cuts the tension that bounces between my mother and me. “Lexi, let’s go.”
My mom’s manic laughter sours her already scowling face. “And now you have your own lead man. Real rich. Who’s the stupid woman now?”
“I said enough!” Trent tugs me to his side, his arm around my waist. His jaw works back and forth before he speaks to my mom again. I’d say something, but I have nothing kind to contribute. “Everyone has had a long, difficult day. Let’s not make it worse with words we can’t take back. We’re leaving now.”
My mother drops her gaze to the floor, her shoulders sag, and she shakes her head as she turns around and wanders back inside the house. A good daughter would stick by her side and stay the night, but we’ve already established that I’m not. My body trembles with anger, and the feeling reverberates through my hands as I clench them into fists.
“Let’s go,” Trent says, but this time it’s not a demand, it’s a suggestion. He’s giving me the lead—the control to call the shots—but I happen to agree with him wholeheartedly. As I move toward the door, he never stops touching me, never leaves my side.
We leave the same way we arrived.
Together.
35
Trent
Lexi doesn’t speak during the trip from her dad’s house to our hotel in downtown San Diego. Not when we check in, nor on the ride up to the eleventh floor. She doesn’t even comment on the extravagance of the suite. We could have stayed at my place in the Hills, but I wanted to be closer to her father’s place in Mission Beach. I anticipated we might be going back and forth, but never expected we’d be too late. Or that her mom would be so hateful.
Her shoulders droop as she sinks into one of the oversized chairs with a view out over the bright lights of the city.
I drop our bags near the door and kick off my boots before finding her gaze has moved from the window to me. “Do you want to talk about what happened today?”
“With my father?”
“No. With your mom. Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” She tilts her chin to return her attention to the view outside, or maybe her own reflection in the window’s glass, and exhales in a rush. “That’s such a loaded question, Trent. I don’t even know how to answer.”
I move closer, holding my hands out until she takes them and stands to meet my stare. “It’s okay to not be okay. You know? It’s okay to be pissed off, angry, sad.”
“What if I’m not?” Her eyes widen with open honesty.
“Not what?”
She flicks her lip ring with the tip of her tongue. “What if I’m broken? Because my dad died today, Trent. My father. The man who supposedly asked for me in his last hours. And you know what I feel right this second? I feel fucking relieved. Relief. That’s what I feel right now. That’s so fucked up and I know it.”
“You’re allowed to feel that way, Lex. There are no rules or protocol for dealing with loss.”
“But normal people, they’re sad. They wish for more time. More memories. Me? I keep thinking how I never have to worry about running into him now. About not having to fight with my mom when she begs me to call him. About having to pretend I’m normal when everyone tells stories about how much they love him. I fucking hated him, Trent. Part of me is so glad it’s over.” She sags into my arms and I hold her tight.
“I’ve got you, Lex. I’ve got you.”
“You probably think I’m a horrible person. I understand, I do. And I’ll understand if you’re done.”
“Done? Lexi, do you think this is gonna make me run? I’m not leaving.”
“But if you want to . . .”
I lean back so she can see how serious I am. “No. I’m not fucking l
eaving. Do you get that? I’ll never leave. Not even if you ask me to. Not even if you push me away. If you run, I’ll chase you. I know how fucking creepy that sounds, but I love you, Lexi Marx. I fucking love you.”
“My stalker.” She rolls those gorgeous eyes.
“I prefer boyfriend, but you know, we can work on the title.” I dip my chin, brush my lips over hers once, twice, and relish in the way she clings to me, gripping my shirt in her hands. When we break apart she meets my gaze with no mask, and her vulnerability shines through wide eyes.
“It’s so hard for me . . . For me to believe you mean that. I hear the words, but I still worry you’ll change your mind. If I wake up tomorrow and you’re gone, I won’t be surprised.” She glances away. “You sure you want a girlfriend like that? One you have to run after?”
