Uninhibited

by Melody Grace

  “And miss your first big show?” Tegan gives me a scolding look. “Besides, Austin called last night. Said you were moping around like a real jackass. And he clearly wasn’t exaggerating.” I sigh. “I’m fine, I just…”

  “Are still busy being a stubborn idiot?” Tegan finishes for me with a smirk. I roll my eyes, but she just laughs at me. “Jesus, why won’t you just pick up the phone and call her?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Tegan challenges. “You love her, it’s obvious, anyone with a pair of eyes could see by the way you’ve been growling around the place. Please, do us all a favor and win her back.”

  “You don’t understand,” I scowl, feeling the guilt and remorse hit me all over again. “I screwed it up.”

  “So un-screw it,” Tegan insists. Her dark eyes blaze in determination. “It’s not too late, she loves you too.”

  I shake my head, hollow inside. “She doesn’t. Maybe she would have, one day, but I rushed her. I pushed too fast.”

  “She loves you,” Tegan repeats, softer this time. “I saw you guys together, remember? So what if she doesn’t realize it yet? It’s not too late.”

  I wish she was right. That I could just pick up the phone and call her, and make everything OK. I’ve come close a million times, late at night, lost in memories; every time something reminds me of her.

  But when it comes to dialing her number, I always freeze up, overwhelmed with doubts. I told her I loved her, I laid it all on the line, and she wasn’t ready. She didn’t feel the same way. Maybe this is best for her, for both of us. I’d only ruin it in the end, cause her more pain than I already have.

  I always hurt the ones I love.

  “Dex…” Tegan can see the war raging inside me. She comes closer, pulling me into a hug. “You can’t give up. Not if she’s the one.”

  “When did you get to be such a romantic?” I ask gruffly.

  Tegan releases me, rolling her eyes. “You’re the marshmallow in the family,” she points out. “Writing all those mushy songs. You try and hide it behind all that scowling and leather, but I know the truth.”

  Affection swells in my chest. “I love you, kid,” I tell her.

  “Love you too,” Tegan smiles. “Even if you are a total doofus sometimes. Call her,” she adds, before leaving me alone. “I mean it!” her voice echoes.

  She’s right.

  I pour a drink and sit on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone. Alicia’s number is the first one listed in my contacts, the name I have to scroll past every single time.

  But tonight, I need to use it.

  My heart races like I’m a teenager asking a girl out for the first time, but I force myself to take a gulp of Dutch courage and hit “dial.”

  It rings three times, and then clicks to voicemail.

  “Hi, this is Alicia, I can’t talk right now…”

  Her voice washes over me, and in an instant, I’m back there at the beach house. Lying in the sun tangled up in her silken limbs, feeling her lips brush against my skin, hearing her laughter echo into the sunlight.

  She’s gone.

  I hang up, feeling the crash of disappointment. She’s out there somewhere, living a life I can’t even picture. She could be off with friends, curled up at home.

  With some other man.

  I pour myself another drink, and turn on the TV for something to drown out the chorus of recrimination in my mind.

  Something tells me I won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

  **

  The next day is packed with sound-checks and run-throughs at the venue, keeping my mind focused and busy the way I need it to be. Soon enough, it’s show time, and we pile into a limo to make our big entrance. The awards is a big red carpet thing, packed with massive celebrities, and already the Strip is crammed with fans crushed against the barriers hoping for a glimpse of their favorite star.

  “Sure you’re up to this?” Austin checks. The roar from the crowd is audible even inside the car. “You can skip ahead and meet us backstage if you want.”

  I shrug numbly. “I better get used to it, they’ll be screaming like this for our shows.”

  “Yeah they will,” our new drummer, Dante, whoops, opening the car door and emerging with a million-watt grin. They go wild for him, and I watch as he plays up to the crowd, posing and kidding around with the VJ host who comes to interview him on the red carpet.

