by Eden Summers
She palmed her phone from her pants pocket and scrolled through her directory. Bruce’s name resembled a white flag. She was giving up. Giving in. She pressed the screen, the resulting rings sinking into her chest like lead.
“What can I do for you, Leah?”
She stopped in front of the door leading to side-stage, the crowd chanting for Reckless on the other side as she closed her eyes. “I have a feeling more drama is about to unfold from Julie.”
He paused, the contemplation filled with disappointment. “Did you cause the drama?”
“No.” She squeezed her eyes shut at the depth of how low she’d sunk. “She snuck backstage and misconstrued something she walked in on. She’s pregnant and emotional. She doesn’t—”
“Leah…”
She hung her head.
“This has happened one too many times,” he murmured.
“It’s all a misunderstanding,” she lied. It kept happening because she was in love. The vicious cycle kept spinning because her professionalism was being smothered by uncontrollable emotions over someone she wasn’t supposed to have.
“Then, if you plan to keep your job, you know what you need to do.”
“Yes.” She nodded and turned the door handle. “I know.”
Ryan ran down the hall, closing in on Julie. “Wait.”
She stopped, pivoted, and slumped against the wall to stare back at him. Her eyes were glazed, her hand pressed tight against her baby bump as if it needed protection from him.
“You can’t mention a word of this.”
She scoffed. “I most certainly can.”
“But you’re not going to. We can’t get back together, Julie. It’s not going to happen. I want to be with her. But that doesn’t mean I’ll support you and the baby any less. I’ve already spoken to my lawyers. They’ve arranged a payment schedule to help cover medical expenses in the coming months, and once the baby is born and paternity is established, I’ll have bank accounts set up for you and our child.”
She stared at him, her eyes narrowing.
“That’s the best I can offer. I’m going to be a part of this baby’s life, and I’m also not going to give up on what I have with Leah.”
“What makes you think you can make it work with her? Once she loses her job, the two of you will have the same relationship we had. You’ll be separated most months of the year. You’ll grow distant. You’ll never make it work.”
“She’s not going to lose her job.”
She gave a derisive laugh. “One phone call from me and she will.”
“She’s not your enemy, Julie. If you want someone to blame, I’m your man. Leah has only ever tried to keep us together.” God. How hadn’t he seen that? He raked his fingers through his hair. “I told her she was the cause of our divorce, but I was wrong. She tried to save our marriage. I was the one who ruined everything. I was the one who quit trying because I couldn’t stop loving her. This is all on me.”
“It doesn’t have to be. You can still fix it. I can give you the family that she never will.”
“If she doesn’t want kids, I’ll deal with it.”
Julie stared into the distance and drew a deep breath. “It has nothing to do with her wanting kids. You’ll never be able to give them to her. This is your only chance.”
He waited for her to elaborate, to establish any sort of meaning to the puzzle. If she wanted to manipulate him, she could take her best shot, he was more than willing to be her target. He just wouldn’t be her victim.
“I tried to give you children for years. It never happened. It was one unsuccessful attempt after another.”
It never happened.
It. Never. Happened.
He dropped his hands to his sides, unable to hide the effect of her verbal sucker-punch. “The baby isn’t mine.”
“It could be.” She raised her chin and met his eyes. “The father didn’t want to settle down. He doesn’t want a family. But you do. This is all you’ve ever wanted. And it’s the only opportunity you’ll get.”
He had no words, not even a scoff. Torment clogged his throat. Grief cemented his lungs.
“Ryan, I know you’re hurt, but you need to listen to what I’m going to say.” She pushed from the wall and came to stand before him. “We tried to make a family, year after year. I never once became pregnant.” She glanced down between them and ran a hand over her belly. “Obviously, the lack of success hadn’t been because of me.”
“Fuck.” His shout reverberated off the walls, startling her. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He ran a hand over his face, trying to wipe away the disgust. He’d gone from hating the nights in the tour bus, to loving the thought of them because he could hide away with Leah. He went from thinking the world was against him, to not caring as long as he had the woman he loved in his arms. He’d gone from despair to hope due to Leah’s love, and he’d cast it all aside for this woman. For loyalty. For responsibility.
“We can still make this work,” she murmured. “Nobody else needs to know. You could have everything…”
One by one his dreams of having children burned to ash. He wouldn’t learn to braid hair, or teach guitar. He wouldn’t cradle his own child. Couldn’t give a father-daughter speech about the merciless charm of boys.
“Yeah.” He began to nod. “I want everything.”
Her eyes brightened, her hope spurring the words clogging his throat.
“I want the apartment.” He straightened. “I want the car.” He leaned close. “I want the bank balance.” He smirked, the expression filled with a threat he hoped she understood. “I want every damn thing I gave you that you didn’t deserve.”
Her face went pale. “Ryan—”
“As soon as tonight’s show is over, I’ll be on the phone to my lawyer. He’ll be informed of your infidelity and told there’s no length I won’t go to in an attempt to drag your name to hell and back… Unless you sign the next settlement that’s drawn up, and never contact me again.”
“Please.” She tried to implore him with the bat of feminine lashes. At one point in their relationship it would’ve worked. “Do you realize you’re giving up your dream?”
