Falling Stars Series

Boxset

Book 1 – Falling Stars

Novella 1.5 – Stellar Evolution

Book 2 – H.I.T.S.

Novella 2.5 – Stellar Collision

Falling Stars

Sadie Grubor

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Copyright 2012-15 Sadie Grubor

Cover Art by VST

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any existing means without written permission from the publisher. Contact Author at sadiegrubor@live.com.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

Blurb

"The haunting pools of dark chocolate drew me in and made my skin crackle. She was beautiful, breathtakingly so. Before this moment, I don't think I truly realized just how beautiful she is. A new ache formed in my chest."

Christopher Mason, front man of the band The Forgotten, is hot, famous, and everything you would expect from a famous rock star. He’s cocky, demanding, beautiful, and pained. Despite his fame and beautiful bad boy appearance, he’s battling age-old demons on the inside. Demons so powerful, they have the potential to destroy him and his band. He’s the ultimate falling star. Something so beautiful within the atmosphere, but so hazardous when trying to catch. You always wish on a falling star, but is all hope lost?

Mia Ryder, lead vocalist of the band Hushed Mentality, is energetic, fun, and laidback. The good girl rocker willing to tame this falling star. Her band just made it big and fighting the temptation is hard. She’s handling lesser demons of her own. Give in to this bad boy or live for her band? Being everything that Christopher isn’t may just burn her in the end.

Determined to get rid of the girl group plaguing his tour, Christopher will do almost anything. Mia fights him head on, causing a cataclysm of stars to shoot into the most beautiful performance of falling stars. Every dog has their day, will Christopher’s behavior become enough to bring this dog down? Within the downfall, Christopher Mason becomes sure of one thing, and it's the one thing he's tried so hard to push away. Will Mia be strong enough to catch a falling star?

THE FALLING STARS PLAYLIST

I know, this has been done with other books.  HOWEVER, this is a rock star romance and I like to draw emotion from different songs/music.  So, I've created a playlist on YouTube and my website where you can listen to the exact playlist I did.  On top of that, I'm going to provide you with a few specific songs/bands who were a HUGE inspiration to my characters:

Hushed Mentality – Band Inspiration:  The Black Sheep

The Forgotten – Band Inspiration: Stone Sour/SlipKnot (the sound not the appearance)

Christopher specific songs:

I'm A Monster by Ours

Creep by Radiohead

Hate Me by Blue October

Mia specific songs:

Fireless by The Black Sheep (version with the big cello band orchestra)

Nobody Knows by The Black Sheep

Love is a Battlefield by Pat Benatar

Want more???  Jump over to my playlist on YouTube or my website and have a listen.

Dedication & Special Thanks:

This is for those who love an egotistical, arrogant, often arse-hole, anti-hero.  Not every hero has to be good.  What matters is the effort to be real, open, and honest.

Special thanks to my husband – You are my rock star! <3

Tina – I am forever grateful for your help.

To iTunes for your endless rock inspiration, to Mary Harris for all her long hard effort working with me, and to all of you who have supported my writing.

Monica, oh where do I begin?  You are the miracle worker who corrects me and makes me sound so much better than I ever imagined I could.  For all your long hours, me excessively bothering you, and for extensive late night Facebook chats, you deserve sainthood! I am forever indebted to you.

Chapter One

Christopher Mason

Surrounded by darkness and the familiar stagnant smell, I curled into the proverbial fetal position. Covering my ears with my hands, I tried to block out the screams and cries reverberating throughout my head. He screamed so loud, she cried so hard, trying was almost pointless. I began to sob, prolonging the inevitable was even more torture than what was happening before me. I screamed out, unable to hold the gut-wrenching heartbreak and terror flowing though my veins.

"Shh…it's okay, baby," she tried convincing me, but her swollen eyes and blood-streaked mouth told a different tale. Not everything was ok.

The ringing and vibrating of my cell phone pulled me out of the darkness of my nightmare. When my cell landed on the floor with a thud, I opened my eyes to blinding daylight, immediately shutting them again. I was partly annoyed and partly thankful for the interruption in my nightly rerun. I leaned over my bed and grabbed the phone from the floor.

"Hello," I answered my voice raspy. I must have been screaming again.

"Christopher, I need you to be at the record label in an hour. Can you make it on time?" Nicholas hollered into my ear.

I pulled the phone away instantly, his voice still ringing in my ear, and quickly turned the volume down.

"Why?"

Pulling myself up, I sat on the edge of my bed and rubbed the stiffness from my neck. A hand slid up my back, catching me off guard. I turned around, seeing the blonde from last night lying next to me, her upper half completely exposed.  I covered the phone with my hand.

"You can go now."

In fact, she should have already been fucking gone. I hated when they became clingy. They knew the fucking drill.

"I don't know why I even waste time with someone who only cares about himself and keeps me up all damn night with the moaning and shouting," she huffed and rustled around behind me.

The dream was common; I relived that hellish experience almost every night of my life. However, becoming vocal was new. This wasn't a good sign. I needed to make a call to my personal pharmacist.

"Christopher, did you hear me?"

Shit!

"Sorry, still trying to wake up. What were you saying?"

"Another morning distraction, I'm guessing?" The annoyance in his tone was familiar.

"Gee, Dad, you gonna ground me?"

Ignoring my remark, Nicolas Shaw—bio dad and manager—stayed on topic. "The label has some news they want to share with the band. The meeting's at nine."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll tell Jackson. You can track down Elliott and Jimmy," I said, yawning. My bedroom door slammed and I flinched, my head protesting the noise.

"They aren't home?"

"If they were, do you think I would be asking about it?"

My sarcasm matched the annoyance in my voice.

"I will call them to let them know. See you in an hour and, Christopher…"

"Yeah?" I prompted him to continue, walking to the bathroom.

"Lose the attitude."

Nicholas hung up. With a snort, I tossed my phone onto the bathroom counter.

While pissing, I heard my phone vibrate against the tile counter before it alerted me to the text message.

Don't be late.

It was Nicholas. Rolling my eyes, I tossed the phone back onto the counter and walked into the shower.

The water sprayed hot against my skin, washing away the sweat from my nightly curse. My brain, however, was in overdrive. Everything came back to me in flashes. I remembered the alcohol and pills; how much I had to ingest before getting a few hours of peaceful sleep. When my mind started to drift toward things I did not want to remember, I turned the silver shower knob to cold and let the frigid water blast me. After dressing, I woke Jackson up and told him to get ready.

With Jackson getting ready, I walked down the hall of our shared house, attempting to rid my mind of my fucked up past. I thought about Jackson, my stepbrother, whom I met when I was about twelve. Nicholas, my father and manager, had married Jackson's mother, Gwen, before I came to live with them.

I stopped in front of one of the many framed discs lining the hallway. There was a picture of Jackson, Elliott, Jimmy, and me above one of the discs. That was the day The Forgotten had first gone platinum.

We all lived together on the outskirts of Seattle in a house kept under heavy surveillance. With our personal guards and cameras, we didn't have to worry about the paparazzi or crazy fans getting any closer than the locked, iron gate at the end of our long driveway. Some extremely well planned attempts have been made, but ultimately fell through. Our security fucking rocks.

With a quick glance at the other two doors in the hallway, I mused over the events of last night. Jimmy had disappeared into a crowd of short-skirted girls early on. Elliott, on the other hand, sat in a booth with twins. He'd departed about an hour before Jackson helped the blonde and me out to the car. Our assigned bodyguards, Darius and Gerald, had been waiting for us, while Stan and Vince had split up to chaperone Elliott and Jimmy.

I could hear Darius and Gerald downstairs talking and watching television. Darius had gotten the unfortunate task of monitoring me. I had made it my goal to disappear on him as often as possible; an act he rarely found amusing.

I chuckled at the thought.

Once Jackson was finished and downstairs, Darius and Gerald escorted us to the waiting black car. We headed to Nobil Records in downtown Seattle. Tonya greeted us very warmly at the door and looped elbows with us as she guided us both to the conference room on the second floor. Jackson slowly pulled his arm out of hers, as if he had to stretch. Smooth move. I snorted at the action. Neither one of us would go near Tonya again once we'd learned she had been fucking us both.

"They have been waiting on you," she smiled slyly. "Are you being a bad boy again, Chrissie?"

Her body molded against mine. I chuckled and shook my head. Her desperation for attention rolled off her in waves.

Before she headed back to her desk, she leaned over, placed her hand on my chest, and whispered, "When are we going to see each other again, Chrissie?"

I grimaced at the nickname, glaring at Jackson when he snorted at the conversation. Ignoring her question, I walked into the conference room.

I slunk down into the available seat in front of me, Jackson slouching into the leather on my left. I noticed that the rest of the band got the memo.  Elliott was sitting across from me, his head down on his folded arms. Jimmy was next to him with his head tossed back on the chair, the dark sucker bite on his neck on display for everyone.

"You're late."

I looked up at the sound of Nicholas' disappointment. I shrugged and he scowled at me, but before he could begin his lecture, the door opened. Richard entered the room, flanked by Una. He looked around the table, took count of everyone present, and began.

“Okay, everyone here? Good. Let’s get this meeting started.”

Una stood at his side. Just like her father, her face held the same half-tilted smile Richard wore when he was excited.  This worried me.

“We have great news for you, gentlemen."

As Richard spoke, I looked over to Nicholas. He wore a nervous and uneasy look.  My suspicions immediately ramped up.  I pulled my attention away from Nicholas when Richard continued with his speech.

"So, it's time to take the new CD on tour, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, smiling largely.

"Hell yeah!" Elliott eagerly agreed and pounded his fist to the table.

We all knew what tours were about and enjoyed them. I got away from the day-to-day bullshit and got to go on the road. It did wonders for my songwriting. We all sat forward up, stoked over the news. I wasn't the only one that enjoyed touring.

"Great to know that you are all on board," Richard said, turning to Una and motioning for her to begin.

"Okay, fellas, The Forgotten will be starting the Soul Abandonment tour in one month and, as of right now, will be traveling for ten months," she said, handing out folders.

"You're going to have to fly to several locations but, since we have everything planned out precisely, a lot of the tour will be on the bus."

Una returned to her place next to Richard. Nicholas stepped forward and began to go over some of the details. We listened while going through the tentative schedules and tour dates. After finishing with the specifics, Richard came around and shook our hands. We all thought the meeting was over, but Una stood center stage with Richard at her side.

This was different.

"Now, for the last bit of news for the tour, we have secured your opening act. They will be joining us here in Seattle to get ready for the kick-off concert," she paused. I glanced over at Nicholas.  Busted!

"Since when do we not get to decide on our opening act?" I spat out.

Nicholas' face took on a hard expression.

"Well, Christopher, we usually let you have a say in the matter; however, the band is an up-and-coming group that already has a decent following. We recently signed them and just released their single. They have been climbing the charts non-stop. To be honest, we haven't seen a group grow so quickly since The Forgotten. So, that should tell you what a good match it will be for the tour," she said, smiling widely.

