Authors: Marquita Valentine
Stare at pictures of Cole,
cry, and get mad.
At least I’m feeling
something again.
Chapter
Eighteen
Cole
Every day I get Kelly ready
for school, and then I go to work or to see my therapist. Either
way, I still end up at work. I’m still doing the same thing I
always did.
Well, minus the fighting
and the women.
I haven’t so much as looked
at another female since I left Rae. I can’t even imagine being with
someone who’s not her, but eventually, she’ll move on and when I
see that, then I can, too.
God, I miss her.
Chapter
Nineteen
Jaxon
Violet’s barely keeping it
together on stage. I’ve known her for too long not to recognize the
signs.
Her smile is fragile, her
eyes aren’t quite focused, and she missed the bridge on the second
verse. Most people wouldn’t notice, but I’m not most people. I know
this girl.
Intimately.
We have a history, filled
with its share of dark moments.
The spotlight shines, stage
left. My cue to join her and sing our song. I sling my guitar
around my shoulder, letting it hit me in the back as I slowly
swagger to her. The first time we did this, her eyes got all wide
and her cheeks flushed. Truth be told, despite being the more
experienced one in our relationship, my body reacted the same
way.
Singing with Violet, well,
it’s kind of hard to describe, actually. Our voices go together,
even if our hands stay apart. The melody of our song intertwines,
even if the closest our bodies get is standing on stage, inches
apart, like we’re lovers.
She joins me at the
microphone, setting her guitar down on the way and smiling. Gone is
her pink hair. Gone is the hot nose ring. Gone is the girl I used
to know. In her place is a woman that I found… no, I
find
incredibly
hot.
I give her the cockiest
grin imaginable, at exactly the right moment.
She frowns and rolls her
eyes while jerking her thumb at me, playing to the house like we’re
Johnny and June Cash reincarnated.
To be honest, there’s the
very real possibility I’m feeling this way because she’s been with
another guy—one who just so happens to be the other son of my
father—and that, coupled with the fact she can’t stand me now, is
incredibly challenging.
What guy
doesn’t
like a
challenge?
I’m man enough to admit
that the girls who come easy hold no sway over me. It’s the ones
that couldn’t give a shit if I’m there, if I notice them or look
their way, that make me want them.
Only Violet isn’t doing
that to be coy. She’s back to hating me, because we’ve been in
close quarters too long for her to pretend that she’s
indifferent.
But
he
’s gone now, and I’m still
here.
I wink at her and the band
starts up our song.
Violet puts her hands on
her hips and shakes her head, exactly like we’ve practiced a
million times before. I take my hat off and drop it on the top of
her head.
The crowd goes
wild.
This is exactly what they
want—a reunion between the two of us, despite the fact that I’m
still engaged to Callie.
For them, all has been
forgiven, but I’m sure as hell that no one’s forgotten. Still, no
one can deny that the two of us, up on stage and singing… it’s a
sight to behold.
Damn, but this girl can
sing. Hell, she’s a better musician than I am.
As she peers out from under
the brim of my hat, I gaze deep into her eyes and reach out to
caress her cheek.
She sways back, avoiding my
touch. I barely keep it together. Maybe I need to apologize again?
Maybe I need to send flowers… or write a song just for
her.
A smile kicks up my lips.
I’ve never done that, for any girl.
My dad, Everett Morgan,
wrote almost all Violet’s and my songs. God, I hate that
controlling bastard. That sick son of a bitch ruined everything,
and I let him. For years I’ve let him, but I had no other choice,
and I’m not sure when I do confess my soul to Violet, that she’ll
believe the truth.
Hell, there are times when
I don’t believe it, but it’s my life. Has always been my life. My
carefully scripted, fucked-up life, starring a mom who’s tried to
kill herself a half dozen times and a dad who drives her to the
brink by cheating on her with girls twenty years
younger.
But no one needs to know
all that. Or how I have to—not going there. Not tonight.
Violet’s brows draw
together beneath the brim of my hat, like she knows something is
bothering me.
That’s right, baby doll.
You know me that well
, I want to say.
Instead, I flash her a smile and her eyes close. We’re at the good
part now. The bringing it home part.
“
Holdin’ onto you. Holdin’
onto me. This is us. This is you and me
,”
I sing. “
There’s no other place I’d rather
be.
”
I mean Every. Damn.
Word.
She’s always been the one
good and pure person in my life, and I fucked it all up. Whatever
it takes, I’m getting her back.
Finishing up the last song,
we thank everyone for coming, thank our band and each other, then
head off stage while the crowd stands for us, screaming our
names.
“
Just like old times,” I
say with a smirk.
Instead of letting Violet
go off with the entourage that surrounds her at all times, I grab
her wrist.
“
We need to talk,” I say,
my words low.
She smiles sweetly and my
heart catches. “Drop dead.”
“
Violet Rae
Givens
, you will listen to what I have to
say,” I growl, and then want to kick myself. Ordering her around
will completely change her mind.
“
I don’t have to do
anything,
Jackson Cash
Morgan
.” Yeah, so she’s one of the few
people who actually call me by my real name instead of my stage
name, Jaxon Hunter.
“
Please,” I insist, before
glancing around the corridor. Leaning against the wall, Bliss
Davenport, the assistant wardrobe chick, peers at me through
square-shaped glasses, her mouth flat. Always that girl is spying
on me, with her big brown eyes. Or are they green? Damn if I know,
or care.
Liar
, a small voice in my head taunts.
I cut my gaze back to
Violet, her blue eyes blazing at me.
