“Fair enough,” he said, reaching for my free hand. “I’m sorry. I just...never mind. I just want to have a few great days with my girlfriend and my former band.”
I did glance at him then. “Girlfriend,” I said. “I like the sound of that.”
We took seats at our gate, and I was about to dig out my wallet to buy some gum at the newsstand when I noticed a couple of girls whispering and staring. Tween girls who were clearly deliberating on whether to approach Will or not.
“You’re on, boy band,” I said, giving him a gentle nudge with my shoulder.
It took him a second to notice the girls, but as soon as he did, he smiled at them, giving them the courage to approach. One kept muttering, “Ohmygod, ohmygod,” over and over but the other one mustered up the courage to speak. “Are you Will Davidson?” she asked breathlessly. “From Wiretap?”
He nodded. “I am. But I’ve actually left Wiretap to go on tour with an old-school band, Legion Thunder.”
I swear, I thought the girls were going to start bawling right there. “It might not be a permanent thing,” I said. “His leaving Wiretap. Not that you heard it from me.” I probably shouldn’t have said it, but the relief on their faces made it worth it.
Miss Ohmygod tilted her head as she looked at me. “Wait. Are you the girl on the poster?” She looked between Will and me, her eyes like saucers. “You are her.”
So awkward. Would I ever live that poster down? Unlikely. I told them it was indeed me as Will took my hand and kissed my knuckles, making me suddenly okay with the poster if it meant he would do that.
“So, you’re... it really is both of you,” the other girl said, her eyes wide with awe. “You’re a real couple. It was a real kiss on that poster.”
Will and I looked at each other and nodded.
“It was,” he said. “A very real kiss.” Even though I wouldn’t admit it at the time. He was so right, though.
And then he leaned in and gave me another real kiss, his lips lingering against mine just long enough to get the girls giggling. I felt the curve of his smile against my mouth; he was totally enjoying this.
I heard several clicks of cell phone cameras.
“They want selfies with you, boy band, not PG-13 movies,” I said against Will’s lips, making him laugh as he pulled back from me.
“Whoa,” the one girl muttered.
“You’re legit famous,” the other said.
Will smiled and then looked at me as he said, “I don’t know about famous, but pretty darn lucky.”
The girls giggled again.
“Get in here,” Will said to them. “Let’s take some selfies. Let’s all be famous.”
Totally.
Swoon-worthy.
Epilogue
Two days later, I was in a hired car, leaving another airport (Birmingham) after Sandy and I had seen Will off. He was back to rehearsals with Legion Thunder at the Brooklyn studio the next day, so while it was the hardest thing ever, I walked him up to security, kissed him senseless, tried not to cry too much as he hugged me and told me he loved me, and then watched him go.
He’d promised me he’d catch up with me on the tour stop in Nashville the following weekend. I hadn’t bothered to ask him if he could afford all the flying around to see me because I knew he could. I did ask if he could handle all the travel and not burn out. He reminded me that A. he wasn’t traveling with the band yet, so was actually feeling restless (I sure knew that feeling) and B. he loved me like crazy and traveling around the country was worth it if it meant he got to see me.
As I looked out the window while Birmingham whipped by, a wad of fresh tissues was pressed into my hand. I turned and smiled at my best friend as I brought the Kleenex to my face. “Thanks,” I said. “I’ve never been such a crier as I have in these past couple of weeks.”
She nodded. “You’ve had a lot going on.”
It was true. “You too, you know.”
“Yep,” was all she said and then she looked away, toward the front windshield and the road ahead. I assumed she was thinking about her budding relationship with Max, but then she quietly said, “So... You sure you want to share your dad with me?”
It took me a second to change gears but it made sense that she’d be thinking about his offer to become her legal guardian—he’d only broached it the night before while we were backstage during the concert.
“Are you kidding?” I said, surprised she had to ask. “I’m so happy that he’s doing this for you. That we’re doing this for you. You have no idea.”
She turned back to look at me, and I handed her back one of the tissues. “I’m pretty happy, too. I’ve only ever had horrible parents. I always wanted a sister.”
“Same,” I said because it was true. “The sister part, I mean.”
She smiled. “And your dad is amazing and not just because he’s a kickass producer.”
I swallowed past the sudden lump in my throat. “He really is. He makes up for...”
Sandy knew better than to say anything about my mother, but the subject was still the elephant in the room. Er...the car. I looked down at the remaining crumpled tissue in my hand.
My default position for the last five years had been to trash my mother, but it felt different since the conversation in El Paso. She hadn’t been up to her old tricks, using the media for attention. In fact, after the story broke, there had been almost nothing about it other than the announcement about Nick’s upcoming book. Though I was aware that when it came out, it would stir up the frenzy again, it felt like my mother was over it. She wasn’t clamoring for attention. She was staying out of the spotlight, quietly doing some behind-the-scenes publicity for dad from the comfort of his spare condo while the lawyers worked on keeping her out of jail.
