by Alyson Hale
I feel a gigantic grin plaster itself on my face. “Then I’ll definitely be there.”
“I thought so.”
Eddie gives me their address and hangs up. As soon as I’m off the phone, I stand and grab my guitar from its stand, plunging into a solo I wrote just yesterday. I wrote it while I was high, and it’s fucking crazy. I’d like to see anyone else’s hands fly this fast.
Head banging, I pump myself up for Christmas Day, letting energy I haven’t felt in months flood my veins. It’s not just from the drug; it’s hope. Desire. The memories of mind-melting orgasms and big brown eyes.
My mobile goes off again, and I answer it without looking at the caller ID.
“Is he dead now?”
“What? Damien, is there something you need to tell me?”
Grinning, I sink back down into the futon. “Well, if it isn’t the world’s biggest lying scumbag. Fucker. You said you’d be here a month ago.”
Cyril sighs on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, mate. There’s been a lot of paperwork to go through. The band is now officially retired. Our contracts and everything had to be handled, and it took forever and a day. I never realized how deeply the legal end of it affected us.”
“Man, I’m sorry.” I understand the struggle. If it weren’t for our contract, I would have broken off from the band years ago and started my own gig. We’re in this for a couple more years yet.
“The good news is I’ll be in the States in time for Christmas. You got a place to put me up?”
“Yeah, you can bunk with me. I’ll buy you a mattress. It’s a studio apartment, but I think we’ll have enough room.”
“You living alone?”
I snarl at the reminder. “Did I not say ‘studio apartment’?”
“Right. Didn’t mean to get you upset. You can tell me all about it when I get there.”
“I’ll see you soon.”
“Take care.”
“You too. Bye.”
I toss the phone down on the futon and swipe a hand over my face. Years ago, I would have killed to have my own space like this. Now I consider living alone a “failure” on my part. What has happened to me?
I’m weary from fighting against this change in me. It’s time to either reject or embrace it. The way she eats me up inside is unmistakable. I can’t fight this any longer. It’s not just the sex or the way she makes me feel…
I can sense it. She needs saving, and she needs me to be the one to do it.
***
Cyril is sitting on the other end of the futon, rubbing his forehead after listening to the whole story beginning to end. He was disappointed when he heard how I’d abandoned the Filthy Bangers. Knowing how close-knit he was with his own band, I can see how that would seem like the ultimate betrayal in his eyes. However, my situation is completely different from his, and I know he understands that.
Cyril turns to me, narrowing his eyes. His stringy, graying hair is sticking out a bit from his head, and he’s leaning hard against the back of the futon. I’ve never seen him look this exhausted, yet somehow he seems relieved. His touring days are over, and now he’s free to make whatever he wants of his life. A part of me envies him, but I know I’m not ready for that sort of boredom yet. I still have crowds to perform in front of and places to see. I’m not done.
“So this girl…you have feelings for her?”
I nod, swallowing against the rage that boils inside of me at the mere thought. I was doing fine until I met her. Now I’m a trainwreck.
“Have you expressed your feelings to her?”
“Sort of,” I admit.
“It sounds to me like she doesn’t trust you. You do have quite a reputation, you know.”
A bitter smirk turns up my lips. My reputation was something I was glowingly proud of over the past few years. It made me notorious, a legend. Now it’s the obstacle to obtaining the one woman I’ve ever wanted. I’ve always heard karma’s a bitch. Guess she’s finally seen fit to pay me a visit.
“So what do I do?”
“Well, mate, you know I don’t know much about love.” He chuckles and shrugs his stocky shoulders. “All I know is what I saw between your father and mother.”
My throat goes dry at the mention of my parents. I never knew them, and it’s my biggest regret even though there’s nothing I possibly could have done to prevent what happened to them.
“Before they drowned on that faulty fishing boat, I watched them a lot,” Cyril continues. “Your dad was always giving your mum some kind of big present. Jewelry was her favorite. One time he even turned his prized fishing hook into a necklace for her. She wore it every day until they died.”