“
The last time we were on
your bus, you got me pregnant. This time, I’ll keep my distance.”
She yanks her wrist out of my grasp and strides off in the opposite
direction. No flouncing away, like the old Violet would have done.
“Stay the hell away from me, Jaxon,” she calls out over her
shoulder. Loudly. Unlike Bliss.
Despite the grim reminder
of our past, of what we both lost that one night, I smirk at her
retreating form. The cocky grin is forced. It’s painful and I wish
like hell I didn’t have to keep up this pretense of nothing ever
bothering me.
“
That wasn’t an invitation
to try again, you know,” Bliss says as she breezes past me—or tries
to. “Maybe you should try a different approach, like not at all,
since you’re engaged to someone else.”
I grab her elbow, and lean
in real close. Her pretty eyes, green like the forest in
summertime, blink at me behind her glasses. Lips the color of roses
part. Oh shit, the poetry won’t stop in my head. “Maybe you should
come to my bus.” My voice is huskier than I want it to be. “It gets
real lonely on the road, unless you’ve been sneaking guys into your
hotel room.” My fingers tighten a little, making her gasp, but it’s
not from pain.
Oh no.
She
wants
to come to my bus, and I’m
enough of an asshole to let her. To take what she would give to me.
She wouldn’t be there to talk about what color shirt I should wear
for my next interview. She’d be there for very naughty
reasons—clothes definitely not required.
Unless she wore
lingerie.
But I don’t want her. She’s
not Violet, and no matter how many times Bliss Davenport pushes
Violet out of my head with just one look, she’ll never be
her.
“
Then again, I’m not
really feeling your type tonight.” I run a critical eye over her.
She’s average height, with an above-average body—all curves. Hell,
even her dark hair is all curls, all the way down to the middle of
her back. She’s all soft, with a soft name and soft voice. All
touchable.
All
mine
.
I blink. Where in the hell
did that come from?
Bliss flicks her gaze to
where we’re touching, skin to skin. Hers is warm and smooth beneath
my palm. The calloused tips of my fingers itch to caress her baby
soft skin. “I’m not that kind of girl, Mr. Hunter. I don’t screw my
employer, or guys with significant others.”
Those dark eyes of hers pin
me to the wall. I want to drown in them, spend time watching them
widen as I touch her in all the right places. Watch her lashes
flutter the first time I kiss her, the first time I slide inside
of—
Son of a bitch.
I practically shove her
away, my mouth already telling lies I won’t be able to take back.
“Honey, I wouldn’t fuck you, even if you put on a blond wig to
cover up all that frizzy-ass hair, lost about twenty pounds, and
started calling yourself Violet Lynn. So, don’t flatter
yourself.”
She stumbles, hands coming
to brace against the cement walls, before she straightens. “I knew
you were an asshole, but that… that was downright
cruel,
even for
you.”
Better cruel than a quick
fuck and thanks for the ride, before I started pursuing the one who
got away again. “No, that was all me.”
Then I turn, heading in the
opposite direction of Bliss, not caring where I’m going.
When I hear her breath
catch in a sob, I almost turn around and apologize. Then a flash of
blond hair, and I’m forgetting all about Bliss.
Instead, I catch up to
Violet, grab her arm, and pull her to me.
“
Do you mind?” Disgust
shines in her eyes and I clench my jaw. Last year love and
tenderness shone in her blue eyes whenever I caught her staring at
me.
“
Answer one question for
me and I’ll let you go.”
“
Fine.” Her chin tips up,
lips thinning.
“
When you wanted to help
Cole, who was the first person to come to mind?” She has to
acknowledge that it’s not over for us. That when the rubber meets
the road, she’ll always come to me first.
“
The biggest publicity
whore I know, of course,” Violet says, batting her lashes at me.
“Now. Here’s what’s going to happen next: You’re going to stop
badgering me,
and
you’re going to stop being an ass to Bliss, which involves
staying away from her. A nice girl like that doesn’t need a bad boy
like you.”
I’m not sure how making
Bliss forbidden fruit will make me want to stay away from her. And
the bad boy description—yeah, not a compliment from her. “You were
a nice girl once,” I say with a little smirk, thinking of our first
time together. She’d been nervous and I’d been excited, then
shocked when I learned that it had been her first time, with
anyone. I thought she’d been one of my dad’s conquests.
I thought I’d take her from
him, and show that asshole who was the better man by seducing his
latest piece of ass. But I’d been wrong. So wrong.
Guilt made me send her
flowers the next day. Guilt for taking her virginity on a couch
made me book a suite for the two us. But all that guilt had
eventually turned to love. Real love, not just the shit I’d
automatically said back to her in the beginning.
“
Didn’t seem to have a
problem with me, then,” I add.
Her expression changes,
annoyance giving away to pity. “That’s because you were a nice
guy.
Once
.”
“
The hell with you,
Violet.” Leaning into her, I put my mouth right in line with hers.
Nothing. Our close proximity does nothing for her. Anger and
frustration burns my insides like acid. “Don’t forget who called
who in October. I was perfectly fine without you in my life,” I
practically snarl.
“
So was I,” she says
flatly.
This time, I’m the one to
let go and walk away first. Along the way, I grab a bottle of Cirq
from a roadie, and then some random chick standing just outside the
backdoor.
“
I’m—”
“
Don’t care, baby. You’re
perfect for what I have in mind,” I say and she giggles.
Twenty minutes later, the
bottle’s empty and I’m screwing whatever her name is into oblivion
against the wall of my bus.