Vanishing Dreams: Vanishing Dreams (Devil's Bend #2)

by Nicole Edwards

  “Okay. After my shift this morning, I’ll stop and pick one up.”

  Katie nodded. She didn’t move, trying to put together the next words, trying to formulate the questions that had been plaguing her. She swallowed hard and met Sarah’s eyes once more. “Do you think I should? You know, reach out to him?” Katie asked Sarah, dropping to the couch when the cushion hit the back of her knees.

  “Are you ready to tell him the truth? Because if you’re not, what good is it going to do?” Sarah questioned.

  Sarah had a point. Katie wasn’t looking to tell him everything that was going on. It would defeat the purpose of all her suffering for the last month. And it wasn’t as if he was going to look at her and say all was forgiven. She’d lied to him. She’d omitted the truth for weeks on end, and there was no way he could forgive her.

  After all, she was a stripper. A woman who took her clothes off for cash.

  Didn’t matter that she hated it, despised going to work at the club. But it was a necessary evil, one that paid the bills and kept her little world spinning.

  “He knows,” Katie whispered, fighting the tears that were clogging her throat.

  “You don’t know that.”

  Katie shook her head. “He knows, and now he knows I lied to him.”

  “How could he know?”

  Katie shrugged while she said, “He’s a celebrity. People dig up dirt on him all the time. Maybe someone figured it out.”

  “But y’all have been broken up for weeks. Why would anyone care?”

  Katie processed her friend’s questions, but the words weren’t what bothered her. Sarah’s expression said it all, confirming Katie’s worst fears.

  “I should’ve told him.”

  “I won’t argue with you there,” Sarah stated, not helping at all.

  Katie stared at the wall, wishing like hell that life had been easy, that she’d been given the opportunity so many other people had. Instead, she’d had to make difficult — no, make that impossible — decisions that were now going to come back and bite her in the ass.

  Knowing that sitting around wasn’t going to help the situation any, Katie pushed to her feet and headed for her bedroom. She snagged her purse and her cell phone on the way.

  Maybe Dalton didn’t want to hear what she had to say, but now that the truth was out, she needed to explain. It wasn’t going to fix anything, but maybe if he heard it from her … maybe then he’d be able to forgive her one day.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Sonuvabitch,” Dalton groaned as he tossed and turned, grabbing the cheap-ass motel room pillow and yanking it over his head.

  He should’ve turned his damn cell phone off.

  But he hadn’t and there’d been a reason for that.

  Honestly, he’d been hoping that Katie would call. Every fucking night for the last month, he’d been hoping she would call to tell him that something had happened. That she would never purposely turn her back on him. That she wanted to be with him.

  That call had never come.

  But she had called last night. More than once. Only he hadn’t answered any of her calls, not wanting to hear the disgusting truth.

  Disgusting? A little judgmental, huh?

  Dalton squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force that damn voice out of his head. He had every right to be pissed. Katie had lied to him.

  And she was a fucking stripper, for chrissakes.

  That doesn’t make her a bad person.

  “Shut. The. Fuck. Up,” he told that damned voice in his head. There was no way in hell that Dalton was going to rationalize what Katie had done. At least he had that closure he’d been searching for. The truth was brutal, but he was no longer left wondering what he’d done to fuck things up.

  She was a fucking stripper.

  But it didn’t matter anymore. What she did in her spare time wasn’t his business, and by God, he didn’t want to have anything to do with her.

  Then again, it wasn’t as if it was his choice. Katie’s voice mail had pretty much told him everything he’d been wanting to hear but nothing that made anything better.

  As much as I had hoped Cooper was wrong, that you weren’t staying away because of me, I guess the truth lies in me talking to your voice mail for the tenth time. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, Dalton, but I’ve got a pretty damn good idea. I’d say that I was sorry, but you know what? I’m not sorry. This was the very reason I did what I did. If you heard the truth, then you’ve already pre-judged me. I knew it would come to that sooner or later. I thought you were one of the good guys, and I was trying to spare you the pain.

