Damaged But Not Broken (New Adult Rockers) (23 page)

“I wish I did. We didn’t exactly
leave on good terms when he left here. But maybe I’ll try giving him a call and
see if I can get him to talk to me.”

“That would be great,” she says
with relief. “I can tell he’s getting pissed off that I keep calling him.”

We hang up and I stay outside for a
few minutes debating on what I should do. My dad and I had been getting along
great, but I was hurt by how he acted when we had coffee.

This tour was all he could talk
about, and then all of sudden he wasn’t interested, and now he was acting weird
at work. My dad had a reputation, not all of it was good, and sooner or later
people were bound to start thinking he was drinking again, even if he wasn’t.

I decide to start with a text
before I call. I pull my phone back out and send him a quick text.

Hi Daddy. I’m sorry how we left
things in LA, and I didn’t mean to offend you. Is everything okay at home?

I start to type that Becky said he
missed a few meetings, but I quickly delete it, not wanting to make him
instantly defensive.

I hit send and head back into the
restaurant. I slide back into the booth next to Blake, and he takes my hand
before whispering to me.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“No, but I’ll fill you in later.”

He cocks his head to the side.
“Your dad?”

“Yep.”

I check my phone all afternoon, but
I don’t hear back from my dad. I don’t want to call him before the show because
I don’t want to psych myself out, or get in a bad place before I have to go on
stage.

The show goes well, and we sell out
of our CDs. I catch Liam outside, talking away furiously on the phone, trying
to get more CDs for the rest of the tour. He’s arguing about how he wants
copies of them tomorrow for our stop in Springfield.

Ben, Ryan and Jack stay behind at
the bar to hang out, but Blake and I are anxious to get back to the hotel. We
always say we should stay out and have a few drinks, but being alone together
is just too enticing.

Two hours later, we’re lying in
bed, my leg resting on top of Blake’s hip, while he circles my nipple with his
fingers. I’m spent and satiated, and I feel like my entire body is glowing.

“I never knew sex could be so
amazing,” I murmur in awe, closing my eyes as I relive the way Blake possessed
my body just moments ago.

“Neither did I.”

I swat at him. “Liar. I’m sure you
and Savannah we’re going at it all the time.” We try not to talk about her, but
her name just kind of slips out. I meant the comment to be funny.

He gives me a serious look and
props himself up to stare at me.

“Hey,” I protest, when his hands
leave my chest.

“I’m serious, Paige. I may have
slept with Savannah but it wasn’t like making love to you.”

I roll my eyes. “You’re just saying
that because you think that’s something girls want to hear.” I give him a
direct look. “What? We aren’t ‘fucking’ but we’re ‘making love’?”

“Well something like that!” he says
defensively. “I’m being gentle with you, baby, but if you want me to fuck you,
I can certainly do that.”

I feel a delicious thrill come over
my body.

“What do you mean?” I whisper,
unable to hide my desire for him.

“I don’t want to frighten you,” he
admits.

“I’m only asking for an
explanation, not a demonstration,” I point out.

“Alright. Well, what I mean is I
could be rougher. I could sneak up behind you in the hall, bend you over and
push your little skirt up-‘’

He trails off, his hand running
between my thighs and I let out a little moan.

“What else could you do?” I ask
softly, feeling things heat up between us.

Blake licks his lip, and slides his
finger through my wet folds. I moan again, closing my eyes.

“I could take you in the shower
when you’re not expecting it.”

He slips one finger inside me.

A lusty moan escape my lips.

“Push you up against the glass
door, and spread your legs.”

He pushes a second finger inside
me.

I moan again.

Louder.

“Then what?” I pant.

“I’d push your face up against the
wall, pull your hair back, and then push into you.
Hard
.”

Blake’s breath is coming quickly
now, and I can tell he’s aroused. His fingers push in and out of me quickly,
and his other hand is now rubbing my clit in fast circles.

I don’t know if this is considered
“dirty talk” but it’s turning me on.

“Then what?” I ask, my eyes closed
envisioning his assault on me.

“Mmm, I’d drive into you as the shower
rained down on us, filling you with long, hard strokes and make you beg for
more.”