Before I could say anything, Nicholas stepped in.

"Not to mention that Una, here, was the one to discover our new prospect."

Nicholas gave me a warning look.

Ah, Daddy's little girl was the founder of the band. Her plan is to place them on our tour to help them grow in the midst of our fan base. There is no way I'm going to stand by as some fucking group's springboard to fame.

"Have we heard of the band?" Jackson asked.

I quickly looked at him in disbelief. He was just accepting the situation without a fight. I thought they would all be just as upset as I was. Looking over at Elliott and Jimmy, I saw curiosity on their faces. What the hell?

"I'm not sure. As I said, they're fairly new. It's an all-girl band named Hushed Mentality," Una said, beaming like the proud mother she was.

"They're a very talented band and their lead singer is amazing. I think you guys will enjoy the company on the tour and get along well."

A girl band. She has to be kidding. They have a pop tart, giggling girl fest on our tour. How is this a good fucking match?

I was going to protest, but Una gave me a look, telling me my argument would be pointless. Slouching back into my chair, I decided to bide my time. Once I got Nicholas alone to talk, there would be changes.

Mia Ryder

Holy Shit, Mia, can you believe we are going on tour? Like a real tour!" Kat screamed and excitedly punched my arm. "We're on our way baby!"

She grinned at me and lifted her beer bottle in the air. I rubbed the spot she'd hit before picking up my own bottle. We all tapped our beer bottles together. Sitting at our favorite local bar in Whidbey Island and celebrating our band's new success, I looked around the table.

Kat, our bassist, had her head tossed back. Laney, lead guitar, danced in her seat. My sister and drummer, Serena, pulled her bottle from her smiling lips.

"It's so crazy!" Laney bounced in her seat.

"It's amazing." Serena sat back in the wooden bar chair and sighed.

Since our meeting with Una yesterday, I have not been able to stop smiling. My freaking cheeks hurt from the overuse of muscles. A few months ago, she found us playing this very bar.  We had just wrapped up a rehearsal when she approached us. We knew she didn't belong in a bar like this. Her perfect, shiny, light brown hair, clear, fair skin, and executive power suit screamed high class. Her presence drew attention.

Since I am the lead singer, universally known as the head of the band, Una introduced herself to me first.  She wasn't shy in her greeting or getting to the point of the conversation. She asked that I rally up Serena, Kat, and Laney to sit and talk with her. I thought Kat was going to pass out when Una said the words Nobil Recording. Una continued to discuss a few things relevant to what she pictured for us and asked us to think about it. Leaving us with a business card and a lot think about, it took us approximately five minutes to decide. This is what we had always wanted. Playing music, something we were passionate about, for a living? Hell to the yes. We called the next morning to set up a meeting.

After getting a tour of the place, we were introduced to Richard Nobil and signed the intent to commit. From that moment, everything started to fall into place for us. We trusted Una, who had, from the beginning, ensured and showed she had our best interests as a priority. We recorded our first single and Nobil rushed to get it on the radio.

Laney was the first to hear our song. It started playing on a local radio station while she was at work in the coffee shop. She called all of us, screaming. From that moment forward, we became a popular request and heard ourselves more and more during regular play time.

"To top it all off, we are touring with The Forgotten! You all know how huge they are. We are going to be playing gigantic crowds. Ahhh!" Serena stood and did a dance. I laughed, taking in her excitement.

Serena, my sister and best friend, took on the role of mother after our mother had died when we were young. I was twelve and she was thirteen when our father remarried Linda. Even then, with only a year in age difference, she felt the need to nurture and protect me. She took on the mother role and it suited her personality.

If someone were to look at us from the outside, you would never believe we were sisters. She had my mother's curly, red hair and freckles, along with her hazel eyes. However, Serena dyed her hair to a much more vibrant red. I, on the other hand, had my father's black, wavy hair, extremely fair complexion, and eyes so dark brown they were almost black.

Where she was tall and curvy, I hold down the fort at five foot six and slender.  Serena was a full C cup, while I had a medium B cup. Bra size is always relevant. However, I inherited our mother's singing voice. Once my school choir coach got ahold of me, she made sure to meet with me for private lessons in voice coaching. I was thankful for the extra attention, even if her driving goal was for the school choir to win a state championship.

When Serena started taking drum lessons, I wiggled in some piano lessons, loving the way the keys felt under my fingers. The piano led to me picking up a guitar and learning the basics from a guy I had dated in high school. I relentlessly practiced so I could improve. After the piano, it wasn't too difficult to catch on.

"What about all the rumors about the band, especially the rumors about the lead singer? They say he's a real douchebag," Kat said loud enough to break me from my thoughts.

"Hey, I vow that we wait to make any judgments about them until after we meet them in person," I responded raising my beer. Everyone else joined me.

"I still can't believe this. It's unbelievable!" Serena laughed.

I was nervous about the chemistry between us and the other band. It was no secret that The Forgotten was one of the hottest bands around. Musically, professionally, and physically. It was also no secret the band had a reputation, especially the dark lead singer often labeled the hot, arrogant asshole. I only hoped we could all get along amicably. If not, we would fake it when necessary and ignore each other the rest of the time.

"What about your dream to be a famous ballet dancer?" Serena laughed, winking at me. Everyone else joined in.

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. Being a dancer was a bad inside joke. Our stepmother, Linda, had been determined to keep me dancing out of respect for my dead mother, who had started my lessons when I was four. Deep down, Linda really was hoping she would have one girlie stepdaughter. Imagine her disappointment when, after eleven years of dance classes, at the rebellious age of fifteen, I quit. Pursuing our dream of music became my full focus. Now, twelve years after quitting dance, I felt justified. We'd signed a record deal.

"What about your dream to be married with kids?" I shot back at Serena.

Laney shot beer out her nose. Serena scowled at me. I knew it was unfair, but I had to return the ill joke. Serena had gotten very rebellious after dad remarried and ended up unmarried and pregnant at twenty-four, much to Linda's horror. Linda tried to convince Serena to get married, but luckily, it never went that far. The father disappeared from town after Ryan's birth and hasn't been seen or heard from again. Our father assumed he was off in prison somewhere, wishful thinking on his part. I knew, somewhere deep inside, that Dad hoped he was some big guy's prison girlfriend.

Linda took to Ryan immediately, as if he were her own child. So much, in fact, that when Serena told Linda she would be hiring a nanny and taking Ry on tours with us, Linda wouldn't hear it. Therefore, they worked out an arrangement where he would travel with us for part of the tour and stay with Linda the rest of the time.

"Here's to you, Mia, and your awesome voice and songs. To all of us and our futures!" Laney toasted, raising her beer.

My face warmed at the compliment. We all clanked our bottles before taking long draws. Our discussion then fell into planning for the tour. The possibilities were endless. Our stars were on the rise.

Chapter Two

Mia

Serena, Kat, and I sat in the car waiting for Laney to finish her final shift at the coffee house. Today was her last day as a barista and we had a meeting with Una at the record label's main office in Seattle.

"I hate March snow," Serena complained as a few flakes fell from the late March sky. "Snow shouldn't be allowed after January."

She continued with her rant for about fifteen more minutes. The remainder of the ride was quiet. We entered the recognizable lobby with the familiarly annoying and fake receptionist, Tonya. Serena leaned in over the desk.

“Good morning, Tonya. How are you today?” Serena asked with an exaggerated smile, fluttering her eyelashes.

I snickered. Tonya rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed.

“Una is waiting for you in the second level conference center.”

She turned back to the computer and started typing.

“What? No escort service today?” Serena asked, hand to her chest in mock horror. “I thought you were the escort for the company.”

Serena winked as Tonya turned with an angry glare. The rest of us held our laughter until we got to the elevator.

“You know, you really are a bitch." The doors slid closed as if emphasizing my point.

"No, Mia, she's the bitch," Serena said, shrugging. "From day one she's been an asshole, so I choose to treat her the way she treats everyone else."

"You mean everyone she doesn't want to sleep with," Kat added with a giggle.

"Yes." Serena turned to Kat. "I amend my statement. What Kat said."

I smiled and shook my head while Serena and Kat gave each other a high-five. The elevator doors opened to the second level, and we all walked off in search of the conference center.

"Anyone remember where this room is?" I asked, turning to them.

"I think it was this way," Laney said, pointing to the left. We started in that direction.

"Mia?"

I turned to see Una walking from a room we had just passed.

"Hey, sorry, is that the conference room?"

"Yeah, didn't Tonya bring you up or tell you where to go?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"That bitch only told us second level conference center," Kat answered. "God forbid she lose a press-on nail by pushing an elevator button."

Una shook her head.

"Well, if you would, please join me in here and have a seat."

Everyone found an empty seat while Una handed out folders. Each folder contained lists of names, tour dates, and papers that needed to be signed. This thing held at least a hundred pages. I didn't know where to begin.

"Okay, ladies, we are going to go over the tentative tour schedule. I say tentative because new dates could always get added."

She looked around at us, probably to see if we had any questions.

"So far, we have one addition to your schedule following the kick off concert here in Seattle."

She pulled open a binder and pulled out the tour date listing.

"As you see, we added the date you requested to play at your high school. It works out perfectly. After the Seattle show, we will spend the night and play the dance the following night, allowing for one more day at home before leaving for the next show."

We had all graduated from the same high school. Therefore, when I'd received the request from the high school student council to appear for one of their dances, I forwarded it to Una hoping she could make it happen.

"Thank you so much for working the school concert in, Una." I said, smiling to her.

"Not a problem. I think it's a great thing to do for your school. And, from a manager's stand point, it is awesome free press."

She winked and smiled.

We continued to go over the schedule and the fine print of other documents. We had to agree to press conferences, interviews, and promotional photo shoots. I understood the need for the photo shoots, but I wasn't overly excited about it. Laney and Kat were bouncing in their seats, happy to get professional makeup and hair artists.

Just as Una was finishing up, someone knocked briefly and entered the room. It was Richard and another man. Una stood up quickly.

"Father, Nicholas," she nodded at both men.

Ah, this is Nicholas Shaw. I'd never seen him in person. He's an extremely handsome older man.

"Una, dear, how are things going?" Richard asked, hugging her.

Una looked irritated at his open affection.

"Things are going well," she said, smiling proudly. "We were just finishing up."

"Absolutely wonderful," he exclaimed, gesturing to Nicholas as he spoke. "I thought that since Nicholas was here we could make some introductions."

"Ladies, this is Nicholas Shaw, manager of The Forgotten."

Una motioned toward him. We greeted him in unison.

"Good afternoon, Ladies. It's a pleasure to meet you," Nicholas responded professionally and dignified.

Well spoken, handsome, and manager of the current hottest rock band? I was ready to swoon.

"Let me see if the guys are still in the building. Perhaps, you all could meet before you begin your tour?"

He turned and walked from the room.

