Keep (Seaside Pictures Book 2)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “Yes.” I fired back defensively. “At least that’s a rumor, but you never know.” Why was I still talking?

  She frowned. “You look familiar.”

  “I’m one of the maids.” I ducked my head and grabbed a roll of toilet paper.

  “Hmm,” She tapped her chin. “I wish I was the one he gave it up to, lucky bitch.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “Lucky bitch.”

  She grinned and turned back to the group of girls just as the elevator doors opened.

  Strength zapped, I leaned against the cart and closed my eyes.

  Why did everything have to be so perfect?

  Only to fall apart.

  I promised I wouldn’t leave him if something happened, what we never factored in, was if he would ever leave me.

  And he did.

  He left.

  Oh, he’d texted.

  He’d tried calling.

  But it hurt too much. Everything hurt. And talking to him made it worse, it made me hope—hope was too cruel to play with. Better forget everything than hope that one day he’d look at me like he used to.

  I checked my watch. I needed to at least get to another room.

  I took a sip of water from my water bottle and screwed the top back on just as the elevator doors opened again.

  And Zane Andrews.

  My Zane was walking toward me.

  With the same unfamiliar look in his eyes.

  And lipstick on his face.

  His stupid song had it all wrong—hearts can break more than once—mine just had.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Zane

  I WAS LEAVING IN two days.

  I had two days left at Seaside.

  I didn’t want to leave—but what choice did I have? Everyone here had a life, and now that I was no longer running away from mine, it was stupid to stay.

  Right?

  The guys understood.

  But they weren’t happy about it.

  I’d completely forgotten that I had a hotel room in the Seaside Resort until Will called to remind me to go grab all of my shit before they sold it on eBay.

  I sent another text to Fallon as I made my way over to the resort.

  Still nothing.

  I missed her.

  It hurt.

  But the connection I knew I should have with her—wasn’t there, unless I was kissing her, talking to her. And she’d shut down. The person she was before surgery no longer existed because the person I’d been to her…was gone.

  I didn’t know how to get us back.

  I wanted to try, but I was afraid she was right, afraid she’d resent me if we never got back to the place we needed to be.

  Was that what I was doing? Leaving because I was afraid?

  The hotel loomed in the distance as waves crashed across the beach. A chill filled the air as rain started to pour from the sky. Great. Just fantastic.

  It was gloomy—it completely matched my mood.

  On the outside, life was perfect, I was going to start touring again, the album was my best yet.

  I’d semi-conquered death.

  And the anxiety was slowly dissipating along with the need to have a pocket full of marshmallows all hours of the day.

  But she was missing.

  The balance was off.

  And I hated it.

  I stomped into the resort and nearly bolted when a group of girls turned and started screaming all at once.

  “Shit,” I muttered pasting a smile on my face as they charged toward me cell phones raised.

  The all-familiar sense of panic washed over me.

  But I had no rescuer. No Fallon. No bodyguard.

  With shaking hands, I signed autographs, took selfies until my smile started to twitch, and finally, stumbled down the hall, palms sweaty, ever present headache still pounding.

  Another awesome side effect.

  Headaches, though the doctor said it should only last a few weeks.

  Focus, Zane. I went to the penthouse floor and slowly made my way down the hall, nearly colliding with one of the maid carts.

  Fallon let out a little squeak.

  And I froze, like time had suddenly stopped in that moment, leaving only the two of us in the universe. Damn, she was so pretty.

  Even in her black pants and black Seaside resort shirt.

  A piece of hair stuck to her face.

  She swallowed, “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

  “Yeah well.” I licked my lips. “I was in stealth mode.”

  She smirked and pointed to my lipstick stained cheek. “I take it the bachelorette party downstairs discovered you?”

  “Warn a man next time.” I rubbed off the offensive pink lipstick and stared at her mouth.

  “Eh, I think I like that you suffered at the hands of the screamers.” She blushed and looked away.

  “Screamers, hmm?”

  “So…” She sighed and took a step back. “Do you need me to let you into your room?”

  “Holy shit, do you have a master key? Like Lord of the Rings?”

  “Just call me Gollum.” She offered a weak laugh and walked with me down the hall.

  Her hands were shaking as she grabbed a key card and tapped it against the sensor.

  She was trying to be normal.

  It wasn’t working.

  The door opened.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered, reaching for her hand.

  “No.” She looked up at me.

  “You’re not wearing glasses.”

  “Contacts from now on.” She cleared her throat. “I haven’t cleaned the room yet. The resort was under strict instructions not to disturb your creative process, so nobody has been in here for over ten days.”

  “Hmm,” I stepped into the penthouse and was hit with a burst of cold air as the curtains framing the floor-to-ceiling windows whipped wildly in the air.

  When I turned around, Fallon’s eyes were fixed on the other side of the room. The door was open, light illuminated from the moon casting a glow across the sheets.

  Her breath caught.

  All of them hanging from the bed, draped across the floor.