“Ohh, yes.” I was writhing on the
bed now, needy and wanton for Blake’s fingers.

“I’d reach around and squeeze your
tits and nip at your neck.” He pauses, and I can hear his panting. “And if you
let me, I’d smack your ass.”

“Argh!” I cry out as he pushes his
fingers deep inside me, rubbing my clit with his thumb, and then I come hard,
shaking and trembling on the bed as Blake’s fingers continue to work me. The
orgasm is unexpected and intense and my skin is on fire as my mind fills with
dirty images.

I curl up to Blake, reveling in my
post-orgasm bliss, but when I look up at him, I sit up with alarm.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, grabbing his
arm.

“Was that too much?” he asks
worriedly, cupping my face. “I don’t want to scare you. I just got carried away
with that fantasy.”

His face is so torn with fear that
I can’t help but kiss him.

“Shh, it was fine,” I assure him.

I rest back against his chest and
think over his naughty tale. I wonder if I truly would have been as turned on
if it had really been happening, or if I would have freaked out.

Blake seems to sense my direction
of thought. “What if that had been real?” he asks softly, stroking my hair.
“Would you have liked it? Or would it have scared you?”

“It probably would have scared me,”
I say truthfully, “but I think I would have been able to calm down enough to
really enjoy it.”

He nods.

“
I
want
to enjoy it,”
I insist. “And I was scared when we slept together on the first night of the
tour. But I worked through it.”

“I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

“You can’t. You’ve already done so
much to help me.”

“But I’ve hurt you in the past.”
And I know he’s referring to his messy break up with Savannah. It seems like a
lifetime ago.

“Really, Blake. I don’t even think
about that. And I promise to tell you when I’m ready for something rougher like
you described.” I give him an impish grin. “Obviously I enjoyed it, or I
wouldn’t have, you know…” I trail off and Blake chuckles.

“Well, I’m glad I made you feel
good.”

“Always.” I assure him.

“You know I love you, right?”

We’ve talked about love before, but
we’ve never come outright and said the words. I’ve said as much, but only in
conversations that happened while Blake and Savannah were still together.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I love you,
too.”

“I know.” He kisses me on the
forehead, and pulls me under the sheets with him.

TWENTY-ONE

Paige

Off The Wagon

The next day dawns, just like it
always does, and I hate parting ways with Blake, but I do enjoy the time alone
in my room to get ready. I know that I need to call my father since he never
returned my text, but I’m stalling for as long as I can.

After I shower and blow dry my
hair, and refold my entire suitcase, I can’t put it off any longer. We have to
check out in less than an hour, and I need to make the call before we get in
the van.

We actually have off today, so
we’re taking our time heading up to St. Louis, and then we’re all going to
break off and do our own thing tonight. I’m actually looking forward to having
a nice dinner alone with Blake.

I dial the number and my Daddy
answers on the second ring.

“Hey Daddy!” I say brightly, trying
to sound cheery.

“Hey sweetie,” he says warily.
“How’s the tour coming along?”

“Great! We just played in Wichita
last night and it was a packed house. We’re on the road today and then we hit
up St. Louis and Chicago!”

I hear a lot of shuffling and noise
in the background.

“That’s nice,” he says gruffly.
There’s silence.

“Daddy , is everything alright? I’m
worried about you.”

“Everything’s fine,” he says, but
this time his words slur together a bit.

“What are you doing?” I ask
suspiciously, feeling my heart rate speed up. I know the way my Daddy sounds
when he’s been drinking.

“Nothing,” he says defensively,
“just picking up the house.”

“When do you ever pick up the
house? And shouldn’t you be at work?” I can’t help it now. My father is acting
completely out of character.

“Damn, Paige,” he sneers, “Are you
my momma?”

“This isn’t funny, Daddy,” I
whisper. “I talked to Becky and she said you’ve been unprofessional, and if
memory serves me right, it sounds like you’re drinking again!”

“Well, God damn!” my dad crows,
“ain’t my little girl a smartie!”

I feel my eyes fill with tears
because now I’m certain my dad is drunk. He hasn’t acted like this since I
returned to Nashville.