"Excellent idea, Nicholas," Richard proclaimed as he exited behind him.

"God, that man has the ass of a twenty year old," Kat whispered in my ear.

I nudged her with my elbow to shush her, but I had to agree. My face flushed slightly with where my thoughts were going. Yep, definitely swoon-worthy.

Una turned her attention back to the remaining items on our agenda just as the door opened again. I couldn't help but chuckle at the frustrated look on her face. Nicholas entered with The Forgotten in tow. I was obviously aware of who the band was, every red-blooded female in America knew who this band was.

Jimmy, with the skinny build and long, shaggy, black-streaked blond hair, had a multitude of tattoos covering both arms and two large diamond studs in each ear. Elliott was the large, muscle man type with the shaved head. He was sporting a large tattoo on his left bicep. A bicep that looked like it would rip his t-shirt sleeve at any moment. The fronts of his forearms were inked with words I couldn't see from this vantage point and he had large gauges fitted into each lobe. This man was a beast.  Jackson, extremely tall with super short, bleached hair and goatee, had a double bar piercing above his left eye and a lip ring. His tattoos were prominently on his arms, but I could see part of one along the left side of his neck.

Then, there was Christopher. Christopher was tall and lean, but still had muscular definition and broad shoulders. His hair midnight black with a blue cast to his unruly spikes. His tattoos were similar to Jackson's and he came equipped with sexy viper-bite piercings in his lower lip. When he licked his bottom lip, I caught a glimpse of a small silver ball in his tongue. My mind apparently set up residence in the gutter today.

Their posters and pictures really didn't do their appearance justice. They were ridiculously attractive. Waves of bad boy hotness pulsed through their pores; a girl just didn't stand a chance.  They filed in and sat across from us, with exception to Christopher who chose to stand next to Nicholas with a scowl on his face.

There was an uncomfortable silence, and the glare on Christopher's face was insulting. Una cleared her throat and started making introductions, pointing out each person as she spoke.

"Jimmy, Jackson, Elliott, Christopher, this is Kat, Laney, Serena, and Mia, also known as Hushed Mentality. Ladies, this is The Forgotten."

"Welcome to the tour," Elliott spoke first with a mischievous grin. The more I saw of him, the more I realized just how huge he was. He looked like he could win Mr. Universe.

"Thanks," we all replied.

"It's nice to meet you guys,” I spoke up, looking at each of them quickly.

Christopher snorted and I shot a look to him immediately. What an asshole. I guess waiting to make judgment wasn't going to take as long as I thought.

"Oh-kay," Nicholas spoke up before the tension got any worse. "We are going to head out to handle some promotional photos."

Christopher quickly turned and walked out of the room.

"It was a pleasure to meet y'all," Jackson said as he was leaving.

Jackson was even taller in person, though I shouldn't have been surprised. In all of his interviews, reporters always brought up the fact he was almost seven feet tall. I smiled at him. He nodded and exited.

"Bye," Jimmy spoke with a nod.

Huh, he was shorter in person.

"Later," Elliott offered, smiling brightly and waving. They both followed Jackson out.

"Ladies," Nicholas said, bowing his head. He left the room with Richard hot on his heels. Richard didn't look happy, but I couldn't be sure.

"Well, that was interesting," Una said. "I apologize for the discomfort of the situation. They are all really nice gentlemen…"

"Yeah,” I snorted. “When you say gentlemen, you really mean Christopher is an asshat, right?" I blurted. A smirk spread over my lips.

Serena couldn't hold in her laugh. Kat and Laney joined in. Una blushed.

"Well…" she said as she closed the conference room door. “I'll be honest and up front with you. Christopher is difficult; brilliant but difficult. I am hoping that he will warm up to this, but those chances are minimal. Can you handle that?" Una looked each one of us in the face.

"Fuck him!" Kat said, slamming her hand to the table with a chuckle.

"Kat," I said, trying to sound serious and not laugh. I failed.

"Look, Una, he can do what he wants. We'll play our shows, do our thing, and let him be. In the event that we do interact with him, it will be on a professional basis. We can handle it."

She smiled at us all. "Good to hear." We all stood, ready to leave.

"Oh, ladies, just so you know, I have no doubt that you can handle those boys," Una said, her words full of satisfaction.

We headed out to the van discussing everything we needed to wrap up over the next week and half before we left on the tour. The first thing we were obligated to was a photo shoot in two days.

Christopher

When Nicholas called us up to the conference room to meet with the pop tart princesses, I was reluctant to show up. However, Nicholas played the father card on me.

I walked in and took in the appearance of four girls at the table. Una introduced them.  Kat is a platinum blonde with purple-streaked haired, who looks like she should be modeling bathing suits. However, the large sleeve tattoo and lip ring probably made that career path impossible.

Laney, a small girl with spiked pink hair, a toothy smile, and an apparent case of over activeness, bounced in her seat. I was sure if I looked under the table, her leg would be going a mile a minute.

Full-breasted Serena had curly, neon red hair. The Monroe piercing in her lip was hot.

Then, Mia, dressed in an oversized, long sleeved T-Shirt. From what I could see, she was a thin girl with long, black hair, a small diamond in her nose, and haunting, dark eyes. The way her eyes drew you in was all consuming. The attraction sparked my irritation to a higher level of anger.

They sat there staring at us until Elliott spoke. The damned idiot couldn't just keep his mouth shut so we could get out of here.

Mia spoke and I couldn't help but snort. She isn't going to last. I'm going to make her life so fucking miserable, this wanna-be rocker will be begging to leave the tour in no time. She shot me a look filled with irritation and hate. Bring it on, little girl. You have no idea who you are messing with.

Nicholas excused us from the room and directed us toward our scheduled photo shoot for our cover. We had to take care of it today even though we'd to be back in two days for another round of promotional tour photos.

"Christopher?" Nicholas asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

Shit, here we go. 'Chris you need to be a professional…'

"Nicholas?"

Richard stopped Nic before he could scold me. Ha, looks like you're going to get it first.

Standing there, I watched my father's face fill with shame and irritation. Richard's looked stern. Their voices were too low for me to hear anything. With a nod, Nicholas shook Richard's hand and headed toward me.

"Son, could you please attempt to be civil?"

I began to walk away but he kept pace with me.

"Please, Christopher? You're going to be on tour for almost ten months. You can either make this easier on everyone, or harder," he exhaled harshly.

"Hey, I already told you I'm not happy about this. I think there are better options than this chick group. I'm not going to pretend to be happy or even okay with it."

I wanted him to shut the hell up.

"You don't have to like them, Christopher, but you do have to work with them. So, I suggest you get off your fucking high horse, man up, and do your job."

Shock slowed my pace. Nicholas doesn't swear. At all. He believes it to be undignified and unintelligent.

He quickly out stepped me and took the lead to the studio downstairs. I caught up with him. Before I could argue, he began again.

"You don't have to be friends with them, but you do have to be professional. That's all I'm asking. No, that's all I'm requiring from you."

"Fine," I growled.

We didn't say anything else. We didn't have to. It didn't matter anyhow after seeing how easily I could irritate Mia. My plan would work and would work quickly.

Reaching the studio a couple of floors down, I entered the dressing room. My bandmates assaulted me with their opinions about those damn girls.

"Did you see how fucking hot they are?" Jimmy boasted and slouched into a chair. "Damn," he purred.

"Dude, the redhead almost did me in with the Monroe piercing. Then, the long black-haired chick? Fuck me. She bit her bottom lip and I almost burst in my pants!"

Elliott fist bumped Jimmy from the seat next to him. I rolled my eyes.

"What about you, man?"

I looked up at Jimmy's question, but he was talking to Jackson.

He shrugged. "They're attractive."

"Bullshit, douchebag, which one?" Elliott asked, pursing his lips and eyeing Jackson from the corner of his eye.

Jackson smirked. "The tiny, little, pink-haired girl was too damn cute, man." He shook his head and lightly laughed. "You know I'm a sucker for tiny girls."

Elliott burst into a chortle and Jimmy laughed with him.

"Jesus, leave it to the giant to want to get with the dwarf," Jimmy snorted.

"Hey, I can't help it if I prefer my women eye level with my zipper," Jackson retorted with a cocky smile.

"Hell yeah, you sick bastard!" Elliott excitedly agreed.

"How ‘bout you, Chris? I bet it's the blonde one, huh? She looks your type." Jackson shot the question with a nod.

I glowered at him, but refused to respond.

"Oh, Christ, super emo boy is in full effect today," Elliott groaned. "Where's your cape?" he mocked.

Without lifting my head from the couch I'd sprawled across, I gave him my middle finger.

"Don't get too comfortable with them."

Eyes now closed, I let a happy grin form.

"What the fuck are you up to now?" Jackson asked suspiciously.

I remained quiet and returned my attention to my plan.

*****

Two days later, we were back for more photos. Entering Nobil Records in the late morning, I saw Tonya at her usual post in the receptionist seat.

She fluttered her eyes and tried waving seductively. I turned my head without acknowledging her. The bitch needed to get a fucking hint. She slept with my fucking brother. I refuse to get my dick wet knowing Jackson’s been there too. I shuddered and we groggily climbed onto the elevator, heading down to the photo studio for the promo shots.

"Don't ever let me drink that much again," Elliott groaned, his temple pressed to the wall of the elevator.

The elevator dinged and Elliott shushed it. We busted up laughing and walked off.

"That's what you get for doing body shots all night," Jackson lectured.

"Dude, you saw how hot the dancer was," Elliott defended. "You're just jealous." He smiled crookedly at Jackson.

"Jealous of what?" Jackson chuckled. "You, passed out drunk? By the way, Chris fucked her in the men's room."

Elliott's face dropped.

"What?" he whined.

Jimmy patted my back, laughing. "Well played, Chris."

"God damn it," Elliott growled.

We entered the studio and immediately rushed into make-up. Each of us took a chair waiting for the stylist and make-up artist to arrive. After about fifteen minutes, they finally showed.

"Sorry, guys, we had to do some touch-ups on the first group," Layla apologized as she picked up her sponges and tubes.

"First group?" Jimmy questioned while Meghan was working on his bleached platinum head. Honestly, dude had no hair. Why in the hell was she wasting time on him?

"Yeah, they were brought in earlier. You know how it is, girls take longer than guys." She smiled and kept working. I sat back and relaxed while she finished up.

We were all in there for about an hour before Nicholas arrived.

"I want you all on your best behavior. We're shooting the tour promos today."

That's when it clicked. Tour promos. Girls. First group. It was the damn vagina gang.

Quickly, I moved out of the dressing room to see if they were still here, but wardrobe grabbed us and pulled us in to change.

Finally able to get the dressers off me, I stepped out into the large room with the photo stage. There they were, standing grouped together with the photographer fawning over them. I felt the guys approach and stand around me.

"They are so fucking hot!" Elliott said loudly next to my ear.

