Damaged But Not Broken (New Adult Rockers) (10 page)

“I came to apologize. Apologize for
Savannah’s behavior and to try to explain what I see in her.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations,
and honestly, I really don’t care what you see in her.” I don’t want to sit
through any explanations of Blake’s love for his fiancé.

“But I don’t want to end things
like this, Paige.”

“End what?” I yell. “We never
started anything!”

“Dammit! I’m doing this all wrong!”
Blake pounds his fist against the wall. “I still want to try to be your friend,
Paige. I know it’s going to be hard because I still have this attraction to
you.”

I feel tears well up in my eyes but
I vow that I am not going to cry. Blake isn’t trying to make this painful, but
it’s becoming harder by the second.

“Blake, do you realize how hard you
are making this for me?” I pause and wait for him to answer. I see confusion and
embarrassment cross his face.

“God, Paige, I’m so sorry,” he
stumbles, “I had no idea – I wasn’t thinking. I’m being a selfish prick.”

I shake my head, wiping at my
tears. “This is just all too much for me and too fast. Bottom line is you are
engaged to be married. And even if you weren’t, I’m too screwed up for all of
this anyway. I shouldn’t have told you that I still had feelings for you. Of
course, I always felt something for you over the years, constantly wondered
'what if?', but I didn’t realize how real those feelings were or how deep they
ran until I was actually around you again.”

Blake sinks down onto my bed, and I
feel an illicit thrill of seeing him there, and that makes things even worse.

“I wish we could be friends,” I
continue, “But I can tell your fiancé doesn’t like it, and given our history
and current feelings, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“But we’re both singing for your
dad,” Blake interjects, as if that matters.

I nod. “I know. So let’s be
courteous to one another. There is no reason for us to be enemies.”

Blake nods again and I gingerly sit
next to him on the bed. He’s so close that I can smell him, and my bare thigh
nearly brushes against his jeans. My pulse is racing, and my heart is hammering
wildly against my rib cage.

Blake turns to look at me, and for
an instant I think he’s going to kiss me. Our faces are inches apart, and I can
feel his warm breath on my face. I remember being in my bedroom with him,
peeling off my clothes and climbing self-consciously under the covers.

“Paige,” he whispers hoarsely, and
I find myself leaning in towards him, drawn to him. “I can’t,” he gasps,
leaping off the bed.

“Oh my god.” I say, my head
spinning. “Blake I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just started
leaning in towards you-’’ I trail off, mortified.

“It’s my fault. I showed up here,”
he says, facing away from me. “I need to get home.”

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea.”

Blake turns to look at me, the
now-familiar anguished look on his face. “But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t
want to stay here with you now.”

I shake my head, sadly. I’m not
sure what we’ve gotten ourselves into, but it feels wrong and dirty even though
nothing has happened.

I pull the door open, feeling the
cool breeze hit my heated skin.

As Blake walks towards the door, I
impulsively throw my arms around him.

He makes a surprised sound in the
back of his throat, and crushes me against him.

“I’m sorry, Paige. I’m sorry about
everything. I’m sorry about that summer, I’m sorry I lost you, and I’m sorry
that it’s too late for us now.”

I nod against his shoulder, unable
to speak. We pull apart and Blake walks quietly from the house.

EIGHT

Paige

Hung Over

I feel almost hung over the next
morning even though I had practically nothing to drink the night before. I have
an emotional hangover. Too much Blake and too much pain.

I lay lifelessly in bed for over an
hour, staring at the ceiling and reliving the previous night again and again,
dissecting every word at the bar and then analyzing every word in my bedroom.

I finally get out of bed and force
myself to eat some breakfast. The right thing to do would be to go have
breakfast with my dad in the main kitchen so we can talk about my last night’s
success, but I’m sulking and I don’t feel like talking to anyone, least of all
my dad.

I’m in a dark mood, and my dad is
always easiest to blame. If he hadn’t brought his drunk, redneck friends home
that night, I wouldn’t even be in this situation. Maybe Blake and I would be
married with three kids by now.

