by M. A. Foster
“What happened?”
“I gotta go. Be there in ten.”
My phone beeps with a Google alert.
Supermodel Evangeline Skye and Jayla King exchange verbal blows in the middle of LAX with celebrity blogger Kelly Cunninger. Looks like America’s sweetheart has a bit of a temper.
“Damnit!” I shout.
“What?” Cam asks, and I show him my phone.
Cam scowls just as another alert pops up on the screen. I turn the phone and read it.
Cam Parker spotted sneaking into King residence. Which one of these men is Jaybird really singing for?
Below the headline is a photo of Cam from this afternoon walking up the back deck of my house. Who in the hell took that picture?
“What the hell?” he murmurs.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it. Did Liam bring home a random last night?”
Cam shakes his head. “Surprisingly, no. But Tyge brought home some popstar chick.”
There’s a bunch of commotion at the front of the plane. Jay storms down the aisle and slams her ass down in the farthest seat from Cam and me. She pulls her phone from her pocket, her fingers moving rapidly over the screen.
“What’s going on, Jay?” I ask.
Evangeline moves past us and takes a seat beside Jay. Their conversation is hushed. I have no idea what’s happening.
Alex drops down in the seat across from Cam and me. His gaze flicks between the two of us and he shakes his head. She told him.
“The longer you hold on to these secrets, the worse it’s going to be. For everyone.”
“I was planning on telling her today, but obviously now isn’t the time. I’m sorry.”
Bass falls into the seat beside Alex and rubs his temples. I raise my brows, and he holds his hands up defensively. “I tried to get them out of there, but that lady was taking some really low blows.” He leans in and lowers his voice. “She brought up the wellness center.”
Dread washes over me as Cam says, “Where did she hear that from?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” I reply as I shove up from my seat and make my way over to where Jay is sitting with Evangeline. “Jay?”
“What?” she snaps.
I narrow my eyes in warning. “I need to ask you something.”
She turns her face to me. “Did you tell anyone about staying at the wellness center?”
She narrows her eyes. “Are you serious right now?”
“Very.”
“I told Zach and Harper.”
Well, those two are out of the question. Neither of them would hurt Jay like that.
“I have another question.” She tilts her head. “Did anything happen between you and Ace Matthews?”
Her face twists up in disgust. “No.”
“Nothing at all?” I hedge. “Not even a kiss?”
“We kissed once—twice, if you count the time he shoved his tongue down my throat at the foundation dinner.”
Evangeline whips her head to the side and snickers. “You didn’t tell me about that.”
Jay shrugs. “Nothing to tell. He banged Nikki Fox in the bathroom right after that.”
“Ugh.” Evangeline rolls her eyes. “I can’t stand her, and ew, didn’t she hook up with Cole that night, too?”
“Jayla,” I start, and she looks up at me. “Let’s go in the back room and talk.”
“I don’t want to talk. I just want to get home to my boyfriend before he freaks out.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I promise.
Emerson
The flight back to Heritage Bay was tense. The moment we pulled into the driveway, Jay was out of the car and running toward her Range Rover.
“Jay, where are you going?” I call out.
“To see Zach,” she shouts over her shoulder as she climbs behind the wheel and takes off.
“I’m gonna head home, but I’ll call you in a little bit.” Cam drops a kiss to my head. “Levi, can you give me a ride?”
Levi nods.
“Hey, Levi,” I add. “After you drop Cam off, go after her. Her name is out there now, and I don’t know what to expect from these kids.”
“Got it.”
I spend the next hour going through my emails and texts and making phone calls to find out why this blogger, Kelly Cunninger, is targeting Jayla with lies.
The door leading into the house from the garage slams shut, and a moment later Jay storms into the kitchen, red-faced and teary-eyed.
“What’s wrong?” I reach for her but she shakes her head, warning me off before she heads for the stairs. “Jayla, please tell me what happened.”
She stops at the base of the stairs, one hand on the railing, and twists, turning her teary gaze to me. “Zach and Cole just humiliated me in front of all our friends.”
“What did they say?”
“They said a lot of things. A lot of hurtful things. I’ve had my heart broken today by people who are supposed to love me,” she chokes out through a sob.
A sharp pain shoots across my chest. I’m one of those people.
I swallow past the knot at the base of my throat. “Jay—”
“I’m not ready to talk about it.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry for being disrespectful. I’m not mad at you. I just… I need some time to process all of this. I’m hurting, and right now I just want to be alone.”
She jogs up the stairs and slams her door shut.
Dropping my face to my hands, I burst into tears. I’ve never been much of a crier unless it was out of anger, but lately it feels like all I ever do is cry.
“Oh, honey,” Grace coos as she wraps her arms around me. “Give her some time to cool off. Come on, I’ll pour you a glass of wine.”
I shake my head. “No. My stomach is too upset.”
“How about some chamomile tea instead? I’m gonna take some upstairs to Miss Jayla, too, with some warm banana bread.”
“Thank you, Grace.”
Levi, Bass, and Troy enter the kitchen.
“Any idea what happened?” I ask.