My brow creased. Jesus Christ, they aren't that fucking hot. I know hot, these girls are mediocre.

"I agree," Jimmy said, licking his lips. Jackson just stared with his mouth slightly open.

"Will you guys suppress your raging, sixteen-year-old hard-ons for, like, two minutes?" I scoffed.

"This coming from Mister ‘come on, I'll fuck you in the men's room'," Elliott laughed loudly. "You know that Blondie is on your to-do list. And, before you ask, no, I will not do body shots with her so you can get her."

They all laughed. I crossed my arms over my chest and watched. The girls waited to begin the pictures. They were standing beside the stage area while some roadies set up more props.

They stepped to their instruments, a drum set with lips all over it and three guitars. Tiny grabbed the purple glitter-covered guitar. The second was a bright yellow bass that Blondie slipped over her shoulder. The last was a green guitar with a picture of Kermit the Frog. Mia grabbed it.

They each took their place and the set director turned on some music. Mia stood front and center with a guitar swung around to her back.

"I want you to sing with the song for the shots," the photographer instructed. "Sing like you guys are rehearsing."

Mia swung the green guitar in front of her and moved her fingers across the strings. Holding it low, she grabbed the microphone stand and started to sing. Surprise filled me as her voice saturated the air from the radio. However, the studio could do whatever they wanted with a sound table and editing equipment.

"Okay, now give me an actual stage performance," the photographer shouted.

Mia moved around the stage, leaning toward the photographer as if he were the crowd while interacting with the others in the group.

"Kill me now," Elliott groaned and leaned against me, biting his fist.

I gave him a confused look.

"The red-head," he growled out. "Her tongue is all over her lips while she…look," he groaned and pointed.

Sure enough, as she played her drums her tongue would peek out from behind her lips. I nudged Elliott off me.

“Damn, Una wasn’t lying, they’re good,” Jimmy said.

I grunted.

“You guys didn’t Google them?” Jackson asked, looking at us astounded.

"I did," Elliott spoke up with a proud smile and a fist pump into the air.

"I can't believe neither of you bothered to listen to the group scheduled to open for us," Jackson said, shaking his head.

"Shut up!" Jimmy said, and I nodded in agreement.

I was too busy planning their replacement.

The thought brought a small smile to my lips. Suddenly, the set director approached us to come toward the stage. The girl's props were removed and the crew was setting up for our first shots.

"Wait," the set director said loudly. "Nicholas, Una, do we want a group shot?"

Nicholas looked hesitant to answer. He looked to Una. Una said something, shrugged, and then nodded.

"Yes, just a few," Nicholas answered for them.

The set director shouted to some assistant to get the girls to come back to the stage.

"This will be fantastic," the photographer said proceeding to move the lighting around and change camera lenses.

The girls looked extremely hesitant and Mia rolled her eyes when she caught my glare. Once they were on stage with us, it looked like a cooties war, both bands keeping to their groups.

"Mingle! Mingle!” The director ordered.

"What do you want us to do?" Red asked with her hands on her hips.

I watched Elliott walk over and wrap his arm around her shoulders. He smiled large just before picking her up, bridal style. I stayed off to the side watching him in disdain. Everyone else laughed. I heard the photographer taking advantage of the moment with the sound of his shutter clicking rapidly.

"That's perfect, keep it up…everyone join in," the director shouted, walking up to push us further together.

I bumped into Mia and felt a jolt. She looked at me quickly, blushed, and walked away. The next thing I knew, Tiny was wrapping one arm in mine while looping her other arm with Jackson's. I looked over in time to see Mia hop onto Jimmy's back. I scowled.

The crew brought out a large red velvet couch. Elliott sat dead center with Jimmy to his left and Jackson to his right. Tiny sat on the arm of the couch leaning toward Jackson with her hand behind his head. Blondie had the other arm. Red lay across the guys' laps. I walked over and stood behind the couch and Elliott's head. Leaning forward, I placed my hands on the back and eyed Mia. She sat on the floor between Elliott's legs, Indian style, with her head leaning on his knee. Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I put on my photo face.

After the small jolt from our brief moment of touching, I couldn't fight this weird pull toward her. I kept trying to shake off the unfamiliar feeling as we positioned and repositioned. The photographer clicked away the entire time.

"Let's get the leads together," the director announced. "I haven't seen one with you two anywhere near each other."

Mia sighed loudly.

She stood from the floor, turned around, and gave me a glare that could freeze hell over. I smirked.

"What's wrong, dear Mia? Don't want to be alone with me? Am I a distraction for you?"

I figured arrogance would be the way to go with a chick like her.

"Look, Mason, let's just get this over with and get out of each other's way."

She climbed onto the couch and sat on the back with her hands at her sides.

I took the opportunity and pushed her legs apart, making her eyes widen. Then, I plopped down between her legs in the center of the couch and pulled her arms around to rest on my shoulders. Wrapping one arm around her leg, my hand rested on her thigh.

The photographer was eating this shit up.

Inching my fingers slowly up her thigh, she growled before climbing off the couch.

"Let's get a few more poses," the photographer shouted.

I smirked when she growled again. She was making this too easy.

Grabbing her arm, I pulled her down onto the couch to lie on top of my chest. She pushed up, one hand on the couch beside my head and the other on my chest.

"Look here." We both turned to the photographer who snapped away.

I put my right arm behind my head and grinned, sliding my left hand from her waist toward her ass. She sat up quickly, making sure to push extra hard into my chest and smacking my head with her hand. She stood smiling.

That bitch!

Jolting upright onto the couch with my back against the armrest and one leg stretched out, I pulled her back down and positioned her against my chest. She brought both of her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Leaning back, I rested my arms on the back of the couch and the armrest. After the final shot, she started to move. I bucked my hips to thrust directly into her ass. She jumped off the couch.

"You're such an asshole!" she yelled.

“You loved it,” I leered and she glared. “Call me anytime you want to do that in private.”

After blowing a kiss, I stood from the couch. Before I saw it coming, she grabbed a cushion from the couch and hit me. The whole room gasped. Then snorts turned into bursts of laughter, the closest laugh coming from Mia.

“Don’t touch me again!”

She pointed at me, trying to keep a straight face. Then she stalked off. The angry twitch of her hips drew my attention to her dark, denim-clad ass.

Well, well, what do we have here? Underneath it all, Mia had a spectacular ass. Perhaps I'd been too hasty in my 'thin' assessment. In fact, feeling her against me wasn't too bad either. Maybe she would be good for something during the tour after all. If I can't get rid of her, at least I can fuck her regularly.

Looking up, Nicholas gave me the familiar look of disappointment mixed with anger. His long strides made it clear I was about to get a lecture from my father-slash-manager.

It wouldn't be the first time or the last.

Chapter Three

Mia

Apologizing repeatedly for my outburst, I told Una it wouldn't happen again.  She assured me it was not a big deal. We left the studio and I didn't have to look or talk to Christopher again until the start of the tour. Thank God, because he needs to realize that if he messes with me, with the band, or this tour, he'll have a run for his money.

Back at our house, we started to tie up some loose ends and get things situated for the time we would be away. Serena and Linda worked out the first three months of the tour schedule where Ryan was concerned, along with the plans for his upcoming birthday.

Leaving day quickly arrived and we were running late. It was a mild April Wednesday, but there was a lot to do before the concerts on Friday and Saturday nights. After saying our goodbyes, we climbed into the studio's car and settled in for the long trip to Seattle.

I put my ear buds in, turned my iPod on, closed my eyes, and leaned into the door trying to nap during the trip. I'm a travel sleeper. About two hours later, Serena nudged me.

"Pit stop," she announced before slipping out of the car.

Stepping out of the car, I stretched and located the nearest bathroom.

After using the filthy facilities, I browsed the little stop-n-shop store to see if they had hand sanitizer and Swedish Red Fish. After grabbing a travel-sized bottle of hand sanitizer and two large bags of the candy fish I loved so much, it was time to check out. While waiting for my change, I saw The Forgotten on the front of a magazine cover.

Ugh, Christopher ‘asshole' Mason, front and center. To make it worse, he's wearing that stupid crooked grin. I wanted to smack it off his face or at least draw a black mustache on it.

Giggling, I slid a TV guide over the cover.

Climbing back into the car, I got comfortable again, but couldn't get past the thought of having to deal with Christopher on a daily basis for the next ten months. I could only hope he would take up ignoring us rather than acting like the asshole he's proving to be. The chances were extremely thin.

During the photo shoot, the mischievous look in his eyes had gotten me on edge. I knew he was up to something. However, I'd be a liar if I didn't admit to the peculiar lure of him. It was bizarre and stupid, like falling for that guy in high school who got high all the time.

Pulling out my notebook and placing it in my lap, I figured I'd preoccupy myself with song writing. Opening the bag of red fish, I inhaled deeply. Heaven.

"You're disgusting," Kat said, crinkling her nose.

"What?"

I looked down at myself. Nothing looked out of place.

"You and those damn fish, that's what." She fake gagged.

"Shut up, you always steal them, so don't act like you hate them."

I stuck my tongue out at her.

"It's not that," she said, shaking her head. "If I ate crap the way you do, I would be four hundred pounds. Look at you. It's disgusting."

"She can't help it," Serena added. "She has our dad's metabolism," she sighed. "She can eat whatever she wants and she will barely gain a pound. It's all in the genes."

She laughed and playfully pinched my thigh.

"Ouch, hooker!" I yelped, smacking her leg in retaliation. "Hey, what about Laney? She is smaller than me."

"Yeah, but I don't eat like you, Mia," she said with a shrug.

"See what I mean?" Kat asked as she pushed her foot against my knee.

"Screw you all," I mumbled, shoving a handful of fish into my mouth and chomping on them. I smiled at them with red jelly pieces stuck to my teeth.

"Eww…really, Mia? Do you have to do that?" Laney cringed.

Behind her pink haired, rocker girl persona, Laney is a girly, eco-child. Kat has always been the aggressive badass no one wanted to mess with, and Serena the over bearing mother hen and know-it-all. This left me as the scrawny girl with tomboy tendencies.

Swallowing, I shook my head. "You act like I don't gain weight."

They all nodded.

"Mia, you're like a bottomless pit and, to top it off, it's all junk," Kat added, putting her head back and closing her eyes.

"It's really not healthy. I have some granola and carrot sticks in my bag. Want something healthy for a change?" Laney teased, knowing damn well her vegetarian lifestyle would never, and I mean never, be a choice I would make.

"Well, if you're all done critiquing my eating habits and my lack of body, I'm going to get back to writing our next big hit. You know, the ones that made you all famous, thank you very much."

With a sarcastic and exaggerated sigh, I was barely able to hold off my snort. Wrapping my legs up under me, I turned on the unwritten playlist; music we had recorded but hadn’t put word to. I sometimes use this to write, even though we often make changes to the written lyrics.

Two notebook pages, a great deal of crossed out lyrics, and a couple of hours later, we finally pulled up to the Seattle hotel where we were staying. The hotel staff took our luggage and Una met us in the lobby.

