Play Your Heart Out: A Rock Star Romance (Sinful Serenade Book 4)

by Crystal Kaswell

  Sometime after sunset, Miles knocks on the door and steps into the guest room.

  "As much as I'm impressed with you for getting a rise out of Pete, you should head home if you want to make your morning classes." He nods to the hallway. "We picked up dinner. You like sashimi?"

  "I've never had it."

  He smiles and calls downstairs. "Jess has never had sashimi."

  Meg's shriek of delight pierces my ears. Damn, the girl is loud. She should be the singer.

  Ugh. Singing. I try, hard, to push the memory away, but my brain refuses to cooperate. Instead, it replays Pete singing again and again and again.

  My stomach tenses.

  You're right. It's better if we don't hang out for a while.

  Maybe some food will convince my stomach to shut up.

  I power down my computer and follow Miles to the kitchen. He's a tall guy, but he only has an inch or two on Meg. She looks like a model—long legs, slim frame, dramatic features. If I didn't know better, I'd assume he was another celebrity who only cared about appearances and she was another wannabe actress who was using her sexuality to curry fame.

  There's nothing fake about them. They're clearly in love.

  He slides his arm around her waist and pushes her against the counter. His mouth goes to her neck. A moment later, she's groaning.

  Okay, they're clearly in lust too.

  "Miles, don't you think Pete teased her enough?" She can barely get the words out.

  "Mhmm." He squeezes her then takes a step backwards. Miles turns to me with an apologetic look. "Always figured he was a tease."

  I'm not entertaining this line of conversation. The two of them talk. A lot. I go with the first subject I remember. "So how about the new Star Wars movie?"

  Meg screws her face in distaste. She shakes her head.

  Miles chuckles. "She's still upset about Han and Leia getting divorced."

  "They're the perfect couple." She sets the table and unboxes the takeout. "You should appreciate it. You're a scoundrel."

  He smiles. "You're my princess, babe."

  "Am I your princess or your babe?" she teases.

  "Princess, you're a total babe." He presses his lips to hers.

  It would be tacky to ask them to can the affection. I'm at their house. I'm enjoying their hospitality.

  Still, I'm considering it.

  Meg catches me watching and clears her throat. She takes a seat, motions for Miles to do the same.

  He does.

  Meg takes me through the different dining options—red-purple ahi tuna, soft coral salmon, firm ono, glassy fish eggs, octopus. I take one of everything. I'm about to drench a piece of salmon in soy sauce when she grabs my hand.

  "Try it plain first. That way you can taste the flavor of the fish," she says.

  "You're religious about this," Miles teases.

  She shoots him an accusatory glance. "Every single server at Nobu knows your regular order."

  "Only because you want to go every Saturday night."

  "Nuh-uh."

  He smiles and nods. His eyes fill with affection.

  It's funny. I've never had a peek into what love really looks like. My parents never even liked each other. My high school friends were casual with their relationships—having fun, screwing around. Even our friendships were casual, surface level. I liked it better that way. I didn't have to worry about revealing too much.

  I didn't know how deep love could go, how much another person could free you or tie you up in knots.

  Again, my stomach clenches. I sample the salmon sashimi. It's a little soft but it's good. Fresh. I try dipping it in soy sauce, but I like it better plain. There's nothing hiding the flavor.

  Then I think of Pete, and my stomach is in knots again.

  I'll deal with my feelings later. Once I've held down dinner for an hour. I fill my plate with salmon sashimi, turn to Meg and Miles, and bring up science fiction films until I stumble on something that makes one of them gush.

  Turns out it's Jurassic Park. Pete's favorite book. Exactly the topic that will help me not think about him.

  ***

  After a long, painful goodbye—Meg and Miles will be apart until Thursday evening—Meg gives me a ride back to Pete's place.

  Mercifully, we converse only about local radio stations.

  The drive goes quickly. She pulls into the driveway of the Hollywood place with a wistful sigh.

  "There's a lot of memories here. It's a shame the label is finally kicking Sinful Serenade out," she says.

