Missing From Me (Sixth Street Bands Book 3)

by Jayne Frost

  Anna cupped my cheek as the spasms rolled through me, and leaning into her touch, I pressed my lips to her palm.

  “I love you, Anna-baby.”

  She twined her fingers into my hair, and guiding me to the crook of her neck, she whispered, “I love you too. Always.”

  Chapter Two

  Sean

  I tossed a handful of clothes into my open duffel. The faint smell of peaches wafted up, warm like pie. Grinding my teeth, I fished around until I found one of Anna’s tank tops hidden beneath the folds of a wrinkled T-shirt.

  More liquor.

  As I fumbled to open the half empty pint of Jack I’d pulled from my back pocket, I felt Anna’s eyes on me. The drunken half of my brain instructed me to ignore her, but the sober half disregarded the command. Sliding my attention to the head of the bed where she was studying, our gazes collided over the top of her textbook.

  Pausing with the bottle halfway to my mouth, I smiled bitterly. “Want some?”

  Her lips parted, but then she looked away. Like the sight of me was more than she could bear.

  And maybe that was true.

  In the month since Caged had been “discovered” and offered our golden ticket—a record deal and a year-long tour to back it up—Anna and I had exhausted every tactic waging our war of wills against each other. Screaming matches. The cold shoulder. Angry sex that lasted all night. But recently, this was Anna’s weapon of choice—silent resignation.

  I chuckled dryly. “I guess that’s a no, huh?”

  Anna frowned as I took a long gulp. Satisfied that she was as pissed as I was, I trekked to the dresser to get more clothes.

  Her quiet voice rose from behind me. “Is this really how you want to spend the last night in our apartment?”

  Anger flooded my veins as I spun to face her. “It wouldn’t be our last night if you’d agreed to come with me.”

  She chewed the inside of her lip. “You know I have school.”

  My unfocused eyes shifted to the criminal law text in her lap, the glossy, red cover mocking me. I stalked to the nightstand, snatching the copy of the band’s contract with Metro Music.

  “Law school will still be here in a year.” The papers crumpled in my fist as I shook them at her. “This offer won’t be. It’s a one-time deal.”

  Anna pushed to her feet and glared up at me. “I never told you not to take the offer. We’ll work it out.”

  Work it out?

  All of our conversations tumbled around in my head, a cacophony of compromises and bargains, culminating into one bitter refrain: Anna wasn’t coming.

  The evidence was all around me. Anna’s neatly packed boxes. The two suitcases with all her clothes, ready to be transported to Peyton’s dorm. But I’d refused to see it until right now.

  Blinded by rage, I swayed in my spot, pointing the neck of the bottle at her. “I think you’ve got a plan. I don’t seem to recall having much input.”

  A red flush stained Anna’s cheeks as she folded her arms over her chest. “I do have a plan.” Her stone-cold gaze flicked to the whiskey. “And if you weren’t drunk off your ass, you’d remember what it was.”

  Grabbing a hair tie from the nightstand, she stormed away. I knew I should’ve let her go. But I didn’t. Chock full of righteous indignation and liquid courage, I followed her to the bathroom.

  “Don’t walk away from me, Annabelle. I’m not done.”

  We’re not done.

  Sighing, she pulled a hairbrush from the drawer. “Just drop it, Sean. I’ll meet you in Phoenix in three weeks.” Her gaze met mine in the mirror, pleading. “Can we please stop arguing about this?”

  Leaning against the doorframe to keep from falling over, I slurred, “You don’t seem too broken up about it, Anna-baby.”

  Maybe it was the use of the pet name. Or maybe she was just tired of holding all the anger inside. Either way, Anna rounded on me, and the hairbrush went sailing, nearly nailing me in the ear when it hit the wall.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  A tear slid down Anna’s cheek, and I was grateful. I could work with that.

  Closing the distance between us, I caged her in.

  My hand slipped into her hair, and I tilted her chin with my thumb. “Then come with me.”

  Anguish contorted her features, and for a moment we were on the same side. Then her wall slid back into place.