"Hello, ladies, welcome. I hope your trip was comfortable," she said, smiling as if she was as excited as we were.

"It was good," Laney answered. The rest of us were looking around the fancy marble lobby, taking it all in. Suddenly, my worn blue jeans, Rolling Stones t-shirt, and boots didn't quite cut it.

"Okay, well let's get checked in. Then, you can freshen up. After that, we'll head out for dinner," Una said, escorting us to the front desk and giving the name of the reservations.

While the receptionist worked on finding the reservations and retrieving the key cards, Una turned back to us.

"So, what are you guys in the mood for? Italian, Steak, Mexican? Your choice."

"Is there a Sushi bar nearby?" Laney questioned before I could hop on the steak idea.

"There's a Japanese restaurant that serves Sushi. I'll get some reservations made," Una offered, handing us each a key. We followed the bellhops to the top floor. Una was across the hall from us and, with a smile, she entered her room.

"Meet me in about an hour, okay?"

We nodded and stepped into the room. Stopping short, we gasped.

"Holy Shit," Serena gasped. "Is this really our room?"

"Why are you whispering?" Geesh, now I was whispering, too.

She shrugged.

A moment of silence passed by and the door clicked shut behind us. Laney screamed excitedly, causing me to jump, and ran straight to a room and jumped on a bed. I looked to Serena and Kat before the three of us followed her onto the same bed, jumping up and down until each one of us collapsed, breathless.

"I can't believe this is happening," Kat said, breaking the silence. We lay in a heap of tangled arms and legs.

"I know. I keep waiting to wake up and be back in our house having to go to work serving another 'low-fat, soy milk, I-am-a-snob, cost-a-fortune cup of coffee'." Laney griped.

"Tell us how you really feel," Kat snorted.

"Well, I'm gonna jump in the shower. I feel like ass," Serena said, rolling off the bed and walking toward the bathroom.

"Thank God, I was just going to tell you that you smelled like ass," I teased.

She flipped me her middle finger and closed the bathroom door with a bang.

"I'm going to go claim another bathroom," I asserted, sniffing myself. "Ahh…nothing but red fish, yum!"

"That's so disgusting," Laney said, crinkling her nose at me and shoving me out of the room.

Once we cleaned up and changed, we headed down to meet with Una. She sat in one of the large chairs in a pair of jeans and a sheer white blouse. It was the first time I'd seen Una in casual clothes. I was impressed.

"Everyone ready?" She asked, standing when we approached.

"Well, look who's more than just a corporate hottie," Laney giggled, circling Una and checking her out.

Una blushed.

"Um…thank you, Laney. I think," she said, her face twisted in amusement and confusion.

"Oh, trust. It's a compliment," Laney said with a smile, taking her by the arm and walking with Una to the awaiting car. We shook our heads and followed.

Laney schooled all of us on proper Sushi eating technique and Saki drinking. She definitely earned smiles and laughs from the restaurant manager and staff. Leave it to Laney to be the center of attention. I still wasn't sure how she hadn't ended up as the lead singer. She had that natural ability to draw attention.

Arriving back at the hotel, Una requested we join her in the lounge so we could talk about tomorrow's schedule. We followed and sat around a large table. Ordering some overpriced drinks, Una made a phone call to someone named Xander before getting down to business.

"So, tomorrow we need to arrive at the Dome early for sound checks, lighting, and stage rehearsal. We'll need to leave here around nine in the morning."

A young, light-haired man appeared with bags and boxes, setting them next to Una.

"Thank you, Xander," Una said, gesturing for him to sit. "Ladies, this is my assistant, Xander. Xander, meet Hushed Mentality." He smiled and gave a nod.

"Xander and I will order a breakfast cart to be sent to your room around seven, so you will have time to eat and get ready."

Una looked up and we all nodded our acknowledgement.

"Alright, we'll be entering the Dome the same way you will be coming in Friday and Saturday night. That way you will be familiar with arrival and departure. On the night of the concerts, don't be surprised by the cameras, screaming fans, and bodyguards. It's going to happen, especially since you are traveling with The Forgotten." Una paused. I could almost see the light bulb appear above her head.

"Speaking of bodyguards, you'll be introduced to your security tomorrow as well. Phillip and Bishop come highly recommended. We have a very trusted company we hire through, but if you have any problems, at all, you just let me know and we can find a better fit for you. Okay?"

"It's going to get very real isn't it?" Serena asked the question all of us were thinking.

"Yes." Una smiled both reassuringly and nervously. "I'm afraid the bad comes with the good. We just have to do the best we can." She looked back down to her planner.

"We'll also have one of our public relations representatives coming tomorrow when we return from the Dome to start coaching you on how to behave and speak with the press."

We all scowled.

"It's standard procedure. Trust me, it helps more than you could imagine. Besides, your first press meeting is before the concert on Saturday."

"We're going to be talking to a room full of reporters?" Laney asked with a glint of excitement in her eyes.

Una nodded with a small, knowing smile.

"Now, Sunday we'll leave early in the morning traveling by tour bus, so make sure you have your luggage tagged and in the suite's living room for the crew to load. Xander will help with the tagging system, showing you what goes on the bus and what gets stored in the carriage," she paused, taking a deep breath. "Any questions?"

We shook our heads and continued to discuss the tour until it got late enough for Una to usher us up to our room.

*****

The phone was began to ring off the hook. Four, five rings later it stopped. Thank God. Two seconds later, the ringing sound permeated throughout the room again. Ugh!

"What?!" Serena had never been much of a morning person. "Uhhgghhhhh….Okay," she groaned.

The sound of my door opening and heavy, fast footsteps told me to brace myself. The massive shift of my mattress tossed me around.

"Time to get up."

Peeking out from my blanket, I saw the large grin of my older sister.

"Go to hell," I groaned, rolling over.

Serena started bouncing and singing. "If I've gotta get up, everybody's gotta get up!"

I groaned and pulled her leg out from under her.

She screamed, landing with a heavy bounce on my mattress.

"Hey!" she laughed, slapping me on the butt before rolling off my bed. "You still have to get up." Her singsong voice made me want to throw things at her.

Serena may still not be a morning person, but, after having Ryan, she's learned to take mornings in stride.

Getting up, I stumbled to the bathroom and the shower. Once I dressed, I went in search of caffeine. Laney, fully clothed and eating fruit, sat perched on a barstool at the breakfast bar. She looked up from her plate and took in my appearance.

"Well good morning, sunshine."

Laney was definitely a morning person.

"Kat and Serena are still getting ready."

I could only spare a nod. Coffee. Must have coffee.

Una arrived with Xander at her side. We left for the Dome. Rehearsals and stage checks were the game plan.

Christopher

Still being on thin ice due to my behavior at the photo shoot, it was a good thing we hadn't come across Hushed Mentality. The way things were looking, we wouldn't see them until the night of the show. This put a cramp in my plan.

Nicholas arrived at our house after Elliott finally made it out of bed. Jackson and I were the only ones up and dressed because of my nightly episodes. Jimmy was getting ready and Elliott was dragging himself to the couch.

"Okay, we need to get to the Dome in an hour. You have stage check around twelve, as long as the girls are finished up," Nicholas said without looking up from his blackberry.

"So, Elliott, if you want to eat, you had better get your ass in gear. NOW," Nicholas urged.

Elliott's head shot up and he quickly got moving. His two hundred and forty pound, muscled body does not mess around when it comes to eating.

After eating what Nicholas had delivered, we left for the Dome. As soon as we entered, we could hear muffled stage checks. The closer we got, the louder and clearer it got.

"Stage check left." Pause "Stage check right." I knew the voice. Rob our sound system engineer. "Okay, Mia, can you take center stage? We are going to start with your first track. Are you ready?"

"Yeah, let's get the show on the road," she almost sang the response.

I continued to walk backstage, until I noticed the guys had all detoured toward the girls. I wasn't going to follow until I heard the music begin. Were they really covering that song? Joining the rest of the band at the side of the stage, I took in the layout.

It was a familiar stage. We started our first tour here and have played here many times since. Hell, I screwed a multitude of groupies in the backstage area. The only thing unfamiliar was this girl band. My plan needed to come together soon.

Each of them was in place with their instruments. Red was on drums, Tiny with her bass, Blondie with her guitar, and Mia center stage. With her guitar slung low in front of her, Mia leaned into the microphone.

They were performing a cover of 'Love is a Battlefield' by Benatar and, well, it was shockingly good. They'd done a little change to the arrangement, but it would be barely noticeable to the average fan. This wasn't a radio edit. It was live and the girl could sing.

Shit! I hadn't expected that.

Watching her play her guitar and lean into the mic with her eyes closed, my eyes followed the small sway of her body. Suddenly, she stopped strumming and grabbed the mic with her right hand. Swinging her guitar around to her back, she belted out the chorus and pumped her fist in the air. This was not the cupcake band I expected. Still, it changed nothing.

The second song started and it was a little different from the cover, but was also better than expected. This was original material and it was, unfortunately, good as well. I'd hoped to work the not talented enough angle, but now I would have to make some adjustments.

"Alright, I think we're ready. You had discussed a change to the fifth track?" Rob announced.

Mia held her hand over her squinted eyes in an attempt to block out the blinding spotlight.

"Yeah, hold on one second, they're setting up for it now."

Behind her, the stage crew pushed the drums off stage and brought in a large piano. My interest immediately peaked and I subconsciously took a half step toward the stage. When I realized what I was doing, I pulled back, hoping no one noticed.

"Thanks, guys," she said with a smile to the stage crew.

"No problem, Mia. It's our pleasure," they responded with eagerness.

She just bats her little eyes and they’re putty in her hands. I wanted to puke.

Mia sat at the piano bench and ran her fingers across the keys to warm up.

"Okay, I'm ready."

"Alright, go for it," Rob's voice carried down from the control booth.

With a flex of her fingers and a deep breath, Mia touched the keys. Blondie and Red came out and leaned against the piano. Red mouthed 'you can do this', encouraging her. She started to play a simple, sweet melody.

The moment her eyes closed, her discomfort and nervousness visibly melted from her face. Her voice was so powerful, and the accompaniment of just the piano was superb. I would've never guessed her voice could hit those notes or that she could be so intimate on stage. My feet twitched to step forward, but I planted them firmly. Shaking it all off, I stalked backstage.

Just as I was leaving the stage, clapping rose from onlookers and the sound booth at the finish of her song.

"Mia, that was fantastic," Rob said, his voice muffled from the thick concrete walls.

Reaching the dressing room, I threw myself into the couch. Damn girl was screwing with my plans.

While I was lounging in the dressing room with my head back on the overstuffed arm and my eyes closed, the guys loudly burst into the room.

"She is so hot," Jackson said, plopping onto the end of the couch, almost sitting on my feet. Opening my eyes, I glared at him, and he winked. Bastard.

