Lovely Madness: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players, Book 4)

by Jaine Diamond

  I looked away. I tried to breathe, deep. Controlled breaths. Four in. Hold four. Four out.

  In. Out.

  I was falling for her. I knew I was.

  I wanted to take a risk with her in a way I hadn’t let myself since Gabe died. I hadn’t let any woman get close to me since then. Since the last one fucked off and I decided I hated the world for abandoning me.

  What a convenient excuse to check out of it.

  But. Taylor…

  She made me wonder what it would be like to let go, to dive right into the deep with her. She was so at ease moving in and out of my shadows. It was the least I could do to try. Really try.

  Show up for life again.

  Show up for her.

  I wanted to make this work between us.

  To try to fix myself.

  Because what we had… it was so good between us.

  As long as she wasn’t asking me questions I couldn’t answer.

  She brushed my hair out of my eyes with her thumb, and I met her eyes again. She was gazing at me. She made me feel vulnerable and naked, and the more vulnerable I felt, the more I either wanted to retreat—or take control. I was obsessed with pleasing her, any small way I could. With dominating her in bed. Making her feel good.

  It was another distraction.

  It also felt good having that control over her. Made me feel like I had some power over this beautiful thing that I had no power over.

  “I love you, Cary,” she said softly.

  I knew she did. Otherwise, why would she be here?

  I wanted to say it back. “I feel overwhelmed,” I said slowly. “I don’t know how I deserve you. But I love you, too.”

  She smiled.

  I felt like I’d been gutted. My underbelly sliced right open. Offering her my love… it was like I was asking her to trust me, and I knew I wasn’t trustworthy.

  I was struggling again. Drowning. Caught between Taylor’s love and this darkness in me that weighed me down.

  I felt it pulling at me, jagged and black. A broken anchor, sank so long ago.

  “So, are you gonna let me wish you a happy birthday, or what?” Taylor asked me, as soon as I walked back into the bedroom. I’d gone into the bathroom to clean up while she lingered in bed. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who doesn’t celebrate their birthday.”

  “I don’t,” I said, pulling on my underwear.

  She just lay there, the sheet wrapped around her waist and her breasts bare. She looked like some goddess from an old painting. Like the women on the walls at Bliss. An ageless fantasy, too pure to be real. To strong to ever be broken. “You know, I’m really, really proud of you.”

  “Why?” I looked away as I pulled on my jeans.

  “Because you’ve gone down to Little Black Hole twice now,” she said with wonder, as if I’d walked on water or found a way to feed all the world’s poor. “That’s amazing.”

  “Functioning like a regular human isn’t amazing,” I said. Then I leaned over to kiss her on the forehead. “Curing childhood illness is amazing.”

  “Of course. That’s true. But I am proud of you.” She caught my hand as I tried to slip away, and tugged. I sat down on the bed next to her. “You’ve worked hard to be able to do this. You should be proud. Feel good about your accomplishment, Cary.”

  “I do.”

  She kept hold of my hand, entwining her fingers gently with mine. “Would you ever consider staying with the band?”

  I avoided that look of hope in her eyes. Ever since I’d forced my ass down to Little Black Hole a few days ago, and then done it again… she’d had that look in her eyes. Like I was cured.

  Like I magically had my life back.

  When all I’d really done was stretch my very small bubble to include one more building. A building that I owned.

  Big fucking deal.

  It was twenty-three steps from my front door to the back entrance of LBH. Twenty-three fucking steps.

  I wasn’t a musician. I was a fucking magician at this point. Spinning illusions to convince everyone they were seeing something that wasn’t really there.

  I wasn’t cured. I was sick.

  I’d always be sick.

  And Taylor was dreaming big, expansive, glittery things for me. I could see it in the depths of her eyes. My former career wrecked on a coral reef, overgrown with sea life. Lost treasure smothered in sand.

  “What do you mean, stay with the band?” I said blankly.

  “You seem to be enjoying writing with the Players and playing guitar with them. It seems like they’re enjoying it, too. Ash told Danica he loves working with you. Would you consider joining the band, if they asked you to?”

  “No.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not looking to join a band,” I told her. “If I wanted that, I could’ve done that by now.”

  “I’m sure,” she said carefully. “But the Players are kind of special, aren’t they?”

  I didn’t answer that. I was sure it would be special as hell for her if I joined her best friend’s husband’s band and we all rode off into the rock star sunset together. But that was never happening.

  I pulled away, grabbing my shirt off the floor to put it on.

  She sat up, watching me. “I mean, Xander’s in the band. He’s your best friend. You could be bandmates again.”

  “I’m not interested in joining the Players, Taylor. When the album is done, they’ll be touring. I’m not interested in touring.”

  “Why? Because of your stage fright?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you toured before.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “But how do you know that you couldn’t do it again? You’re a great musician. And you’re enjoying working with the band, right?”

  “I’m not in a band anymore. And I’m not going to be. I can’t tour.”

  “Why?”

  “I can barely leave the house, Taylor,” I said, my frustration edging to the surface. Don’t take it out on her. “How am I gonna go on tour?”

