by Tess Keeler
The awards show afterparty was loud, and I should’ve been mingling. Instead, I was moping around and only talking to people within my comfort zone.
“Aye, is she texting you?” Mason asked me as I checked my phone for the 50th time.
I shook my head, feeling so much pain radiating in my chest. “No, but she’s busy with her blog post. I get that.” I was losing the battle of convincing myself that was the only reason she wasn’t talking to me.
I thought back to when I invited her to join me tonight. It would have been our first official outing as a couple, and I couldn’t imagine doing this without her. Even though I told her that, she still turned my invitation down.
I have a lot of work lined up, Nix. I’ve compromised too much of it already.
Her voice sounded so defeated, so I didn’t fight or push. I told her I understood and left it at that. It had been almost two months since we had spent time together, though, and I was worried that she was getting fed up with dealing with me and my career.
“I’m sure it’s just that, Nix.” Mason saw right through me. “Harper worships you, mate. Don’t stress yourself too much.”
I tried to hear the words and actually believe them. But the silence was deafening. It wasn’t like us to be so… disconnected. And I couldn’t shake the feeling I had building inside of me.
The sigh I pushed out of my lips was fairly audible, but I didn’t care. Another shot might numb some of this pain, right?
“I think you’ve consumed more alcohol tonight than you have the entire time I have known you,” Mason’s eyebrow lifted in my direction, and I noticed he hadn’t been drinking nearly as much as before. The random hookups had stopped, too. After his conversation with Pierson, he was sorting himself out. I was proud of him. I just wish it wasn’t while I was falling apart. I couldn’t be supportive to anyone right now.
“Hey, Nixon, Mason!” Noah Parker approached us, giving Mason the biggest hug after patting my shoulder. “It’s great to see both of you! You look great, Mason.” His shaggy brown hair was shorter than the last time I saw him, and it still felt odd to me how much I towered him— even if I towered most people. His brown eyes were a trait he had given his daughter, and it made me wonder if it made Mason miss his best friend. “Nixon, are you excited for the Grammy noms coming up? Only two more days.”
I nodded, forcing a smile and trying to be the Nixon Brooks everyone was used to. I didn’t feel like myself though, I felt like a wreck.
“Yes, sir, I’m super excited.” Not that I stood a chance in hell. I silently wished for another drink. “There are so many talented people in the running. I’m not sure I can compete, though.”
Noah gave me the most confused face before turning to Mason and motioning towards me with his thumb. “Can you believe he really thinks he’s not a shoe-in?”
“I know. Bloody ridiculous,” Mason scoffed.
I chewed my lip a moment, wondering if I wasn’t being grateful to their compliments or belief in me. I just didn’t want to get my hopes up, and I really couldn’t stop thinking about Harper long enough to focus my nerves on it.
Their conversation continued for a while, and I zoned out and pretended to listen. The alcohol was making me fuzzy, and I couldn’t really keep my focus on any one thing.
“Hey, I’ve got to run, you two,” Noah began, bringing me back to the present. “But Nixon, I would love to talk to you about your fourth album. That studio in Nashville that River suggested would be perfect. I could come and help produce.”
That sounded great, honestly. I loved working with Noah and his friend, River Jacobs, who I had recorded all of my albums with so far. He was one of the nicest guys. Always happy. His family was adorable, too. His husband was his childhood best friend turned lover, and their seven-month-old son, Eli, was the icing on the cake of an incredible family.
As pathetic as it was, thinking of what River had made me miss Harper even more.
Stupid.
After telling Noah I’d love to work with them again, I looked around to survey my surroundings. I saw Blake and Sam talking to some people I wasn’t sure I knew, which was a strange feeling. It was a rarity.
That’s when I saw the last person I wanted to see. Douglas Sanders. I cut my eyes at him, even though he hadn’t turned my way. But the way he wore his light brown hair brushed back and his lopsided smile irritated me so much. He was hitting on some poor girl at the moment, and I silently wished that he would catch fire.
