Her eyes drifted out to the dark sea crashing on the shore as the silver light of the moon danced over its surface.
But it wasn’t the most beautiful thing out here.
That title belonged to a man she didn’t know before. She wondered if anyone did. No one would claim the drummer with the pink hair had anything in common with the reserved, awkward Dax, but she saw herself in him.
Maybe that was why he’d offered to let her stay.
A deck board creaked as she stepped outside.
The music ceased instantly, and Dax jerked his head up.
“Don’t stop.” She stepped close. “Please.”
Dax set his guitar aside on the lounger. “I was just messing around.”
“Dax.” She raised one brow. “You don’t even have to try, do you?”
“I try.”
Jo lowered herself to a lounger beside him. “I didn’t mean that as a bad thing.”
He let his gaze turn to the sea beyond the deck. “You need to get some sleep.”
He was so predictable. “I…” She sighed. “I see him whenever I close my eyes.”
“Him?”
“Blake.”
“Oh. Do you… miss him?”
“Gosh no.” She shook her head. “To tell you the truth, I’d rather do this alone than with him.”
“You’re not alone.”
She bit back a smile at the words. “That night…”
“You don’t need to tell me about it, Jo.”
A sigh rattled through her chest. “I was supposed to see my mother that night.” She leaned back in the chair, lifting her gaze to the stars to avoid Dax’s stare that burned into her.
He didn’t ask her to keep talking. Instead, he stretched his hand out between the chairs.
It was what friends did, she told herself as she threaded her fingers with his. The heat of their connection rushed through her.
“My mom… Well, we can say I didn’t have the childhood you did. My mom left when I was really young. I can only remember bits and pieces of time with her, but it destroyed my dad, and he never really recovered. He spent every moment he wasn’t drunk searching for her, finding dead end after dead end. By the time I was thirteen, he’d leave me for weeks at a time. The bills went unpaid, so I got a job at a local grocery store. It wasn’t enough. I was seventeen the day my dad stole the money I’d saved for rent to follow his newest lead on my mother. When he returned, I was gone, moved out, and there was an eviction notice on the door.”
Dax squeezed her hand, and it served as a reminder that wasn’t her life anymore.
“If I hadn’t met Noah, I don’t know where I’d be. I’d taught myself the drums, and he was the first person who ever saw something valuable in me.”
“Sounds like Noah.” Dax sent her a sad smile.
Jo nodded and blinked away a tear. “Right now, you’re thinking this is sad but doesn’t relate to Blake, right?”
He didn’t respond.
“Noah and I filled in for a band who’d cancelled opening for Blake. Noah would never admit to being Blake’s opener, but really, we’d just wanted to play.” She sucked in a breath. “My dad showed up at the venue. It was the first time I’d seen him in years, but I knew he was coming. He’d called me the week before and told me he’d found Mom, that she wanted to meet me, but that they needed money to travel there.”
Jo focused on the feel of Dax’s hand, the way he lent her his strength. This was a long time ago, she reminded herself. Except her dad had been calling, and she’d sent him money to go away. Again.
“My mom wasn’t with my dad. He’d lied to me. The moment he showed up backstage, I knew he was drunk. He’d come needing money… again.” It was a never-ending cycle.
“I’m sorry, Jo.”
She pasted on a fake smile. “Me too.”
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“After security escorted my dad out of the building, Blake appeared. He’d heard everything. When he put an arm around me, it felt good. There was no comfort in the act, but I hadn’t wanted to be comforted. I’d wanted to be angry. To rage. And Blake let me. I could have gone to Noah, and he’d have let me rant, but eventually, he’d have calmed me down. I didn’t want to be calm.”
She rubbed her free hand over her belly. “I hated that I was pregnant at first. Okay, I hated it almost the entire time. But the moment your mom told me I had pre-whatchamacallit—”
“Preeclampsia.”
“Yes, that. When doc told me I had it, that’s when I knew I wanted this baby. I no longer care he has a deadbeat dad just like mine; there is one thing he will have that I never did. Me. This baby boy has someone who will love him and take care of him. I’m scared, Dax. So bloody scared, as Noah would say.”
Dax didn’t let go of her as their hands balanced between the chairs. “This baby is lucky to have you, Jo.”
She offered him a weak smile. “Well, the bar in my family is pretty low for what constitutes a good mom.”
“You won’t only be a good mom, you’ll be a great one. There’ll be mistakes, but mistakes are okay. But you… you’re stubborn. There’s no way you’ll be bad at this.”
She laughed. “Just because I’m stubborn?”
“No, but that’s the main feature you let people see. You’re beautiful, and I’m not talking about your looks—though you’re beautiful there as well. You care about people more than you let on.” He turned in his chair. “I see you, Jo.”
Gone was the man who’d stuttered around her, the rock star who avoided her, judged her. Though, she’d started wondering if that had all been in her head. “We’re friends, Dax. I don’t think you’re supposed to say those things to me.”
One corner of his mouth curled up, and he picked up his guitar, setting it in his lap before he started playing.