"Damn straight, brother!" Elliott fist pounded him.

I shook my head in irritation.

"What are you talking about? They're all hot." Jimmy's voice carried from the far side of the room near the dressing tables.

"True, true," Elliott responded.

Nicholas arrived shortly after the hormonal outbursts and began going over the details. He motioned for us to exit the room, holding the door open.

"Let's head out and start stage checks."

We pulled ourselves up and walked back toward the stage.

Stage checks went as smoothly as usual and I made some changes to the lighting. After we finished and were back at the hotel, which was closer to the Dome than our house, the guys started making plans to go out for the night. They tried to get me to join, as they always do, but I don't like pulling all-nighters so early in the tour. Instead, I attempted to use the television to distract me into staying awake for a while. Unfortunately, my sleepless nights caught up with me.

Waking up screaming and dripping with sweat wasn't something new. However, when the tremors began in my hands, I knew sleeping wasn't an option for the rest of the night. I looked at the clock - two in the morning. Quietly, I headed to the shower, hoping it would shock my body awake.

The hot water was comforting, soothing my body into wanting more sleep. Unfortunately, I knew what usually came when I slept more than a couple of hours. If there was one solid constant in my life, it was that the darkness would always be waiting to taunt me.

After my shower, I walked around the suite, noticing the guys weren't back yet. That worked for me. Grabbing my guitar and my notepad, I stepped out onto the balcony. The cold night would help keep me awake.

About twenty minutes later, the distinct sound of stumbling and laughing, drunken idiots made it clear they were back and trashed. I ignored them and continued working on a song that had been stuck in my head for a week now. I heard the door to the balcony slide open, but didn't look up from my guitar.

"You missed a kick ass time, brother," Jimmy said, his cigarette bouncing on his lips.

He swayed toward the railing. I prayed he didn't try to lean over it in his state of inebriation. He turned and put his back against it, instead. Thank fuck. I breathed in relief.

"I'm sure I did. I'm surprised you guys didn't bring back some entertainment," I chuckled, knowing the routine.

"Nah, not tonight," he said and shrugged. "We actually hung with the girls."

My head popped up from my notebook.

"The girls?"

Had they really skipped a night of recruitment to hang out with those girls? Had they completely lost their fucking minds?

"Yeah, man. You know, Serena, Kat, Lane, and Mia."

Jimmy took a long drag and blew it out. The smoke mixed into the cold air. "Oh, and their backup singers. At least I think they were backup singers."

A huge smile spread across his face and he looked at me weirdly.

"Christ, how long have you been out here? It's fucking freezing."

He shivered. I shrugged.

"It was hilarious, dude!" Elliott said.

I hadn't heard him step out onto the balcony.

"Mia was cracking me the fuck up. She's hilarious."

Jimmy chuckled with a nod before stubbing out his cigarette and heading inside.

"Screw this man," Elliott said, rubbing his hands together. "It's too cold out here." He followed Jimmy inside.

Scrapping my writing for the night, I headed back to my room and switched on the T.V. There was nothing on, so I reached for the bottle of pills next to my bed. With a sigh, I popped the white lid from the brown bottle. They tasted just as bitter as always. Lying back on my pillow and waiting for unconsciousness to take me, I prayed it would be a dreamless state.

It was a stupid prayer. God never answered it.

Chapter Four

Christopher

Drowning in freezing cold water, I couldn't see anything but darkness. My name called as I fought to escape, but the darkness wouldn't release its unyielding grip.

Suddenly I woke up, jolted by another feeling of icy water. Shooting out of bed and onto my feet, I tried to gain my bearings.

"What the hell?" I shouted, scanning my drenched body.

"Christ, Christopher, we've been trying to wake you for twenty minutes. I thought we were gonna to have to call an ambulance," Jackson said, standing over me holding the room's ice bucket in his hand.

"And you thought this was the best way to wake me up? Fuck, Jackson!" I fumed, walking toward the bathroom for a towel. The rattle of the pill bottle sounded behind me.

"Chris, where in the hell did you get these? If Nicholas finds these again he's going to freak out and probably cancel the damn tour."

He appeared in the bathroom doorway. "Is that what you want, to ruin this for all of us? Or are you just hoping you succeed and kill yourself this time?"

"Fuck you. It's none of your business." The door creaked when I slammed it in his face.

"It is my business. You are my brother. Not just a band brother, but my brother. I hate what you do to yourself. You barely eat, socialize, and you don't sleep unless you drug yourself with these damn pills you get from God knows who and –"

I threw the door open hard enough to put a hole in the wall, the hinges protested in retaliation. Barreling toward him, I stripped the bottle from his hand.

"It's none of your fucking business!"

Our stare down seemed to go on for hours. It wasn't easy to go eye to eye with Jackson. At nearly seven feet tall, he had four inches on me.

Eventually, he dropped his eyes and shook his head. Defeated, he started toward the door, hesitating before he walked out. "What do you think it would do to Gwen, Christopher?" he asked before walking out.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I buried my head in my hands. Shame and anger overwhelmed me and quickly turned into rage. I threw the pill bottle across the room, watching as it slammed against the wall, scattering the white pills all over the floor. Fuck it all. I stood and went to get ready for the day still reeling with emotions. I wish I could shatter these emotions against the wall like the pills. Just remove them all and leave them scattered across the floor of a room I never have to return to.

As we arrived at the back entrance of the Dome, cameras were flashing and fans were screaming. We jumped out of the car, stood for a few photos, and signed a few autographs. It's all about the fans, after all. Just as we were getting ready to make our leave into the Dome, another car pulled up. Looks like the pussy brigade had arrived. They climbed out of the car and started walking in our direction.

I honed into Mia the moment she exited the car. The turmoil that had been swimming around inside of me began to resurface. The magnetism, anger, and irritation were all swirling inside of me like a tornado of sentiment. I could help the glare in my eyes or the scowl that transformed my face.

I heard a few fans shout for them and watched as they stopped to sign autographs and take pictures. My irritation grew. As irrational as it may be, their presence annoyed me. Red and Mia pulled a young girl under the ropes and around security. They both hugged her and then positioned her for a picture with the entire band. Blondie and Tiny kissed the cheeks of a guy waving to them. As I was about to turn my head, I caught a glimpse of a guy in a The Forgotten shirt.

He grabbed onto her arm and didn't look like he was going to let go any time soon. Mia shot the guy a smile, her eyes flashing with annoyance. An unusual urge to protect her from this grabby jerk surfaced above all other emotions. I froze in place, unable to look away but also not allowing myself to intervene. Christ, I'm a fucking mess.

Just when I thought she was going to freak out on the guy, she turned and kissed his cheek. He let go of her, apparently getting what he wanted, and she walked away.

Is she fucking stupid? He could've been a fucking stalker or serial killer! He could have a shrine made out of her hair or some shit.

The girls were about to pass us by when I heard Elliott and Jackson yell out to them. I turned and locked eyes with Mia, giving her the full glare brought on by my fucked up emotions.

Mia

I wanted to rip his fucking head off. I have to deal with a touchy-feely freak fan only to walk straight into Christopher's death glare? What the fuck is his problem? Before that day at the record label, I had never even spoken to the guy and, even then, he acted as if I was a tick stuck to his ass. Now, we've spoken or been in the same vicinity a handful of times and he looks like he's ready to kill me. Something has to give with this douchebag. I can't stand him or the grudge he holds on his shoulder. Grow the fuck up, loser.

"What the hell is Christopher's problem?" Serena asked me once seated in the dressing room.

"Hell if I know," I said, slightly more irritated than I intended. I sighed. "It's like he hates me, but I have no idea why. I have done nothing to him. Nothing."

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" Kat smirked.

"I've got Nair. We can always sneak into his room," Laney offered, smiling mischievously and wiggling her eyebrows.

"We could slip laxatives into his food," Serena co-conspired.

"No, no, no. I say we get him where it matters most," Kat said with an evil chuckle. "Let's put itching powder in his underwear."

"We are not going to do anything. I'll just continue to ignore him, he’ll continue to give me dirty looks, and all will be right in this little, fucked-up world we’re living in," I said, throwing my head back on the couch.

"You're no fun," Kat pouted.

"I know, but I refuse to let him know he affects me. Besides, I couldn't care less about him."

It wasn't the total truth. He got under my skin, easily. It's as if he was a professional asshole and his sole purpose in life is to make my life hell.

We were born to be onstage, meant to be on hundreds of stages just like it. When I walked up to my mic, I felt free, wild, out of control, yet still in control. It was the best adrenaline rush in the world. As the fans cheered us on, all of my anxiety faded and I flew to new heights. We've played shows before, but none nearly this big or with fans who loyally came to see The Forgotten. The energy in the room was contagious and I'm pretty sure all the girls felt the same way.

When The Forgotten took the stage, we grabbed a spot on the side of the stage to watch the show. All of the lights in the stadium dimmed dramatically low and the noise simmered. Within a few seconds, the lights flashed on brightly, revealing Christopher in full view. The crowd went ballistic; girls screamed his name and guys hollered out. It was so loud; the chants reverberated off the walls and directly into my eardrums. As soon as the first chord stroke, the noise drowned out. Chris began to sing and the entire crowd sang along with him, completely entranced in his words, his voice.

They opened their show with one of their more popular songs, "So Alone", and continued through their set without breaking. When they reached the song "Overrated", Christopher felt the need to look directly at me when he sang the line "it's overrated". I knew what he was saying, got the message loud and clear. He was such an asshole. I flipped him off and watched him smirk in satisfaction. Once his attention turned back to the crowd, I left and went backstage to our dressing room.

I fought so hard not to cry, but lost the battle. The frustration was too much. I needed a release from all this tension. Thankfully, I had calmed myself before Kat, Serena, and Laney joined me in the dressing room.

*****

The following morning, we received a wakeup call at the ass crack of dawn. Almost immediately sent into hair and makeup and beautified to their expectations, we were ushered to a large conference room in the hotel. There were small, elevated stages with tables and chairs set up with a crowd of reporters congregating as close as possible. We all took a deep breath before walking out to take our seats for the press meeting. The press began throwing out questions immediately.

"Mia, is it true you write all of Hushed Mentality's songs?" "Kat, how many body piercings do you have?" "Is it true about the animosity between The Forgotten and Hush?" "Serena, what is it like to leave your son at home while you'll be traveling?"

The questions were unending and it was all a little overwhelming. Una jumped in a few times when the press got a little too personal or she felt the need to intervene. We all continued to force smiles through the chaos and answer as many questions as possible. That is, until a familiar gossip blogger threw out the next question.

"How do you feel about Christopher Mason's recent response to the question, 'how is it traveling with an all-woman band that shows as much promise as The Forgotten?’"

He raised his eyebrows, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"I'm sorry, we aren't aware of any comments made," Una jumped in, trying to redirect the press. Mr. Gossip Rag wasn't having it.

