True For You (Boys of the South)

by Valentine, Marquita

  “Where’s the fire?” Jackson set his beer down and grins. “June, I want to introduce you to my wife.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she says without looking at me. For all intents and purposes, I don’t exist. She wedges herself between my chair and Jackson’s. “Our lead guitarist came down with the flu or something. Can you play?”

  “With the band?”

  Jackson looks so excited, like a little boy finally getting told yes after years of no. Which sounds stupid if I really think about it.

  He turns to me. “Would you mind?

  And I’m thinking it’s time to let him go. “Have fun.”

  “Great.” June grabs Jackson’s arm, and they head backstage. I sit there, sipping my water and becoming more invisible by the second. It doesn’t matter if any other guy looks at me, or thinks I’m attractive, because they’re not Jackson.

  “Is this seat taken?”

  “Yes—Cameron!” I jump off the chair to give him a hug. “Sit down.”

  Letting go of me, he takes a step back and smiles, his familiar brown eyes kind. “Where’s your old man?”

  “Aren’t you older than he is?”

  “Only in years.” He props a foot on Jackson’s chair.

  I snort at his answer, and then my smile fades as I manage to sit without flashing anyone. “The band that’s playing tonight is a guitar player short, so June asked him to fill in.”

  Cameron’s dark brows crash together. “Who’s June?”

  The one he supposed to be with. “She’s the lead singer, I think, and his new singing partner.”

  “That’s right.” Cameron holds up one finger, and the waitress brings him a beer. “We talked earlier today. Never thought I’d see the day come when he’d actually be out from under Everett’s thumb.”

  “I’m happy for him.” But I’m sad for me. My one reckless act has wrecked my heart and my life. “What are you doing here?”

  “Classes are delayed because of the storm.” His brown eyes search my face. “Thought I’d come up here and hang out with Jackson for a change and get to know you, too.”

  Warning bells go off in my head, but I’m not sure what they’re trying to tell me. Cameron has been nothing but nice.

  The lights grow dim, and my attention snaps to the stage.

  The band comes out on stage, a spotlight focused on them. Jackson stands off to the side, his jeans low on his hips and his t-shirt tight across his arms and chest. It’s not the one he wore here.

  June has on a matching one, her breasts bouncing with every step she takes, and she doesn’t have small boobs. Not at all.

  There’s a pang in my chest. That’s not the shirt she wore out here either. It’s not even the same outfit.

  She blows him a kiss. He winks at her in return. My heart pinches.

  I can’t breathe. Placing a hand on my chest, I rub at my heart with the heel of my hand.

  All sorts of images run through my head. Jackson helping her get undressed, June running her hands down his tight abs. Him kissing her, like he does me right before he—

  “Don’t do that to yourself,” Cameron says, leaning down so I can hear him over the music. “At least give him a chance to explain.”

  “So you see it, too?”

  “She looks like Violet, but she doesn’t act like her.” June throws her head back and lets out a growl. The crowd goes wild. “And for damn sure she doesn’t sing like her.”

  Jackson’s fingers caress the strings of an electric guitar, the look on his face taking my breath away. I’m happy for him and sad for me. This is where he belongs. She’s who he belongs with, not me.

  “They’re really good together.” My vision blurs as I bow my head. A tear drips on my glasses. I can’t be crying. It has to be my body breaking into pieces, and this is the aftermath. “It’s like they were meant to be.”

  “When I get a hold of Jackson. I swear I’ll—”

  Getting myself together, I hold up my head. “Do what? Fuss at him for being who he is?”

  June saunters to Jackson, leaning against him and running her hands over his body. They sneak up his shirt to touch him there as well, but he backs up, a sexy smile on his face.

  “You play so hard to get. But that’s all this is. A game,” June sings, like they’re the only ones on stage. “You know you want me. I want you. Come play with me.”

  Cameron moves closer to me, cursing Jackson under his breath. Unable to watch anymore, I bury my face into Cameron’s chest. I don’t know who else to turn to. I have no friends here, no family anywhere… nothing but what Jackson has given me.

