Uncharted (Unexpected Book 3) (14 page)

You changed the tune
The attitude and the real you
It took only a glance to realize that you hid the true you
You killed the girl I fell for
Leaving a washed-down version of my first love

[Chorus]

No gold or silk will mask what you did
You pushed the knife deeper inside
It killed
I couldn’t survive
Bitch you left me bleeding without a second chance or a goodbye

The sky turned black
No more bright and warm stars
My heart submerges inside the darkness
The asphyxiating darkness where I’ll die

[Chorus]

No gold or silk will mask what you did
You pushed the knife deeper inside.
It killed
I couldn’t survive
Bitch you left me bleeding without a second chance or a goodbye

Nothing will ever be the same
I hope the new you finds what I did
Cold misery and hate for you

[Chorus]

No gold or silk will mask what you did
You pushed the knife deeper inside.
It killed
I couldn’t survive
Bitch you left me bleeding without a second chance or a goodbye

“You have to move on.” Matthew follows behind me after we perform our last song. Touring with other bands is practical. This week is our turn to be the middle band. After performing, we’re heading with my sister to an after-party. Porter brought her because it’s been a long time since we’ve seen her. “We’re famous, but your shit is depressing. You fuck two girls a night. That much pussy should make you forget her.”

“Shut up.” I take off the rubber band from my hair and ruffle it. “We have your
just for fun
shit to balance mine, don’t we?”

I have plenty of cheesy material from the past to play too. Pria Walker handed me enough material to last me four lifetimes, and then some angry tunes after I found her holding hands with another guy a year after we had met. Damn, it hurts to think about her and the consequences of our fateful meeting. If that bitch hadn’t crossed my path, I wouldn’t have lost so much.

“I’m heading to the showers and then to the party.” I don’t wait for MJ.

The obsession and pain I live every day isn’t going anywhere. It has been almost two years since the last time I kissed her. The last time we made love. Yet, her essence and the pain remain, circulating through my body along with my blood. There’s no amount of anything that could pump it out of my system. Ramming nameless chicks from behind isn’t doing anything to erase her from my life.

Choosing to leave the past for a few minutes, I head to the showers and dress right after I finish. No amount of hot water and soap erases the sense of loss and loneliness I’ve experienced. Matthew’s nowhere around the dressing area when I emerge. I pack my shit and head outside where I bump into a wall of reporters screaming questions and trying to grab Porter Kendrick’s attention. Out of the bands that performed tonight, he’s the one stealing the spotlight. I worry about my sister, who should be guarded by him. AJ’s in the corner with MJ, both with a
get me the hell out of here
face. I rub my face and march over to where they stand.

“Baby, you made it.” I hug my sister. “How was the flight?”

She shrugs, crossing her arms and glaring at Porter, who never acknowledges her when they’re in public. AJ’s a family friend when anyone asks. I like that because it keeps the media away from her, but I hate it because she hurts. Why does she stay with him? If he can’t acknowledge her in public as his after all these years, then why does she put up with it?

“I thought we were flying, but nope, he decided to drive.” Great, she’s bitching. Porter couldn’t do anything right, according to my sister. “During mid-terms. Sixteen hours driving and I couldn’t study. But if I say anything—”

I hate that she goes quiet. AJ presses her lips. There’s more that she’s keeping inside, but since my patience is running thin, I don’t ask. A few shots of tequila and I might give a fucking shit.

“Want to head out?”

“He’ll get upset. You two go. I can handle myself.”

I look at Matthew who gives me a
don’t worry, I got her
glare. “Suit yourself. I’m done for the night.”

AJ opens her mouth, closes it, and lowers her gaze. Porter is right. AJ has changed, and for the worse. If I had the energy, I would reach out to her, but I don’t give a shit at the moment.

“See you during break?” I lift a shoulder, tilting my head because I have no idea when that break is and I don’t want to head back home. “Call me when you can, Jacob.”

Tonight I might hit the bar, do a few tequila shots. I want to change the typical ‘staring at the ceiling in the dark, feeling empty and hoping that my soul comes back’ activity. Or my second favorite nightly routine—hitting the bottom of a bottle while hoping that the dreams last more than a night, more than one week. Not wanting for them to rush off as the sun chases the moon. When the day comes by, the nightmares hit the restart button inside my mind. It all comes down to the burning sensation that kills my body, but doesn’t kill me. At least, not soon enough.