  “You’ve been going down to the studio.”

  “Twice,” I bit out. “Two times, I’ve walked through the door of the recording studio that I own, in the last five years.”

  “And that’s amazing,” she said softly. “Given what you’ve been through. Plus, you went to Brick House Records. And to Bliss,” she added. I hated that that was all the evidence she had to prove her point. It was pathetic and it was my fault. That the only other time I’d left my house in the last few years was to fuck a stranger, and she knew it. “And you go jogging with me.”

  “So?”

  “So, you do leave your house. You’re leaving your house more and more.”

  “Jogging with you through the empty streets of this neighborhood, after dark, is about zero-percent the same as walking out onstage at a concert.”

  “I disagree.”

  “Well, you haven’t been onstage.”

  “You had ways of getting yourself onstage before,” she said, undaunted by my shitty attitude, “even though you had stage fright, right? Maybe you could do that again.”

  “Maybe.” I said it so she’d stop talking about it. But it only encouraged her.

  “What did you use before, to get yourself out onstage?”

  “Gabe. Drugs, prescription and otherwise. Alcohol. Mostly Gabe.”

  “Oh,” she said softly.

  “Gabe’s gone,” I said. “I know that. And I stopped using drugs and alcohol to try to cope long ago. That’s a very fucked-up road I have no interest in going down.”

  “What about Xander? Maybe he could be your support, help you get onstage.”

  “Xander isn’t the supportive type.”

  “But maybe—”

  “Anyway, he doesn’t understand me like Gabe did.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I know him.”

  “Well, maybe that’s how he was five years ago. But maybe h
e could be supportive if you asked him to. Maybe he’s matured. I know he cares about you. He’s practically family. He’s with your sister now—”

  “Xander isn’t Gabe, okay?”

  “Of course not. But I just thought—”

  I walked into the bathroom, closing myself inside. I splashed cold water on my face and dried off, as my heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my head. My skull squeezed, hot and aching. I gripped the side of the sink, hard, shoving the anxiety down until my muscles stopped shaking.

  I looked myself in the eye as I got control of my breath.

  I saw the dark circles under my eyes. I saw a young man who was way too old. A man who was tired of dragging around an invisible anchor.

  Then I walked back out there like nothing happened. Like I didn’t just walk out on her abruptly while we were talking, with no explanation.

  Taylor watched me sit back down on the bed next to her. I leaned my elbows on my knees and hung my head.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you, Cary,” she said after a moment. “I didn’t mean to.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “I was just thinking that Xander was part of Alive, too,” she said gently. “He’s been there for you through everything, right? He’s the best friend you’ve got.”

  “I know.”

  “I know he’s not Gabe, but… he’s alive, Cary.”

  I looked at her. The concern in her eyes. The love. I could see it all there, plain on her face.

  I was hurting her. I knew I was.

  It was starting, just like I knew it would.

  “I’m sure Xander would do anything to help you if you gave him the chance,” she said, so fucking hopeful that I was listening to her. Really listening.

  “I’ll think about it, okay?”

  “Which part?” she said quietly.

  I looked away. “I’m tired. Can we talk about something else?”

  “Sure.” She snuggled over close to me and draped her arm around my shoulders. “Have a good time at the studio today, okay? I’ll be here if you need anything.”

  “Thank you.”

  She nuzzled into my neck and kissed my jaw. “Maybe we can have dinner to celebrate your bir—I mean… the anniversary of the remarkable occasion of your birth? Just the two of us, tonight. A tiny, itty bitty little celebration?”

  I could hear the hope in her voice, and I knew she was just trying to cheer me up. Because she didn’t know.

  She had no idea what this day meant to me.

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her no, so I just said, “Maybe.”

  Maybe I was trying to make up for the way I’d just shut her down when she tried to talk to me about the band.

  Maybe I’d say anything if it meant I could just keep her here with me until the end of time.

  I looked into her deep-sea eyes. “You look beautiful,” I told her. It just came out before I knew I was going to say it.

  She rolled her eyes a little. “My bed hair is getting scary. And it’s like three different colors right now. I need to get my roots touched up. I need a salon day or something. My boss really works me to the bone,” she teased.

  I smiled a little. “Take it easy today. Hit the salon if you want. I’m gonna head down to the studio. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

  “Okay,” she said, and kissed me goodbye.

  About six hours later, I walked out of Little Black Hole and had Liam drive me to West Vancouver. I told Taylor I’d be home for dinner when I texted her. But I wasn’t ready to go home just yet.

  We drove toward the turn-off to the British Properties, where we usually took the turn to head to Bliss. But we didn’t turn. We kept going. North, up the mountainside. To the very end of the residential area, where the streets and yards gave way to tall trees. Liam parked us at the side of the road, at the foot of a hiking trail.

  I got out without a word and started walking through the woods, alone, sunglasses on and my hat pulled low. The trees absorbed me and I was gone, into the dense cool of the forest. The filtered sunlight floated down. The path beneath my feet was packed dirt, some stones and tree roots. And it was so familiar, even though I hadn’t been here in years, the forest unchanged.