  They are? I try not to let my surprise register. "Oh?"

  She nods. "After Thanksgiving. Miles said it has something to do with that asshole manager. Aiden." She turns to me. "Are you and Pete looking for another place?"

  "Uh..." Thanksgiving is well past our expiration date. No reason why he needed to tell me. I keep up my poker face. "I can't decide if I want to get an apartment close to school or if I want to find a place on the beach."

  "Do the beach. Downtown is dead on the weekends and it's nearly as expensive as Santa Monica." Her gaze goes to the house. "You're from Long Island, right?"

  I nod. "That means I have to love the beach and Billy Joel."

  She laughs. "The guy who does Piano Man?"

  "Exactly."

  "Then definitely do the beach."

  I allow myself a moment to fantasize about living on the beach with Pete, at some luxurious place like the one Miles has. The house doesn't matter to me. Just his arms, the sun, the sand, the crashing waves, his voice in my ear as he whispers baby, I love you.

  I clear my throat. "I should get going. Early class."

  She groans. "My first class is at eight." Her dramatic features soften as her expression fills with concern. "I'm terrible with relationship problems. The worst. But. Um. Pete's really hot."

  I laugh. "So is Miles."

  "Yes, but if you try to sleep with Miles, I'll have to kill you."

  "Would you really?"

  "In a hot second." She laughs with evil glee. "But I don't think you would. The way you look at the quiet bassist... You're smitten."

  "I can't help it."

  "Same thing happened to me." Her voice gets serious. "Pete... he really keeps things to himself. He and Miles, they're pretty close. I've gotten to know him. And he's... he's a really great guy. A great brother to Tom. A great friend to everybody. Whatever is happening, I'm sure he wouldn't hurt you on purpose."

  "I know."

  "Okay. Fuck guys. They're the worst." She turns to me. "And clothes—just as bad. Your dress is cute. You might not need help, but Kara and I are shopping next Sunday. For dresses for the wedding. We have our shit together, getting our dresses five days before we fly to Hawaii."

  "We're grad students. We don't need to have our shit together."

  "I like the way you think." She laughs. "You should come. On Sunday."

  "Sure." Anything that will get me out of the house and away from Pete.

  She claps her hands together. "Awesome. I'm sure, uh... Well, I don't think we'll need to worry about coordinating or anything. Since Drew is the maid of honor."

  "He is?"

  She laughs. "Yeah. He's cute about it." The joy falls off her expression. "I'm happy for Tom and Willow. Really. But... Not your problem. Nevermind."

  "No. It's okay. I don't have any friends out here." I curse the desperation in my voice, but maybe it's okay to sound desperate if I'm being earnest. I want to stop bullshitting everyone all the time. "You're more than welcome to talk to me."

  For a minute, Meg is silent. When she speaks, her voice is barely more than a whisper. "It can be hard, seeing all these close siblings who care about each other."

  "My sister cheated with my ex-boyfriend."

  "So you know the feeling."

  "Yeah." I play with the strings of my backpack. "What about you?"

  Her voice drops. "My sister overdosed last year. She's... gone."

  "Oh. I—"

  "You
didn't know. You can't top an overdose. I always have the saddest sibling story."

  I laugh. She has a really dark sense of humor. "I'm sorry—"

  "Don't be. Laughing helps."

  "You must miss her a lot."

  "Yeah... and I worry. Miles alone by himself all week."

  "He's in recovery, right?"

  She nods. "I don't think I'd ever breathe again if something happened to him." She offers a weak smile. "I know it's hard... dealing with the Sinful Serenade guys. Their heads are so dense sometimes. If you want to talk, give me a call. Even if you want to spend an hour complaining about how he doesn't wash the dishes. Anything. All I do, all week, is study and watch TV. I'd love a distraction."

  "Thanks." I offer her a smile as I step out of the car. "Same for you. If you're worried about Miles. Or anything. I know what it's like, loving someone who had those problems."

  My hand goes to my mouth. I almost told her about my dad. I never tell anyone, but the words left my tongue before I had a chance to stop them.