  One of the good guys, huh? Was that why she hadn’t bothered to tell him she was a fucking stripper in the first place?

  Anyway, I’m sorry things came to this. Walking away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I… Well, let’s just say I haven’t felt this way about anyone before. I… God, I can’t even say it. I really am sorry, Dalton. I was trying to spare you. But don’t worry, you’re not the only person I’ve ever let down. And I doubt you’ll be the last. Believe it or not, I was trying to protect you. I didn’t want you to get hurt. I love you.

  Those last three words had nearly knocked him sideways.

  Goddammit!

  What could he have possibly done to make her think he would turn his back on her?

  Then again, he’d been lying on that hard-ass mattress for the last few hours, trying to force his eyes to close all while picturing her taking off her fucking clothes for a bunch of assholes. For the life of him, he couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around the fact that the girl he found himself falling in love with was a fucking stripper. And a liar.

  “Fuck!” Dalton roared, throwing his pillow across the room and knocking something off the dresser in the process.

  Why the fuck had this happened to him? What the hell had he done to deserve all this shit?

  And when had he become such a fucking whiner?

  Since the day he’d turned eighteen and realized his entire path in life had been knocked off course thanks to a stupid-ass decision and some shitty friends, Dalton hadn’t felt sorry for himself. No, he’d vowed not to.

  Yet here he was, thinking about all of the ways people had done him wrong, starting with his so-called friends when he was a senior in high school, months away from graduating.

  Drug charges. That had been the beginning of the end for him, the start of the disappearance of all his hopes and dreams. Thanks to the people he’d trusted, those who’d said they were his friends, everything he’d wanted had crashed and burned at his feet.

  Dalton had never blamed anyone but himself, although the drugs that had been found in his car that night weren’t his. In fact, he’d never done a single drug in his life. Not one single fucking time. Not even so much as smoked a cigarette.

  Well, except for liquor.

  But that hadn’t mattered at the time. It was his car, he was driving, and all the kids he’d considered friends had pointed their fingers at him.

  “Dude, chill the fuck out,” Dalton yelled at Jeremy, his buddy riding shotgun. “Worst case, I’m gonna get a speeding ticket.”

  “Right. Speeding ticket,” Jeremy retorted.

  Dalton pulled his Mustang over onto the shoulder, glancing in his rearview mirror to see the cop pulling up behind him. Dave and Alan were turned in their seats, watching out the back window.

  “Fuck,” Dave muttered.

  Dalton continued to watch, noticing how Dave and Alan were getting antsy.

  “Seriously?” Dalton laughed. “What the fuck are you so freaked out about? I was the one speeding.”

  “Just shut the fuck up,” Jeremy snapped at the two guys in the back.

  The next thing Dalton knew, there was a tap on his window, and he turned, plastered on a smile, and rolled down the window. “Officer?”

  “Do you know how fast you were going?” the officer asked without any pleasantries.

  “Probably close to eighty
,” Dalton said truthfully, figuring it would be better not to lie.

  “Try eighty-five in a sixty. License and insurance,” the cop requested.

  Dalton handed over both, keeping his eyes trained on the cop. The guy was shining his flashlight into the car, first over at Jeremy and then to the backseat, where Dave and Alan were sitting.

  “Don’t move,” the cop instructed before heading back to his car.

  “Fuck,” Dave exclaimed again.

  “Dude, what the fuck is your deal?” Dalton asked, twisting in his seat to face his friends.

  “Nothin’, man,” Alan snapped, punching Dave in the arm.

  The hair on the back of Dalton’s neck stood on end. He knew something was up, he just didn’t know what. Did one of them have a warrant or something? They were both a couple of years older than Dalton. They’d known each other for a while, but they hadn’t hung out all that much.

  The cop returned a few minutes later and shined his flashlight in the car once again. “You don’t have any guns, knives, or other illegal weapons in the car, do ya?”