My crappy mood continues all day
and my dad seems to sense it and leaves me alone. I swim laps and float in the
pool until I am shriveled and wrinkled like a prune. It was right that Blake
and I decided we wouldn’t talk anymore, but the more and more I thought about
it, the less and less I liked the idea. Shouldn’t his fiancé be able to handle
Blake having a female friend? And I would just have to deal with the fact that
Blake was engaged.

I decide that I would rather
hopelessly pine for Blake while still having him in my life, than to lose him
again. I would just have to deal with my own feelings, as long as Blake could
handle his. And obviously he loved Savannah very much. Not that I would ever
ask, but he never so much as hinted at the possibility of ending things with
her.

I was a fool to even consider that.

By the time dinner rolls by I'm
feeling better and decide to join my dad in the kitchen for pizza.

“Looks like you had a relaxing
day,” he notes as he picks up a second slice of pizza.

I shrug. “Just trying to handle
everything.”

“You have to tell me Paige if it’s
too much. I’m not going to know.”

“I know, Daddy. I will.”

My dad chews thoughtfully. “Has it
been hard for you to see Blake again?”

Damn. Right on the money.

I decide honesty is best.

“Yes,” I admit, “It’s great seeing
him again, but it’s hard too. It brings up a lot of memories.”

My dad nods. “And he’s engaged
now,” he points out.

“That too. Not that he was supposed
to sit around and wait for me.”

“That girl of his is the devil
incarnate.”

“I gathered as much.”

