Van: Vested Interest #5

by Melanie Moreland

  “You trusted people you loved. It doesn’t make you an idiot.” She hesitated. “Why would she write all those personal details down in a book?”

  “One of her entries was about a meeting with a publisher. She was going to write an expose. I guess she wanted to keep the details fresh.” I shook my head in sorrow. “Reading them was humiliating and made me ill.” I flexed my hand, feeling the ache in my bones, which was a constant in my life. A reminder.

  “All the lies she told me. The disappointment I would feel when she would tell me she wasn’t pregnant that month. She even made me think it was my fault. I went and had testing done to make sure it wasn’t me. She told me she had done the same, and her doctor said we simply needed to relax. I believed her, of course.”

  “There was no reason for you not to, Van. It made sense. It happens to a lot of couples, especially when they’re under stress.”

  I barked out a laugh, the sound loud and bitter. “Stress is one word for it. She was busy setting up her new life, with plans on dumping me and my sorry un-achieving ass. She had a long list of names for me in her precious journal—none of them very flattering. I was simply a means to an end. Use me to get to Brett since he was harder to get close to. I was an easy target.”

  A tear ran down her cheek.

  “I went from grieving to furious instantly. The trouble was, the people I was angry with were dead. I had no one to take it out on. I went through a bad few months. I drank and raged. I wrote some music that would shred your heart. I was on a downward spiral until my parents and my manager stepped in. They did an intervention and made me see I had to stop. No one else could do it—it had to be me.”

  I sat down, too tired to stay standing. “I went for counseling. Stopped using alcohol to hide from my feelings. I met with my ex-bandmates. They suspected what was going on between Tonya and Brett but didn’t have any proof. They had no idea what Brett was up to behind the scenes. We agreed to retire as The Back Roads, and we let the lawyers work it out,” I stated grimly. “The royalties show up in the bank every month, and I let them sit there.”

  “When did you start playing music again?”

  “About six months later. I was doing my therapy, but my hand was still pretty useless. I was standing in my closet one day, and in the corner was my old guitar. The one my parents had given me that I had never let go. I picked it up and tried to play. It was awful. Worse than the first time I had tried when I was a kid. Something inside me clicked, though. I had missed it. The sounds of the guitar. The way the strings felt under my fingers—the steel biting into my skin. How the wood felt resting on my leg and the vibrations I felt when I strummed.” I paused, remembering the feeling of rightness that had settled over me. “I started practicing—the same way I did as a kid. Every day, for hours on end. It took a long time, and I will never have the same stamina or fluidity I did before the accident, but I got the music back. I started writing again. Sold some songs. Then the Notes found me, and they asked me to be part of their group. I made them a deal. I would play and be part of the group, but I wasn’t interested in a career or chasing the dream again. It almost destroyed me the first time.”

  For a moment, silence hung between us.

  “Is that enough for you?” Liv asked.

  “Yes, it is. None of them were interested in a career in music either. We play when we want to. They simply want to play for the love of music. I still sell songs to a lot of artists. On occasion, I go into the studio and lay down tracks for them. I hear my music on the radio. I get to play with a great bunch of guys. We play a few of my old tunes and some songs I wrote for them, but I keep all the rights myself. I will never put myself out there with another person the way I did with Brett. No one gets my music except me.”

  “I can understand that.”

  I sat beside her, lifting her hand to my mouth and pressing a kiss to her skin. “That’s my story, Liv. It’s not pretty, and it doesn’t have a happy ending. I’m broken and I have trust issues.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yeah, I do. You make me feel differently than Tonya did, Liv. She would wind me up, and I was always on edge around her—something I didn’t realize until she was gone. With you, I feel easy and content. I don’t have to work all the time to prove myself.”

  “There is nothing to prove. I like Van. Carpenter, planner, friend, coworker, musician—” she grinned, the dimples in her cheeks appearing "—man who has a tea party with my daughter when she asks, Prince Van.”

  “Hey,” I chuckled. “She makes a great cup of tea. And there were cookies. How am I supposed to resist?”

  She kissed me, her lips full and sweet against mine.

  “You’re wonderful with her. She adores you.”

  “She is easy to adore back,” I mused. I met her gaze. “Rather like her mother.”

  She smiled, her gaze focused down. I tilted her chin.

  “I meant that.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “I still have trouble believing it.”

  “I’m not the men in your past, Liv.”

  She grabbed my hand, kissing the rough knuckles. “I know. God, I know that.”

  “We’ve both been burned.”

  “Yes.” She paused. “The accident—that’s the reason for your discomfort?”

  “Yeah, it has left me with chronic pain. I deal with it most of the time, but when the job is hard, I suffer more.”

  “I hate seeing you in pain.”

  I acknowledged her words with a tilt of my head. “I try not to overdo, but at times, I forget. I get into the groove, and it’s not until I stop that I realize how much pain I’m in. I don’t like relying on medication. I’m careful that way.”

  “Have you tried massage and reflexology?”

  “Um, not really. I disliked being touched too much after the accident. Physio and therapy were enough.”