  Gabe and I used to come here to ride our bikes when we were kids. Maybe twelve years old or so. His dad would drop us off, and we’d ride for hours, exploring the trails.

  After we started to get famous, we used to come here just to disappear.

  I followed the winding path with no end in mind, until I reached one of the little wooden bridges that arched over a trickling creek. I crossed it and sat down on a slab of rock, watching the water meander by below.

  I felt spun out, like a shredded tire that had gone around the track one too many times. I felt exhausted, and I’d barely done anything today except wake up in a cold sweat, have sex with Taylor, and spend a few hours at the studio basically chatting with the band.

  Then Xander just couldn’t keep his mouth shut. When he walked me out to Liam’s car and hugged me goodbye, he’d said quietly, right in my ear, “Happy birthday, brother.”

  The look in his eyes was full of concern and compassion, and that Happy birthday meant so many other things. It was a quiet nod to Gabe, an acknowledgment of what he knew I was going through today. It was his way of saying, I know what this day means, and I’m here for you.

  I wished I could be there for him.

  But really, when had I been there for any of my friends?

  Most days, I was drowning so deep in my own shit, it was hard to understand why they’d even stuck around. I didn’t deserve Xander’s patience, his concern, his loyalty.

  It just sent me running.

  It threw me off, a ripple in the surface of my desperate calm and control.

  What control?

  If I was in control, I’d be functioning like a normal person. But I’d never known how to be normal.

  You’d think after so many years I’d have figured it out.

  But I still felt like a baby when it came to this stuff. Blank and new, blinking at the world, hoping someone would pick me up and help me. The problem with that was I just couldn’t stand to let anyone waste themselves on helping me anymore. It made me nauseous to think of anyone I cared about trying to help me and getting hurt.

  I’d vowed long ago, sometime after I resurfaced from the breakdown after Gabe’s death, that I’d never let people take care of me like he did again.

  Because it killed him.

  If I loved someone, how could I do that to them?

  Courteney. Xander. Taylor. I couldn’t let them get that close. Because I feared what would happen. It was my greatest fear and it was fucking crippling. The one that always surfaced during the worst panic attacks.

  The fear that something bad would happen to someone I loved because of me.

  It had already happened, once.

  I wanted to go home and hide. That was my failsafe. The only fix I knew.

  It never really fixed anything.

  But it was all I had. My greatest coping mechanism.

  My prison.

  My home was my safe place. That was what I told myself. But it was more like a crypt, where I slept with my ghosts and shut out the rest of the living world.

  I wanted to bury myself in the dark and suffer for my sins.

  But Taylor was there, waiting for me. And that meant she’d have to see me like this.

  She was too smart. Too perceptive. And she cared about me too much. I knew I couldn’t hide what I was going through from her for long.

  I couldn’t stand to have all this shit come down on her, though.

  I wasn’t sure I could bear to even tell her why I hated my birthday. To tell her what I’d done to Gabe.

  I didn’t know if I could find the words without triggering a panic attack.

  I was still drowning in the guilt of it, five years later. Barely keeping my head above water.

  Take that and get some sleep.


  I’ll wake you up in time for dinner.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Taylor

  Way Down We Go

  “Surprise!”

  I hopped to my feet as Cary stepped out the back of his house. I knew he was coming, because he texted to let me know he was on his way home. Plus, I had his laptop with me, open to the security cam feed, so I saw Liam’s car pull through the gate.

  Same way I saw his mom and dad out there half an hour ago, ringing the buzzer.

  They were standing next to me on the poolside patio now, as Cary walked slowly up the path toward us.

  “Happy birthday,” I added softly, when he looked not only unhappy but… completely shellshocked. It was a look I’d never quite seen on his face before.

  Which was my first clue that something was deeply wrong here.

  He stopped at the edge of the patio and blinked at the three of us. Me, his mom, his dad. Then his gaze swept over the little patio tables that I’d arranged by the lounge chairs with food, and the bar cart I’d rolled over. His parents were sipping wine that I’d poured for them.

  There were gift bags on one of the tables, too, and Cary stared at them.

  “Happy birthday, son,” his dad said, his voice tight and uncomfortable. Not at all as friendly as it had been when he spoke to me, a person he’d just met.

  What the hell was going on?

  Cary looked at his dad like he’d spoken some foreign language that not only confused him but offended him. I didn’t know why, but I knew this wasn’t good.

  I had to admit, Cary’s parents had taken me by surprise. Not only by showing up unexpectedly on his birthday, but by how they seemed, in general. Mr. Clarke looked vaguely like Cary and Courteney; once blond, probably, his hair was now whitish, and he was about six feet tall like Cary. But unlike his children, he was very stiff and proper. Mrs. Clarke was even more of a question mark. With dark, curly hair that was obviously colored and too much makeup, she was strangely awkward when she moved, when she spoke. She gave off a very nervous vibe that was… unnerving.

  She also seemed heavily medicated.