As I head out, I spot her. Her violet eyes focus on me. A woman dressed with a tight black skirt, cowboy boots, a tiny shirt, and purple hair.

Purple hair?

“That last song always speaks to me.” She matches my pace, following toward the exit. “Reminds me of my ex. You and your band always touch my heart.”

I have no idea how to respond to that. We play different songs at every concert. Plus, not one of our songs is like the other. Some are happy, others romantic, and then there’s the angry shit. I give her the typical smile that fans love and continue my way outside the venue. Tonight I don’t want to fuck.

“Do you have like an after-party or something we can head to?”

“No, sweetheart, I don’t do after-parties.” I continue walking until I reach the parking lot.

“Good, I’m done with the noise.” As I disengage the alarm of my car, she walks around, opens the door and jumps in. “Coffee would be great.”

I scratch my head, disbelief rushing through my veins. She’s not kidding.

“Norah Renee Stinson.” She extends her hand. “Nice to meet you, JC.”

This is insane. With the fucking luck I’ve carried for the past two years, I wouldn’t doubt it if she planned to stab me and claim some crazy crush to justify her behavior. Might as well. At least this time my family won’t be able to claim that I tried to take my life.

“Your security in Portland and Seattle is tighter.” She applies lipstick while I start the car. “That’s where I’m from—Seattle. This is my free weekend and I thought, why not, let’s chase them.”

We head to my hotel, where I nurse a couple of beers while she drinks a few Shirley Temples. We chat about my career, my music. The ins and outs of being on tour. She talks about her free-spirited life. It was too short to stay in one job or only have one career. By the end of the night, I recognize that she intrigues me. That whole
live in the moment
philosophy she carries in her heart is something I can use these days.

A light at the end of the tunnel finally opens the possibilities of having a different life. Norah doesn’t require a commitment; only an adventure. I’m all for it. In a couple of months, we’ll pack our shit and start our own tour. First Europe, then the world. A distraction like her could help with my agony.

What I thought would be a distraction for a weekend or two became a permanent fixture in my life. For the past several weeks, I’ve been getting to know Norah. Somehow, though, we have become closer than I would’ve expected. Norah gets me. We can be messy together. She doesn’t care to share about her family, nor does she know who my family is. The relationship is about us and no one else. One day, when we’re ready, we’ll take that step.

“I want a song,” she requests over the phone. I’m driving down I-5 toward the compound. Matthew and I are heading there to visit our parents.

“I’m not a lyricist, Norah, but I’ll try to get together with my brother and see what we can create for you.”

A white lie that won’t damage our future or the relationship we’ve built in the last few weeks. This is solid ground. Last night she talked about a family after I told her about my shitty accident. Then she traced our future.

“A small house, you, our son, and me, and nothing will touch us.”
It sounded perfect.

“For you, Norah, I’ll build the house with my own two hands.”
A perfect life with a kid. Not sure where I would get one, but I’d find one for her.

This was different. Not a cookie-cutter idea that would follow the trend others did. No. Our family would be special and unique.

“Yeah, whatever, JC. As long as I’m a song.”

She’s set on having a song, and I should talk to AJ because I don’t have any juice to make it happen. Unless I sing about how much I hate Pria or the way I think I loved her.

“Babe, I gotta go. You’ll be back tomorrow?”

“Yes, Norah, I love you.” The call drops before she can say it back, and I let it go.

“Really? We’re writing a song for her?” I’m driving, but I can imagine him crossing his arms and arching a disapproving eyebrow. “I’m cool with the girl, but I don’t think she’s
it.
Date her, love her, but move on before she breaks the remaining pieces of your heart.”

I tighten my grip on the wheel and press my lips together. We already discussed the fact that Norah made me realize how stupid I had been about Pria. I’ve come to my senses and found out that I never felt anything real for her. Norah is real. A person I have an emotional connection with. We care about each other and know each other. It feels…right.

“About the penthouse?” Matthew wants us to move out of the apartment we’re currently leasing and buy a fancy bachelor pad. “I seriously want us to claim our independence. We’re almost twenty.”

“Look, things with Norah are moving forward, Matthew.”