The wheels in my brain start turning. I know exactly what I need to do. It will pain me a bit, but that’s exactly what she needs from me: a sacrifice. Proof that she’s the only one I want and always will be.
“So you really think that would work? Giving her a special gift?”
He shrugs again. “I dunno. It’s the first thing I would try, though. Your mum always looked so happy when he gave her something. It softened her up, made her forget the things she got mad at him about.”
I nod. It seems ridiculous to me that something as small as a piece of jewelry would fix everything between us, but I’ve failed at everything else. It’s at least worth a shot.
“Thank you, Uncle.” I flash him a smile and hold up my tumbler of whiskey. “To new beginnings.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
Chapter 17
Alex
As I walk up to Kyri’s house with gift bags in tow, I smile, thinking about how much has changed for me in the last few months. When I came back from Europe at the end of the summer, I was broken. Chewed up and spit out. I felt like roadkill on the side of the highway. A few months, intensive therapy, and the determination to change my life have made all the difference. I found a female psychiatrist who specializes in counseling people like me, and while I’m nowhere near perfect yet, I feel like a new woman and I’m ready to announce my brand-new lease on life and my business plan.
Three months ago, just after I ditched my “slutty” ways for good, I discovered a love for working with fabric. What I have in these bags is only the tip of the iceberg. Mom bought me a top-notch sewing machine with some savings she had laid aside for my future—be it marriage, school, or whatever else—and as I learned this new skill, I realized my true potential. I’m not just some girl whose future was ruined when she was too young to even know what it was. I’ve learned to value myself and let go of the past so I can move on to embrace the future.
That’s not to say I don’t still have my moments. Mom still has to deal with my night terrors some nights. My psychiatrist thinks I’ll always have them after what I’ve been through. It’s a type of post-traumatic stress disorder. My anxiety medicine and practicing meditation have helped decrease my night terrors from every few nights to once every couple of weeks. I’m still not sleeping very well because I dread the nightmares and feel “on edge” when I go to bed, but I’m improved and that’s what counts.
I’m so proud of what I’ve done over the past few months. Hopefully the others will be too. Elyza, Kyri’s little sister, is home from college, so the five of us are all together again. The Calloway and Ward women are all about to be reunited. We’re more than friends, we’re family, so tonight is going to be a chaotic, emotional, fun family reunion.
We walk under the carport and in the side door, not even bothering to knock. It’s unlocked, and we’re greeted with shouts as we walk into their warm house.
“Alex!” Elyza is the first one to run to me. Her hazel eyes are bright, almost green, with excitement. She barrels into my waiting arms.
“Little sis!” We squeeze each other, and tears well up in my eyes. This girl used to be a thorn in my side when we were all younger, constantly trying to interrupt whatever Kyri and I were doing together, but I wouldn’t trade her for the world now that we’re grown. She and Kyri are
the only siblings I’ve ever known. “Girl, have you gotten taller?”
Elyza scoffs, pulling back from the embrace. “I wish. I’ll never be as tall as you and Kyri.”
“Aw, poor little petite girl.” My mom pats her on the head patronizingly, and Elyza wrinkles up her cute nose. Her hair, much lighter than Kyri’s, but the same color red, is piled on top of her head, but a strand has fallen loose. She tucks it behind her ear and crosses her arms.
“It’s not fair. You all have the curves and the height. I’m just the short chick with a boy’s chest and a flat butt.”
“You’ve still got time, sweetie.” Ruth, her mother, wraps her arms around her from behind and kisses her cheek. Ely will always be the baby of our family, whether she likes it or not. She’s gorgeous in spite of her lack of “curves.” I’m jealous of her boobs, which stay up all on their own.
“So what’s for dinner?”
“Alex…” Kyri gives me her usual know-it-all look. “Do you even have to ask?”
I smirk back at her. She realizes I’m joking and laughs.