“Lexi.” I grab her shoulders so she can’t turn away and she has to meet my gaze again. “I want you just as you are. And we both know I’ll chase you at a speed more like a swagger. You know, my hair, my clothes, I need to look good while I’m chasing you.”
“I love you, Trent,” she whispers and my heart skips a beat. I swear it does.
“I love you, too. I’ll say it until you believe me. I’ll show you, I’ll prove it every damn day of our lives together. I’m not going anywhere. Not when you hold my heart.”
“That was almost songworthy. You sure you don’t want to take a crack at writing another duet?” Her lips pull up until a smile transforms her face.
“Let’s not get carried away. Besides, I have a better plan.”
“Mmmm . . . Does it involve Mr. Trent and your wicked tongue?” She takes a step closer so our bodies are flush, and rubs her palm down the front of my pants. “Because I could go for that.”
Fuck. She really is the perfect woman for me. That’s why I have to show her, to prove we deserve each other. I circle her wrist with my fingers and remove her hand before my body forgets that. “That’s later. Come on, let’s go before I change my mind.”
She laughs, a soft, throaty sound and shakes her head. “Okay, but do I have time for a quick shower? I promise I’ll be fast.”
“Sure.”
She slings her bag over her shoulder and walks to the bathroom.
Pulling my cell from my back pocket before I sit on the edge of the bed, I realize I still have it set to block any incoming messages. I switch it back on and my screen floods with notifications. Messages, missed calls, and voicemails from Sean, Austin, and Mom scroll down the screen so fast I don’t know where to start.
I click on the most recent message first, a text from Sean that contains a screenshot from one of the bigger tabloids.
RICHIE SANDS’ ESTRANGED DAUGHTER HIDES IN PLAIN SIGHT
Daughter of rock legend Richie Sands left the limelight after being estranged in her teens, but inside sources reveal she is none other than up and coming rock sensation, Lexi Marx. The star has been touring with Three Ugly Guys this summer and if she’s anything like her father, rumors that she’s dating not one, but two of the well-known rockers is no surprise.
My stomach drops as I scroll to see the photos of her and Sean walking back from our wing challenge in Baltimore, her and I kissing backstage after a show, and pictures of her as a child with her dad. Shit. She doesn’t need this now. How the hell did this happen?
The shower turns on in the bathroom and I don’t waste any more time checking messages. I go to my contacts and click on Bedo’s name. He picks up on the second ring.
“We have a problem,” I bark into the phone.
“Don’t tell me you’re not coming back tomorrow.”
“I’m not coming back tomorrow.”
“Damn it, Trent!” He’s not happy but tough shit.
“Richie passed away today. I’m taking a week off and so is she.”
He cusses under his breath. “People die, Trent. You can’t bail on this tour.”
I get it, I do, the predicament I’m placing him in, but there’s no way I’m leaving Lexi to deal with the aftermath of her father’s death on her own. “I need a week, Bedo.”
“Three days.”
“Six days.”
“No more than four.”
I blow out a breath and lift my gaze to the ceiling. With the power Richie had, I’m sure we can rush the process along, whether his wishes were for a burial or cremation. Money and fame have a way of expediting just about anything, even after death. “We’re taking five, and that doesn’t include today. But that’s not why I called.”
“You’re killing me, T. What else is wrong?”
“Who leaked the story?” My anger returns as soon as I spit out the words.
“They would’ve found out anyway.” Bedo brushes it off like it’s no big deal.
“How’d they get those photos? The ones of me and her backstage.”
He sighs through the line and I can almost picture him rubbing his temple. “You weren’t hiding your relationship very well, Trent. It was only a matter of time.”
“So, you sped up the process?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“What do you want from me? I’ve rolled with all your punches. Done right by you guys, and given you more freedom that you probably deserve. Hell, you still don’t have an official drummer, but I let that shit go. Now you’re canceling shows last minute, in prime summer tour season. That sets us back hundreds of thousands of dollars and risks your reputation in the industry as well as with the fans. And why? All so you can hold your new girlfriend’s hand. But you’re mad because I’m willing to do whatever it takes to not go down in a sinking ship.”