  But I don’t cry anymore. I’m resigned to my fate.

  Cameron hugs me, one-armed and brotherly. He doesn’t try to touch me anywhere inappropriately. “I’m sorry, Bliss. So damned sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.” I take a deep breath. “It’s not anyone’s fault.”

  The music stops, but I don’t bother looking up. All I want to do is go home, but I don’t even have one, not here. A shudder racks my body.

  Cameron’s voice is in my ear, his mouth in my hair. “I have a hotel room. You can stay there, and I’ll go crash at Jackson’s.”

  Suddenly, Cameron is wrenched away from me, and I almost fall out of my chair. He and Jackson face each other, breathing heavily.

  “I told you to stay away from her.”

  “And I told you not to screw things up again.”

  Jackson shoves Cameron, making him stumble a little. “Take your self-righteous ass and leave.”

  Cameron turns to me, pulling a room key out of his pocket. “Take it, Bliss, and leave him.”

  “Don’t touch it, Bliss,” Jackson growls.

  “You don’t have to do what he says.” Cameron eyes go soft as he puts the key to his room away. “Come with me, and I’ll take care of you, like you need to be taken care of. You won’t have to worry about me with other women, or any of the other bullshit he pulls.”

  Shocked, I sit there, unable to comprehend. “I don’t understand.”

  “What’s not to understand, baby doll? Cameron wants you for himself.”

  “But I don’t want him,” I blurt, before I fully comprehend the implication it will have on Jackson.

  “She’s made her decision. Go home, Cam, and while you’re there, make some new friends.” Jackson smirks, taking my hand. I allow him to lead me to backstage.

  “I don’t want you either,” I snap, once we’re away from the crowd.

  His smirk falls, and he pulls me into an empty dressing room. He kicks the door shut behind him, and I look around. The walls are made of brick, and there’s a sofa on the opposite side of us. It looks really well-used.

  I back away, not wanting any part of a sofa with Jackson, especially not that one. When I hit the wall, the rough brick bites at my skin.

  “Why not?” he asks.

  “Because I don’t know what you did backstage, before you sang, but I saw what you did on stage, and how you looked up there, with that on.”

  “This shirt is upsetting you?”

  I nod. “You didn’t have it on before.”

  “It’s what the entire band wore, but if you don’t like it…” He rips it over his head. “No one dressed or undressed me, Bliss.”

  I can’t stop staring at him, at his tight abs, the multiple tattoos, or the way his jeans hang on his hips. “But the two of you singing—”

  He cages me within his arms, one hand planted on the wall behind me. “It was an act. Nothing more. Every time I’ve performed with June it’s been an act. I’ve had to perform when I was sick, exhausted, sad, and heartbroken. None of that mattered, because the music came first. Didn’t you see they way Violet and I performed together while we were on tour?”

  “Thanks for the reminder,” I say, my misery doubling. Where was I ranked on his list of things that mattered—third, fourth, or only when he remembered he had a wife?

  “Old me wanted her, but Violet wanted nothing to d
o with me. Could you tell that from our act? Could you tell that she despised me at one point?”

  I shake my head.

  “I know you don’t get it, but I’ve been doing this for so long that it’s second nature. When I sing with a girl on stage, the crowd has to believe she’s the one I’m all into. If not, then they don’t come back for more.”

  “Then I don’t want them to come back for more,” I snap.

  His gaze drops to my lips. “I want you to keep coming back for more.” He picks me up, and I wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, my skirt riding up past my thighs. Big hands slide to my butt, cupping my cheeks. “When we make love, I want to hear you say more, more, more.”

  He rocks against me, getting me wet, making my nipples hard. He trails slow kisses down my neck and over the tops of my breasts. Desire, love, lust, and heartbreak envelop me, but before they can drown me, I break free and ask, “You know what I want to hear you say?”

  “What’s that?” He manages to push my shirt up and the cup of my bra down. My breast pops out, and he captures the nipple in his mouth. “Better than candy.”

