The Stronger, Safer Kind (The Boys of DownCrash #1) (new adult contemporary rockstar romance)

by Casey, London

  “Tonight?”

  Andy nodded. “I can’t wait for life to catch up to me. I’m sorry. I was going to offer you one more time to come with me. I was going to ask you to come with me for a few days to help me get settled. But…” Andy looked to DownCrash. “…that’s not going to happen.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. It’s all I could keep offering to Andy.

  His cheek was swollen and red.

  “Don’t be,” Andy said. “I did this I guess. I just wished you would have told me… about my uncle. I’m so sorry, Scarlett. He was never a good person, you know? Ever. He was a liar, cheater, thief. He did so much for our family, nobody cared. Even when he died, the only reason everyone went was to hope they were part of his will.”

  That didn’t make me feel any better about the situation, but nothing ever would. What’s done was done and I couldn’t change it. I couldn’t help how Andy felt. I couldn’t help how he looked. And when he said he was leaving, I hugged him, tight, but I didn’t ask him to wait one more night. I could have and he probably would have waited, but I couldn’t. It was his time to go and I had to let him go.

  He stopped a few steps in and turned around. “I need this, Scarlett, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “I need to get away from everything. My father isn’t that far away from my uncle… and I can’t bear it anymore. Being judged. Being criticized. Being let down.”

  “I’m sorry if I let you down,” I said.

  “No, Scarlett, you didn’t. You gave me hope. If you could fall in love with… with that piece of trash behind you… then that means true love does exist.”

  With that, Andy climbed into his car and drove off. I watched him drive away, until the red taillights of his car became two small, red marbles and then were gone. My heart should have been in pieces and maybe in some way it was. But I felt satisfied. Andy needed to get away and I needed him to go too.

  A few seconds later I felt someone touch my shoulder. I turned and saw it was Maggie.

  “Holy shit,” she whispered.

  “Holy shit is right,” I said. “I can’t believe that actually happened.”

  “I’m so sorry, Scarlett. I didn’t think that was going to happen like that.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You did what you thought was right. Now, what did you want to tell me?”

  Maggie looked back at the band. We both realized at the same time that Tripp was missing. Tatum shrugged his shoulders and pointed to the loft.

  “I better go,” I said.

  “I’m going too,” Maggie said. “I need to get home.”

  “You wanted to talk though.”

  “Tomorrow. At home.”

  I hugged Maggie and she left. I walked to the Tatum and Logan and said, “I’ll go check on him.”

  “We’re going to leave then,” Logan said. “We’re going to Tatum’s apartment to hang. If you need us, please call.”

  “Thank you,” I said. Logan walked away and I stared at Tatum.

  “I had to hit him,” Tatum said. “If I didn’t, Tripp would have killed him.”

  “I know. Thank you for helping us.”

  Tatum put his hand to my shoulder. “He told you?”

  I nodded.

  “It was horrible,” Tatum said. “We were there when everything happened. We knew his old man was an asshole, but not like that. When they found Tyler, he had a note in pocket. It looked like he was going to write something to Tripp but he wrote one thing.”

  “Which was?”

  Tatum swallowed hard. “I wish I was the stronger, safer kind.”

  Tatum took a breath and hugged me then left to get into Logan’s car. The whirlwind of emotions finally collapsed into me and I started to cry. I managed to get into the garage before letting it all out, but when I did, I fell to the floor, to my hands and knees, losing all control. I knew life wasn’t meant to be right and fair all the time, but feeling my pain and Tripp’s pain reminded me of how unfair it could be.

  While I was crying, Tripp came down from the loft. He knelt down and placed the vodka bottle on the concrete. It made a sound and caught my attention. I grabbed the bottle and started to drink. The burning killed my throat and stomach, but I needed it. Tripp put his hands to my wrists and helped me up. Our bodies came together and we stared at each other.

  “Tripp…”

  “Fuck it,” he whispered and kissed me.

