The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set

by Katrina Abbott

  “You have that,” I said.

  “I know,” he said. “That means everything. I know I’m not ready to be with someone else. I need to work through my stuff first even though part of me wants to jump in with both feet. But that wouldn’t be fair to you.”

  “Or you,” I said gently.

  He nodded and then shoved his hand through his hair and said, sheepishly, “Assuming you wanted that...”

  I lifted my hand to his face, tracing my thumb along his cheek. “You don’t have to assume. You can know that I want that. But not now. The time isn’t right for either of us. But until then, I will always be your friend—whatever you need. Okay?”

  He leaned into my palm and closed his eyes as he nodded. “Dr. Carmichael said to keep a journal or something to put my feelings in.”

  “It’s a good idea,” I said, secretly wanting to read that journal, even though it didn’t exist yet.

  He shrugged. “I’m not really a journal kind of guy, but I’ve been working on a song.”

  Even better. “Oh really?”

  He turned his head and looked down the block, but maybe he was just avoiding my eyes. “Yeah. It’s been spinning around inside my skull for a while, but in these last couple of days, it sort of came together.”

  As my heart lurched in the same way it had when I’d learned I was going on tour, I was reminded of how much I adored musicians. And maybe especially this musician. It was hard to believe how far we’d come and how I now thought of him as Max first and musician second. But at the end of it, he was still a musician. A crazy talented one.

  Somehow I managed to stay cool, despite my excitement over being here at the dawn of a new song and more importantly, the beginning of his new life. “Is that what you were writing back on the bus?”

  He took a breath and said, “Yeah. Just putting the final touches on it. The lyrics, anyway—the music’s set in my head already.”

  I nodded, and said, casually, like it was no big deal, “Will it be for sharing with the world?”

  Please say yes, please say yes, I chanted inside my head as I held my breath, waiting for his answer.

  His jaw clenched as he seemed to consider my question and then said, “I think so. I need to talk to Tony first though to see what he thinks.”

  I told myself not to be insulted that he would want to talk to his producer to decide what to do with the song. I was a music fan, and, of course, a friend, but Tony was the one who would know if the song had commercial potential and if it fit the band’s vibe. It was also fair to say at this point I probably couldn’t be completely objective.

  “Okay, well, if you want my feedback or just want to share it with someone who knows you’re crazy talented and will probably love it regardless, I’m here.”

  He smiled down at me before he put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in tight, right up against him again, making me want to sigh in contentment as I inconspicuously inhaled his shirt.

  “I know you are, Sandy. Knowing you’re in my world makes it a million times better. Worth grabbing that life preserver for. Hell, you might just be my life preserver.”

  I looked up at him and smirked. “Does that mean you’re going to grab onto me?”

  He laughed and pulled me closer. “I kind of have already, haven’t I?”

  I nodded. Except... “Maybe you should think of me as a lighthouse—not something you have to grab to keep you from drowning, but a light to help you find your way to shore.”

  Even though I hadn’t thought he could, he squeezed me into him just a little tighter and pressed a kiss to my temple. “That’s perfect,” he said, his voice a bit reedy and full of emotion. “That’s exactly what you are. My lighthouse.”

  I hadn’t fixed him, but I had helped him find his way to begin to fix himself.

  Epilogue

  I was in the wings, watching the show not as a videographer, or even a fan, but as a friend who was nervous. No, not just nervous, crazy nervous. Ridiculously, heart-poundingly nervous. Nessa stood beside me, also looking anxious, but not quite like she was about to jump out of her skin like I was.

  She knew about Max and me. Well, as much as he and I had figured out, which wasn’t much. But she understood why I was freaking out right now. Which was why she glanced over at me, giving me an encouraging smile. “He’ll do great,” she said.

  I was too amped up to say anything, so I just nodded, hoping she was right.

  Finally, after the guys walked off after doing most of their set, Max returned to the stage by himself, his acoustic guitar in his hand as he stepped right up to the center mic. A murmur of surprise came from the crowd as he took a seat on the stool that Kev, one of the stage techs, had just brought out for him.

  Of course, Max was no stranger to performing, but he’d never taken the lead mic since he’d been on stage with Wiretap. But this solo had been his doing, his way of getting closure and moving on.

  It was a huge and meaningful gesture that Tony had supported and encouraged because he was that kind of guy.

  My heart was nearly bursting with pride on top of the nerves for Max and what he was about to do. I just wished he’d let me hear the song before he played it in public for the first time, but he said he wanted me to hear it fresh, the same way the audience would. And while it had been tempting to try to sneak a listen when he was rehearsing, I respected him and his choice and trusted that it would be worth the wait.

  “You look as nervous as he does,” Tony said in a low voice as he came up and nudged his way between Nessa and me.

  I smiled over at him. “Do I? Maybe because I am.”