  “Let’s do it,” Austin slaps me on the back, and then I’m out of the car, waving to the crowd, letting their screams wash over me in a blur.

  I’m on autopilot now, a smile here, a handshake there. I must have done this same old routine a hundred times, it’s always the same chore. But when I go to sign a couple of autographs, I see the fans’ excitement close up; the tears in the eyes, the adoration on their face as they thrust old tour programs and CDs at me, begging for a scribble of marker pen.

  This matters to them, more than I’ll ever know.

  The thought is humbling. It cuts through my melancholy haze, and makes me feel something real for the first time in weeks.

  Pride. Privilege. Gratitude.

  These people let me into their lives, they share my music, and they show up to see me play, and they stand in line for hours just to scream my name.

  That’s something beautiful, right there. It’s an honor, one I should never take for granted again.

  “Mr Callahan…” One of the security guards tries to usher me onwards, but I shake him off.

  “That’s OK, I’ve got time.” I smile and wave some more, the cheers get louder. “Who’s got something for me to sign?” I yell. The response is deafening. I beckon the other guys over, “Come on,” I tell them. “I reckon we’ve got our number one fans right here in Vegas!”

  We sign and chat with fans for a half-hour, until the red carpet line gets so backed up, security drags us away. But by the time we head backstage, I’m more pumped than I’ve been in a long time. This is our first big performance since reuniting, and although we’ve been rehearsing for weeks, I know, we’re going to kill it tonight.

  “The Reckless report to stage for places.” The backstage area is packed with roadies, security, and masses of people with VIP badges. We’re hustled into position on-stage, hidden for now behind a massive backdrop while out front, they hand out awards and read stale jokes off the teleprompter.

  “Hey guys.” I pause, letting a sound guy hook me up. They all look over. “I just want to say, I’m really glad we’re doing this. I missed you all.”

  “Aww,” Dante hoots, spinning his drumsticks, but Austin shoots me a quiet grin.

  “To Connor,” he says solemnly.

  “To Connor,” we echo, raising our instruments in a toast of solidarity.

  The stage is cleared, the screams out front get louder, and Dante cues us up for our song. I settle my guitar in place, take a deep breath, and strum the first chords as the curtain lifts, and we’re dazzled with the bright lights and a thousand cellphones flashing in our faces.

  It hits me, that familiar pulse of energy, the rush like nothing else.

  I stride forwards into the spotlight, and I start to sing, letting the music take me over. The way I was born to, the way she said was written in my DNA. I sing as if Alicia is right there in front of me, just me and her, the way we were at the beach house that night, when I scribbled down a melody and this song first took shape in my mind.

  I sing to her, wherever she is, because there’s nobody else. Because my whole life, I never felt anything like the peace I found in her arms; never knew a brilliant mind and passionate soul like hers.

  I catch a flicker of red in the crowd, glowing bronze under the spotlights. My heart catches, and I almost miss my next line, but I force myself to look away and focus on finishing the verse.

  It can’t be her. I’m imagining things.

  Austin comes up front for his guitar solo, flashing me a look of concern. He caught my slip, even if nobody else did. I shake my head.
I’m fine.

  Even if I am losing my mind.

  I can’t stop myself from scanning the dark crowd again, looking for a sign of her again. It’s a desperate hope, I hate myself for even thinking it.

  And then the lights swoop back, and I see her, for real this time.

  Alicia, right here, in the front row. Staring up at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes, mouthing the words of the song right back at me.

  The whole world falls away.

  She’s here. For me. I don’t know what she’s thinking, or what changed her mind, all that matters is that she came.

  Relief and exhilaration crash through me, mingling with the buzz of the crowd in a high like nothing else. I haven’t lost her. She must care enough to come here, and fuck it, I don’t need anything else, just this.

  Just her. Mine.

  Always.

  35.

  ALICIA

  Right up until the moment he stepped out on stage, I didn’t know if I was making the biggest mistake of my life.