“You alright, mate?” Mason checked on me, maybe because my jaw was clenched so tight.
I leaned against the table we were at, the music and lights starting to get to me. How much had I drank?
“Hey, boys.” The woman that approached was done up, very slender and superficially beautiful. Her dress was red and glittery, fitting her form very closely. She was a blonde with dark blue eyes, and in that moment I couldn’t place her. She was famous for something, I was sure. Model, maybe? “You looked lonely. I thought I would come join you.”
Her eyes didn’t leave me, but I wasn’t interested and that was obvious.
“We’re fine, actually,” Mason replied in the nicest way he could. “But thank you, though. I hope you have a lovely evening.”
Her perfectly formed eyebrows had crawled up her forehead, and she looked shocked as Mason declined her proposition. “How about you, Nixon? Are you content with your company?”
“Very,” I fired back, too short in my response. She looked offended. “Sorry, but I’m waiting on a call from my girlfriend.” My neurons were firing off, and I wasn’t able to think as quickly before I spoke.
The woman didn’t have a chance to speak. A voice came from behind me, and I felt my skin crawl in reaction to it. When I turned slightly, Douglas Sanders was standing there, looking like the biggest douche I had ever seen. I almost gagged.
“Are you sure your girlfriend cares that you’re talking to someone else? I don’t see her here.”
I got tunnel vision, and if Mason was trying to distract or calm me, I couldn’t tell.
“My girlfriend would absolutely care, not that it’s any of your business.” I had no filter right now. This could get ugly.
He laughed, almost amused at my words. “Oh, so it was you that didn’t want her here?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I was trying to breathe through my annoyance and anger. We had never spoken before this, and I was appalled that he thought it’d be a good idea to confront me in such a way.
“I wouldn’t blame you, honestly. Harper would spread her legs for anything that gave her attention.”
I saw red. “You disgust me.” It was the nicest thing I could come up with. “You don’t know anything about her, or about me for that matter.”
He laughed, turning to look at everyone closing in around us. “I know her pretty well.”
“Yeah, when she wasn’t even of legal age, you piece of shit.”
That’s when he punched me. Right in my jaw, causing me to grab my face for a split second before the shock wore off.
I don’t remember anything after that.
Not until Mason was pulling me off of Douglas, bloody and beaten beneath me. My hands were fucked up and swollen, but it was worth shutting him up.
“Don’t ever even think about her again, or you’ll regret it,” I growled, his arms over his face as Blake helped pull me away.
I had to recount my side of the story for the cops, and I was lucky that neither of us left in handcuffs. After we were cleared to go, Blake and Mason ushered me outside into the cool, brisk New York air while Sam did more damage control. Right now, I felt nothing. All I could feel was adrenaline pulsing through my veins. I was clenching and unclenching my fists, pacing back and forth as paparazzi began to circle around us.
“Do you want to go back inside?” Mason asked, trying to make sure I was okay. My jaw was pulsing, but the pain radiating from my knuckles distracted me plenty.
Blake
shook his head, “Let’s get back to the hotel.”
The entire ride back to my temporary residence was quiet, and I wondered if it already made headlines. If Harper had seen it. My phone screen was still blank, and I fought off the tears that were battling to show themselves.
It was the first night I didn’t stop to talk to my fans waiting for me, and I apologized even as I was being pulled inside. I knew Blake was pissed. I could feel it, but I didn’t care. Douglas had that ass kicking coming, and I’m glad it was me that dealt it.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Nixon?” The deep voice next to me caused me to stop walking, and I wasn’t even sure we were out of sight or even out of earshot, but it made the rage boil inside of me again.
“I wouldn’t have had to hit him if you would’ve. What kind of person lets someone treat their sister that way? Then to have him say those disrespectful fucking things about her? You should be ashamed of yourself.”