  “Don’t be,” Tony said, looking out at Max with pride. “He’s ready for this, and he’s going to nail it.”

  “I know he will. I’m just...this is huge, right?”

  “It is,” Tony said, and then we went silent as Max took his seat and leaned into the mic while the crowd hushed.

  “Hi,” Max said in a soft voice that still carried over the crowd. Maybe because every single person in the audience was holding their breath, waiting to see what was coming; Max playing a song, unplugged and on his own, was unprecedented.

  He didn’t look nervous, but to us, who knew him, as Tony had pointed out, it was clear he was, and I wanted so badly for him to not mess this up. He needed this.

  He strummed a few chords before he leaned in again, seeming to remember that he should probably introduce the song.

  “This is something new that I wrote. It’s about...well, you’ll figure it out.” He started to strum again and then added, like an afterthought. “It’s called My Lighthouse.”

  I gasped.

  “You okay?” Tony asked.

  I dragged my eyes off of Max for a split second to nod and tell Tony I was, if only to stop him from asking anything else that might make me miss any of Max’s performance.

  A moment later, after he played the intricate opening of the song, Max began to sing, his voice soulful and full of emotion, made even more haunting by it being in a minor key.

  ––––––––

  I was drowning

  In a sea of sadness

  The waves coming over my head

  Would I be better off dead

  Than stuck in this bottomless abyss?

  As I came up for air

  I saw a shining light

  You on the shore lighting the way

  You making me want to stay

  With your hands out, so bright

  Turn your light on me

  Light the way for me

  Bathed in your glow

  And now I know

  You won’t ever let me go

  I swam to your shore,

  My arms tired, heart hollow

  But there you stood

  Showing me that I could

  With just a light to follow

  Turn your l
ight on me

  Light the way for me

  Bathed in your glow

  And now I know

  You won’t ever let me go

  The water still laps

  At my ankles on the sand

  But I see your light

  And I know it’s right

  To reach for your hand

  Turn your light on me

  Light the way for me

  Bathed in your glow

  And now I know

  You won’t ever let me go

  As he held the last note and glanced over at me, I totally lost it. I mean, I’d been crying through the whole song, but now, now that I saw, thanks to the big spotlights, the tears shining in his eyes, I dissolved into the ugly cry.

  The crowd went absolutely crazy, but Max was looking at me as though he’d sung the song for one person: me. Though I would have argued that the one person he’d really sung it for was himself.

  I smiled and nodded, telling him without words that he’d nailed it and that I totally loved it. He gave me one of his rare lopsided smiles and then turned forward and thanked the crowd before he called the rest of the guys back on stage to finish their show with their encore of Brooklyn Girl.

  I was glad they had more to play because I needed a few minutes to recover from that song.

  I mean, God, this guy. We’d started out as maybe not enemies, but hardly friends. And now? Now I wasn’t sure where we were going, but I knew if nothing else, I had made a great friend on tour. Not just a rock star friend, either, but a great guy friend. How stupid I’d been when I’d said I wanted to score myself a rock star boyfriend. How could I have been so shallow and immature?

  “It’s about you, isn’t it?” Tony said, breaking into my thoughts, drawing my gaze over to him.

  I felt like an idiot as I used the sleeve of my t-shirt to mop up my tears. Until I saw the tears in Tony’s eyes, too, and Nessa’s wet cheeks, and felt somewhat vindicated.

  “I think so, yeah,” I managed to say, sure my makeup must have looked a mess, but not caring.

  “You know, I don’t condone dating on tour...” he said.

  I shook my head before he could finish his thought. “We’re not dating. He’s not ready for that and...” I smiled as I felt my face heat as I realized what I was saying to Tony, Nessa’s dad. I mean, he was a cool guy and the band’s producer, but he was still my best friend’s father. “Okay, well, we did talk about it, and I like him a whole lot, but neither of us is in a place where we should be dating right now.”

  He smirked as though he was enjoying my awkwardness. Not that I could blame him since if it had been Nessa getting this lecture, I would have enjoyed it wholeheartedly.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Although I was going to say that you’re good for him, Sandy. Whatever happens between the two of you, I have to thank you for bringing him around.”

  I shook my head and looked down at my shoes. “He did that himself.”

  “No,” he said, so sharply that I looked up at him in surprise. “I had hoped he’d get there himself, but we were really starting to worry that it wasn’t going to happen as he got more and more withdrawn and sullen.” He frowned and leaned in close before he said, “Between us, I was getting close to asking him to leave tour to get help, but then he turned a corner. I know that was because of you. I don’t know if it was a conversation you had or something to do with that stalker that you helped deal with, but whatever it was that brought him back and made him ask for help, I know that you were at the center of it. I’m grateful, Sandy. Not just as producer, but as the guy who cares about his boys.”

  It felt like one of the giant speakers was on my chest; I could barely breathe. “I care, too,” I squeaked out.