  “I can’t. Not yet. We’ll make the best of it and...”

  The rest of Anna’s thought was drowned out by squealing tires and crunching metal as we met the end of the road. Our road. I backed away, stumbling over the rubble.

  “How ’bout I make the best of it.” I cocked my head, my bitter smile firmly in place. “And you get a refund on that ticket to Phoenix?”

  Anna blinked, confusion clouding her eyes. “I-I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “You’re the smart one. You figure it out.”

  When I made an ungainly move to escape, Anna lurched forward, fisting my shirt. “No, you tell me what you mean.”

  I love you. I want you. I need you.

  I said none of those things. Instead, I pried her fingers from my shirt, the corner of her emerald ring digging into my flesh from the effort.

  “It means I’m done.” I dropped her hand. “With you and this town.”

  Anna called after me, but pride and whiskey propelled me out the door and into the humid summer night. Away from the only woman I’d ever loved, and whatever was left of the home we’d built.

  I woke up on Cameron’s couch, bits and pieces of the previous hours floating behind my lids.

  An unfamiliar perfume clung to my skin, overpowering the smell of whiskey, smoke, and stale beer. As I pushed off the sofa, I noticed the long, chocolate brown strands of hair bound to my T-shirt and jeans. Brown, not auburn. Not Anna’s.

  Pulling on my boots, I yelled a hasty goodbye to Cameron through his closed bedroom door before trudging the two blocks to my apartment.

  Dead silence greeted me when I pushed open the front door. “Anna?”

  Logan framed the entry of his bedroom, his blue eyes frigid. “She ain’t here.”

  He slung his duffel over his shoulder, gripped the handle of his rolling suitcase, and then brushed past me without another word.

  I made it to the toilet in time to spew the contents of my stomach, and after rinsing the foul taste from my mouth, I took out my phone to tap out a text.

  Anna-baby, I’m so fucking sorry. I need to see you.

  I was about to send the message when I took stock of myself in the mirror. Two purple bruises stood out on my neck. I ran my fingers over my skin, my hand sliding farther south to seek out the source of the sting on my chest. Yanking the collar of my T-shirt with enough force to rip the seams, I blinked at the trail of scratches.

  This time I didn’t make it to the toilet and I dry heaved into the sink until my stomach muscles screamed for relief.

  When none came, I peeled off my clothes and then stepped into the shower.

  Strands of Anna’s long, auburn hair floated in the water at my feet as I scrubbed my skin, trying to wash off the stain of last night’s debauchery.

  I stopped cold when I heard my phone vibrating on the sink.

  Anna.

  Dread filled me at the prospect of her call, but a little relief as well.

  I jumped out of the tub and made a grab for my phone, but missed the call. My stomach twisted painfully when I realized it was only Logan. A text popped up a second later.

  Bus is here. We’re at the Cracker Barrel next door to the Motel 6. Get your ass down here.

  No way that was going to happen. The band’s first show in El Paso wasn’t for two days, and even if it cost me every cent in my emergency fund, I’d spend it on a plane ticket so I could stay here an extra night and make things right with Anna.

  With a plan taking shape, I raced to the bedroom to get dressed. But one look at my reflection in the mirror be
hind the shabby dresser and I froze. In addition to the welts on my chest, there were finger sized bruises on my shoulders that I hadn’t noticed before.

  Backing away, I sank onto the edge of the bed.

  There was no making things right with Anna. Not now.

  And maybe I knew that when I climbed into the backseat of that girl’s car.

  Darcy.

  Not even a friend, more like a fixture who’d been following the band around since she heard about our record deal.

  A groupie.

  I laughed out loud because Caged didn’t have groupies. Sure, we had fans, but women didn’t throw themselves at our feet.

  I looked down at my phone, heavy and lifeless in my hand. And with a hard swallow, I pressed the delete button, and my unsent text to Anna disappeared one letter at a time.

  I’d make it right. Just not now.

  After a long moment of indecision, I tapped out a reply to Logan.