“That wasn’t your call to make.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Trent. I didn’t do anything wrong. I’ve always done right by you. I always do.”
“It sure as hell doesn’t feel that way now.”
“Enjoy your mini vacation. You better get your ass on that airplane next week, ready to play some music.”
“Five days.” Those are the only words I manage to grind out before ending the call. I skim my remaining messages, but noticeably, none are from Bedo. I know he’s behind this sudden news leak; the timing along with his non-admission can’t be a coincidence. Maybe he has his reasons. Maybe he thinks he did what was best. But it creates a fracture in the trust I’ve afforded him ever since we signed with Off Track Records years ago. “Damn it!” I grumble and turn off my phone again. I’m not ready to face this or any other problem tonight.
“Hey.” Lexi opens the bathroom door with the towel wrapped snugly around her chest. Her hair is combed back and drips water onto her shoulders. Droplets roll over her curves until they disappear into the valley of her breasts, begging to be traced with my lips.
Mr. Trent perks up at the sight.
“My face is up here.” Her lips tug upward with a smile. “I’ll be ready in five. Nowhere fancy, right? I’m not gonna do my makeup.”
“There’s been a change in plans.” I push off the bed and stalk toward her. I should tell her about the story being leaked, about my suspicion that Bedo was behind it all, but that can wait. Right now I have to kiss her, touch her, and hold her.
My lips cover hers and my fingers grab the fabric of the towel to pull it free.
“Does this mean we aren’t going out?” she says between kisses, her fingers finding their way into my hair and pulling me closer still, as if she can’t get near enough. I feel the same.
“We will.” I trail my lips down the side of her neck. “But first I need to be inside you.” I drop to my knees and cup her breasts. They’re full and a perfect fit for my hands and I squeeze them together. Her nipples harden to points and my mouth captures one to suck.
“Nothing wrong with a detour.” She pants, holding my face to her breasts.
My fingers skim their way down her belly, over her sex, and into her folds. She’s already wet and ready. I groan before releasing her nipple with a pop of
my lips. “Quickly. Then we go.” I stand and claim her lips but continue fucking her with my fingers. Her wetness mixes with the rhythm of my fingers, her breathy moans the bass beat of the most erotic soundtrack. One I could listen to for the rest of my life.
“Yes,” she says. “Fuck me, Trent.”
I shuffle backward, never missing a beat with my kisses and my finger play, but once my calves hit the edge of the bed I release her to shove my pants down my hips.
Lexi grins, flips that fucking sexy lip ring, and shoves at my chest so I fall back. Of course I let her, because I love it when she gets like this. When she takes the lead.
I grip the front of my shirt and barely get it off before she’s straddling me, her pussy just inches from where she strokes my erection from base to tip. It’s a challenge to decide where to look—her eyes all lit with lust, her breasts heavy and swaying, or my dick at her slick entrance. When she rubs the tip of my cock through her folds, just a tease, she makes the decision for me.
“Fuck, that’s so hot, Lex. I want to be inside you without a condom.”
Her gaze heightens with desire and she nods her head. “You want me to sit on this cock, don’t you?”
“Fuck yes, I do.”
“And ride you ’til I come?”
“Please. Yes, do that.”
“Okay,” she says, all sass, and lowers herself until I’m sheathed inside her tightness.
“Fuck.” We both groan in unison.
I can’t hold back any longer. I grip her hips, the skin soft and smooth, and encourage her to move. “Fuck me. Ride me. I want that come,” I say and that’s all it takes for her to move from the unhurried swivels of her hips to serious fucking. Her tits bounce with each gyration and I tease one nipple. Squeezing. Pinching. My other hand goes to where her body connects with mine and my thumb finds her swollen clit. I rub tiny, fast circles that spur her on.