  All through the flight and the cab from the airport, my logical side tried to talk me out of this. Flying across the country to show up unannounced? It was a crazy plan, doomed to fail. But through all the questions and doubts, I never wavered. I had to see if there’s still a chance. I needed to know if he loves me for real, or if all we shared was just a reckless week that’s gone now forever.

  And then the lights went up, and he was there, right in front of me: power and grace, darkness and hope, pouring his beautiful broken heart into every chord and lyric.

  Watching him, I feel a certainty wash over me like I’ve never known before.

  This man.

  This reckless, brave, miracle of a man.

  He’s everything, and I can’t believe it took me so long to realize.

  Soon, too soon, the song is over and they’re gone, hustled away backstage while the awards show continues. I fight my way to the edge of the crowd, and come face-to-face with a hulking great security guard. “I need to get backstage,” I yell.

  “Sure you do, sweetheart. You and all the rest.” He chuckles, standing firm against the sea of other girls all clamoring around me.

  Crap. I didn’t think this far ahead. I managed to find a scalper selling tickets on the Strip, and spent an outrageous amount to get inside. It was worth every penny, but now that I’m here, there’s an army of security between me and Dex.

  Then I see a familiar face, just beyond the barricade. “Tegan!” I yell. “Tegan, over here!”

  She turns, her eyes widening when she recognizes me. “It’s OK,” she tells the guy, coming forward. “She’s with me.”

  There’s a chorus of complaint from the other girls as she grabs my hand and drags me through, slipping a gold wristband over my hand. She leads me backstage. “What are you doing here?”

  But there’s no time to explain. “Where’s Dex?” I ask breathlessly.

  “Around here somewhere…” Tegan glances around, but it’s madness back here: hundreds of people all heading in a dozen different directions. “I think he was heading to the dressing room. It’s down that way,” she nods to a hallway. “Wait.”

  Tegan yanks me back. “If you break my brother’s heart again, I will rip you apart with my bare hands,” she tells me calmly.

  “I won’t,” I promise.

  She breaks into a smile. “I know. Good luck!”

  Tegan whirls away, so I head in the direction she told me, fighting my way through security and sound guys, and hordes of celebrities in fancy formal wear. Finally, I reach the dressing room marked for the band.

  I pause outside the door. Should I knock? But before I can decide, the door flies open, and I’m staring Dex straight in the face.

  Oh God.

  My heart stops. I can’t help it, he looks too good, sweating from the performance, his tattoos snaking from under his black T-shirt. Those dark eyes fix on mine, but before I can say a word, he yanks me inside the room, slams the door, and captures my mouth in a blazing kiss.

  Yes.

  I fall into him, reveling in the familiar bliss of his lips on mine; the hot plunge of his tongue probing in my mouth, demanding and deep. I hold tight, clinging to his taut body, kissing him hard enough to blot out the miserable days I’ve spent without him, all the sleepless nights and tears I’ve cried. I kiss him to convey just how much I need him, how I’m never letting go again, how he’s all I want in the world.

  Forever.

  We come up for air, breathing hard. Dex holds me tight, staring down at me like he’s worried I might vanish into thin air. “I couldn’t believe it was you,” he murmurs, reaching up to cradle my cheek with his hand. “When I saw you…I thought I was imagining things.”

  “It’s me,” I whisper, overwhelmed. God, how could I have ever let him walk away? I’ve never felt so right as holding him in my arms right now. “I’m real.”

  “God, I’m so sorry.” Dex tilts his head to rest against mine. “Everything I said to you, the way I just left…Please, forgive me. I’ve hated myself every minute of every day.”

  “I’m sorry too,” I tell him, tears stinging in the back of my throat. “Back at the wedding, I panicked. I didn’t know what to tell you—”

  “No,” Dex insists, cutting me off. “You were right. I was acting crazy, asking so much of you. It was too soon.”

  “But you were right,” I whisper. “When you feel something like that, you just know.”