  Wrapping things up at the apartment. I’ll be there as soon as I can.

  Tossing whatever clothes I could fit into the duffel, I left the rest of my stuff on the unmade bed. As I headed for the door, I caught sight of a small carton on top of a stack of Anna’s boxes.

  Fragile—pictures.

  Opening the lid, I found a dozen photo albums of various shapes and sizes. Picking through the pile, I chose a thick, leather-bound scrapbook, and after tucking the album inside my bag, I paused and took one last look around.

  I’ll make it right, I vowed again.

  But when I closed the front door, my insides filled with lead because I knew I wouldn’t. Still, I kept walking, down the concrete stairs and straight to my car. And then I drove away, leaving my old life and the biggest piece of my heart behind.

  Chapter Three

  Present Day

  Sean

  Jolted awake by soft lips traveling south over my heated skin, I pressed my head into the firm pillow. Light from the bathroom spilled into the suite, stopping just short of the king-sized bed.

  Peering at the nightstand, I spied a plastic room key, a half empty bottle of Jack, and a strip of condoms. But it was the glowing red numbers on the clock that had me transfixed.

  3:37 a.m.

  Clearing away the alcohol induced cobwebs, I tried to piece together the events of the last few hours.

  The organizers of the South by Southwest Arts and Music Festival had hosted an event to formally announce Caged’s appearance on the closing weekend of the festival. There was an after-party at Maggie Mae’s. And that’s where things got hazy. The whole night blurred into a string of celebratory shots, courtesy of the cute little waitress who kept filling my glass.

  Twining my fingers into the girl’s hair, I propped up on my elbow to get a glimpse of her face.

  Before I could form a rational thought, her small hand curved around the base of my thickening cock. She took me in her mouth, and with the alcohol dulling my senses, my mind wandered to places it had no business going. Dangerous places. Before I could stop myself, a name coiled around my tongue.

  “Anna-baby . . .” She responded with a soft moan, and teetering on the edge, I gave her silky locks a gentle tug. “Look at me.”

  My heart stalled when she lifted her gaze, blinking up at me with sable eyes. Her hair turned muddy brown in my fist as the illusion slipped away.

  I fell back against the pillows, and with my free hand, I made a clumsy grab for the bottle on the nightstand to wash away my disappointment. The whiskey went down smooth, numbing the empty spaces where only memories resided.

  “Finish,” I grunted, tightening my grip on her hair.

  If the girl was offended, she didn’t show it. Hollowing her cheeks, she took me all the way to the back of her throat, where I stayed until the last spasm of my release shuddered through me.

  Shafts of morning light poured through the floor to ceiling windows as Kimber stalked around my suite at the Driskill Hotel, plucking her clothes from the floor.

  Perched on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands and the wrinkled sheet wrapped loosely around my hips, I welded my back teeth together to keep from engaging.

  Kimber must’ve noticed because the room went mercifully silent. She stopped in front of me, her bright red toenail polish a blur as she tapped out her agitation on the plush carpet.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  I made a feeble attempt to sit up straight, and quickly decided it wasn’t worth the effort, so I merely lifted my gaze. “Well what, Kimber?”

  Her eyes rounded. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Tipping forward, she poked my shoulder with a manicured, red talon. “I came all this way for your big party, and now you’re acting like . . . like . . .” She trembled with rage. “Like you’re not even happy to see me!”

  If I wasn’t so hung over, I might try to play it off, pretend I cared, but as it stood, I was in no mood for any of Kimber’s games.

  Heaving a sigh, I roughed a hand through my hair. “What do you want me to say? You weren’t invited.”

  Kimber took my cold demeanor in stride. After all, we both knew why she was here. Caged was big news again. And with our upcoming gig at the festival, there was lots of press around. Plenty of opportunities for her to get her photo in the tabloids.

  “You didn’t have to ask.” Kimber’s soft tone did little to mask the calculating gleam in her big brown eyes. “I’m here to support you.”