“Damn, the woman is almost twenty-five. Of course, she wants to move forward.” Matthew swears she’s looking for a rich husband and that I’m falling right into her trap. “If our parents knew about her—”

“But they don’t—and won’t until I decide to tell them,” I growl at him.

AJ tried to voice her opinion the other day. The great part about her relationship with Porter is that we use it as leverage. The snitch can’t say a thing without going down with me. My brother, on the other hand…

“I don’t need your help nor your approval, Matthew.” He doesn’t say a word, which is fine by me. I don’t give a shit about his problem with my life. It’s just that. Mine.

“Robbie Smith.” A guy extends his hand while I wait at the bus stop. He’s about five inches taller than me, has hazel eyes, brown hair. The umbrella he carries now covers my soaking wet head. “I couldn’t help but notice you’re taking quite a shower.”

There’s a fluttery feeling in my chest. Tiny, nothing like what… I refuse to compare Robbie to Jace. If I continue relating every man that walks by with my first, nothing will ever happen. This guy might only be offering a shelter until the bus arrives, but whatever.

“Thank you.” I don’t disclose that I lent my umbrella to my roommate and she lost it God-knows-where.

“Would you like a cup of coffee? That’ll warm you up. I’ll hate if you catch a cold.”

He points at the café across the street, and in that moment my transport arrives. I point at it and shake my head. “Thank you for the offer.”

“Your phone number perhaps?” In some ways it is a shame to waste this opportunity. Another guy seems to be interested in me. What the hell? He probably won’t really want it.

“4255393136,” I yell, jumping on the bus and knowing there’s no way he caught that, nor that he’ll remember it.

The bus takes its usual route, dropping me off right in front of the mall where I work during weekends. The entire building has Christmas trees around it with big bows decorating them. There’s a beautiful nativity set at the main entrance, and I go through the back to avoid the long lines of parents and children waiting to see Santa, who sits in the main lobby. Working retail during the holidays sucks, but the money is great. Today is the last day I take a bus. Tomorrow, Dad and I will be shopping for a car—a Rav4. I’ve saved enough money for something reliable that can take me everywhere I want to go. Life is finally shining again. The trouble is days behind. Maeve has a new medication and she’s twenty-eight. There are no guarantees, but I know in my heart that my sister will survive. Together we can conquer any adversity.

Unknown: Coffee tomorrow?

Cute girl: Who is this?

Unknown: Robbie Clark-Smith. You gave me your phone only minutes ago… Am I that forgettable?

He actually remembered my number. The edge of my lip dances, going up and down like my forehead, since I can’t agree with myself on being happy about this yet.

Cute girl: I have plans already, maybe next week?

Unknown: I’ll contact you then.

Cute girl:
☺

This isn’t giving up; this is beginning to grow in the real world. Well, for some I was forgettable. Perhaps not all. I open the screen of my phone and take a look at the picture of my lock screen. The magnetic blue eyes stare at me. They’re different. A retouch from the photo shoot or… He’s still handsome, but his face doesn’t have that tenderness I fell for. I unlock the screen, and with a few taps, change my wallpapers to a beautiful landscape. I take one step forward.

JACOB

I tighten the box I hold in my arm as I manage to secure the bags. Fucking Matthew. He should’ve helped me with the presents. I begged him to give me a hand, but he refused, saying I’m being an idiot. Christmas is only a couple of days away. I promised to head to Albany with Dad’s family, but also, I wanted to have some family time with Norah. This half-hour is all the celebration we’ll get for this year. Next year I’ll make sure it’s different.

My family doesn’t get it. Norah is everything. Hunter, her son, is going to be my son. I met him three weeks ago. Norah decided it’s time for me to take that step. She told me about him after I confessed that I couldn’t have children of my own because of the accident. Since I met her son, I’ve spent every day with them. I’m grateful that Chris, my father and agent, believes in holidays and he didn’t schedule anything during December. The longer I stay in town, the more time I can spend with Norah.

This slow-paced, get-to-know-each-other kind of relationship has been the best way to step out of the darkness I landed myself in. Seeing the past from the outside, I have realized that Pria and I had nothing. Only a few nights fueled with a lot of teenage hormonal juice. This small family I’ve been granted is a miracle I’ll cherish for the rest of my life. Being with a woman a few years older than me has put me in a much better place. Norah knows so much about life. She’s the most genuine person I’ve ever met. Open, happy, giving, and sweet.

