"Tell me," Ian said softly.
I settled my head on his chest. I'd never told anyone this before. Faith knew, because she'd watched the fallout. But I'd never said the words out loud before. I'd always been too hurt. Too ashamed.
"He was the kind of guy who lavished attention on me. He took me out to fancy dinners. He would give me presents almost every week."
Ian stroked my hair. "Sounds like a Cinderella story."
"It did feel like a fairy tale at the time. He told me we were meant to be. Told me how special I was."
Ian inhaled a sharp breath, no doubt remember all the times he'd said the exact same words to me.
"He was older," I continued. "Almost old enough to be my father, really. Maybe that's why what he did hurt so much. It felt like I was being rejected all over again."
"What happened?" He asked the words tentatively.
"I found out he'd been lying the entire time. I wasn't special. I was just another plaything to him. A toy to enjoy for however long I amused him, until he decided to throw me away."
I sat up, meeting Ian's eyes.
"He had an entire family I'd never known about. A wife. Three children. The house with the picket fence." Tears stung the back of my eyes. "I was just his girl on the side. Young, impressionable, willing to fall for anything and everything he told me."
Ian's face went soft with sympathy. "Hope…"
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I should have known. Why would someone so well off and handsome and mature spend time with some nineteen year old college student?"
"You couldn't have known."
"I felt so stupid. So used. There was never going to be a happily ever after with him." I wiped the tears that fell from my eyes with the back of my hand. "I vowed I'd never fall for someone's pretty words ever again."
"I'm so sorry, Hope." Ian gathered me up in his arms, hugging me to his chest. "They were never just words for me. I always meant them."
"I know that, now." I snuggled down into his arms, waiting for the tears to subside, waiting for my cheeks to dry.
I knew that Ian was telling the truth. I felt it in my heart. But there was still one thing nagging at me. If he felt this way about me, why had he let me walk away?
"I like your song," I told him, trying to broach the subject carefully. "And not just the meaning behind the words. You're a great singer."
"I'm okay. Noah's better."
I couldn't disagree with that so I said nothing.
"I wrote it thinking you'd never get to hear it. Never thought anyone would hear it."
"Then why did you?"
"Needed to get the words out. It felt like they were choking me. Like I couldn't breathe around them."
I wanted to hear him say it. "And what words are those?"
Dark lashes swept up and down, from my eyes, to my nose to my lips. They flicked back up again until I was confronted with that brilliant green, staring deep into me, like he was examining my very soul.
"I love you, Hope."
My heart throbbed, a sweet ache. Tears stung the back of my eyes again, happy tears this time. I blinked them away. "I love you, too."
We clung to each other, basking in the words. But there were still so many unanswered questions. I spoke in a near whisper.
"If you love me, why did you agree to break it off?"
His eyes glinted, a dark look chasing away the softness, the tenderness. "Damon warned me. Told me if you saw my scars that word would get out. That you'd be horrified. That you'd leave me and tell everybody."
My throat closed. He wasn't wrong. I was close to telling someone. Anyone.
"When you called it quits, I thought maybe it was a sign. You were getting too close." He gripped me so tight I thought my lungs would burst. I didn't protest. "Letting you walk out was the worst decision I've ever made."
Even worse than cutting yourself?
I kept my thoughts to myself.
"You're the first person to see the real me," he continued. "To prove to me that I matter, even without all the twins stuff. You showed me I could be more than that."
"You were always more than that. You were always just Ian to me."
He laced our fingers together and tugged me close. When we were inches away he brushed his lips across mine, a soft kiss.
"Tell me."
My heart clenched, a sweet, tender ache. "I want you, Ian."
I looked up to meet his eyes, a brilliant green.
"Only you."
Epilogue
Cameron's latest party put all others to shame. He said it was to celebrate finishing the album, but he never needed an excuse to party.
There was a better mix of men and women than last time. I supposed it was because Cameron invited his fellow artists and colleagues instead of groupies and fangirls.
If I thought that meant the party would be less crazy, I would have been sorely mistaken. Celebrities partied harder than anyone I'd ever met. Broken beer bottles and shattered cocktail glasses. Couples splayed out on sofas doing indecent things to each other.
A few people in a corner snorted something up their noses. I quickly averted my eyes. I'd known drugs were a part of the lifestyle, but that didn't mean I wanted to have intimate knowledge of it.
I opened my phone and re-read Ian's latest text message.
Can't wait to see you tonight, sweetheart. It's been too long. I miss you. I love you.
That's how he ended every message now. I love you.
I hugged my phone to my chest. Out of all the lines Ian had given groupies and fangirls, out of all the flirting and teasing, there was one thing he'd never given them.
His heart belonged to me.
Loud music pumped from speakers situated in the ceiling of every room, a hard, driving electronic beat. I felt it in my chest, almost louder than the music at concerts.
I glanced at my sister, wondering what she thought of the whole scene. Her face was lit up with excitement. I doubted she'd ever been to a party like this one.
When Faith found out I was going to another party, she had finally called in her favor.