Giving it up, letting it go, and never looking back.
“I do.” He turned and strode for the side-stage door. “And funnily enough, I’ll still be happier than I ever was with you.”
This was all because of his need to do right by people. He hadn’t pressed her for paternity. He’d blindly trusted someone he no longer cared for at the cost of someone he adored. No more. He was going to take a leaf out of Mason’s book. No. He was going to rip out every fucking page. If the lead singer of Reckless Beat could be an unscrupulous asshole in the name of getting what he wanted, Ryan was going to do the same.
His veins thrummed with the need to make shit happen.
He was done pandering—to Grander, to Leah’s boss, to life in general.
He shoved the door leading to the wings, and let the rush of chanting voices wash away the carnage. One by one he passed the crew, security, and approached his non-blood family.
This was where he belonged, with Leah by his side and his friends at his back. He strode for her shadowed form, shoving past Mason and Blake to grab her around the waist and steal a gasp from her mouth.
She pushed at him. “Stop.”
He didn’t. He took her fear and killed it with a kiss, molding his mouth against hers, parting her lips with a harsh swipe of tongue.
She shoved at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m saying fuck-you to the world.” He stared down at her without remorse. “Once I get off that stage things are going to change. I don’t care about Felicity or Julie or Grander. I won’t even give a shit about your god damn boss. I’m done, Leah. After this show, it’s all about us.”
“No.” Her gaze darted around at the witnesses standing in the shadows.
His friends glanced back and forth between them, and followed him as he wal
ked backward onto the darkened stage, the technicians encroaching with guitars. As he stared at her, he mimicked a smirk he’d seen Mason pull too many times to remember. “Fight it all you like.” He kissed his fingertips and blew the love her way. “In a few hours, you’re mine.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Leah stood side-stage, taking in the crowd participation. She’d successfully batted away hysteria for the last two hours, scurrying away to different hiding places during their short set breaks.
“How many of you have downloaded Slicker’s album?” Mason’s shout resounded through the stadium, soon smothered by a wave of screams. “And how many of you fuckers haven’t?”
“Maybe we should take off our shirts to encourage more sales?” Blake crooned into the microphone.
“I don’t know about them—” Ryan leaned into Blake’s side, “—but I’d one-click to ensure you kept yours on.”
Mason glanced to the wings and met her gaze as he continued to chat up the crowd. She gave him a thumbs up, the simple gesture letting him know they’d reached their target, even if it was in an obscure way.
Scott had updated her with half-hourly sales reports, and the number of downloads was impressive but not enough to hit the mark. At least she hadn’t thought so, until she checked the retail sites and found Slicker featured under a bestselling header. They’d succeeded. They’d won. And the relief was merely a drop in an ocean of turmoil.
She didn’t know what had happened between Ryan and Julie. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. All she could think about was the ticking time bomb and how Ryan’s kiss in front of the crew had made the avalanche of destruction all the harder to bear.
Mason gave a jerk of his head and led Reckless into another song. She was beyond proud of her men. They were an unstoppable team—emotionally and successfully. Each of them had stolen a piece of her heart in a different way. Sean was the brick wall, the man who hid his soft heart behind a gruff exterior. Blake was the fighter, the strength who could endure hell and teach her the sun would always rise tomorrow. Mitch was the stoic soldier, holding his head high no matter what challenge came their way. And Mason was like a brother. She hated him at times and couldn’t help loving him in the same breath. Even though nobody else noticed, he was the glue keeping the band together. He just did it in the most abrasive way possible to keep his asshole reputation intact.
Then there was Ryan, the love and heart of Reckless. He was everything she wasn’t—sweet, kind, selfless. Too much perfection. He didn’t even have to speak, his unwavering compassion shone bright in his eyes. She’d never met a more generous man, and being with him, no matter how short the duration, would forever be a memory she would cherish.
But it was time to clean the mess she’d made.
She took in the sight of them on stage for one last time and tried to smile as her gaze skipped from one brilliant man to the next. Then she pivoted on her toes and made her way to the backstage hall, the weight of judgmental stares following her into the dressing room.
The next fifteen minutes were spent alone, strengthening her resilience and bolstering her resolve. When they barreled through the door, hyped with enthusiasm and covered in sweat, she stood from her seated position on the sofa and grinned like her world wasn’t ending.
“Congratulations.” She walked to the refreshments table and handed them all a bottle of water.
“How’d we do?” Mitch’s cheeks were flushed, the adrenaline making his breathing heavy.
“Slicker reached bestseller status on Amazon MP3 downloads and iTunes. Not only that, they also reached number one on their chart.”
“Number one?” Blake balked. “Bullshit.”
“Crazy, huh?” Her chuckle was half-hearted. “I think the rest of the world will have the same reaction when they see Slicker in the Classical genre.”
“Their shit isn’t classical by any stretch.” Mitch snorted.
“No, it definitely isn’t.” She turned her attention to Mason’s smirk, knowing he was the culprit. “What did you do?”
“I told you I had a few tricks up my sleeve. One of those was a man on the inside who agreed to tweak Slicker’s metadata.”