  But it feels good, being honest. I want to stay honest.

  She waves goodbye. "Good luck." She winks. "Let him earn his forgiveness with his mouth."

  My laugh surprises me even more this time. Meg seems genuine, but there's no way to know if she's befriending me because she thinks we'll get along or if it's because I'm supposedly Pete's girlfriend.

  I push it out of mind as I unlock the door.

  The energy changes the second I step inside. There are two magnets pulling me apart. One tells me to stay and talk to him. One warns me to run far, far away.

  Pete is watching a movie on the couch in boxers and a T-shirt. He's wearing thick black glasses. Somehow, he looks even sexier in the dark frames. They highlight his eyes.

  I say the first thing that makes it to my tongue. "You look sexy in your glasses."

  He meets my gaze. There's all this intensity in his eyes, like there's something on the tip of his tongue. Then he blinks and it's gone.

  He turns back to the TV. "I'm sending our housekeeper the grocery list tonight. You need anything specific?"

  "No." I sling my bag over my shoulder and take a step towards the stairs. "Enjoy your movie. I'll see you later."

  I hide out in my room, but I don't feel any better.

  Only colder.

  Only more pulled apart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  In the morning, the living room is filled with the smell of coffee, but there's no sign of Pete.

  I drink a cup, eat a quick breakfast, dress in my best not quite business casual outfit, and drive to school.

  Class grabs my concentration all day. I get dinner off campus and stay late in the library. When I get home, Pete is locked in his room.

  I consider knocking. Asking for an apology. Asking for an emotionless fuck. Demanding he get his head out of his ass and realize he could love me.

  Instead, I go to my room, and study until I'm too tired to think.

  The next day, it's the same.

  All week, it's the same.

  Come Friday, I'm worn thin. My stomach in knots. My heart is achy. Avoiding Pete doesn't do anything to change my feelings. It only deepens the hole in my gut.

  I reheat a plate of leftovers in the fridge and collapse on the couch, ready to give in to my exhaustion. I'm not due anywhere until eleven the day after tomorrow. Sleeping until ten-thirty Sunday is making a lot of sense.

  My phone rings. Whoever it is, I'll call back.

  It rings again.

  Then again.

  I push myself off my couch. Where the hell is that thing? It takes three more ring cycles for me to find my phone in my backpack.

  Incoming call from Madison.

  My chest tightens. All the missed calls are from her. This must be important.

  I steel my nerves as I answer the call. "Hello."

  "Jess..." Her voice breaks. "I know you don't want to talk to me yet, but it's important."

  My instincts push me to soothe her. Something is wrong. Something bad. "What is it?"

  "I... I want to say I'm sorry again. I know that's not enough, but I am. It was wrong of me to be with Nathan at all. It was worse that it was so fast. I should have put you first. You've always been my best friend."

  Her voice is earnest.

  "I miss you," she says. "Long Island isn't the same without you."

  "I miss you too." I miss talking to her. I want to talk to her right now. To tell her how much it hurts that Pete will never love me.

  "Really?" The happiness drains from her voice. "It's um... I looked into everything with Dad."

  That doesn't sound good. My chest tightens. Deep breaths do nothing to soothe me. There's no running from this. I have to rip off the bandage. "What happened?"

  Her voice drops to a whisper. "I found a bottle of vodka in Dad's room. It was empty."

  Fuck. All my muscles tense at once. He's drinking again.

  How long has he been drinking?

  I need the facts before I panic. "When did you find it?"

  "This morning. It was in the bottom of his bathroom trash can. It's new. I emptied all the trash last week."

  "Did you ask him about it?"

  "He said he had a woman over. That it was hers." Her voice is weak, like she doesn't believe herself. "It's possible."

  I press my fingers into the back of the phone. "It's not."

  "Maybe... it's a slip. Maybe he'll get over it." Her voice wavers. "Jessie, I don't know what to do."

  "We can't do anything. He's almost sixty. If he wants to drink, he's going to do it." I take a deep breath. I know the words are true. I know there's nothing I can do if he doesn't want to help himself.