I wasn’t quiet, but I didn’t fucking care at the moment. I wasn’t thinking of the repercussions. Or the physical pain.
All I could think about was the love of my life slipping through my fingers with every breath I took and every decision I made.
“I want to be alone,” I snapped, leaving Blake standing there dumbfounded as I climbed into the elevator by myself. Mason gave me a sympathetic look, one I knew meant that he was there if I needed him. My friendship with him was the only thing that felt okay in my life right now.
I locked myself in my hotel room, taking off my black blazer and throwing it into a nearby chair. My hands rubbed over my face and into my hair before I slumped onto the floor at the foot of the bed. That’s when I broke down, shattering into a million pieces as the reality of everything crashed down on me.
And all I could do right then was cry.
My pity party lasted for a good twenty minutes before I noticed my phone lighting up. I had a ton of messages, but I only checked Mason’s.
Bruv, I have a key to your room if you need anything, I can let myself in. I hope you’re alright.
I didn’t respond. Instead, I pushed the long sleeves of my black button up over my elbows and sniffled back the tears that had finally stopped.
When I saw Harper’s name pop up on my screen, I was finally assessing the damage of my hands. I hadn’t even looked at my face yet.
Her first text was simple and short, the second coming in shortly after the first.
I’m coming to you.
Are you okay?
My hands were still shaking as I responded to her, feeling so much relief knowing I would see her in front of me soon. I had sobered up a lot during the altercation, but I knew I was still feeling some of the remnants of the liquor I had consumed. It made me more honest.
No. I’m miserable without you.
My phone rang, and I knew it was her without even looking. She greeted me with, “I’m miserable without you, too.” Maybe she knew I needed to hear it.
I sighed, feeling embarrassed knowing she had heard about it from another outlet than me. Was it Blake? Mason? “I assume you heard about what happened?”
She took a deep breath, the noise of the road in the background. “I saw it.”
I huffed, “Great.”
“It’s okay, Nix. I’m sure he deserved it. You don’t usually fight people for no reason.”
I debated whether or not to tell her what he said and opted to leave the details out. “He was disrespecting you. So, I shut him up.”
There was a short silence before she responded, “I’m sorry you had to deal with that on your own.”
“Don’t be sorry. I will always defend you.” Great, I was crying again.
She could tell, she had to be able to hear my soft sobs. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I mumbled, rubbing my temple and forehead as I tried to stop the tears.
“How much have you drank tonight?”
It took me by surprise that she asked me that. “I wish I remembered.” I paused, sniffling in the process. “How did you know?”
Her sweet voice was so perfect and soothing, “I can just tell. Is that weird?”
“No. Not at all.” I took a deep, shaky breath. “I miss you, so much, baby. It’s killing me.”
“I miss you, too. I’ll be there when you wake up.”
“I’m glad. I need you here with me. I know you have work. Maybe that’s selfish?”
“You’re anything but selfish, Nix,” she began, sighing herself. “I’m sorry I haven’t seen you. You’re important, and I should have made time.”
My lips quivered as I pushed on, “I have regrets too. I should’ve been there last week.” My hand was covering the entirety of my face now. “Please forgive me?” I begged quietly.
“I forgive you.” Her voice was gentle. “Sleep on your stomach, okay? In case you throw up.”
Sleep sounded nice, but I didn’t want to not be on the phone with her. “How far are you?” I asked, shifting to lay on my side on the floor.
“I should be there in about five hours. I was in Virginia.” Only five more hours without her. Three hundred minutes. Eighteen thousand seconds. I could do that, right?
“It’s late. Please be careful,” I mumbled, feeling everything slowly catching up to me.
“Always.”
There was a comfortable silence as my eyelids closed, heavy and exhausted. “You mean everything to me,” I breathed, fighting off the sleep threatening to separate us again.
“And you, me,” she whispered back. I laid my phone on the floor, putting her on speaker so I could get comfortable. I felt like I was hurting everywhere.