"I want to come too," she'd pleaded. "It's not fair you get to party with rock stars and I'm stuck doing boring corporate events with stiffs in suits. I want to live a little. Besides, it's time I finally met that famous boyfriend of yours."
When I'd asked Cameron if my sister could come, the evil glint in his eyes made me instantly want to take it back.
"No molesting my sister."
"But it's okay if she molests me, right?"
I'd just snorted. I would have paid to see Faith cut Cameron down with her barbed words.
To my surprise, it was a different rock star who ended up on the other end of Faith's tongue lashing.
She tugged on my arm to get my attention. "Oh my god, that's him." She pointed to the opposite end of the room.
"Who?"
"The asshole I keep running into. The one who thinks girls should fall at his feet to worship him."
I followed her finger with my eyes. I was speechless for a second, before I chuckled. "Let me guess. He acted like he expected you to already know him and was surprised when you didn't give him the time of day?"
"Yeah, exactly. How'd you know?"
I pulled Faith by the hand, explaining along the way. When we reached them, I tapped on their shoulders, getting their attention. Ian and Damon turned around with identical grins. As soon as they saw us, the grins slid off their faces, replaced with disbelief.
"Ian, Damon, this is my sister Faith."
They both glanced between us, slack jawed.
"My twin sister," I added.
Faith gave Damon a sweet smile. "I would say it's a pleasure, but it's really not."
"But— How—" Damon was speechless for a moment. Then he growled, a dark expression on his face. "Is that why you nearly kicked me in the balls?"
"You clearly thought I was Hope. I thought you were a narcissistic, try-hard wannabe."
&nb
sp; A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Narcissistic?"
"You were flabbergasted when I didn't immediately throw myself at you."
"Try-hard?"
"What do you call the whole alpha male bad boy act?"
"Sweetheart, I don't need to try to get women to fall for me. That happens all on its own."
She put her hands on her hips. "Well it's not happening here."
Damon's face contorted. Flabbergasted was the right word for it. I doubted any girl had shot Damon down with such force in a long time.
"What's going on?" Ian wrapped an arm around my waist. I pressed a quick kiss to his lips, trying not to melt into him.
"Faith and Damon have had a few encounters before."
"Is that why he told me you were a tease?"
"Apparently he tried to come on to Faith a few times, thinking she was me."
"And I take it your sister wasn't having of any of it?"
I laughed as our siblings continued bickering at each other. Damon's brow was furrowed in a biting expression with his arms crossed over his chest. Faith's face was scrunched up with distaste, arms flailing wildly. I'd never seen her so worked up. Faith was usually so calm and collected.
"You'd think they'd hit it off, considering how well we get along," Ian mused.
"You're nothing like your brother." I wrapped my arms around his neck. "And I'm nothing like my sister."
His eyes sparked with mischief as he swung me around, keeping a tight grip on my waist. I let out a surprised yelp, but couldn't help giggling softly.
"So, why didn't you tell me you had a twin?"
"It never came up. Also, I guess I didn't want you thinking I only liked you because I was a twin myself. My liking you had nothing to do with your twin status."
Ian settled me close to his hip. One finger trailed along my arm, up and down, causing shivers to run through me. His other hand circled around my waist, thumb brushing the hollow of my hip. Heat surged through me, my heartbeat speeding up. I glanced around covertly, wondering if anyone would miss us if we ducked into an empty bedroom. Or bathroom. I had to admit, watching our reflections had been hot.
"I didn't tell Damon," Ian said quietly.
I pushed away my naughty thoughts. "Didn't tell him what?"
"That the whole Damian thing made me start cutting again." Ian looked over at his brother with a pained expression. Damon and Faith were still arguing with each other. The situation was turning hostile, but instead of walking away, they leaned in closer to each other. "He was trying to help. It would hurt him too much to know."
"Ian…" I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, burying my face in his chest. "I still think you should talk to someone."
"I am. I made an appointment with my old therapist. I'm going to start seeing her again." He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "You were right. Last time I let it go on for too long. This time, I'm going to get help before it gets that bad."
A heavy weight in my chest lifted, a weight I hadn't noticed I'd been carrying around. My heart felt a million times lighter.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Bright green eyes met mine, soft and loving. "I should be the one thanking you." He brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "You saw me for who I really am. I finally feel like Ian again."
That's when I knew for sure. Things were going to be better for Ian. Maybe not perfect, but better.
There was going to be no more Damian. They were still brothers, still twins, but two separate people.
From now on, they were Ian and Damon Drake, the genius guitarists of Darkest Days.
From now on, he was my Ian.
***
If you or someone you know is harming themselves, please don't keep quiet. Keeping that kind of secret doesn't help you or those you care about. Seek help. Talk with a counselor or call 1-800-273-TALK (8255).
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Coming Soon:
Darkest Days #3: Hard Rock Sin
Featuring bassist of Darkest Days Cameron Thorne and Noah Hart’s baby sister Lily, Hard Rock Sin is the third novel in the Darkest Days Rock Star Romance Series.