The wordless song drifted out over the sea. Jo had only ever had one person who knew her history, one person who hadn’t walked away from her. Noah.
But maybe it was okay to let someone else in.
She rubbed her hands together, missing the heat of Dax’s palm.
His glasses shone in the dark, bouncing starlight back into the universe while the rest of him was shrouded in darkness.
Jo stayed for a few songs before weariness overcame her. Dax put his guitar on the chair when he stood to help her up. He latched onto her arm and pulled.
“I’m good from here.”
He shook his head. “I’ll get you to your room. We have to be careful.”
Jo hid a smile behind a cough. It seemed Dax had been talking to his mom again.
They stopped outside her room, and Jo turned to Dax. She wrapped her arms around him, not giving him time to second guess the hug. He stiffened for a moment before hugging her back.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”
The hug ended long before she was ready, but long after was appropriate for friends. She gave him one last smile and entered her too-quiet room. This time, when she closed her eyes, it wasn’t Blake she saw or her father.
Dax filled her mind with their friendship, with their version of more.
But eventually, this bubble would end. She’d have to take care of herself and the baby on her own. And Dax would move on, figuring out he didn’t need the complications.
That was all she brought to his life. Deadbeat parents. A fatherless child. And risk. That was the big one. Dax couldn’t risk his identity getting out.
Jo refused to be the reason his life fell apart.
18
Dax
A month was a long time to live with someone.
It was even longer when that someone was pregnant.
Especially when tasked with the duty of keeping them in bed.
“Mom, I don’t know how to stop her anymore.” Dax ran a hair through his hair.
His mom’s sigh came through the phone. “How old are you, son?”
“Mom, you barely know Jo. I’m sure
she tells you all the right things about staying in bed and whatnot, but trust me, she’s devious.” He lowered his voice and looked at the porch where Jo sat watching the dark clouds roll in. “She made me buy her ice cream.”
“Made you?” She laughed.
“Okay, fine, I got it on my own.”
“Did she also make you punch Blake Coleman?”
“Sort of.”
“Dax…”
His mom had always been able to read the truth in his words. “Fine. I just find the guy pretty awful.”
“What have I always taught you?”
“We are not defined by our worst actions.”
He could practically see her nodding with a giant smile. “Fame gets to some people, making them act in ways that would make their momma’s cringe.”
He suspected his mom had always been secretly pleased with his decision to remain anonymous, but she’d never pushed him in one direction or another. Music decisions had rested solely with him, even as a kid.
His mom and stepdad trusted him, they were there for him.
And Jo hadn’t had that. It was hard to fathom her growing up the way she did. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“What makes someone abandon their kid?”
She was quiet for a long moment, the only sound coming through the phone a deep sigh. “I don’t know, Dax. I just don’t. I have always loved you with my whole heart. I cannot imagine any mother or father not loving their children so much it hurt.”
“It hurts to love me?” He shook his head with a laugh and grabbed his keys on the hook by his front door. He was late getting to the studio, but the always punctual Dax couldn’t bring himself to care.
“Yes, Dax. It does. Children make mistakes, sometimes big ones, and we have to let them. That hurts, but I suspect you have a reason for asking.
Dax locked the front door and eyed the waiting Uber. He nodded in hello to the man in the front seat and climbed in.
“I don’t make mistakes.”
A laugh burst out of her. “Does this have something to do with Jo?”
He couldn’t tell her the story Jo told him. He couldn’t tell anyone. After she’d gone inside, it struck him. Jo Jackson trusted him.
And despite the sadness of her story, he couldn’t get that thought from his mind.
“Dax?”
“Yeah, Mom?”
“Take care of her.”
He drew in a breath. “I am.”
“I don’t only mean physically. She’s special, isn’t she?”
He leaned his head back against the headrest. He’d always known Jo was special, but now… “She’s been through a lot.” More than he ever had. “And she’s still standing.”
“Sounds like a song’s coming on.”
“You always think everything is a song.”
“Because, oh son of mine, with you, it is. Music has always been how you relate to the world.”
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever understood.”
“Maybe you should try to have the music help you understand something new.”
He smiled before realizing she couldn’t see it. “I have to go, Mom.”
“Okay. Love you, son.”
“Love you.” He hung up as the Uber driver navigated the L.A. streets before stopping in front of the studio.
He pulled his hat low on his head as he entered the studio and walked back to the door he’d been entering too often. Marco wasn’t the only man waiting for him.
Mr. Snyder stood as soon as Dax shut the door.
“You’re late.” Marco gave him a quizzical look. “You’re never late.”
Dax shrugged and stuck a hand out to Mr. Snyder. “Can I ask what you’re doing here, sir?”
Mr. Snyder was the head of the entire label, and Dax tried to avoid contact with him. That was easier when Melanie was his publicist. Now that Devlin had become his publicist instead, Dax refused to meet with him again.
After shaking Dax’s hand, Mr. Snyder crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t have to come if you hadn’t already eaten up all the studio time we booked for you. You have half an album done. Do you know what that is?”