  And a girl’s dress.

  A short dress.

  A pretty dress.

  Slowly, I took a few steps toward the bedroom, my brain buzzing like the universe was trying to tell me something.

  The lights above flickered and then everything went completely black.

  Everything but the white sheets.

  The white sheets and the windblown curtains.

  “I’m going to keep you.” Fallon had whispered as I rocked into her.

  “I’ve always wanted to be kept.” I fired back as our bodies joined over and over again.

  I stumbled backwards.

  “You’re beautiful,” I whispered.

  “Tell me everything.” She grabbed my hand. “Let me love you.”

  Broken.

  I broke.

  She broke me.

  And didn’t run away.

  She saw me at my worst.

  And held my hand.

  When I showed her my demons.

  She didn’t scream.

  She cried on my behalf.

  And when I needed someone the most—when I was searching for a home—she offered me her heart.

  I collapsed to my knees.

  “Zane!” Fallon screamed my name, footsteps sounded and then her arms were wrapped around me. “Is it your head? Do I need to call an ambulance?”

  Breath whooshed out of my tightened chest as I glanced up at her in wonder. “I love you.”

  “Wh-what?” Her eyes pleaded. “What did you say?”

  “I. Love. You.” I tugged her against my body and kissed her with every pent-up memory, every emotion, pouring into her not just my heart and soul, but the history of us, of what we shared, I gave her everything in that kiss.

  My apology.

  My life.

  My world.

  Her arms wrapped around me
.

  “No time,” I growled tearing at her maid uniform, greedy to touch her. She’d been lost to me.

  Not anymore.

  Already I’d wasted ten days.

  Never again.

  “I love you.” I said it again and again as I jerked her shirt over her head. Her shoes went flying, I pulled away every inch of clothing.

  I didn’t ask to love her.

  I just did.

  I slammed into her, filling her, completing me, and stopped as time around us seemed to freeze right along with us.

  “I remember everything,” I whispered, and with each stroke, I confessed.

  “Your heart.” I kissed her neck. “Your willingness to help me.” I pulled out then slowly inched myself back in as she cried out, tears running down her face. “Your laugh. The way you live life with everything you have.” I wasn’t going to last long. I was already on sensory overload. More tears filled her eyes and flowed over her cheeks as I picked up my pace, my hands digging into her hair, her mouth clawing at my shoulder as she screamed my name.

  “I love you,” I said one last time.

  “I missed you.” She tasted like salty tears. She tasted like Fallon, my Fallon.

  “Don’t ever let me go,” I begged. “Never again.”

  “I never did,” she whispered. “You’ve always been here.” She placed her hand on her own chest. “Home.”

  “Home,” I repeated. “Thank God for home.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Zane

  MY WORLD OF GRAYS and fuzzy black turned into full color the minute I walked into that room. I had no idea why.

  Maybe because that room signified a moment in my life when I finally let go and allowed someone else to help.

  My moment wasn’t just giving up my virginity to Fallon—it was about allowing her in.

  That room was the room I had bled all over. I’d cut my soul into pieces in that room, and she had managed not to step on the ones that were still hurting. Fallon helped heal me without even realizing that was what she was doing.

  That room represented everything I’d always wanted to have with another human being—but been too afraid to hope for.

  I collapsed against her and then rolled off.

  Her chest rose and fell with effort, and then her hand reached out for mine, fingers locked together, I closed my eyes as tears threatened to pour down my face.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “You were just lost…for a while.”

  “It was a horrible feeling,” I admitted, leaning up on my elbow so I could look down at her the way she deserved to be looked at, with love, adoration, appreciation, “Staring at you and knowing something was missing but not knowing how to get it back.”

  She nodded and then her face crumbled into a mass of tears as she pulled me into her arms and pressed her face against my chest. It broke my heart, it killed me, those tears weren’t my fault, but they sure as hell weren’t hers either.

  “Fallon, look at me.”

  She pulled back and wiped her eyes.

  “I love you.”

  She nodded.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “But you have concerts to do, and—”

  I slammed my mouth against hers. “Come with me.”

  Her eyes widened. “What did you say?”

  “So I’m leaving.” I shrugged. “Come with me. That is, unless you want to clean rooms here at the resort and honestly, if that’s what you want, if this is the dream.” I smiled. “Then I’m in…we’ll figure out a way to make it work.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay, you want to clean hotel rooms with me or okay you want to go on tour?”

  “Okay to everything.” She smiled, it was a real smile, one that reached her eyes, one that wrapped itself around my body and squeezed until it was suddenly hard to breathe. “Since I’m home, it only makes sense that you take me with you, right?”

  “Like a turtle.” I nodded. “You’re my turtle.”

  “Are you sure your head is fine?” She pressed a hand to my forehead and pulled back with a laugh.

  “No, actually, oh wow.” I winked. “I may need more sex. The doctor suggested as much sex as possible in order to…heal.”