She hadn’t been in touch with me except to send me her phone number. A little gesture that had made me angry at first, but when it became obvious that she was giving me space, my anger dissolved.
“So are you staying on for the rest of the tour?” Sandy asked.
I’d been non-committal about it since Will and I had arrived, but I’d quickly reacquainted myself with my bunk. In a weird way, it felt like home. A very small, cramped home. But home nonetheless.
“I think so. For now, at least, other than the visits with Will back in New York. Linda looked so relieved when she saw me, and I offered to be her gopher. She won’t let on, but she’s still not a hundred percent.”
Sandy had a funny smirk on her face.
“What?” I asked.
She glanced up at the rearview mirror at the driver but then back at me and gave me a pointed look. “You. Know. Nothing.”
“You’re right, Sandrine,” I said. “I know nothing. Until you tell me.”
She rolled her eyes before she leaned toward me to say, very quietly, “They’re together. Linda and your dad, I mean. If they weren’t before, they sure are now.”
“What?”
She nodded and paused while she seemed to search my face. Maybe to determine how I felt about Linda and my dad together. I’d had plenty of time to think about it over the years, and I felt firmly okay with it. Especially if it made my dad happy. The fact that it made him a hypocrite about not dating on tour notwithstanding. He was the boss, after all.
“When you were in New York, and we were in San Antonio,” Sandy finally continued. “The guys and I went off to explore in the afternoon, and we left them behind on the bus to work. I guess they went out for lunch to the River Walk and we happened to walk by the bistro they were in. They weren’t making out, but pretty darn close. He was all touchy with her hair and her face, and then they were holding hands. It looked pretty cute; I got the impression it was new. Like I said when I was with them in New York—I don’t think they were together then.”
As she was talking, something slid into place. “He was waiting,” I said.
When Sandy til
ted her head and frowned at me, I went on, “He needed closure with my mother before he’d do anything with Linda. I bet they’ve been circling each other for most of the last five years. But he wouldn’t pursue anything with her until he knew...”
Sandy blinked a few times before she nodded. “Okay, wow. That makes sense. Can you imagine if your mother hadn’t come back? He’d never know.”
“He probably would have always felt like he was still married and it would have been cheating.”
“That’s some serious loyalty,” she said but didn’t look all that surprised. I wasn’t either, knowing my father.
“Well,” she said, waving her hand. “I will say that they are the cutest old couple I’ve ever seen.”
I smiled at her. So you may not just be getting a dad and a sister, but maybe a stepmom, too.”
She laughed. “One step at a time, Nessa. But if you’re okay with it, I would be, too.”
I nodded and nudged her arm with my elbow. “I’m glad you’re going to have a real family, though.”
“Thanks,” she said. “Me, too.” I noticed her eyes were glassy again before she turned her head to look out her side window, the universal signal for ‘I need a minute so I won’t bawl in the back of this car.’
We still had several blocks to go before we’d meet the bus, so I pulled out my phone.
There was one message from Will, telling me he already missed me, so, as I grinned like an idiot, I responded with a nauseatingly sappy message of my own: I love you too, boy band. Then I filled the screen with heart-eyed and kissing emojis.
Then I scrolled through my contacts, taking a deep breath as I got to the number I’d never used. The one I never thought I would use. I typed a simple message and hit send before I had the chance to chicken out:
Hi Mom, maybe next time I come to town, we can grab a coffee.
It was only a second later that I got her reply: I would like that very much.
It wasn’t forgiveness or any sort of promise. I was simply opening a door. But even just making that casual contact made me feel instantly lighter. Like I’d unloaded a very big burden.
I’d hate that Will had been right if I didn’t love him so freaking much.
I put the phone away and smiled over at my best friend before turning to look out my window as we drove through town.
It was only mid-July, but I could already say that, despite a few speed bumps along the way, it already qualified as the best summer ever.
Thank you for reading!
I hope you enjoyed reading The Rosewoods Rock Star series! If you haven’t read them already, make sure you check out the original Brooklyn series (links and the series prequel—Fresh Start—below, so keep reading).
Reviews help other readers find books they might enjoy, so I hope you’ll consider reviewing this book at retail sites and Goodreads. I appreciate all reviews—positive and negative, short and long—even one-liners are helpful. Thank you for taking the time to let people know how you felt about this book. This is the best way you can show your love to authors and help them keep writing stories.
So now that you’re done with this series, you might be wondering what’s next. The truth is, I’m not entirely sure. I need a bit of a break, so I’m going to regroup and see what ideas come to me as I take a little time away from writing. That said, I don’t think I’m done with the Rosewoods quite yet. I mean, Rob Prescott hasn’t yet found his happy ending, has he? And Mr. Stratton... Not to mention there are a lot of rock stars who haven’t found their matches yet... So stay tuned for more down the road. But for now, make sure you’re a newsletter subscriber to find out the latest and get freebies and bonuses.