  Dalton noticed the cop’s tone had turned friendly, and that didn’t help his bullshit meter. It’d already redlined, thanks to the freak out that Dave was having in the backseat. He shook his head and added, “No, sir.”

  “Would you mind if I checked?”

  “Nope. Do your worst,” Dalton said confidently, smiling at the cop before opening the door slowly. The cop took a step back and allowed him to exit the vehicle.

  “You boys go ahead and get out, too,” the cop ordered the others. “This’ll just take a couple of minutes.”

  When Dave exited the car, Dalton realized he was sweating profusely, and it was then that he knew something bad was about to happen. He just didn’t know how bad it was going to be.

  His dreams of joining the FBI had died when felony charges had been brought up against him. As it turned out, a certain amount of marijuana could get you in some deep, deep shit.

  That was where Dalton had found himself.

  But he’d been given a second chance with his music career, although for whatever reason, he’d just stumbled upon that one, thanks to some wild nights in a karaoke bar. Right place, right time.

  Sure as shit beat the wrong place, wrong time, Dalton thought to himself as he remembered that night when the red and blue lights had flashed in his rearview mirror.

  Marijuana, for fuck’s sake.

  Forcing himself out of bed, Dalton headed for the bathroom. Why the hell did he do this to himself? That part of his life was over. He’d done his time, paid the price, and here he was.

  For the first few years after he’d started his music career, the drug charges had loomed over him; every reporter in the country had jumped all over that shit. But Dalton had persevered, moving past it and forcing the public to as well.

  He’d been wrongly accused.

  Sort of like Katie?

  “Fucking shit,” Dalton grumbled, turning the plastic knob on the shower.

  He did not want to think about her. He did not want to think about the fact that men saw her naked nightly.

  Not that she didn’t deserve an explanation.

  She’d get one. As soon as Dalton could get over the rage that burned like diesel fuel in his bloodstream. Until then, he’d just return the favor. He would ignore her the same way she had him.

  And with any luck, he’d be able to forget about her.

  Right. Because that’s what you want, you stupid shit.

  Yeah, shut up, subconscious.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Katie stared in disbelief at the little white stick sitting on the bathroom counter, tears forming in her eyes as she tried to hold back the sobs that threatened to rip from her chest.

  A soft knock sounded on the door, followed by Sarah’s concerned voice. “Katie? Let me in, okay?”

  Without feeling herself move, Katie reached for the knob, flipped the lock, and then stepped back to where she had been. Sarah came in, leaving the door open. In the reflection of the mirror, Katie watched as Sarah leaned down and looked at the little screen on the white stick.

  “You’re pregnant, Katie.”

  Katie nodded. She couldn’t do anything else.

  “Oh, honey,” Sarah said soothingly, wrapping her arms around Katie and pulling her close.

  Katie rested her chin on Sarah’s shoulder and stared at the reflection of herself in the mirror. She didn’t even recognize that woman anymore. Thankfully, she didn’t have to look at herself for long, because the tears broke free, clouding her vision, and she sobbed uncontrollably right there in her best friend’s arms.

  She had no idea how long they stood there like that, but the next thing she knew, Sarah was helping her to sit on her bed.

  “I want you to rest for a little while,” Sarah told her. “I’ll take care of everything here.”

  Katie nodded. She didn’t have the energy to argue.

  When Sarah left the room, Katie crawled up into her bed, pulling the covers over her and resting her palms on her stomach.

  A baby.

  Dalton’s baby.

  What had she done?

  Oh, God, what had she done?

  The tears came again, and this time she didn’t try to stop them. She cried for herself, for Dalton, and for their unborn child.

  Just when she thought life couldn’t be any crueler than it already had…

  Chapter Fifteen

  Three months later — April

  “Thank y’all!” Dalton screamed into the microphone that was attached to the earpiece in his left ear, his guitar now hanging in front of him, his head soaked in sweat, and his heart pounding double time. It’d been one hell of a night, and honestly, Dalton wasn’t quite ready for it to be over. “We love you, Austin! Good night!”