  Our tongues fought, pain and aggression coming to life. I jumped and wrapped my legs around him, my hands in his hair. His hands cupped my ass and he turned, starting to walk. We stumbled into a stool, knocking it over. My elbow crashed into a cymbal and I cried out but didn’t stop kissing Tripp. I couldn’t stop. We were connected, and it wasn’t just sexual need or even pain. Our hearts raced for each other and only each other. Nothing else mattered in those moments as Tripp carried me to the steps.

  Of course, I had to jump down and climb the steps, which, again, he took full advantage of grabbing my ass and teasing me. The second my two feet were back on horizontal ground, I started to take my clothes off. My shirt was on the floor as my pants were undone. I stripped to my bra and panties before Tripp had a chance to realize what I was doing. I jumped on the bed, rolled to my back and waited for him.

  He climbed on top of me and kissed me at my belly button. My hands were back at his hair, clawing at him. My mind raced and I knew what I wanted. I wanted to right a wrong. I pushed at the top of Tripp’s head, telling him without speaking.

  His hands pulled at my panties, pulling them down to my knees. He moved under my panties and between my legs. A move so smooth and sexy that I cried his name already. His hands touched the insides of my thighs, dangerously close to my most sensitive area. While his hands didn’t touch me there, his tongue did. And he moved with speed and meaning. The tip of his tongue was perfection, gliding against my smooth, wet skin. He curled his tongue just where I needed him to, bringing me to an almost instant climax. I had one hand on the bed and the other still in his hair, wanting him, needing him. I rocked my body at Tripp, begging for more.

  The tips of two of his fingers touched me and then they were inside me. He wasn’t afraid to go after me. No hesitation. Just complete control of my body and its needs. He fingered me as he licked me, bringing me to climax. The second I started to come he moved away. The lingering orgasmic sensation was enough to steal my breath. I looked at him, angry, but had the chance to watch him take his turn stripping.

  With his shirt off, I saw the meaning of his tattoos. With his pants off, I saw the meaning of pleasure. He was thick and hard and he positioned himself against my body, holding back his first thrust. We kissed and when he stopped, he looked at me.

  “I want to tell you,” he whispered. “But I don’t know how.”

  “I know,” I said. “I know. I feel it too.”

  I touched Tripp’s tattoo against his chest, at his heart, my hand going flat. His heart was wild.

  “Fuck, Tripp, please,” I said.

  “Anything for you,” he said.

  He thrust deep inside me and thus began the hottest sex of my life. We were sweaty, emotionally destroyed, but yet, somehow, we were in love. We were together, body and soul. Everything lined up. Every thrust more perfect than the one before. I felt aggressive and pushed at Tripp, rolling on top of him. He reached behind me, unsnapped my bra, and had handfuls of my breasts. I threw my head back and cried his name. I lifted and lowered my body against him, accepting him again and again. I couldn’t get enough of him.

  Tripp moved his hands from my breasts to my sides and lifted me off him. Pure strength. Pure erotic craziness. He dropped me next to him and then he was back on top of me. I pulled at one of the sheets, wanting the sex hotter, sweatier, wanting it to last forever. As I came again, throbbing against him, Tripp growled and put his teeth to my neck. He whispered my name as he came, shattering my nightmare once and for all. I knew right then that anytime after that, when I heard my name being
whispered, I wouldn’t think of the past… I would think of Tripp.

  The sexy, broken lead singer and guitarist from DownCrash.

  And nothing could be hotter than that.

  25

  Tripp handed me my coffee and pulled into a parking spot. It sort of defeated the purpose of a drive-thru but I went along with it.

  “This is usually the only day I do something really stupid,” he said.

  “How stupid?” I asked.

  Tripp reached next to his seat and showed me a bottle of whiskey. “I usually get lit on my way to the cemetery. And then I stay there all day and wait for Tyler to come back.”

  I touched Tripp’s hand. “He’s never coming back.”

  “I know.”

  I grabbed the whiskey bottle and I freed it from Tripp’s hand. I looked at the only comfort Tripp had in his life dealing with his personal tragedies. I opened the car door and got out. I looked at him and smiled, then wound up and threw the bottle against the side of the building. It exploded, leaving a wet splatter stain. The air instantly stunk of the alcohol, burning my eyes.