  Dex inhales a ragged breath. “And do you?” he whispers, his eyes searching mine. I can see the need there, the hope, and I’m blown away that I’m the one he’s gazing at.

  I’m the one he needs.

  “I love you.” I say it simply, the only way I know how. “I was scared, I’ve never done this before, been with anyone like this. This is real.” I swallow, but I can’t keep back the tears. “I don’t know how it works, and that terrifies me. I’m used to my life making sense, having order, but you…you’re chaos. You’re reckless and spontaneous, and you make me feel so close to the edge—”

  “I won’t be.” Dex swears, but I shake my head.

  “No,” I protest, “don’t you get it? That’s one of the reasons why I love you. With you, I never know what’s going to happen. I’m myself, I’m alive.”

  Dex holds me tight. “I love you,” he tells me gruffly, and I can hear the emotion in his voice. “It’s you, it’s always been you. Forever.”

  My breath catches. He sees the surprise on my face, because he quickly adds, “I’m not asking now, you’re right, it was all moving too fast. But I’m going to marry you one day, Alicia—”

  “Yes.” I cut him off with a kiss. “Yes! Now. Whenever. I don’t care, just as long as it’s us, always.”

  Dex freezes against me. “You mean it?” he checks again, so I wrap myself around him this time, holding him so close, we could forget where I end and he begins.

  “With all my heart.” I listen to his heartbeat thundering in his chest, matching the race in my own. This is it, everything I’ve ever wanted. The love, the passion, the partnership. I just never saw it coming, not like this.

  Not like Dex.

  I feel a sudden reckless urge. Wildfire in my veins, hot and sweet, making me invincible, the way only he can.

  I’m done waiting around. I know this one thing for sure, it’s him. Next week, a year, fifty years from now, he’ll still captivate my heart the same as that very first night we met.

  Some things, you can’t plan for.

  Some people, you know before you even meet.

  Some loves are forever.

  I slowly pull back and fix him with a teasing smile. “What’s that look for?” Dex asks, a low note of desire snaking in his voice.

  I lean in close, and whisper in his ear.

  “You know, we are in Vegas...”

  THE END

  Keep reading to discover Chapter One of the next Callahan book, UNSTOPPABLE…

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  **

  Coming soon, the next installment in BEACHWOOD BAY: THE CALLAHANS

  UNSTOPPABLE

  Chapter One

  RYLAND

  I’m three hands into a round of Texas Hold’em, when the dealer turns the last card and I realize: it’s over. Not just the game, but everything. My shitty job, my gig here in Vegas. This whole dirty chapter in my wrong-track life. Nobody’s laid a single card down, but I know.

  I’m done.

  “What’s it gonna be, boys?” My boss, Fisher, leans back in his chair so far you’d think he’s about to rest his black cowboy boots right on the poker table. He gives that famous shark’s grin, the one that spells trouble for anyone on the other end. “Who’s got the balls for this one?”

  I can see the split-second decisions being made around me. This isn’t pocket change we’re playing for, there’s already seventy five grand on the table, stacked in plastic chips. The high rollers lounge at the Bellagio doesn’t come cheap, and Fisher always likes to put on a show.

  I tap my cards, trying not to let my feelings show. I’m not even supposed to be here. These guys are made of cash, all decked out in their designer suits and expensive Rolex watches, while I’m in jeans and a dusty pair of boots. My job is on the door, or the exit, wherever Fisher tells me to be. I’m just the muscle, making sure one of his many enemies don’t get close enough to try anything. And with his line of work, they always try. Last month a rival boss pulled a gun on him during a routine negotiation in Tampa.

  He’s still breathing through a respirator.

  But one of the players ducked out early tonight, and Fisher told me to take the open seat. Now he’s smirking at me like he knows just how far out of my league I’m swimming. “You sure you don’t wanna fold, Kid?” He throws down another stack of chips, another ten grand at least. “You can walk right now, no harm, no foul. I’ll just add it to your tab.”