“Norah.” I tap the door of her apartment with my foot. “Open. My hands are full, babe.”

“Goodness, what’s going on?” She opens the door. Today her hair is orange, her eyes a pair of flames. I wish I knew why she changes the color of her hair and eyes every day. It’s… different. “JC Decker, you bought the entire store for us.”

She moves from the entrance and I slide in. Hunter is playing on the carpet with the blocks I brought him yesterday. He’s almost four. His brown, thin hair is short, and his eyes are almost the color of maple syrup.

“Hunter,” I call out. He supports his weight on his tiny hands and pushes himself up, running toward me. Tackling my leg, he gives me a big hug. I hand Norah some of the presents, set the rest on the floor, and carry him. “How’s my favorite boy?”

“Je-z!” he calls out for me, hugging my neck with those pudgy arms I love so much.

“Merry Christmas, buddy.” I give him a tighter hug. “I brought you some presents before I have to leave town.”

“You couldn’t cancel?” Norah’s face falls, her jaw tightens, and those lips become a tight line. “It’s Christmas. Hunter’s dad is taking him away. What am I supposed to do?”

“Come with me?” She shakes her head and I sigh with relief. My parents forbid me to disclose any information about them to my girlfriend unless she signs some fucked-up confidentiality agreement. Taking her with me would mean she’d have to do so and I can only imagine the sadness that message of distrust will bring her. “It’s… I can’t, babe.”

I fetch the big box I have for her and hand it over. “Merry Christmas.”

Everything she hinted at is inside that box: the Prada purse, those Jimmy Choo boots, some fancy makeup, and the diamond studs she’s always wanted. While she’s frantically unwrapping it, I sit on the floor with Hunter and we start opening his toys. Each one of them is especially meaningful to me. Maybe a couple of them are for younger children, but this kid means the world to me, and if it is possible that he could become mine down the road, I want to experience whatever I missed. I hadn’t realized it until spending time with Hunter how much I adored kids and did want some of my own.

“Did you write me a song?” she asks with what looks like desperation in her expression. I shake my head. “One song, JC.” She looks away from me, and it looked like there were tears in her eyes. “That’s all I really want, JC. Just a song.”

“I love you, but it’s not easy.”

“Your brother said that you wrote thousands for that girl you dated in college.”

My brother is an idiot who can’t stay quiet. Norah asked me for a song and I couldn’t come up with anything. With her insistence, I lied and said that we usually write things as a group. Matthew not only denied this, he also mentioned that Pria inspired all my songs. Now, the pressure to create something worth playing is on and I have permanent writer’s block.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” Norah’s face falls again. “You still love her. For God’s sake, I gave you what you can’t have. A son.”

She’s right. I feel different—more for her than I felt for Pria. I do love her, and I do want a future with her. Her and Hunter. I love the kid. It’s not as if I don’t want to write something, but I can’t simply just create like that. But how do I communicate that to her without pissing her off even more?

“I’ll write something. It’s hard to come up with stuff while working on material for other bands and practicing for my upcoming tour.”

MJ: You ready? We have to be at the airport in an hour.

JC: Drive your own car. I’ll see you there.

MJ: Don’t be an ass.

JC: See you there.

“Babe, I have to go.” I pull Hunter and give him another hug. “Merry Christmas, bud. I’ll see you in a week or so.”

“This is too soon.” She sniffs. “I hate that you don’t want to spend that much time with us. But I guess it’s understandable. You need your space.”

What? Where is this coming from?

“Don’t be silly. I need you. It’s only a few days. I’ll call you.” I stand up, kiss her lightly so as not to not upset Hunter, and hug her tight. “I love you.”

“Same.”

“Did you like what I bought?”

“Yes, they’re perfect.”

“There’s a gift card inside the purse, in case you want something else.”

“I love that you spoil us. It means so much to me, that you take care of the two of us.”

I want to say more, but since I’ll be out of town, it’s not possible to tell her that I want to spend the rest of my life with them. My life has finally changed for the best, and above all, Norah gave me a special gift I thought I’d never have—Hunter. Not after that fatal night two years ago. But I do, and we’ve become the happiest. Hunter and Norah fill the emptiness in my heart, and without them I think I would die.