Levi shakes his head with an apologetic expression on his face. “I got the tail end of it. She was arguing with Cole. I offered to drive her home, but she insisted she could drive herself. Zach came running from the back of the house and confronted her at her car. They had an argument, and then he got into the passenger seat. She drove him and Logan home, then came here.”
“I want to know what happened.” My gaze flicks to Bass. “She won’t talk to me.”
He nods. “I got this.”
He heads in her direction, and I go out by the pool. Hopefully some fresh air will help calm my nerves.
An hour later, Bass joins me out on the pool deck. “She’s asleep,” he tells me as he drops down in the lounger beside me and drags his hands down his face. “Teenage drama is exhausting. I’m too old for this shit.” He shakes his head and leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.
“What did she say?”
“She said a lot of things, but I’ll give you the CliffsNotes. Zach’s ego is bruised. He was hurt, so instead of being man about it, he acted like a dick. Princess basically told him to fuck off. He wasn’t expecting that, so he chased after her and apologized, but the damage was done. She’s fed up. She said she understands why he’s upset, but that what he did was not okay and she can’t be with him if he can’t trust her.” He shrugs.
“She sounds just like Marcus.”
Bass nods, knowing the hell I went through with Marcus. “In all fairness, though, Zach should’ve been warned up front. I don’t agree with him mistreating Princess, but I feel bad for the kid. You remember what it was like seeing pictures of your husband splashed all over those magazines.”
He’s right. I didn’t handle it well. Fortunately for Bass, he wasn’t around yet when Marcus and I had our very first fight.
“Emerson, how many times do I have to tell you to stop reading that shit? You’re with me all. The. Fucking. Time. W
here would I find the time to take a piss, much less cheat on you?” He winced at his own words. It was evident he regretted them the moment they left his mouth. But it was too late. They were out there, lingering between us.
Stunned, I jerked my head back as if he’d slapped me. Honestly, I think a slap would’ve hurt less. My mouth dropped open in shock, and I blinked back the tears threatening to spill over.
“I’m sorry.” He sighed and shook his head slightly. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He extended his hand, but I stepped out of his reach.
“Guys, you’re up,” someone called out.
The guys stood and made their way out the door. Except Marcus, who was rooted in place, eyeing me as if I might run. Probably because of the way I was glaring at him with an expression full of hurt and anger. I wanted to punch him in the face.
“Marcus, get your ass on stage,” Chandler barked from the doorway.
I turned my head to look at Chandler, and Marcus used that opportunity to lean over and kiss the corner of my mouth. “Don’t leave,” he whispered before stepping around me and walking out the door.
I took a few minutes to pull myself together before making my way to the side of the stage. Marcus’s performances were always on point, and that night was no different. No one was the wiser that we’d just had our first fight.
Just as Royal Mayhem was wrapping up their last song, I took off for the bathroom. There was a short line, and when I finished, the show had just ended. The overhead lights were on, the floor littered with cups and spilled beer. The road crew was breaking down the stage equipment as I headed toward the room holding the meet and greet. A line had formed down the hallway, but one of the security guys caught sight of me and waved me in. The room smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap perfume. It was crowded with women, men, and even kids waiting for an autograph. I scanned the room to find Marcus sitting on the arm of the sofa, juggling a water bottle in one hand while with the other, he signed posters, T-shirts, stomachs, tits, and any other body part these chicks managed to push his way.
I leaned against the wall just inside the door and waited as the crowd thinned out, leaving just a few women lingering. Groupies.
When Marcus’s eyes found me, his jaw clenched as he stood, tossed his bottled water in the trash and stormed over, jerking his head for me to follow him out into the hall.
He stood just a few inches shy of a foot away from me and shoved his hands in the front pockets of his ripped jeans.
“I thought you left.” He sounded angry, and I wondered if it was from our fight or because he thought I left him.
“I went to the bathroom.”
He nodded and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m pissed at you, Emerson.” A sharp pain ripped through my heart and my stomach turned. “I promised you that I would never give you a reason not to trust me. And I haven’t. Every time you read one of those bullshit tabloids, you doubt me.” He pushed a hand through his damp, dark hair. “We can’t have a solid marriage if there’s no trust. But I can see it in your eyes, even now, that you don’t.”
My heart was pounding so hard in my chest, I was sure Marcus could hear it. I took a deep breath and asked the question I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer to. “What are you saying, Marcus?”
He dragged his hands down his face, then balled them into fists at his sides. “I’m saying I love you, Emerson, but you’re acting childish. There’s no place in our marriage for jealousy, and I’m tired of defending myself. If you can’t trust me….” He looked away, letting his words hang in the air, an unspoken ultimatum.
My vision blurred as my heart shattered into a million pieces. I closed my eyes briefly as my body absorbed the verbal blow Marcus had just delivered. This man had become my entire world in such a short period of time that I didn’t know how to exist without him. After what Chris had done, how did I let myself be consumed by a man I knew could break me? I was smarter than that.
A long slender arm curled around Marcus from behind. He didn’t even flinch, keeping his eyes on me as a hand with bright red fingernails flattened on his stomach and began to slide lower. Marcus raised a brow as if asking me what I was gonna do. He was challenging me to fight for him.