“I don’t get it, Daddy,” I say
softly, “You wanted me to come home for thirteen years. You lamented to Momma
for years and years about how you wanted a relationship with me. You say you
cleaned up your act, get me down to Nashville and we finally start fixing our
relationship. Then you start drinking again. It doesn’t make any sense.”

The tears are coming now, and I desperately
wish Blake was here to hold my hand.

“Paige, I can’t do this now,” my
dad says, and I can hear the hurt and anger in his voice.

“Don’t you dare hang up on me!” I
say suddenly, “I didn’t come all this way, uproot my whole life to have you go
back to drinking!”

But the line goes dead.

“Fucker!” I cry, grabbing my bags
and lugging them out of the room. I grab my phone and dial Blake. “I need you
to meet me in the lobby!” I say quickly and hang up before he can ask any
questions.

I drag my bags into the elevator
and out into the lobby. Blake is there a minute later.

“What’s going on?” he asks,
worried.

“My dad is drinking again. I’m not
going to let him ruin his life or our relationship. I’m catching a flight to
Nashville now. Can you make sure my bags get in the van? I’ll make sure I’m
back in St. Louis tomorrow night for the show.”

“Hang on, Paige. Slow down,” he
says, running his hand through his hair. “Let’s think about this. Let me at
least come with you. I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

I stop and look at his handsome
face. “I appreciate that, Blake, I really do. But I need to do this alone. Can
you just make sure my stuff gets on the van? And explain to Liam what’s going
on.”

Blake looks torn, and I can see
that he doesn’t want me to go alone. “Okay. But I wish you would let me go
too.”

I give him a quick kiss on the
lips. I hate leaving him, and I’m angry with my father because this means I
have to miss my night off with Blake tonight.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize, “I really
wanted to spend time alone with you tonight.”

“Don’t be silly, Paige. We have all
the time in the world. Go help your Daddy.”

I nod and then head outside to find
a taxi. It’s my lucky day because one happens to be dropping someone off out
front. I get in and ask for the airport.

Two hours later, I find myself
settling into my coach seat, feeling lucky that I was able to get a flight so
fast. I spend most of the nearly four-hour flight biting my nails and freaking
out over how I’m going to deal with my father. It brings back horrible memories
of being a kid, and of course the night of my attack when my dad was passed out
cold. By the time the plane lands, I’m emotionally careening between wild anger
and paralyzing fear.

I catch a cab to my dad’s house,
and it’s about dinnertime when I jam my key in the door and let myself in. The
kitchen and family room are an absolute mess and beer cans are littering almost
every surface and a bunch of empty pizza cartons are lying about.

“Daddy!” I holler, “Where are you?”
His truck is in the driveway so I know he’s home.

I hear no answer, but I hear the
sound of furniture being bumped into.

“Good lord,” I mutter, stomping
into his office.

There’s my daddy, looking worse
than I’ve ever seen him, drunk as a skunk, with red-rimmed eyes and dirty hair.

“Daddy, what the hell is going on?”
I cry.

“Get out of here,” he yells
angrily, waving his hand and accidentally knocking over a lamp.

“Daddy, let me help you. Come on.
Let me take you upstairs.” I realize there's no sense trying to talk to him or
reason with him right now, so the best thing I can do is get him to bed and
wait for him to sober up.

“No,” he argues, stumbling and
flopping down on his couch.

“Daddy,” I say softly, sitting down
next to him. The stench of beer is overpowering. “I’m going to be really tough
right now. Either you get on upstairs, take a shower and get into bed, or I’m
packing all my stuff this instant, and I promise you that you will never see me
again.”

My dad looks stricken, even in his
drunken state but he finally seems to make sense of my words.

“Fine. I’ll go up,” he says like a
stubborn child.

“Thank you.” I stand up. “I’m going
to make you some coffee and I’ll bring it upstairs in a few minutes.”

I head back to the kitchen and hear
my dad lumber up the steps. Ten minutes later, I’m in his bedroom with a
steaming cup of black coffee. My dad is wet but clean, and he’s dressed in dark
sweats and a t-shirt. I motion to the bed, and he climbs in obediently.