We always have a big ole honey ham with all the down home Southern trimmings for Christmas. It’s a longstanding tradition that none of us would ever dare go against. There are fluffy golden-brown biscuits, slightly chunky, buttery mashed potatoes, corn, green beans, and several other great Southern staples in the works. It’s like Thanksgiving round two, and I love every minute of it.
I head through the kitchen to the living room and set my gifts down under the tree. Mom follows suit.
Headlights flash onto the driveway outside. I peek through the blinds to see who’s crashing our party.
“That must be Jace!” Kyri exclaims with excitement. My stomach balls into a knot. Of course she invited her fiancée. That means the other members of Jace’s band are here. Damien probably won’t be with them, so there’s no need to worry. I’ve heard there’s some kind of rift going on between them.
Mom goes to the front door to let them all in, and everyone greets each other with the typical “Merry Christmas” and “Happy Holidays.” Jace makes a beeline for his girl, pulls her under the mistletoe, and immediately goes to town on her lips. Kyri’s beaming face when she pulls back from the kiss makes my heart melt and ache all at once. I’m going to be a maid of honor in a few months, and I couldn’t be more thrilled, but I still have this lingering jealousy that won’t go away. Yeah, I had my rock star, too, but she got to keep hers. Some people have all the luck.
From a distance, I watch Elyza meet each member of the band for the first time. Jace is kind but doesn’t linger on her. Connor is his usual polite self, but also moves on quickly. Along comes Eddie, and the two of them suddenly appear to be frozen in space and time.
He stands in front of her, mesmerized, and lets his gaze roam all over her. I recognize the look in his eye. It’s the same look Jace gives Kyri when she’s not looking all the time: that hungry, driven look a man only gets for the woman he’s determined to be with. It’s instantaneous for them: that connection, that focus. Soon enough we’ll have another Calloway bride on our hands. It’s only a matter of time.
I chuckle to myself, and it ends on a sour note. Guess I’ll have to make this career move work, ‘cause I sure can’t catch any luck in the love department. I know I’m the one who rejected Damien, but soon enough it would have been the other way around. I was just saving myself future heartbreak. I hope I made the right decision.
Another truck pulls into the driveway. My blood pulses through me on overdrive. Unless Kyri’s father is making another unwanted appearance, there’s only one person this could be, and I wasn’t prepared for him tonight. I’ve been thinking about him, sure—almost twenty-four hours a day—but being ready to face him after leaving him alone in a hotel room after twenty-four hours of sex is another story.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I fidget with my hair, trying to make sure not a single spiraly curl is out of place. Shoving past Jace, I attack Kyri, panicked.
“You didn’t tell me you invited him.” I grip her shoulders for dear life.
Kyri draws her eyebrows together. “Invited who?”
“Damien,” I whisper.
Her eyes grow wide. “I didn’t. I mean, I don’t mind that he’s here, but…shit.”
“Yeah, shit,” I whine. “Is it too early for me to bail? Do I look like I could be coming down with something?”
“No, don’t leave!” The sadness in her eyes is too much for me to take. “It’s Christmas. You can’t abandon us on Christmas.”
I groan. “Fine. But if it gets too awkward, you’re joining me in your room.”
“Deal.” She nods. “I got your back.”
“Thanks, girl.”
Ruth is the one who opens the door this time, and she looks Damien up and down, looking less than impressed. I can’t see him very well from where I am, but regardless of what he’s wearing or not wearing I can’t imagine anyone not being impressed by Damien Turner. Ruth seems ancient to me all of a sudden, because she’s treating him like a son instead of a sex god.
“I was told only three rowdy rocker boys were coming over tonight,” she says in her “stern” voice. She only uses that voice when she’s wary of someone.
“Sorry, Mrs. C.,” Eddie says, stepping forward with an apologetic smirk on his face. “He may be an arsehole, but he is my brother. May he and my uncle Cyril join us for Christmas?”