  “I know you do,” he said. “And actually, I don’t just care about my boys. I care about everyone on my tour.”

  “Thanks, Tony,” I said, as his arm came around me in a way that I hadn’t realized I’d been craving since all the garbage with my parents had started. It was so comforting, I almost started with the waterworks again.

  “How are you holding up?” he asked and I knew it wasn’t just a polite question. He was asking how I was dealing with the fact that my parents were going to prison and I was basically going to be a penniless orphan.

  How could I possibly answer? I had no words, so I just shrugged, fighting more tears.

  “Well,” he said, giving me a squeeze. “I’ll have to talk to the lawyer, but I think there’s a case for me to be your official guardian. If you’re good with that, of course.”

  I pulled back away so I could look straight into his eyes. “What?”

  He took a long inhale. “Well, with your parents...You’re going to need someone to look after things like school and where to live and such. You need stability and...well...” his face softened as he turned to glance at his daughter before he said, “I always wanted Nessa to have a sibling, but it wasn’t in the cards. Until now.”

  I looked over at my best friend who was smiling and nodding, even through her own tears.

  “Are you serious?” was all I could manage when I looked back at him.

  “Of course,” Tony said. “I mean, you’re a great kid, you’ve been a great friend to Nessa and the boys, and I would be honored to step in and help you. You don’t deserve...well, any of the fallout from what your parents did. You deserve so much more, and I can give it to you. Or, at least, I can try.”

  I almost laughed because of how stupidly modest he was being right now. If anyone could step in and be the best adopted parent ever, it was Tony Capri.

  “And, I’d finally get to do something about you working for free, which, to be honest, has never sat well with me.”

  “Tony, I...” I shook my head, but he made a noise, stopping me from continuing.

  “No, let me finish,” he said, his voice stern, making me think it was so weird that we were having this very serious conversation in the wings during a rock concert. But he seemed to want to have it now, so I let him continue. “I will be paying your tuition to Rosewood,” he said in a tone that was not to be argued with. “It’s the very least I can do with all you’ve done for us. Anything else you need, too.”

  I just stared at him. He barely knew me, and all I could think was: why?

  “Come on,” he said, squeezing my shoulder with a big hand as he clearly read the question on my face. “Let me do this, Sandy. I want to.”

  Finally, something snapped in me as I looked at Nessa and she was giving me a look that I interpreted as: He wants to do this for you. Let him.

  I snorted and waved my hand like his life-changing offer was no big deal. Like I was doing him a favor. I even let out an exasperated sigh. “All right, already. Since you want to so badly.”

  He smiled at me, knowing it was all just for show. “I do,” he said, his eyes smiling, but his words completely serious. “Very much.”

  And then, because I couldn’t help myself, I threw my arms around him and hugged him with everything I had. As I looked over his shoulder at my best friend, I was so thankful that fate or providence or whatever had given me Vanessa Capri as a roommate back at Rosewood. As I looked over Tony’s shoulder at her, I could tell she was thinking the exact same thing.

  Loving the Rock Star

  The Rosewoods Rock Star Series

  Book 4

  by

  Katrina Abbott

  Over The Cliff Publishing, 2018

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  LOVING THE ROCK STAR

  First edition. March 2018

  Copyright © 2018 Katrina Abbott

  Written by Katrina Abbott

 
ISBN-13: 978-1985748576

  ISBN-10: 1985748576

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  For Steven,

  Always

  Blindsided

  I have to admit—though maybe only to myself—that everything was coming together perfectly.

  It had started out as a giant disappointment when my summer plans had all fallen apart with the sudden injury of Linda, my father’s tour manager. But then it had somehow turned into what was shaping up to be a great summer. Maybe not the Best Summer Ever, but we had a long way to go yet, so you never know.

  I didn’t want to jinx anything, but couldn’t help but secretly think and hope that Best Summer Ever was a definite possibility.

  I mean, look at the evidence: Wiretap was climbing the charts and becoming even more popular than my father had hoped. That kept everyone involved in the band in a good mood. Even though we were all working like dogs, it was much easier to weather the long hours when the guys were playing to sold-out audiences, and the merch was moving as quickly as we could replenish the tables at the shows.

  Then there was the fact that I was on board with my best friend, Sandrine—Sandy—Thibeault. We didn’t get to see each other every hour of every day (see that whole working like dogs thing), but we were having a blast. Yes, even me, the girl who never wanted to go on tour in the first place, the one who always said she wasn’t into musicians and wanted to stay far away from the biz, was having a good time.

  Which leads me to the final piece of my awesomeness evidence: Will Davidson. After I’d eaten my big plate of crow over going on and on about how I did not date musicians, then dating Andy and dumping him, Dave was my new sort-of-boyfriend. I say sort of because we couldn’t date while we were together on tour, but we had an agreement that as soon as one of us left tour, all that was going to change.