  I rushed back to the car and Tripp started to drive, not saying a word.

  Even though it was already two in the afternoon, we needed the coffee and we needed the drive. It took a little over half an hour to get to the cemetery and the second we passed through the black iron gates, I felt sick to my stomach.

  I hated cemeteries. I hated death. I hated the entire process of it all. I hated the idea that someday I was going to die and that someday everyone I knew and loved would be dead.

  Tripp parked the car and then led me through the cemetery. As we walked, I could feel the painful tension in his body building. His hand sweated like crazy and started to shake. He needed to drink, and I understood why, but some things in life were meant to be done sober… like living.

  He stopped at a small headstone. I almost didn’t see it compared to the others around it. Of all things that happened to Tripp and his brother, his brother was given a small headstone. I wasn’t sure if it mattered or not but it did bother me.

  “There’s Tyler,” Tripp said.

  We stood in silence. In all honesty, I had no idea what I should say. But I knew one thing, I wasn’t going to let Tripp’s hand go. Not today, not forever.

  “He didn’t mean anything by it,” Tripp said. “That’s why it hurts me so much. I want to be mad at him, and I’ve tried so hard sometimes. But I can’t be mad at him. It was his way out.” Tripp turned towards me. “And the thing is, Scarlett, after he did that… I had my way out.”

  I blinked, fighting tears. Tripp’s eyes watered as he tried to do the same.

  “I’m still sorry about it,” I whispered.

  “I know. I love you for that.”

  “You… love me?”

  Tripp half smiled. “You’re the only other person I’ve met that cares enough.”

  “What about your band?”

  “That’s a different kind of relationship. It’s real but it’s not the kind of real that we have.”

  I almost forgot for a few seconds that we were in a cemetery. I looked at Tyler’s grave again and took a deep breath.

  “So, what do we do now?” I asked.

  “I usually just sit and think. Sometimes talk. I always drink.”

  I nodded. Then I plopped down, right there on the grass. I looked up at Tripp and smiled. He joined me, wrapping his arms around me.

  “Hey Tyler,” he called out. “I was playing a show the other night and before I took the stage, I was at the bar. I saw this beautiful girl walk in and sit down. You know me, man, I think all girls are beautiful. But this was different. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. The way her eyes lit up when she talked. The way her lips moved. The way she played with the glass with her right hand. All these details started to get to me. It’s been a bad week, Tyler, as it always is… but I have to admit something. It’s been one of the best weeks of my life.”

  I put my head on Tripp’s shoulder and closed my eyes.

  He spoke, sober, probably for the first time on that particular day since his brother committed suicide. I wasn’t sure what it meant going forward, but as Tripp spoke, his voice cracked a few times. He put his head back and stared at the clear blue sky. I could almost feel some of the pain letting go. He got to face his demons and it made me feel better. I would never face my demons… they were buried far away. But with Tripp, it kept them at bay.

  Tripp finally stood up and took my hand.

  “What are we doing?” I asked.

  “I’m taking you for dinner and then we’re going to band practice.”

  “Tripp… if you usually stay…”

  “No,” Tripp said. “I’m good now. Tyler will understand. We have to keep living, right? I believe he did what he did for me. And like I said, after it happened, it gave me my way out. It wouldn’t be fair to Tyler to not keep living. To write more music. To play more shows. To have you as much as I can.”

  His hands touched my hips. I smiled.

  “That’s a good plan,” I whispered.

  “Good. Because tonight I want to get drunk with you. With our minds clear and happy, for once.”

  “Deal,” I said.

  It felt strange sitting in a restaurant with Tripp. I never pictured a real date between us but I liked it. We were local and that meant plenty of people were watching us. Guys, girls, even the waitress, who I recognized from campus. A lot of people had no problem coming up to Tripp and telling him how much they enjoy DownCrash and talking to him about new music and the next set of shows. They had the glimmer of stardom in their eyes. At first it annoyed me, but watching the way Tripp reveled in it made it all worth it.