We don’t say any more of Blake and
Savannah, and true to his word, my dad doesn’t bring up business again that
night or all day Sunday.

~~~

Monday morning rolls around, and
I’ve agreed to come to my dad’s office in the afternoon. I haven’t met anyone
at his label yet, and I know he wants to go over setting up some more singing
gigs for me.

I dress in a simple floral sundress
and throw a bright short-sleeve cardigan over the sleeveless straps. My dad
goes to work in jeans, but I’m not sure how the rest of the office dresses.

His office is bigger than I
imagined, and much more sophisticated than the one he had when I was a
teenager. It sits on the tenth floor of a high rise, and everything is sleek
and polished. Everyone is friendly and greets me warmly, obviously I’m already well
known around my dad's the office. I’m touched.

As I approach his office, a petite
and perky redhead intercepts me.

“Hi! I’m Becky,” she says brightly,
putting her hand out.

I shake it. “Hi, Becky. I’m Paige.
I’ve heard a lot of great things about you.”

“Likewise. Your Daddy is just
finishing up a call, but he should be done any minute. Can I get you
something?”

I instantly like Becky, and we seem
to be about the same age.

“Water would be great, thanks.”

She returns with a water bottle and
sits on a plush couch next to me.

“Your Daddy was
so
excited
to have you back in Nashville,” she says, “It was all he could talk about.”

I smile at her kind words. “Yes, he
definitely was excited.”

Becky makes no mention of my
attack, and doesn’t allude to anything, which is refreshing. If she knows about
it, she covers it well. I hate being handled with kid gloves, and I can tell
which people try to be overly cautious around me.

“I heard you were great the other
night,” Becky gushes. “I’m so bummed that I couldn’t be there but my boyfriend
had a show too.”

“Oh, is he a singer?”

“No, an artist actually.” She ducks
her head, embarrassed. “I know, not too many people come to Nashville to make
art, huh?”

“It sounds great actually.” And it
does. I have zero artistic talent, but I've always enjoyed admiring it in
others.

Becky perks up at my compliment.
“Well, I have a few pieces in my office if you'd like to see them on your way
out.”

“Sure, I’d love that.”

Just then my daddy’s office door
opens and he grins widely when he sees me. “Paige!” He hollers.

Becky jumps up and smiles before
hustling off to her office.

“Come check it out,” my dad says,
motioning for me to enter. “I’m glad you met Becky, she’s a hard worker.”

“Yeah, she seems really nice, too.”

My dad’s office has more of a
country vibe than the sleekness that makes up most of the main office. There
are framed records and a few vintage guitars hanging on the wall.

My dad sits at a round, wooden
table in the corner of the office and I follow him. There's a small calendar
laid out and a few papers.

“Becky was making some calls for me
this morning, and a lot of bars have already heard about your performance at
the Clipper.”

I smile, unable to conceal my
pride.

“The Clipper would like to make you
a regular,” my dad continues, “and I have four other clubs lined up that would
like to alternate you every other week or so. For now, it would work out to
about two to three shows per week.” He sets the papers down and peers at me.
“How does that sound? Not enough? Too little?”

I’m speechless. There are four
clubs, plus the Clipper that want to make me a regular act? Four of those clubs
haven’t even heard me sing.

“Daddy, I’m – I’m shocked.”

“News about a good thing travels
fast,” he beams. “So what do you think?”

“I think it sounds great. I’m
ready. I think I need to start writing some new songs, too.” I’m nervous and
giddy at the same time.

My dad chuckles, and gathers his
papers together. “I can have Becky make you a schedule for the next four weeks
and I think the next gig would be Thursday night.”

“Alright. Okay. Wow.” I was having
a hard time stringing coherent words together.

This was happening much faster than
I had anticipated, and even with the drama with Blake, I was thrilled.
Actually, this news had lifted my spirits. I vowed to throw myself into my
music and try to forget about Blake as best I could.

I would never really be able to
forget him completely, but hopefully I could become busy enough that I wouldn’t
think about him or Savannah every day.

My dad and I talked about some of
his staff, and then he told me that he wouldn’t be home for dinner because he
was going to watch a couple of acts. I left his office and remembered to swing
by Becky’s office.

“Hi,” I say shyly, popping my head
in.

“Hey!” Becky says, happy to see me
again.

“So, I thought I would check out
your boyfriend’s art before I left.”

“Yes! That is so sweet of you.” She
points to three beautiful square paintings lining her back wall.

“No way,” I breathe. They look like
pieces of art from a fancy gallery. The colors and brushwork are amazing, and
each painting depicts a different beautiful beach scene.

“I love the beach.” She explains.
“I wanted to bring the beach to work so he painted these for me.”

“Wow, Becky. They are great.
Truly.” And before I know what I’m doing, I open my mouth. “I’d love to go to
one of his art shows if I’m free.”

Becky grins. “Really? That would be
so much fun!”

Oh geez. I’m really losing it. When
have I ever tried to make plans with someone? But something about Becky is so
open and friendly, that I think I would enjoy her company. And it might be nice
to actually make some friends in Nashville.

We part ways, and I head out to the
car that my dad is lending me during my stay. I say
lend
because I
refuse to accept something as lavish as a car from my father, even though he
insists the car is mine. Once I start making some real money, I'll be happy to
start making payments to my dad.

I climb into the silver Range Rover
and make my way home. I feel a pang of sadness as I pass the street where Blake
grew up. I know his parents still live there and I’m almost tempted to drive
past the familiar white house with black shutters. I ignore my psycho urges to
stalk Blake’s parents and instead drive straight home.

I notice a shiny red car parked in
my father’s driveway, and I feel a surge of fear. I’m certainly not expecting
any visitors and it doesn’t seem likely that my father forgot to tell me
someone was stopping by. I’m tempted to put the car straight into reverse and
back out the driveway, when I see the driver’s side door swing open.

I pause, my hand hovered just above
the gearshift in case I need to make a swift getaway.

Two bronze and toned legs extend
from the car, wearing ridiculously high yellow heels. I gnash my teeth together
and wait.

Sure enough, Savannah emerges, her
long honey-streaked hair sleek and shiny down her back, dressed in an
impeccable black dress that seems a little too slutty for such a high-brow
young woman.

I have half a mind to put the car
into reverse anyway. I’m in no mood for whatever this visit may bring.

Annoyed as hell, I throw the car
back into drive and park abruptly at the top of the driveway.

I get out of the car and slam the
door shut behind me.