  Still, my legs go weak. I grab onto the nearest thing—the wall—and use it to brace myself.

  I'm empty.

  It's eighty degrees outside but I'm freezing.

  "You don't mean that." She chokes back a sob. "There must be something."

  There's not. "He only went to rehab the first time because of Aunt Zoe. If he doesn't want to get better—" My stomach clenches. I can't feel my feet. "If he doesn't want to get better, there's nothing we can do."

  The hope drains from her voice. "Do you think he wants to get better?"

  "I don't know." I take a deep breath, trying to figure out the answer. It won't come. I don't have a clue how this will go. But I know it's out of my hands. I have to be okay with that. "I'll think of something, Maddie. Give me some time."

  "Okay."

  "We'll do something. It might not work, but we will do something."

  "Okay."

  "We'll talk later."

  "I love you," she says.

  "I love you too."

  I hang up the call and drop the phone on the couch.

  Dad is drinking again.

  What the hell am I going to do?

  The microwave beeps. That must be the tenth beep. None of the other ones made it to my ears.

  The food smells like nothing. Something with chicken, rice, and spinach. I'm sure it's delicious but it smells like nothing.

  The forks are in the cabinet. I pour a glass of water. It tastes like nothing. Or is that how water always tastes?

  My chest is tight. Has it always been this hard to breathe? Has the air always felt this heavy and cold?

  I fill the glass again. I can't sit in this house. I can't decide which is harder—moving or standing still. There's the backyard. It's only a dozen feet away. I pull the glass door open, ready for my thoughts to tear me into pieces.

  Pete is here, sitting on the edge of the pool, his legs in the water, his hands curled around his e-reader.

  He looks up at me. The aqua glow of the pool casts highlights over his concerned expression. Thankfully, he says nothing. Simply nods a hello like we're polite and courteous roommates and nothing more.

  I sit at the patio table and dig my fork into my food.

  It tastes like nothing.

  His attention stays on m
e as I eat in silence. No napkins. Fuck it, I wipe my hands on my skirt. It needs a wash anyway.

  Dad is drinking. This is it. I can't watch him destroy himself. If he decides against getting help, I have to walk away.

  He'll die on his own.

  Probably in a pile of his own vomit, reeking of beer.

  Tears sting my cheeks. I turn away from Pete. I only need to hold it together for the one minute it takes to get to my room.

  I grab the edges of my seat and push myself to my feet. My knees buckle. I can't stand. I can barely breathe.

  If I do nothing, Daddy is going to die.

  I try to choke back my sob. It gets through. I pull my legs to my chest and bury my head between my knees.

  Wet footsteps move closer. Then his arms are around me. I want them to feel awful, like an invasion, but they don't. They're warm and comforting.

  Pete pulls me off the chair, into his lap.

  His lips go to my ear. "It's gonna be okay. Jess, you're gonna be okay."

  "You heard everything?"

  "Yeah."

  "Then how can you say that?" I dig my fingers into his soft cotton t-shirt. That too feels warm and comforting. "You promised you wouldn't lie to me."

  "I'm not."

  "You need to go." I tell myself to bring my hands back to my lap but the damn things won't cooperate with me. "I can't take you acting like my boyfriend anymore."

  "I'm not leaving you to cry alone."

  "Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind."

  His voice drops to a whisper. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you want me to go and I will."

  "It's for the best."

  "For who?"

  "For my heart. So it doesn't break when you wake up tomorrow and tell me you'll never love me."

  His voice softens. "I'm not going to say that."

  What the hell does that mean?

  I can't stomach his mixed messages. "I can't figure out your intentions right now, Pete. Whatever you want, whatever you're doing, you're going to have to spell it out."

  He shifts so we're eye to eye. His deep brown eyes are filled with concern. Like he's miserable that I'm miserable.

  He does care about me.

  His voice is steady. "I want to hold you. If you want something else, tell me."

  He knows I want nothing else. He knows I want him to lend me those comforting arms every time I need solace.