"Oh, well, allow me. His comment was, and I quote, “You know girls. Their cycles all synchronize. We'll have to deal with the largest menstrual cycle imaginable”, he paused before continuing, “As for this promise they seem to be getting credit for, well, we'll have to wait and see if they can take us out of the number one song position and keep it for as long as we have, won't we?”, end quote."

The entire room fell silent, every reporter sitting on the edge of their seat salivating for our reaction. Inside I was boiling mad, irate, freaking pissed. Whom the fuck does this guy think he is? Two can play this game. Kat let out a low growl next to me.

"I'm sorry, but –"

"Well, what can we say? We are honored," I said, smiling and winking at the gossip reporter.

"Honored?" Mister Gossip Blogger choked out in confusion. Looking for a juicier story, aye?

"Of course we are," I said, shrugging. I could feel the eyes of the band on me. "What other woman out there can say that the Christopher Mason is monitoring her menstrual cycle for her?"

The reporters burst into laughter and Mister Gossip Rag gave me a nod of approval.

"Hopefully, he will keep us stocked in tampons when the time comes. Give us a heads up that Aunt Flow is coming to visit,” Kat quickly added, earning another round of laughter.

"As for getting to the number one spot and keeping it," I continued with a large smile. "We are always up for a challenge and, again, honored that he feels we are worthy competition."

Una put her hand on my shoulder and squeezed before she began taking back control. This time, she was able to get everyone back on track and eating from the palm of her hand.

"That was so great," Serena said, hugging me once we were free of the pressroom.

"I have no idea what you are referring to," I laughed.

"Shit, Mia, I couldn't be prouder," Kat said, catching up to both of us and wrapping her left arm over my shoulders.

"Hey, the tampon comment deserves some serious cred," Laney added.

We all laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. Menstrual synchronizing? That the best you have, hot shot?

"You think you're funny?"

We fell into silence and turned. Chris was standing to the left of us, his eyes burning with anger. It took me a moment, but I finally found the ability to pull my eyes away from his.

"Don't you have tampons to buy? I'm feeling a little bloated. Wait, you should know that already," Kat snapped at him.

Our group walked away in hysterics. When Una regrouped with us, I gave Chris one last look. He scowled. I gave him a fake smile and a small, condescending wave.

His face darkened.

I effectively avoided Christopher as much as possible for the remaining time in Seattle, and he did the same. Sunday morning arrived and we headed to the bus taking us to Whidbey Island. We were staying until Wednesday. Then, we would leave for Los Angeles. Coffee and messenger bag in hand, I headed toward our bus.

"Mia, do you wanna hang out on the guys' tour bus for the trip to Whidbey?" Laney asked me, smiling.

"Umm…thanks, but no thanks. I think I will stay as far away from Christopher as possible. Good luck with the asshole though," I chuckled and stepped on the bus.

"Alright, but I think you would –"

All sound ceased to exist when I saw Christopher in the background. He had been within hearing distance of my comment.

Shit.

His face clearly revealed the answer to the one question that instantly went through my head. Yes, he heard you, Mia. His angry eyes locked onto mine.

"Mia?" Laney asked, bringing me out of my trance.

"Huh?" I said, shaking my head.

"Are you sure you will be okay by yourself? We are going to go on their bus." Laney stood with her head tilted.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I assured, forcing a smile. "You know me. I'll just sleep the whole way."

"Are you okay?" she asked, eyeing me closely.

"Yep, I'm fine. Go have fun. Later, chick!" I urged, waving her off and climbing onto the bus. I made myself comfortable on a large couch that had a table in front of it.

I must have dozed off during the trip because Serena was currently shaking me awake.

"What?" I asked, half asleep and half pissed for being woke up.

"Pit stop," was all she said before walking off the bus.

I stretched and groaned before walking off the bus. Coming off the last step, I stumbled and readied myself for the inevitable face-plant. Two arms wrapped around me, saving me from my weary demise. I looked up.

"Thanks, Rob," I said, smiling at our sound system engineer.

"No problem," he replied, smiling warmly and walking into the small gas station store.

Once in the store, I went for my standard purchases. I grabbed my large bag of red fish and went for my large bottle of water.

"You do realize they stock the bus don't you?"

I cringed and turned. It was Christopher. Ugh.

"Yeah, but this is sort of like a tradition for me. Besides, I doubt they have these stored on the bus," I said, lifting the bag of red fish.

"Uh-huh…"

He scowled at me. I grabbed my Smart Water and attempted to walk around him, hoping that he was finished talking to me. No such luck.

"So, that was some press conference you had," he stated in a cocky and annoying tone.

"Yeah, I think we handled it pretty well. Thanks for caring," I drawled, making my sarcasm very clear.

I made a final attempt to get the hell out of this little situation with him.

"I would love to hear exactly what makes me an asshole. In your opinion, of course."

I crinkled up my face, harshly huffed, and turned around.

"Ya know, this conversation has been amazing,” I stated, my sarcasm thick, “I'm quite sure you know what makes you an asshole and you enjoy every minute of it. If you don't mind, I have red fish to eat and a nap that is more appealing," I spit out before I could filter my thoughts. I turned back around and walked away, not missing how his sharp, blue eyes felt like daggers in my back.

Back on the bus, I sat and waited for departure. I put my ear buds in and started listening to some songs I'd been working on. Closing my eyes, I sang aloud, trying to work through some lyrics.

The bus shifted and I opened my eyes. Kat walked on with Serena close behind. They found seats around me and I pulled my ear buds out.

"What's up?"

"Let's just say, Christopher isn't exactly in the best of moods. We decided to finish the trip over here," Kat replied, rolling her eyes.

"That guy is a real piece of work," Serena said, pulling my notebook toward her to read what I'd been writing down. "These are good, Mia. What song are you putting them with?"

I handed her my ear buds.

"That is going to be killer," she said with a smile.

"I want to hear," Laney whined and took the ear buds and notebook from Serena.

The bus shifted again as Jimmy and Elliott climbed on.

"Do you mind?" they asked.

"Of course not," Kat said, motioning for them to take a seat.

The rest of the trip was relaxing and the conversation was good. Everyone avoided the topic of Christopher, hence the relaxing and good. I did, however, notice Kat getting close to Jimmy and putting on the full flirt factor.

Chapter Five

Christopher

I saw her in his arms as he caught her from falling off the bus. My stomach turned at her damsel in distress act. Learn to walk. Walking the aisles of the store, I noticed Mia once more. She was strolling from the candy section and opening a cooler filled with water bottles.

"You do realize they stock the bus, don't you?" I asked, unable to control the urge to go to her. It pissed me off that I couldn't ignore her presence.

"Yeah, but this is sort of like a tradition for me. Besides, I doubt they have these stored on the bus," she said, lifting a bag of red fish.

I didn't realize adults ate that crap.

"Uh-huh…"

I scowled in confusion. She attempted to walk away from me. Not so fast, little girl.

"So, that was some press meeting you had," I baited her. I'd heard her response to my comment. I was not impressed.

"Yeah, I think we handled it pretty well. Thanks for caring," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

She tried to escape me quickly, but I couldn't resist egging her on more.

"I would love to hear exactly what makes me an asshole. In your opinion, of course."

I was waiting for her to stutter or quickly run from me, but she didn't. She turned around and just spat out her response.

"Ya know, this conversation has been amazing,” she stated, her tone dripping in sarcasm. “I'm quite sure you know what makes you an asshole and you enjoy every minute of it. If you don't mind, I have red fish to eat and a nap that is more appealing."

I stood in anger and shock as I watched her walk out of the store, her hips swaying seductively back and forth. What the fuck? Seductively? Where did that come from? Shaking my thoughts away, I finally headed back to the bus seething with anger. At myself and at her.

Taking a last moment detour, I headed toward the girls' bus. I could hear her singing as I approached the open door. There was no music, just her voice. I walked away and got onto my bus instead. Why the hell does she affect me? Better yet, why do I allow it?

"Hey, did you grab me that –" Jimmy began.

"Go get your own shit! I'm not your errand boy," I spat.

The confirmation of Mia's talent was making me angrier than before. I stormed to the back of the bus and threw myself on my large bed. I laid there trying to figure out how to change my plan around and make it work. I need her gone.

By the time we'd gotten to a ridiculously small town, I had my new plan figured out. I just had to set it in motion. It was going to take a little more effort than my original plan, but it would definitely be effective as long as everything went the way it was supposed to.

By the time I came out of my room, the busses were completely empty. Everyone was already walking toward the large, white house we parked in front of. As I walked down the stairs of the bus to exit, I heard yelling.  A child was running from the front door, screaming, "Mommy! I miss you!"

The little brown-haired boy with hazel eyes, leaped into Red's arms, and wrapped her in a tight bear hug.

"Oh, baby, I missed you. I love you so much!" she exclaimed while squeezing his little body.

I walked up next to Elliott.

"She has a kid?"

"Yeah, he is going to be four, I think," Elliott replied.

"An Mia," the boy cried and reached out for her. She wrapped him around to her back, and he latched on.

"Hold on tight, monkey boy," she said to him and offered a red fish over her shoulder.

Everyone started into the large house where a black woman with long braids stood on the porch. For a moment, I wondered who she was.

"Ganma, mommy home!" the little boy yelled excitedly to the woman.

"I see, Ry," she said, smiling at him.

"Hey, Linda," Mia said as she and Red kissed the woman's cheek. Blondie and Tiny hugged Linda and introduced us. We said hello and followed them into the house.

I looked around at the simply decorated rooms with colorful toys littering the area. I followed the group into the large living room and took a seat on the couch in between Elliott and Jackson.

"Eww tant catch me!" the boy yelled as he came running in.

Mia came stomping in after him. Her face was lit up with the biggest smile I'd ever seen.

"Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum! I smell a Ryan and Ryan is yum!" she laughed, tackling and tickling him. He started tickling her back, laughing so hard he got hiccups.

It reminded me of when my mother would chase me around our backyard. I shook the unwelcome memory out of my head and went outside for some air. Sitting on the front porch steps, I heard someone approaching.

"You okay?"

I turned to see the woman they had called Linda.

"Yeah, long trip," I said, forcing a small smile before turning back around. "Just needed some air."

"You're going to freeze out here," she warned.

"I'll be fine," I said, trying not to sound irritated. I doubt I succeeded.

"Okay. Well you just let me or the girls know if you need anything," she said before leaving.

Oh, my needs were aplenty. I need your girls to be off my tour. Can you make that happen, Linda? I need to sleep without episodes. Think you can manage that while you're at it?

I was about to go back to the bus when I heard loud music inside. I walked back in to see Mia, Elliott, and Ryan playing Rock Band. The three of them were playing their appointed instruments while singing “Are You Gonna Be My Girl?” by Jet. I had to smile. The little boy knew every word.

"Amelia Marie Ryder!" Red yelled from the stairs.

I watched Mia cringe and try to hide behind a giggling Ryan.