  “I would come with you. My friend is an awesome reflexologist. She would even show me how to do a few things to help you.”

  “You’d do that?” I asked, surprised.

  “Yes. For you, I would.”

  “Then please make an appointment.”

  She leaned forward and brushed a kiss to my lips. “Thank you.”

  “You’re so easy to please,” I murmured.

  She shrugged. “I’ve learned to be grateful for small things. In the end, they make life worth living.”

  I mulled over her words. She was right. I had a feeling she was right about a lot of things and was going to teach me.

  I cleared my throat, knowing I had to address the issue. “Like I said before, I can’t ever have a child of my own. I can’t ever give you another child. There was too much damage.”

  She leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my mouth. “I have Sammy.”

  “You should have a whole houseful. You’re an amazing mother.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.” Picking up my hand, she played with my fingers.

  “Does it make a difference?” I asked, anxious. “If you wanted more kids in the future, I understand.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “If you mean, does it change my mind about pursuing something with you, the answer is no.”

  I exhaled hard. “Okay.” I linked our hands. “How I feel about you scares me at times, Liv.”

  “Me too.”

  “I still want to explore this with you.”

  She sighed, the sound low and shaky. “I do as well. I worry about Sammy, though. She gets attached fast.”

  I lifted her chin, meeting her gentle gaze.

  “I’m getting attached to both of you. You need to know that. You need to know how big that is for me since I didn’t think I would ever allow myself to feel something for a woman again. I agree with you—we need to take this slow.” I studied her expression. “For all of us.”

  “Yes,” she responded. “Slow is good for me.”

  Her voice became vulnerable, her expression pleading. “The last two people I trusted turned
out not to be the people I thought they were. They let me down. They let Sammy down. Don’t hurt us, Van. Please.”

  I pressed my mouth to hers. “I won’t, baby.”

  Van

  Leaving Liv the night before had been hard, but I was determined to stick to my word. I arrived at the club Saturday feeling exhilarated. She would be there again tonight, and I planned on taking her to my favorite all-night diner after we were done for a late-night/early morning breakfast, then spending some more time with her.

  Talking to her the night before had been cathartic. A release of sorts. I had never told another person my past. But Liv was different. She had been hurt by people she trusted, so she understood my pain. She could identify with the wariness of trusting someone else.

  Yet, we both felt the pull toward each other. The firm belief that this was different. We were different. Her company eased me. Spending time with her and Mouse was effortless. I wanted to get to know both of them more. And for them to get to know me.

  Liv had asked me some direct questions, all of which I thought about before answering.

  “Sammy is my number one priority,” she said. “Always. Can you deal with that?”

  “Yes. It’s one of the things I admire about you, Liv. You’re an amazing mother. I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

  She hesitated. “The fact that she isn’t yours—does it give you pause?”

  I shook my head. “Love doesn’t have boundaries, Liv. Simply because I’m not her biological father doesn’t mean I can’t love her.”

  “Is she part of the draw? I mean, do you need to fill that void in your life, and she fits the bill?”

  I mulled over her words, trying to find the right response.

  “First and foremost, neither of you are simply filling a void. The fact is, I was always attracted to you. I only hesitated because of my own issues and doubts. Discovering you had a child didn’t scare me away. Seeing you with her only cemented the attraction. To me, Mouse is a bonus. I get two of you.” I sucked in a deep breath. “I’m prepared for the responsibility that comes with being involved with a single mother. I’m not in this for the short term.”

  Her cheeks colored. “All right, then.”

  “What about you? Can you trust me enough to let me into your life—into both of your lives?”

  “I want to try.” She slid her hand into mine. “Like you, trust doesn’t usually come easy for me, but with you, it feels…right.”

  I squeezed her fingers. “Yeah, it does. Like a puzzle piece, right?”

  “Yes.”

  I asked her a direct question which simmered below every thought I had about a future with her.

  “And the fact that I can never give you another child? You must have some concerns on that subject.”

  Her reply was prompt. “Sammy is more than I ever dreamed I would have.”

  “You’re still young. You might want another child.”

  She lifted my hand, studying the calluses left by hard work. “Do you know Reid’s story?”

  “Yeah. He told me his past, or at least the gist of it. He went through a lot as a kid.”

  She continued. “There are hundreds, thousands of kids like him, Van. Kids who need a family—someone to love them. If at some point, I decided I wanted another child, and we were together, how would you feel about loving one of those kids?” She paused. “Or a few of them if that was how it worked out? We could make our own family by loving a child no one else did. Love without boundaries, I think you said.”

  My answer had been to tug her into my arms and kiss her until she was a mass of need and want under me. It had taken everything in me not to have her right then and there.

  Her words gave me something I hadn’t felt in years.

  Hope.

  Hope for a future.

  Mark walked into the dressing room at the club and flung himself into a chair beside me. We were all laid-back and wore our street clothes, so the dressing room was really the place we came together to chill before the gig and discuss any changes or ideas we had.

  But tonight, he looked perturbed.

  “What’s going on?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “We got company.”

  Andy chuckled beside me, tipping back his chair. “One of your groupies getting too handsy?”