“I might fall asleep,” I began, my voice weak as I tried to finish my thoughts. “Mace has a key to my room. Let him know I’m okay, please?”
“Of course. I’ll be there soon.” I wondered what she was thinking as she paused. “I love you.”
“I love you, Harper. More than I can even comprehend.”
1
Make You Mine
CHAPTER TWENTY
Harper
My thumb hovered over Mason’s name in my call list as I drug my nearly lifeless body through the lobby of Nixon’s hotel. There were fans outside, but I didn’t acknowledge them. I wasn’t sure they noticed me with my sunglasses on and Nixon’s black pullover hoodie covering most of my head. I chugged my medium quad iced latte down as quickly as I could manage, the ringing of Mason’s line going on almost too long.
“‘Ello?” My friend’s voice was scratchy. I woke him up.
“Mace,” I said before clearing my throat. My voice sounded just as rough as his. “I need Nix’s key.”
“How did you get here?” he asked. I could hear his bedsheets rustling before he yawned. “Did you fly?”
“Drove,” I said, feeling every bit of the sleep I missed. I felt no regret, only remorse for my lack of presence, especially at the event he had invited me to. I took my sunglasses off and hooked them in my back pocket. “What floor are you on?”
After he gave me the information I needed, I jumped in the elevator and pressed the button for the 30th floor. I shoved my phone in my pocket and thought about how many hours I had spent listening to Nixon breathe. I was too worried to hang up. His phone must have died, because we were cut off around 5AM. An hour and a half I spent wondering if he had woken up before I could be there. I wanted to be the first thing he saw.
Mason was already hanging out of his door, a hotel robe partially covering his mostly bare body. He looked better than he had the last time I saw him. As much as I wanted to talk to him, ask him about it, I had to see my boyfriend.
“He wanted me to tell you that he’s okay,” I said as a greeting. I was a mess.
Mason nodded, his eyes sinking at the reminder of his friend. The card was placed in my free hand, my latte still hanging on. “Follow the hall to the end. ’S the left one.”
“Thanks,” I said, pursing my lips to form an uncomfortable smile.
He reached out and held my shoulder, looking at me with so much understanding. My fingers and legs shook a little. Emotional overload. “Aye. Don’t mention it.”
Nixon’s deep blue door stared at me, watching me compose myself. What would I be walking into? I slid the key over the sensor and heard the click. Pressing down, I entered slowly, cautiously. I didn’t find him on the mattress like I had expected. Instead, he was curled into a ball on the floor at the foot of the bed, his phone in front of his face. My heart tightened, the same pain I had been holding onto transforming into something horrible. What had I done? Why did I have to make him feel what I did, when it wasn’t his fault to begin with?
I sat my drink down with his room key and kneeled down on my knees, taking in his sweet face tainted by a yellow and green bruise on his jawline. His perfect jawline. I crawled closer to him, pushing his phone away so I could really look at him. He was still wearing the clothes from the video I saw of him wailing his fist into Douglas’ face. His eyes looked sore. I let the sadness consume me as I inspected his hands, both worse than the rest of him, still bloody. I kissed each knuckle gently, the silence of the room amplifying my self-hatred in the moment. Blake was right.
A soft knock on the door forced me to look away from him, glaring at whoever dared try to wake him. I placed his hand down and made sure he wasn’t stirring when I stood to answer the door. I looked through the peephole. Blake. I reached back for the key I had and opened the door, moving through it and closing Nixon inside, away from my brother.
“Harper? When did you get in?” The subtle hunch in his back straightened out as he took me in, his eyes focusing on mine. Or the bags under them.
“Nixon needs to rest,” I said, not answering him.
“No, he needs to get in the shower. He has a lot to sort out today before the Grammy nomination announcements.”
“Be a human for once in your life, Blake. God.” I stomped my foot at him, feeling vulnerable and scared. For me and Nix.