  “I’m sorry about this,” he said to me.

  “I like it,” I said. “I’m dating a rockstar.”

  “You’re fucking a rockstar,” Tripp corrected, laughing.

  “That too.”

  “You’re everything to that rockstar,” he said, taking my hand.

  As Tripp took care of the bill and stopped to talk to a few people, I thought about Tyler. As bad as things had gotten in my life I never thought about taking my own life. Especially since it meant helping someone else’s. I thought about Andy too. Wondering where he was by then. Definitely in Maine. Settling in. Unpacking. I really wanted him to find whatever he was looking for in life. I would have just been settling. Settling for what was there. That’s not how Andy was meant to live.

  Tripp stopped at a table of three girls.

  My heart instantly jumped, the jealous girlfriend in me wanting to scream.

  He laughed.

  He joked.

  One of them touched his arm.

  This was Tripp’s life and I had to accept it.

  The girl that touched his arm slid a shot to him. He ran his finger around the rim of the shot glass and shook his head. He passed it back to the girl and she took it. Tripp shook his head, laughing, and came back to the table.

  We left and went to the garage. It started to feel normal, almost like a second home. Lifting the heavy door that sounded like a thunderstorm. The smell of the concrete. The sight of the instruments. The potential they held.

  The second Tripp got into the garage, he ran for one of his guitars. He strapped it over his shoulder, turned on his amp, and started to play. Tatum sat behind his kit, adjusting his drums. He hurried and grabbed his sticks, picking up a rhythm with Tripp. Logan had been strumming an acoustic guitar and quickly put it away, trading it for his bass. It the matter of a minute, the three of them were playing. Jamming. Enjoying themselves. I saw the look in both Tatum and Logan’s eyes, the way they knew their frontman was working his way back to reality.

  When Tripp stopped the song, he pointed to a whiskey bottle next to Tatum’s drums.

  “Let’s celebrate,” Tripp said. “Our band. Our lives. Our everything.”

  Tatum looked at Logan. Logan nodded. Tatum looked at me and I did the same. He twisted the cap off the
bottle and drank. He gave the bottle to Logan who then gave it to Tripp.

  “Don’t forget Scarlett,” Tatum said.

  “No, I’m okay right now,” I said.

  “Fuck that,” Tripp said. “Get over here. Enjoy.”

  I took the bottle and sipped. And sipped. And sipped.

  Tripp counted off a song and the boys of DownCrash started to play again. I was there, right in the mix, standing between Tripp and Logan. It sounded different and felt different from the angle I stood. The loudness, the pounding, the beauty of the music. Watching Tripp sing and hearing him.

  Midway through the song I felt my side vibrating.

  Shit, I had forgotten about Maggie.

  That’s who texted me.

  You okay? Need to talk still

  I felt terrible, focusing so much on myself. I wasn’t used to Maggie having problems or the need to talk. Her only concern was passing college and hooking up with guys.

  I’m at the garage. Come over. HOT band practice. lol

  Maggie replied with - k - and I put my phone away.

  DownCrash played three more songs and then took a break to celebrate some more. That’s when things started to get a little crazy. There was more drinking than practicing, something the entire band agreed upon.

  “Man, we never get to party anymore,” Logan said as the whiskey settled in.

  “My fault,” Tripp said. He sat on a stool, one leg on the floor, one leg bent on the leg of the stool. He looked fucking sexy and it took all my self control to not jump him.

  “It’s life’s fault,” Tatum said. He took the bottle from Logan and drank.

  Tripp took the bottle back, enjoyed, then gave it to me. I was beyond my limit. The room was heavy and I felt really good. I sipped one last time and gave the bottle to Logan.

  “No, it’s mine,” Tripp said. “You guys were there for everything. And I never thanked you for it. Tonight is for Tyler…”

  “Tyler,” Logan said and lifted the bottle.

  “Tyler,” Tatum said and held a drumstick in the air.

  “He was so fucking cool,” Tripp said.

  “He was,” Logan. “And crazy too.”