  Taking his hat off, he tossed it into the crowd, not able to see it once it fell past the bright stage lights, but the noise that erupted from the VIP section told him someone was delighted to have received it.

  There was a chorus of “One more! One more! One more!” that resounded throughout the enormous amphitheater where they were performing the last stop of a hellacious thirty-concert tour.

  God, he loved this shit!

  With a smirk to the crowd being broadcast via several big screens behind him, Dalton tilted his head as though considering their request. He wasn’t actually thinking about it, because what the fans wanted, the fans got. This had been one of the best tours he’d done in his career, and he fully intended to go out with a bang.

  He was pretty sure they were on goal, too. After all, he’d set it up so that Brett Basson opened for him, and just as he had suspected, the crowd loved him.

  But that wasn’t all that he’d had in store for the Austin crowd. Working with Cooper’s father, David, Dalton had managed to get Cooper to join him up on stage. But the kicker was when he’d managed to secure Cheyenne Montgomery as a guest appearance. Dalton didn’t know Cheyenne all that well, but Cooper and Tessa had pulled a few strings, working with Tessa’s cousins to have her call him. The rest was mere details. Cheyenne had agreed to join them up on the Austin stage, and they’d blown the roof off the place in the first few minutes.

  And now they were gearing down, getting ready for the lights to go out.

  But he had one more thing up his sleeve before that happened.

  As he pretended to come up with an idea, Dalton’s strategic head nod got the crowd going wild. Dalton then turned toward the left side of the stage, locating his partners in crime before crooking his finger to signal them back out. When Cooper Krenshaw and Cheyenne Montgomery made their way back in view of the audience, the sound level went to astronomical levels.

  “What do ya’ll think?” Dalton asked Coop and Cheyenne, speaking right into the microphone. The noise dropped significantly, although his ears were still ringing. “Think we should give ’em one more?”

  Coop looked out at the crowd, then glanced over at Cheyenne. Anoth
er round of that dramatic feigned consideration and then Coop was nodding and grinning, getting the crowd riled up even more. “Why the hell not?”

  “I don’t know,” Cheyenne said sweetly, causing hundreds of people to start laughing and cheering. “What’ll they want us to sing?” she asked, pretending to be worried.

  “Good question,” Dalton replied, turning back to the crowd, who was gearing up, chanting again.

  Cooper moved over to Cheyenne and whispered into her ear, making the crowd go wild. Cheyenne played along, her eyes opening wide as she looked back at Cooper and then over to Dalton. “Is he serious?” she asked, her own microphone amplifying her raspy voice through the overhead speakers, garnering her a loud “I love you, Cheyenne! Marry me!” from one of the cowboys on the floor.

  “Of course I’m serious,” Cooper answered for Dalton before walking over to stand beside him, leaning in close to his ear. Cooper whispered his suggestion, making Dalton laugh.

  “Bro, they ain’t gonna go for that,” Dalton said, smiling. The truth of it was, Cooper hadn’t mentioned a song at all. He hadn’t mentioned anything, because even a whisper would’ve been picked up by the microphones. They already had a song in mind. That was all part of the plan.

  “Sure they will. Ask ’em,” Cooper replied, nodding his head toward the crowd.

  Dalton glanced at Cheyenne, then to Cooper before giving a brief side nod and a shrug that said what the hell.

  “All right, y’all,” Dalton addressed the crowd. “Coop seems to think y’all might not wanna hear ‘Angel in Blue Jeans.’”

  Before the words were completely out of his mouth, the crowd was screaming once again.

  “I think that’s a yes,” Cheyenne stated, grinning.

  “See, bro, I told you they’d wanna hear it,” Dalton added.

  “I dunno,” Cooper pretended to be concerned. “They haven’t heard this version yet.” That earned them some high-pitched screams, a few piercing whistles, and a huge round of applause. “All right, fine. We’ll do it. But I’m warnin’ y’all, this is a little different.”