I watch Ruth’s face soften. Eddie seems to be the sweetheart of the band. He’s always charming the pants off of everyone, and not in the same way his brother does. He’s sweet and goofy and seems less corrupted than the others, though I hear he also has a bit of a manwhore side. Surrendering, Ruth nods to Damien and the man behind him, beckoning them inside.
As soon as Damien steps in the door, his presence commands the room. Like the beast he is, his radar zones in on me. I watch pain and lust wage full-on warfare in his eyes as he studies me. Oddly, his demeanor seems darker and sullener than before. The mischievous sparkle that once dominated his eyes and smile is gone. If I look deeply enough, I can see how vulnerable and miserable he is. Our mutual misery is what connected us in the beginning. I’ve worked so hard in curing that in myself over the past few months. Now, looking into his eyes, I feel it all rushing back. The lack of permanence. The distrust of the future. It’s all still in him. I wish I could take it all away, even for just an hour or two.
Chapter 18
Damien
Goddamn it. I walk in the door and it’s like having my heart ripped out of my chest. There she stands, looking better than ever. Her posture is lighter, her eyes are happier—it’s as if she were a million times better off without me all this time.
My first impulse is to turn around and walk right back out the door. Seeing her like this is almost my undoing. If I don’t get a grip on myself, I’m going to drag Alexandrea Ward to the back of the house, crash my lips into hers, and remind her why she needs me until she’s shaking like a leaf in my grasp. But I can’t do that, not now. Not until I find out if she’s been thinking about me this whole time the way I’ve been consumed with her.
I have the perfect gift for her if she’ll accept it. It will prove to her I’m not here just to ravage her like a cave man again, although I plan on doing plenty of that. She needs to know that even though I’m traveling, performing, out in the public eye, my mind is always going to be with her. That she can trust me, even though that’s something most people aren’t willing to do.
I understand why people aren’t willing to trust me. I’ve been a wild card, a moving target my whole life. There was never a moment when I was settled, never a moment for people to stop, take a breath, and get to know me. My days were one huge adventure after the other. There was no room for anyone else.
This woman I barely know has changed all that, though I feel like I’ve known her all my life. I may not seem different, but if today goes well it’s step one in my becoming a new man.
It isn’t long before the la
dies call us in for dinner. We all grab plates of ham, American biscuits, and vegetables and sit in various places around the house since the kitchen can only seat five people. Eddie takes a seat next to Kyri’s little sister, who looks like a younger, shorter, skinnier version of her. The two of them have instant chemistry. My brother glances up at me for only a moment, smiling like a fool. I chuckle at him from my seat in Kyri’s desk chair. What an amateur. He’s always been so obvious with his emotions, not strong and reserved like myself or Jace.
The thought of Jace brings my gaze up to search the room for him. He’s huddled so close to his fiancée there’s almost no telling where he ends and she begins. They’re on the other end of the couch from Eddie and his new girl, which is like watching a younger copy of them. If my brother gets married before me, I might just do the world a favor and shoot myself in the head.
My brows squeeze together as I evaluate myself. Motherfuck. Did I just talk about myself getting married?
“Hey.”
A feminine voice I would recognize anywhere yanks me out of my thoughts. Alexandrea is standing in front of me with an older version of herself. I stand to greet them.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Damien Turner. Damien, this is my mom.”
“Nice to meet you, Damien.” The elder of the two extends her right hand to me.
Putting on my best smile, I lean down a little and kiss her hand, pulling a surprised, breathy giggle out of her.
“The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Ward.”
“Call me Tonya,” she says. I nod as I straighten my back.
My gaze flits back to Alexandrea and I see a spark in her eyes. “Well, I have to say that’s a lot nicer than the original greeting I got from you.”
One corner of my lips pulls up. I know I shouldn’t have hurled an apple at a girl to get her attention, but the immature boy inside me really wanted to see it bounce off her sweet arse. I missed my target, but it was still one hundred and ten percent worth it.