  A laugh rumbled low in my chest. “Sure you are,” I scoffed. “And I suppose it has nothing to do with the new reality show you just landed?”

  Surprise flashed across her features, followed by mock indignation and a quivering chin. Since I knew damn well the girl could cry on command, I wasn’t moved. This little stunt was too reminiscent of our first encounter at Coachella over a year ago.

  Kimber had shown up at one of the after-parties, setting her sights on me from the beginning. Not that I’d resisted. On the contrary, I’d ushered her straight to the limo and took what she had to offer.

  Over the next few months, Kimber popped up at several of our gigs, usually with a swarm of paparazzi in tow. A few strategically placed articles in the more prominent gossip rags and we were the new “it” couple.

  After Caged fired our manager and retreated to Austin to lick our wounds, Kimber’s interest had waned.

  Until last night.

  Coincidence? Hardly.

  Silence swelled between us as Kimber mulled over my accusation.

  “That’s not the only reason I came,” she finally said, turning her head to wipe away a nonexistent tear. “I missed you, Sean.”

  “Really?” With my aching head, I couldn’t offer more than a bland stare. “I heard you signed with Lindsey. Was it her idea for you to show up here?”

  Kimber shifted, and even though I knew our old manager had probably put her up to the impromptu visit, I was still surprised when she didn’t deny it.

  “She’s not that bad,” Kimber said quietly—as if she’d forgotten that Lindsey had spent the last year trying to ruin my career.

  If I could glare without causing more pain to my eyes, I would’ve. But she wasn’t worth it.

  “Whatever, sugar. You do you.” I lurched to my feet, my stomach pitching from the sudden movement. “I’m going to grab a shower. Feel free to order some breakfast.” Stalking to my backpack where I kept a clean T-shirt and a travel toothbrush, I added, “But I’ve got a busy day, so you need to clear out as soon as possible.”

  Blowing the girl off was a dick move, but there was no way Kimber was accompanying me to any press events, and with the SXSW show around the corner, the band had a shit ton of media commitments.

  “Are you serious?” Kimber watched me with cold, brown eyes as I snatched my jeans from the floor.

  “Yep.”

  Bits and pieces of last night filtered through my foggy brain, none of them good. So I grabbed my phone to check my social media and find out how bad the damage was.

  I was mere
feet from escaping into the bathroom when Kimber’s voice rose up behind me.

  “Who’s Anna?”

  Her question detonated like a grenade, and I rocked unsteadily from the explosion as I turned to face her. “Who?”

  “Anna,” Kimber repeated coolly, the barest of smiles curving her lips as she closed the gap between us. “You said her name last night when we were fucking.”

  An image popped into my head of Kimber’s eager mouth on my cock. Not exactly fucking, but I wasn’t going to argue the point.

  “She’s nobody.” Icy fingers closed around my heart, protesting the lie, but I schooled my features well enough. “You must’ve heard me wrong.” I gave her a smile, then spun on my heel, the world spinning along with me. Pausing at the bathroom door, I closed my eyes, cursing last night’s foolish slip of the tongue. “Maybe breakfast isn’t such a good idea. It’s getting late, and I’ve got shit to do, so you should probably leave now.”

  The marble floors in the bathroom only added to the chill that settled in my bones. Dropping the sheet, I slipped into the shower where I stood under the multiple jets for longer than necessary, hoping Kimber had the good sense to heed my advice and get the hell out. My killer headache, burning stomach, and general sour mood didn’t bode well for further conversation.

  Feeling somewhat revived after the long soak, I cracked open the door on the pretense of letting out the steam, but really, I wanted to see if Kimber was still around. Hearing nothing, I peeked my head out and scanned the room. There was no sign of Kimber, but I laughed out loud when I got a load of her parting shot. Scrawled on the mirror above the dresser in red lipstick was one word—Asshole.

  Given her flair for the dramatic, it didn’t surprise me a bit that Kimber added a smiley face and even signed her name.

  After pulling on my clothes, I grabbed a washcloth, a kernel of guilt working its way to the surface as I cleaned the goopy mess.