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Find me online at http://katrinaabbott.com, follow me on Twitter @abbottkatrina and Facebook. To see my inspirations for the band members, check out my Pinterest page where I’ve created a board just for them!
––––––––
The Rosewoods Rock Star Series
ALONG FOR THE RIDE
GOING ON TOUR
WORKING FOR THE BAND
LOVING THE ROCK STAR
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The Rosewoods Brooklyn Series
FRESH START (free series prequel – turn the page to read it below)
TAKING THE REINS (free for download)
MASQUERADE
PLAYING THE PART
READING BETWEEN THE LINES
I’LL NEVER FORGET (free short story)
THIS POINT FORWARD
RISKING IT ALL (free short story)
MAKING RIPPLES
ACTING OUT
HITTING THE TARGET
TURNING THE PAGE
CROSSING THE LINE
Fresh Start
Once you’re done reading this short prequel, the next book is the official start of the Rosewoods Brooklyn series:
Taking the Reins,
which you can download for free.
xoxo
Kat
Brooklyn
“You’re going back to the States.”
My fork halted halfway to my mouth, the peas sliding off and back onto my plate as I looked up at my father incredulously.
“What?” I asked, even though I’d heard him perfectly well. Just that when he’d opened his mouth half a second ago, I’d expected him to ask for the salt or for me to pass the platter of ham. But this. This wasn’t food-related. This wasn’t even boring news-of-the-day related. This was life-related. And huge at that.
“You’re going back to the States,” he repeated, his face serious, which quashed my follow up question of: You’re kidding, right?
As I sat there, I analyzed what he’d said because he was a very literal guy and he always meant every single word he said. Not we’re going back. You’re going back. Big difference. Because if I was going back on my own, I wasn’t returning to our old life in Denver; the only reason we’d been there was because Dad had worked at Buckley Air Force Base, and if he wasn’t returning to the area, I seriously doubted I would be.
I’d always known it was a possibility that I’d end up moving again, but I guess after two years in London I’d started to get used to the idea of staying in one place indefinitely. Never permanently, I guess, but for an extended stretch. At least long enough to finish high school. But no, that wasn’t going to happen. Instead, I was getting shipped back to America to start over. Because high school alone wasn’t hard enough and now I was going to start at a new one halfway through.
“What about you?” I asked, looking between him and my mother as we sat in our London flat over what was now a ruined dinner. Not that my life was so incredibly stellar that moving (again) was going to ruin my entire life, but starting a new school in junior year? Ugh.
“We’re going to be staying here for the foreseeable future,” Dad said.
“So where am I going?” was the next logical question. My one living grandparent—Dad’s mother—was in a senior’s apartment complex in Florida, so I knew I wasn’t going there. That left me out of guesses.
“There’s a boarding school in upstate New York. It’s a great facility and comes very highly recommended,” Mom said. “Considering what we’re paying for it, it better be,” she added.
“It’s the best education money can buy. And the security there is the best in the country,” Dad said. “If you’re going to be half a world away, I need to know you’re safe.”
Which of course was always a concern because being the daughter of someone who fought terrorists for a living means safety is always job one.
“And you’ll be closer to Robert at Yale,” Mom said. Dad glanced over at her and nodded, then put his hand on her arm because she’d begun to tear up a little. Mom was normally a rock, but she didn’t like her kids being far away, so sending me off had to be tough for her. Obviously this was Dad’s decision and probably h
ad something to do with his job. Not that he’d let on.
“Do I have any say?” I asked half-heartedly, because I already knew the answer. The decision had been made. I was going back to the U.S. whether I wanted to or not.
Dad screwed up his face in what I’m sure he thought was an apologetic look. “You can choose your courses.”
Mom cringed as she glanced over at Dad. “I already submitted her forms.”
Perfect. I sighed and rolled my eyes. “What’s the place called so I can at least look it up?”
“It’s called The Rosewood Academy for Academic Excellence.”
“It really is the best school,” Dad assured me. “I want you to get the best education possible and I know this will be the place for you.”
“You’ll fit right in,” Mom added with a weak smile.
They were totally overselling the place which was not a good sign, but it’s not like I could fight them on it.
I nodded and looked down at my plate. “When do I leave?”
“Two weeks,” Dad said. “I’ll be in Geneva, but your mother will take you to the airport.”
I wasn’t sure whether to be happy they were letting me go on my own all the way back to the States or mad that they were basically shipping me off. I guess it didn’t matter; I’d learned long ago not to take most of what they did personally.
“That gives you time to say goodbye to your friends,” Mom said. “And you can keep in contact with them by Skype and e-mail,” she added. More overselling.
What friends? I didn’t say. Not that I was hated at my school in London, I’d just never really fit in. Maybe knowing I could have to leave at any time made it hard for me to even want to build relationships. But maybe this could be a fresh start. Maybe this would be my opportunity to start over at a new place and get some real friends and—dare I hope—a boyfriend.
The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set Page 89