I don’t think he realized what he’d done.
I saw red. A sound much like an animalistic growl burst from my chest as I reached out and grabbed the offending hand. “Get your fucking hands off my husband,” I yelled.
She screeched, and the rest was a blur of hair pulling, screaming, and the sound of my fist connecting with her face. Someone wrapped around me from behind, but I kept swinging.
I might’ve been Marcus King’s wife, but I was still a Mackenzie. We were fighters. We were also stubborn, and in that moment, I was too stubborn to admit I was wrong. I was too stubborn to stay and fight for my marriage.
I shrugged out of Marcus’s grasp with a huff and pushed a hand through my tangled hair, doing my best to pull myself together. But I couldn’t fight back the tears. I was so angry, hurt, confused and fucking heartbroken. Turning on my heels, I charged toward the exit, ignoring the looks from the road crew members lingering in the hall.
“Where are you going, Emerson?” he called out to my retreating back. His footsteps sounded behind me.
“I’m leaving.”
“You’re not leaving!” he demanded.
I raised both hands over my head and flipped him the bird. “Watch me.”
A hand wrapped around my arm and I spun around angrily. “Don’t touch me!” I shoved at his chest and he stumbled back. “Go fuck your groupies!” I shoved him again, but that time he didn’t move. I cried harder. I was hysterical, but I wouldn’t let him touch me.
“Emerson.” His voice was sad.
“Let her go, Marcus,” Chandler said from nearby.
“Mind your business, Chandler. This is between me and my wife.”
“You are my business, and you’ve made it everyone else’s.” He gestured wildly in the air.
Marcus looked around and noticed that everyone had stopped to watch our very public fight. He frowned. “What?” he yelled. “Haven’t you ever seen a couple argue before?” He threw his hands in the air. “Get back to work.”
“I told you she was too young” came from down the hall. Chaz, the fucking asshole. Even though we’d been married a year, Marcus’s bandmates hadn’t quite warmed up to me. Chaz hated me. I saw it in the way he looked at me.
Marcus twisted around to face his bandmate. “Fuck off, Chaz,” he barked. “No one asked you.”
“You did when you decided to marry her,” Chaz shot back. “And what did I say?”
“Well obviously I don’t care what you think,” Marcus argued, then turned to me. “Go back to the bus and calm down. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes and we’ll talk.”
I wouldn’t be there, but I didn’t want to fight anymore, so I nodded.
I practically sprinted back to the bus, grabbed my purse and suitcase, and was out the door in less than five minutes. There were still a few cabs lingering outside the venue, so I hopped in the back of one and directed the driver to take me to the airport. We were in Miami, and I’d considered renting a car and making the four-hour drive back to Heritage Bay, but again, I was too stubborn to admit to my family that I’d failed, that my marriage was failing and I’d most likely be divorced before the age of twenty. And besides, Elizabeth was still in Heritage Bay. I could only imagine her laughing in my face, telling me I deserved it.
It was late by the time I arrived at MIA. The airport was surprisingly quiet. Unfortunately, there were no direct flights from Miami to California. However, there was a flight out of Miami to Tampa and a connecting flight from Tampa to California departing in forty-five minutes.
Good enough.
I had to hand it to Marcus, though. He was one determined sonofabitch. I felt him before he even sat down.
“How’d you find me?”
“I have my ways.” He shrugged.
I
scowled. “It’s against the law to give out a passenger’s information.”
“I took a chance when I booked my flight and asked the ticket agent to seat me next to my wife.”
“So the bus left without you?”
“Without us,” he corrected. “They’re picking us up in Tampa.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I’m sorry, Emerson. I don’t even know how things escalated so quickly, but I don’t want to lose you. When you said you were leaving, it felt like I’d just had the wind knocked out of me. We’re both still learning how to be in a marriage while getting to know each other at the same time. It’s unfair of me to expect you to just settle into my lifestyle and be okay with it. You’re young and a little sheltered. Obviously I have a lot to learn about being a good husband.”
Reaching over, I placed my hand on his arm. “And I have a lot to learn about being a good wife. I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread, and one day you’re gonna wake up and realize you made a mistake.” I brushed the tear from my cheek.
Straightening in his seat, he grabbed my hand and tugged until I stood from my seat. Then he pulled me until I was seated in his lap. “Emerson, how do you not see how in love with you I am? My sun rises and sets with you. That’s why you need to trust me. Trust that I love you enough to do the right thing. Always.”
“I do trust you, Marcus. It’s them I don’t trust.”
“Who’s them?”
“The women. Your bandmates. Chandler.”
“What did poor Chandler do?” he asked through a chuckle.
I shrugged and dropped my gaze to my lap. “He doesn’t approve of me. I can tell by the way he talks to me.”
“Chandler is used to dealing with groupies. He doesn’t know how to talk to you.” He snorted against my shoulder. “He’s afraid of you, now more than ever.” I bumped my shoulder against his chest and he laughed. “Chandler likes you because you make me happy. And a happy Marcus is a happy Chandler.”
“Your bandmates hate me.”
“Then give them a reason not to,” he shot back.