  Bracing me against the wall, he unzips his jeans and shoves my panties to one side. In one smooth thrust, he’s in me, and I jolt at his sensual invasion.

  “Say it, baby doll.” He strokes me, hard and unrelenting, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. I don’t want to fall, because if I do, I won’t get up. “Tell me, beautiful girl. Tell me what you need for me to say. I’d say anything for you. Anything.”

  I whimper, fastening my mouth to his. I’m greedy for him. Our kisses become frantic, his thrusts more intense, and my head falls back.

  He licks my throat, and then slips his hand between us, firmly working at my clit. “Say it.”

  “I love you.” The words burst free from inside of me, at the height of my orgasm. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

  “Bliss, damn it… Bliss.” He groans my name, joining me.

  But he doesn’t say those three big words back to me. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all. He simply kisses my lips, my nose, and my forehead, then holds me for the longest time, until he pulls away to help me get cleaned up.

  June throws open the door right as we’re done. “Next set, lover boy.”

  “Let me find my shirt.”

  “You don’t need it.” She flicks her gaze down his lean form as he searches for it, and I want to claw her eyeballs out.

  “I have to go,” he says to me while putting the Downward Spiral t-shirt back on. “We’ll talk later.”

  Always later. “I think I’ll call a cab and go home.” The music comes first, everything comes first. But me? I’ve never been first for anyone.

  “No. I’ll text my driver, and he’ll come get you.” He pulls out his phone, runs his thumbs over it, and slides it back into place. “Meet him out front in ten, okay?”

  I take another look at June, but she’s staring at the drummer, who’s waiting right outside the door. He grabs her butt and shoves his tongue down her throat.

  “Move it, Morgan,” she shouts, pushing the drummer away.

  “Bossy thing, aren’t you?” he asks, and my heart sinks into the floor. It might be an act, but they’re not on stage, and I’m pretty sure June doesn’t believe in boundaries or rules.

  Her hand slips into his back pocket and he grabs her wrists, removing it, but for me, it’s too late. There’s no way for me to know if he moved her hand because he knew I was standing there, or if he really didn’t want her touching him.

  “Bye, Jackson,” I say, staring at his retreating form.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jackson

  I’ve never felt so damn conflicted in my life. How in the hell did I just have the hottest sex ever against the wall of a random dressing room, and the only thing I can think about is what Bliss said when she came in my arms and my response.

  I love you. I love you. I love you. They’re in my head, playing on repeat. I love you. I love you. I love you.

  Fans of Downward Spiral rush the stage again, and adrenaline rushes through me and all conflicting thoughts fade away. I play their cover of Behind these Blue Eyes, achieving my own music high in minutes. We don’t stop playing for what seems like hours, just like in the studio.

  This is what I’m meant to do, not play country. I want gritty, dark bars and long nights. A kickass lead singer and a beast on the drums. Freedom is in my grasp.

  Nothing but magic is happening right now.

  June places one foot on the speaker in front of her, bending at the waist and holding out her hand to the audience.

  Suddenly, I come down from my musical high.

  Though I know Bliss has gone home, I look for her, for her sweet smile and sexy body. Cameron is still in the bar, watching me and nursing his ego.

  I flip him off, and he gives it to me right back. In a couple of days, we’ll be completely fine, but I’m pretty damn sure I’ve messed up with Bliss again. How damn hard would it have been to say I love you?

  Because I do love her and she deserves to hear it. My fingers hit the wrong chord, and June looks at me, eyes narrowing.

  Dancing over to me, she leans up and bites my ear so hard that I wince. “Last song and then it’s play time.” She snaps her teeth at me.

  I force a smile and wonder if my tetanus shots are up to date. My initial assessment of her was completely wrong; June isn’t anything like Violet, or even Callie. She’s not nice, and she’s not a bitch.

  She’s just her, singing her heart out and clawing her way to the top like any other musician. I can admire that. Really, I can.

  Her hands slides around my hip and grab my ass. I take a step back, forcing her hand away.