Want a sneak peek of Noah’s story? Continue reading with an excerpt from Hard Rock Tease >>>
Hard Rock Tease Excerpt
My heart thumped wildly in my chest. I took deep breaths to try and calm myself. It didn't work. I was going to miss my interview with Etude Entertainment. I was going to lose the best chance I had at getting my foot of the door in the music industry.
The building had too many twists and turns. The corridors all looked the same with their eggshell white walls and marble-tiled floors. Rushing around one more corner, I pushed my way through a set of double doors with shaky, clammy hands. I didn't know which way I was going, but I hoped if I continued on I'd at least find someone to ask.
Light strains of music hit my ears the moment the doors swung open. Piano music. Some of my rising anxiety eased. Maybe there was finally someone I could ask for directions.
Following the music down the hall, I found an open door. A quick peek inside showed me a man sitting at a piano. Broad shouldered, black hair, and tall. Even though he was sitting down I could tell when he stood he'd reveal an impressive height. No doubt much taller than me.
I was about to knock on the open doorframe when the man began to hum. Lithe fingers spidered across the keys, a soft, tinkling melody that complimented the humming. Every so often he would stop to make a notation on a piece of paper laid flat on the top of the piano's surface.
Even without words, the man's singing was lovely. Almost sweet and romantic, somehow. The music made my heart swell, touching something inside of me. Such a sad song, yet at the same time hopeful. There was a longing beneath the light humming.
My rapid heartbeat slowed, my frazzled nerves soothed by the music. Without meaning to, I lost myself in that melody. As a music student, I could appreciate the intricacies of each note. The song didn't sound quite finished. A rough draft, maybe. Still, I could tell the man was gifted.
Hunched over the piano, his shoulders tensed up. He pressed down hard on the keys, fingers now flying. The soft melody turned harsh and aggressive. Whatever loving sentiment the man had begun with, he'd lost it. The music became louder, unpleasant. I could hear unspoken rage in the smash of every key.
The longer the man played the more discordant the notes become, until he slammed his hands down one final time, the music resolving itself in a crash of noise. I jumped, my heart beating a pounding rhythm against my ribcage.
The man buried his hands in his hair, tugging at the strands. He hunched further over the keyboard. He cursed, a quiet, forlorn expletive. Moments later he shot up from his seat at the piano with a flurry, knocking off the papers full of music notes, sending them scattered to the floor.
I took a few steps back out into the hallway, nervous adrenaline racing through my veins.
The man stood in front of the piano, his back to me, chest heaving with every breath. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He took a slow breath in, then out. Running his hands down his face, he let out a soft, pained sound.
This man was clearly in the middle of an emotional breakdown. I didn't want to interrupt. I took a few more steps backwards, intending to leave before he noticed me.
He bent to pick up the music sheets from the floor. I saw his face for the first time.
All the air left my lungs.
This was a man I'd recognize anywhere.
Blinking once slowly to clear my eyes, I counted to three, making sure I wasn't imagining things. When I looked again, it was still him. Dressed all in black, from his open leather jacket, to his form fitting t-shirt to his tight jeans…
&n
bsp; My eyes nearly bugged out. Damn, those were some tight jeans. My stomach muscles clenched involuntarily, an instinctive reaction. A pulse of arousal spiked through my body, warming me from the inside.
My gaze followed his body down further to his heavy black combat boots.
My heart stuttered in my chest.
It really was him.
Noah.
Fucking.
Hart.
All my senses went on high alert.
Noah Hart, lead singer of my favorite rock band Darkest Days, a rock star god, a man I admired beyond all reason, stood mere feet away from me.
My eyes travelled over his body, taking in his long legs, broad shoulders, and messy dark hair. I gnawed on my lip as excitement ran through me. He looked even hotter in person than he did on stage or on TV.
Although I had to be honest, I was sort of disappointed he wasn't wearing leather pants and eyeliner.
Pure misery showed on his face, his expression alight with inner turmoil. I held still, not making a move, not making a sound. I didn't want to disturb him in what seemed to be a private moment.
I also didn't want to risk opening my mouth and freaking out in the presence of one of my music idols.
Noah scooped the papers up, gathering them into some semblance of order. His face was open and lined with pain. The emotion he exuded on stage was just as evident in person. I wondered if he was working on a new song, if this was part of his process.
Something lit up inside my chest at the thought of Noah Hart having trouble writing songs. The fact that it might not come easy to him, despite the wondrous lyrics he wrote and the passionate way he sang, gave me a small bit of comfort. Sometimes it seemed like the work that I struggled with came about so effortlessly to everyone else.
Maybe he and I had something in common when it came to that.
I was still lingering in the doorway, watching him, drinking him in. Dark tattoos peeked out of the collar of his shirt. Enough of his upper chest was exposed to make my thighs clench. One of my shaky hands gripped the doorknob. The other was pressed to my heaving chest, feeling every one of my shallow breaths.
Hard Rock Fling: A Rock Star Romance Page 19