Dax shook his head.
“Not an album. That’s what.”
He knew why. Marco spent so much time fighting Dax on little changes and stating things like good is good enough. Dax shrugged. “Would have been easier if I could record from home.”
“Dax.” Mr. Snyder sent him a scowl. “Sit down.”
Dax perched on the arm of the couch.
The old man’s face softened, and it reminded Dax of his daughter. Melanie could be hard, demanding, but she always had a soft side for the Rockstars Anonymous group.
“Sir.” Dax sighed. “Have I ever not finished an album?”
“No. And that’s why I’m worried about you.”
Dax had been… distracted. There were about a thousand reasons the album wasn’t finished, but there was only one Mr. Snyder would care about. “I want it to be perfect.”
Mr. Snyder shook his head. “Perfect is the opposite of finished.”
“I don’t think that’s the saying.”
“It is now. Dax, these changes you’ve been demanding, do they change the listening experience?”
Dax tried to think back to some of the arguments he’d had with Marco. “I mean… I can hear the differences.”
“And the average person who hasn’t been playing every instrument they could get their hands on since they were a child?”
Dax sighed and slid from the arm onto the couch. “I get what you’re saying.”
“Finish the album, kid.”
Dax looked from Mr. Snyder to Marco and back again. “Yes, sir.”
“And Marco?” He turned to look at the producer. “Don’t argue so much with Dax. He’s the most talented artist we have, and I have no doubt he has a better ear than even you.”
Marco flashed him a grin. “Oh, we all know he does. But sometimes, that ego needs taken down a notch.”
“I don’t have a big ego.” At least he didn’t think he did. He was always the quiet one in a group, the man in the background.
“Not in the real world, Dax. But when you step into the booth, you shift. It’s a very different person looking back at me.” He shrugged. “That’s not a bad thing. You know your stuff.”
“Well, now that I’ve thoroughly chastised my number one artist, I need to call my daughter and Noah. Yelling at Noah is always more satisfying than yelling at you, and it’s about time they came home.”
As soon as he left, Dax looked to Marco. “He thinks that was yelling? I have a pregnant woman living with me who yells every time I make her eat healthy.”
“Are you sure you’re not an old man in a young man’s body?”
Dax swatted Marco. “You ready to start? I have an idea I want to try.”
“What are we starting with? Guitar or piano?”
“Lyrics.”
“We never start with lyrics. Dax, you need a track to sing to. Which song are we working on?”
“Something new.” Dax unzipped his lightweight jacket and threw it on the couch. He entered the booth and shut the door. “You’ve got the mics on?”
Marco nodded, holding up one finger as he fiddled with the controls in front of him. When he pointed to Dax, the words came flowing out of him, creating the song he already has a title for.
Let Me.
It was about a girl who thought she had to be tougher than everyone else. She thought needing help was a weakness.
But he knew differently.
He sang through two verses and a chorus before he stopped. “I know it’ll need some work… like two more verses and a bridge into the chorus.”
When Marco didn’t respond, Dax looked up. The man stared at him with his jaw hanging open. He leaned forward and hit the intercom button, pausing before speaking. “Dax Nelson, if you tell me you just wrote an entire song while recording it—”
“It wasn’t an
entire song. I told you it needs—”
“Yes, yes, a couple more verses and a bridge. But Dax… you’re supposed to have the songs written before coming into the studio. That’s how the world works.”
Dax frowned. “You didn’t like the song?”
Marco threw a pen at the plexiglass separating them. “That’s not the point.”
“I fail to see a point at all.”
Marco sighed. “Dax… you aren’t supposed to be able to do that.”
“Do what?” Dax gave him a lazy half grin.
“Don’t you smirk at me, you frustrating… I don’t even know what to call you. Are you a musician? Or a singer?”
Dax shrugged. “All the above? I still don’t see why you’re mad at me.”
“Because no one does that. You’re upending my entire world here. There’s a routine. Write the song. Craft the instrumental bits. Record the lyrics.”
“Music isn’t a routine, Marco. Sometimes it just is.”
“Get out of the booth, Dax. Right now.”
Dax’s brow furrowed as he stepped through the doorway and looked down at Marco.
“Sit down.” Marco scowled. “We are going to work on the rest of that song. Do you know why you’re frustrating, Dax?”
“I assume there are many reasons.”
Marco snorted. “Because you have so much talent and aren’t an egotistical jerk.”
“And that’s frustrating?”
“Very. Because I want to strangle you for that brilliant song you just sang. And at the same time, I want to hear it again. So, just sit down, and we can figure out the rest of this song. But I will never forgive you for this.”
“It seems like such a small thing to cause such hatred.”
Marco shook his head with a sigh. “No one in their right mind could hate you, Dax. We just envy your genius.”
Dax had never been comfortable when compliments came his way. “I just want to make music.”
There was a certain contentment that came with finishing a song. It was a personal record how long it took to go from Dax’s brain to a legit track for his album, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of himself.
Love is a Drum Beat (Rockstars Anonymous) Page 12