  But I can’t admire that. She knows I’m with Bliss. Hell, catching us in the dressing room, right after I’d taken Bliss against the wall, was more than enough to prove where my interest lies.

  June stalks me, like a cat, and grabs my junk, squeezing.

  “Cut it out,” I growl.

  She does it again, twisting a little, and my eyes water. I hit her hand with the guitar. June makes a face, like I’ve just hit her sweet spot. Grabbing the waistband of my jeans, she shoves her hand down them.

  “That’s it.” Immediately, I stop playing, grab her wrist, and take off the guitar. “Get your fucking hands off me.”

  Drummer boy keeps beating on the drums and the bassist is keeping time, so at first no one notices.

  “Don’t be a pussy,” she says, meowing at the crowd.

  “Personal space, June.” Somehow, I manage to get her hand out of my pants before she can twist my balls off. “Stop getting in it.”

  She rolls her eyes and lowers her voice, saying, “No such thing, Jackson Morgan.”

  “You’re one crazy chick, you know that?”

  She hangs out her tongue, like Miley did at the VMAs, and wiggles it at me. “Go home, country boy.” Then she starts doing some kind of do-si-do, while singing my biggest hit, Break it Down for Me, Country Girl.

  “If you don’t stop singing, you’re going to start owing me royalties.”

  “Music should be freeee!” She twirls around. “Capitalism is for pigs.”

  The crowd goes wild, making oinking sounds.

  I grab the mic from pig girl and shout, “Drinks on the house, for everyone, courtesy of Downward Spiral!” I punch my fist into the air.

  The roar is deafening. Drummer boy drops his sticks, and the bassist runs a hand over his face, “Not again,” he mumbles.

  Jumping off the stage, I tear off my t-shirt and throw it into the crowd. After paying my tab, I grab my original shirt from the back. Then I text my driver and leave the bar to wait out front.

  Cameron joins me outside.

  “I wasn’t trying to take your girl,” he says.

  “Yeah, well, you weren’t trying not to either.”

  A taxi stops at the curb, and Cameron opens the door. “Treat her well, J
ackson. Girls like her only come around once in a blue moon, and you’ve had it happen twice. I’m pretty sure you won’t be so lucky a third time.”

  I tip up my chin. “Safe flight home.”

  Cameron shakes his head. “Later.”

  I shut the door and smack the top of the cab twice.

  My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Violet. It takes off, merging into traffic.

  Still coming tomorrow?

  “Shit.” I need to go to Bliss, but I owe it to Violet to be there for her. After all we’ve been through, after all the times I wasn’t there for her, this is the least I can do.

  Yeah, taking first flight out.

  Thank you, Jackson. It means a lot.

  Glancing at my phone, I note the time. “Son of a bitch.” I have to be at the airport in less than an hour. Since I don’t have use of the Morgan jet anymore, I had to book a commercial flight, and I have a layover in Wisconsin.

  My driver shows up, parking beside the curb. I don’t bother to wait for him to open my door.

  “Home, sir?”

  “Airport.”

  As soon as the car lurches into traffic, I’m dialing my home number, wishing like hell I’d bought Bliss a cell phone. I hit my forehead with the heel of my hand a couple of times. She doesn’t answer, and it goes to voice mail.

  “Hey baby do—er… Bliss. I have to catch a plane to Charlotte and the only available flight has a long ass layover in Wisconsin. So, I can’t come home right now and tell you… what you want to hear.” I let my head fall back. Yeah, that’s what she wants, a guy only saying I love you, because she wants to hear it.

  “Anyway, I’ll call you again when I get through security.”

  I hang up the phone, and in no time at all, I’m at the airport, in the line for a first class ticket, and then through security. I call Bliss again, but she still doesn’t answer.

  So I try again and again, hoping against hope that she’s sleeping, in the shower, or just mad at me and won’t answer the phone. I start to panic and call my driver, like I should’ve done in the first place.

  He answers on the second ring. “Did Bliss make it home okay?” I ask, heart hammering in my chest.

  “Yes sir,” he replies and I almost double over in relief. “I saw her up myself.”