  “Oh?” Her eyebrows shot up. “I don’t remember seeing any of that in your discharge papers.”

  “I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the parents. Plus, your dad carries a concealed weapon, enough said.”

  “True.” She kissed my mouth softly and lingered there. “Is this real?”

  I linked our hands together and kissed her open palm. “It’s real.”

  “When do we leave?”

  Happiness surged out of me in uncontrollable laughter. “When do you want to leave?”

  “As soon as we can.”

  “We can stay the night in Portland…” I said aloud. “Or go hang out with our friends on the beach one last time.”

  She sighed loudly. “Beach tonight. Portland tomorrow night.”

  “Deal.”

  “Zane?”

  He met my gaze.

  “I love you too.”

  “Of course you do, I’m Zane Andrews.”

  “And he’s back, folks.” I wrapped my arms tighter around him, needing my body to catch up with my brain—that he was with me, my Zane was with me, body and soul.

  “Remember, I was just lost for a minute,” he whispered, eyes locked on mine.

  “And then you found your way home.”

  “I never lost faith I would, even if you did.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Fallon

  EVENTUALLY, I WOULD GET over the fear that it wasn’t real—I was probably driving Zane completely insane.

  I kept staring at him.

  Wanting to pinch myself.

  I felt so giddy I almost skipped into the resort office. Instead, I ran, tossed my keys onto the table, and left.

  My boss yelled.

  I didn’t care.

  Zane was waiting for me outside the resort. The moon shone over the clear water; the storm had passed through.

  I grabbed his hand and stared up at the stars. “It was a good night.”

  “The best,” he whispered, wrapping an arm around me.

  While I’d been busy quitting my job, he had been busy texting everyone about a late night bonfire in celebration of getting most of his short-term memory back.

  He even invited my parents.

  I was already bracing myself for the crying from my mom and the celebratory slaps on the back from dad.

  “Wait!” Zane stopped and then winked. “As much as I’d love to go down to that beach with you, we have a problem.”

  I frowned while my stomach dropped. “Problem?”

  “Fallon…” He tsked. “I’m so disappointed in your lack of attention to detail. If you’re going to work for me, you need to be on top of these things.”

  “Work for you?”

  “Yeah, like a work study, you work for my corporation or me, I pay you. What could go wrong?”

  I burst out laughing. “Haven’t we already tried this?”

  “Hmm, doesn’t seem familiar.”

  “Zane!” I slapped him across the chest. “You can’t pay me to sleep with you!”

  “It’s completely legal, Fallon. I checked.”

  “You’re such a liar.”

  “I never lie. I’m like George Washington and his cherry trees.”

  “Apple.”

  “Cherry!”

  “APPLE!”

  “Look, Fallon, I know you’re used to being the smartest person in the room, but I have two degrees to your one, I win.”

  I rolled my eyes. “So?”

  “Oh, right.” He kissed my mouth. “We need mallows, woman.”

  “You and your marshmallows.”

  His answer was a blinding smile. “You love it.”

  “I do.”

  “You love me.”

  “More than
marshmallows.”

  “Blasphemy.”

  “Only you would think so.” I wrapped my arms around him. “Now, let’s go get the makings for s’mores so we can meet everyone, we’ll be late if we don’t hurry.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “Deal.”

  Epilogue

  Will

  HE WAS BACK. Thank God.

  His memory. His snarky weird-ass attitude and love for all things sugary and sticky.

  At least that problem had solved itself.

  I twirled the stick between my hands over the fire. I was exhausted.

  I love my job.

  I love my job.

  I love my job.

  I freaking hated my job.

  I was thirty, and I wanted to retire.

  I was an agent, partially because I was good at it, partially because when my boy band broke up, I didn’t really have a choice. I needed a purpose, and it was easy to go into the business side of things.

  I had an ear for talent.

  I loved managing musicians.

  I loathed actors.

  I wanted to strangle them with my bare hands, give them a little shake, then take them for a long drowning swim in the ocean.

  “You look like hell.” Lincoln sat down next to me and sighed. “And you’re burning your marshmallow.”

  Zane shot me an evil stare from across the fire, I held up my hands in surrender. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “She coming?” Linc whispered.

  “Hell if I know.”

  I let the sound of laughter float around me. It was nice, the laughter, seeing Zane dance around the fire with his girlfriend. Out of all of my clients—I loved him the most.

  I wasn’t supposed to pick favorites.

  Our clients were our children—God knew they acted like them most of the time, but Zane had always been different.

  More of a brother than a client.

  And watching him grow up in the industry had been a pleasure, a privilege.

  But as if the universe needed to remind me of the current hell I was residing in, the sound of a car door slamming jolted me out of my happy place.

  And Angelica Greene marched toward me, her tiny hands clenched into fists, her face one of beautiful fury.

  Yeah.

  We weren’t supposed to pick favorites.

  And we sure as hell weren’t supposed to sleep with them.