  Mark gripped his hair. “Vicky’s in the club.”

  A collective groan filled the room. I rested my head on the back of my chair. “I thought she’d finally left town. What is she doing here?”

  “I didn’t stop to ask. As soon as I saw her, I ducked down the hall and came in here.”

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions,” I said hopefully. “Maybe it’s a coincidence she’s here.”

  “Maybe my dick will drop off if I don’t stop wanking on it the way my mom told me,” Mark snorted. “If she’s here, it’s to cause trouble.”

  “Only if we let her. Stay away from her. Don’t engage.” I looked at Andy. “Go tell Billy we want a security guy close tonight.”

  He nodded and left the room. I gripped the back of my head. Of all the nights for Vicky to show up, why was it tonight? I didn’t want her anywhere near Liv. Vicky was poison, and she spread it as far as she could.

  Andy returned and picked up his drumsticks. “We’re on in five. Billy said no problem. I looked around but couldn’t see her, so maybe she was here for a drink and left.”

  I stood, grabbing my guitar. “If she’s here, ignore her. Don’t give her a reason to start anything.”

  Mark bent down and picked up his bass. “You were the one she was focused on last. Maybe she has unfinished business?”

  “There was no business. She was loony. She invented shit in her head, and it became real to her.” I slid my guitar strap over my shoulder, feeling the tension building. “Saying hello was the equivalent of an affair to her. She did it to all of us.”

  I met the gaze of our lead singer, Alex. “She especially screwed you over.”

  She’d almost cost him his marriage with her lies.

  He looked grim remembering everything that had occurred.

  “If she approaches any of us, we stick together. Don’t be alone with her. Don’t give her the chance.”

  Alex flexed his shoulders. “Right. We stick together, lads,” he stated, his British accent thick.

  I held out my hand, and we did our usual group fist bump.

  “Together.”

  Liv was at the same table, so it was easy to spot her. She had her hair swept up from her face and was dressed in leggings with some sort of glittery top. She looked casual and pretty—and entirely kissable. On the way to the stage, I stopped at the table and leaned down, indicating the burly security guard beside me.

  “This is Brent. Stick close tonight, okay?”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “I’ll explain later, but promise me.”

  “Okay.”

  Resisting the urge to kiss her, I squeezed her shoulder and climbed onstage. My gaze swept the crowd, recognizing a lot of the patrons, but there was no sign of Vicky.

  Maybe Mark had been mistaken.

  Maybe Andy was right—she was here but left.

  Alex met my eyes with a nod. I know he’d been looking as well.

  “Ready?” he mouthed.

  I tilted my head and he counted us down. I let the music take over and forgot about Vicky.

  The crowd was enthusiastic and engaging tonight. We changed it up from the previous evening, adding a few different numbers. I stayed in the background until the end of the first set, then stepped forward and performed two songs. My gaze locked with Liv’s as I played “Smile for Me.” Her eyes glowed in the dim light, her smile bright and easy to see. It was there, just as I asked, for me, and I basked in its warmth.

  After the applause, we took a break, and I sat beside Liv. Tonight, she was open and affectionate. I kissed her cheek, and we sat close, our fingers entwined. I tried not to laugh when a steaming mu
g appeared in front of me instead of my usual water.

  “Your woman asked me to bring this,” Sherry informed me with a wink. “She had me make it special for you.”

  I picked up the mug, letting the soothing herbal tea and honey coat my throat. I turned to press a kiss to Liv’s head in thanks when I saw her.

  Tall, blond, and dangerous. Vicky leaned against the bar, her usual shot glass of tequila by her elbow. She stared at me balefully, her expression bitter and twisted.

  My body froze. Her gaze moved from me to Liv, and a sneer crossed her face. She picked up her tequila, tossed it back, threw some money on the bar, and stomped away. She pushed her way through the crowd and disappeared out of the door.

  “Van?” Liv asked. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “You worried me earlier.”

  I dropped a kiss to her head, relaxing now that Vicky had stormed out. “Sorry. Problem with an overzealous fan.”

  “Does it happen a lot?”

  “No. But we wanted to take precautions.”

  “Okay. You still seem tense.”

  I lowered my head. “Maybe you can find a way to make me less tense later, Liv?”

  She touched her lips to mine. Too lightly and too briefly.

  “Maybe.”

  I grinned.

  We finished our set to loud applause. All of us had seen Vicky storm out, so we were relaxed and jovial for the remainder of the night. We headed to the dressing room, grabbed our stuff and talked about the next gig we had in a few weeks. If we wanted, we could play weekly, probably nightly, around town and in various other cities, but we all agreed it wasn’t what we preferred. We had a list of places we liked, and we rotated. Our fans followed us and we enjoyed the sets, but it was a hobby, not our lives. The guys all knew my history and the fact that if they wanted more, I had no issues stepping back. But surprisingly, we were all like-minded when it came to our group. We had a couple of self-produced CDs which sold well, but we refused to take it to the next level. I had experienced it already, and none of my band members wanted that level of crazy. We all only wanted to make music.