Mitch grinned. “Scott is going to be pissed.”
“Like I give a shit.” Mason drove an arm around Ryan’s neck and ruffled his hair. “You’re off the hook, motherfucker.”
Ryan responded with a shove of his elbow and a free-spirited grin. His elation was clear while she was steadfast in hiding her misery.
“Is it time to celebrate across the board?” Sean asked. “With the delay in getting your ass on stage, we assumed the two of you were sorting your shit out and doing some genital reconnaissance.”
“Soon.” Ryan met her gaze, his confidence taunting her need to argue. “We hit a slight detour when Julie showed up.” He shoved from Mason’s hold and walked toward her. “But we’re even more on track now than we were before.”
She shook her head and wandered behind the sofa, placing the furniture between them. “No. Not this time. All we’ve done is make a bigger mess.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He strolled after her. Unfazed. Unhurried. “Felicity and I can quit this charade tomorrow, and Julie and I will never see each other again.”
“What about the kid?” Sean asked.
“It isn’t mine.”
Ryan spoke without emotion, as if he hadn’t dropped a fifty-pound bombshell. She tried to read him, to determine if the fortitude in his eyes was born from his need for her, or the necessity to remain distracted from the new changes to his future.
“The divorce is going ahead without fault, and it’ll be just the two of us. You and me.”
His tone held a promise she wanted to grasp. Instead, she remained true to herself and her career, and stopped at the far end of the sofa, her shoe covered toes brushing the suitcase hidden from sight.
“Nothing is going to stop this now,” he continued. “We can hide if you want. Or we can ditch the theatrics and demand what we’ve always wanted.”
“You can demand all you want, Ryan, but all it will do is drive us apart when I lose my job.” She leaned over and gripped the trolley handle of her luggage, extending it to the full height. “And we can’t hide, either. Even if I could trust Julie to remain quiet, you made the option impossible with your side-stage kiss.”
He stopped approaching, his gaze lowering to the handle in her fist.
“What’s with the suitcase?” Blake pinned her with the question but it was the stiffening of Ryan’s posture that put her on edge.
“You’re running again?” Mason snarled.
“No. Not running.” She shook her head. “This time I’m following orders. Bruce has demanded I take a temporary vacation. Otherwise, he’ll make it a permanent one.”
“You told him,” Ryan murmured.
She raised her chin, deflecting the disappointment in his tone. “I had to get on the front foot and inform him more drama might be coming our way from Julie.”
“Then take it back. Tell him you were mistaken.” He started approaching again, making her heart stutter with harsh beats. “Julie won’t talk. I promise you that.”
He kept promising. This time she didn’t believe him. She wouldn’t let herself. “I can’t. We all know I haven’t had the band’s best interests in mind. So I need a break. Dylan will meet you in Houston to take over my role for the rest of the tour.”
“Like hell he will.” Mason scowled. “Put your bag back on the bus. You’re not ditching us.”
She took his judgmental arrogance head on, not caring that it increased her defeat. She hadn’t anticipated the lead singer would act any differently. He couldn’t say, “Stay, I need you here.” Or, “Come on, Leah, we’ll stick by you, no matter what.” It wasn’t his style. But she heard the sentiment through his anger nonetheless.
“This is temporary.” She cut her gaze to Ryan, hoping he’d be kinder. What looked back at her was more punishing. He wa
sn’t angry or resentful, his eyes were filled with forgiveness and painful understanding.
He slowly nodded, his response subdued. “Do what you have to do. And I’ll do the same.”
The underlying threat slid down her back like molasses, the delicate authority ringing in her ears. She ignored it. She ignored everything—Blake’s heartbroken smile, Sean’s disapproving frown, Mitch’s wide, concerned eyes. “I’ll still be available to talk if you need me. Please call whenever…”
Her words drifted as Ryan turned his back to her, wordlessly gaining the attention of his friends.
“It’s time to get Plan A underway.” He gripped the back of the sofa and scrutinized his audience. “Are you guys still on board?”
Blake nodded. “Let’s do it.”
“I’m all for it,” Sean added.
“You know I’m in,” came from Mason.
“Mitch?” Ryan focused on the lead guitarist. “What about you?”
“Come on.” Mitch glared. “Do you really need to ask? I’ll do whatever it takes because I know you guys would do the same for me.”
“A simple yes would’ve sufficed,” Blake muttered. “This isn’t the Davies’ show.”
“What are you talking about?” Her voice was meek, barely audible over the sense of impending doom. They were all immersed in a conversation she didn’t understand, and wasn’t sure she wanted to. “What’s plan A?”
They ignored her, all five of them muttering among themselves, one over the top of the other, the noise coalescing—What was the plan again? Do you need us to do anything else? Are we doing this in the bus or a hotel?
“I’ll go with Ryan.” Mason spoke the loudest. “The three of you will have to deal with Leah.”
Have to deal with her? Was he striving for a blunt-force trauma to the balls?
“Ahem.” She cleared her throat, and still they ignored her. Time for the big guns. She circled her thumb and pointer finger, placed them over the curl of her tongue and whistled loud enough to make them flinch. “Explain.”