"That was supposed to be for his birthday tomorrow! I told you to wait!" Red said, standing in true mother form with her hands on her hips. "Ryan, tell Aunt Mia she is bad and to stop hiding from Mommy."

I watched Mia's lips move silently before the boy spoke. "I don see An Mia, Mommy. Where she?" he asked, his smile turning into a giggle.

"Mia, do not have him lie for you!" Red said, trying to hide a smile that was working its way over her lips.

The girls stayed at their house while we stayed at a local hotel. We'd be in this rinky-dink town long enough for them to visit their family and for Ryan's birthday. Elliott, Una, and Nicholas went crazy buying gifts for a kid they'd just met.

Elliott's behavior was the strangest of all. He wasn't this guy. He was a strip-club-going, body-shot-drinking womanizer. However, it seemed that aliens had replaced him with this father-like figure. He interacted with Serena and her son like it was his goal to be a part of their family. This new Elliott completely confused me.

Today the girls were playing at their old high school. We were required to tag along for "good press”. Yeah, whatever. We arrived at a very small school that looked nothing like the high school I went to. It was a simple, large building rather than a campus style layout.

As the girls set up and rehearsed, I decided to set my plan into motion. We took the Principle up on his offer for a tour, and when we reached the music room, I instantly knew how I was going to set it in motion. Sitting down to the piano, I started playing. Nicholas and Jackson walked over slowly. I knew sitting at a piano again would strike their curiosity.

"Christopher…um…what's that you're playing? I don't think I've heard it before," Nicholas said hesitantly, probably waiting for me to yell at him.

"You wouldn't have heard it. It's something I'm working on," I replied, shrugging. "But it's missing something, and I haven't been able to figure it out until just now."

"What?" Jackson inquired.

From the corner of my eye, I saw his eyes shift to Nicholas who was still staring at me as if I was a bomb about to go off.

"Collaboration."

"Collaboration?" Nicholas asked, feeding right from my hand.

"Yes, I think it should be a duet. I'm having a hard time figuring out the lyrics from solely my perspective." I shrugged and stood up. "I'll figure it out eventually."

I left the room smiling to myself. Let the games begin.

*****

Once the high school concert was out of the way, it was time to return to the hotel and get ready to leave the next morning. Our next stop was Los Angeles.

We left early Wednesday morning for L.A. and retired to our respective rooms upon arrival.

On Thursday, the guys decided to go to a club. Normally I wouldn't go with, it just wasn't my thing, but Elliott finally convinced me to try going out with them. He brought up a very valid point that if I hated it, I could always leave.

The random multicolored lights circled around me as I entered the club. It was enough to make one develop epilepsy. The club owner immediately ushered us to the private lounge, which didn't feel very private.  The room was full of people. I glanced around and honed in on Red and Tiny dancing together. Of course, they would be here. I was in the deepest realms of hell. Not only do I have to deal with this being a fucking club, I get the titty committee to go with it. Do moms dance like that? Christ!

I walked over to the bar and got water. Jackson was quickly at my side.

"It's only water, Jackson. Do you want to smell it before I drink it?" I asked, glaring as I held the glass over to him.

"Kill me for caring," he said as he walked away.

I sighed and took a big drink. Well, where are the other two? If Red and Tiny are here, Mia and Blondie are in tow. I looked to my left and found them; Blondie and Mia were creating a Jim sandwich as they grinded on him. Jesus. Classy much? This is just disgusting.

The song changed, replaced by some heavy hip-hop song about hips swinging. Mia and a couple of girls I had seen backstage paired off, dancing in synchronization. I had to give them credit. If strippers were what they were going for, they nailed it. I half smiled into my glass of water.

"She's a trained dancer, you know?"

I looked down at my side. Tiny had appeared next to me, staring at Mia and her gal-pal grind buddy.

"Oh-Kay," I drawled, rolling my eyes and taking another drink of water.

"I mean it. She is a trained classical dancer, like ballet. You should really see her. She's amazing. It's crazy, though, how much she likes this and is good at –"

"Is there a particular reason you're telling me this?" I asked, glaring down on her.

"Just making conversation," she said, shrugging before walking away, a smirk on her face.

Crazy little freak.

I eventually made it to one of the tables in the room. Jimmy arrived from the dance floor and sat with me. Just as I was about to say something to him, two familiar groupies walked up in front of me.

"Come dance with us, Chris," groupie one whined and pulled on my hand.

"Sorry, not my thing," I said, motioning around the club with a look of disgust on my face.

"Then we'll just have to dance for you," groupie number two smiled seductively and pulled the other girl against her body.

They slithered and ground against each other for the sole purpose of my entertainment. I felt Jimmy nudge my arm when the two kissed each other. I glanced at him. He mouthed the word "nice".

I raised my bottle of water to him and smiled large. That's right, bitches. Thy name is Christopher Mason.

Mia

After everything going on with Christopher, being home was revitalizing. Seeing Ryan was the definite highlight. He is my angel, my solace and grounding. Spending even an hour with him can turn my mood around. What started out as a shit day, ended as the best thus far into the tour.

Playing at our high school was nostalgic and rewarding. My old chorus teacher had puffed her chest and held her head high, boasting to Una over how she had molded my voice.

Stepping onto the large, black canvas tarp, the smell of the gymnasium was so familiar. I took in a deep breath and exhaled, cleansing my muddled thoughts and relaxing my limbs. I glanced around to Kat, Serena, and Lane, who all looked as if they were feeling the same way. Ec-freaking-static.

The moment introductions were over, Serena tapped her sticks three times and we dove into the music. Adrenalin coursed through my veins. A rush of elation tingled inside my chest.  When I opened my mouth and began to sing, the crowd sung with us.  They knew us. They knew the song. My elation was through the roof. Taking my hands away from my guitar, I waved for the crowd to sing louder.

Once we finished our set, we decided to stick around for a little interaction. We took pictures and spoke with the students. I was astounded at how excited they were for us to be playing for them, of how many of them knew our songs. I really hope this never gets old. It made all of my anxiety over Christopher disappear as I remembered why we were here. We are a great band, our music is amazing and we have the best freaking fans in the world. We deserve this. Fuck Christopher and his bullshit.

The next morning, we were off to L.A. and the official start of our tour. To celebrate this monumental moment, we all decided to go out and dance the night away. Once we arrived at the club, we were shown to a private room. Everyone put in their drink orders, deciding alcohol was the best way to celebrate this occasion. I decided on water. I was here to dance.

Even though making music was my life, I loved hip-hop and dance music: Lady Gaga, Pussycat Dolls, Savage, Brokencycle, the list goes on. I always felt so much better after a night of dancing. Dancing has always been a huge stress reliever for me. Better than sex. I'm not sure if it was because of the way my muscles burned in excitement or due to my dance training, but I loved the way I could freely move, get lost in the rhythm of the music, and leave my worries behind.

The club was full of energy and the pulse of the music had me grabbing Kat's arm and heading to the dance floor. I absorbed the low thrum of the bass line, and began to move, allowing the rhythm to take me away. A familiar song started and Jimmy joined us. Once the song ended, two of the backup singers on the tour grabbed my arm and pulled me over to dance with them. We started swinging our hips with the fast tempo of the song, dropped to the floor and brought it back up. We were all laughing and having a great time, enjoying the atmosphere.

After the night was over, we hurried past the photographers and climbed into an awaiting car. Christopher was lounging in the far corner. I hadn't realized he had joined them tonight. I did my best to ignore him, as usual, and I thought he would do the same. Upon our return to the hotel, I found out I was wrong. I could feel him closer than normal, his eyes burning a hole into the back of my head. It was a little more than unnerving.

"I'll be up in a minute. I want to go over to the little store they have real quickly," I whispered, leaning over to Kat's ear. She nodded.

I didn't give a shit about the little, all-night, lobby store. I just wanted to get away from Christopher and his weird behavior.

I let everyone pass me, watching to make sure he went by. Once he passed me, I felt relieved and walked toward the little store, hanging around long enough for everyone to get to their rooms. After about ten minutes, I figured I'd killed enough time and finally headed to my room.

The elevator was quiet and only stopped at one other floor, though no one was waiting. I stepped off the elevator and turned in the direction of my room, halting in my tracks. Damn it!

I sighed and continued walking, but Christopher pushed away from the wall and walked in front of me.

"Excuse me," I growled and tried to walk around him. He moved to the side, cutting off my escape.

"Jesus Christ, Christopher. What?" I spat out and stood with my arms across my chest.

He started walking closer toward me. With each step he made forward, I took one back. I felt my back hit a wall and he pressed closer. For a moment, he scared me, but then a weird ease came over me when he was close enough for me to feel the heat of his body. I wanted to slap him and then I wanted to slap myself for reacting this way.

"I think that I want –"

Before he could finish, I tried to slip out from the side. He placed his hands on either side of me, preventing my retreat. I scowled at him and he smirked. The motherfucker smirked. I wanted to slap the stupid smirk off his face. I also wanted to swipe my tongue over that cocky smirk.  The heat from his slim, yet firm, body pressing against mine was causing sparks to light across my nerve endings. What the fuck is wrong with me? I gave him a hateful look while my eyes scanned over his features, taking him in fully for what felt like the first time. God, he's so fucking pretty. His intense blue eyes were boring into mine, his high cheekbones and sharp jaw so pristine it was as if he were a painting; the perfect depiction of bad boy wrapped up within a man. The slight stubble across his jaw gave him a harder look that was so appealing... I shook away my thoughts. This is ridiculous. My annoyance grew toward him and myself for becoming putty in his hands.

"Move, Christopher!" I yelled.

He shook his head with his smirk still firmly in place.

"As I was saying, I think I want you…"

My mouth dropped open in utter shock while my body responded to the words.

"...your voice," he finished, laughing at my reaction.

"Excuse me?"

His laugh was like a bucket of ice tossed on my mounting libido. I shoved at his chest, his extremely hard chest, forcing him backward. Damn, I bet defined muscles of perfection lay under his thin, cotton shirt.

"You heard me," he said before turning to walk toward his room.

I couldn't take it anymore. I had had enough of his arrogance and pissy attitude.

"I can't stand you!" I shouted to his retreating figure. "I don't know what your damn problem is but –"

He snapped his head around, drilling his dark eyes into me. I could see the anger writhing off him.  Before I knew it, he stood before me again, invading my personal space. Breathing heavily, his eyes dark as midnight, he moved his hand down my side, caressing the side of my breast down to my hip where he gripped lightly. He moved his face closer to mine before dipping down to my jawline, placing a chaste kiss. I shivered. Apparently, my body and brain were not functioning in unison.

"You don't know one fucking thing about me, baby,” he growled against my neck, his hot breath causing goose bumps to break out across my skin.  Abruptly, he pushed away and hightailed it back to his room.

My body went cold and I fucking seethed.  Walking past his door, I kicked it hard along the way to my room. I slammed my door behind me.

Chapter Six

Mia

The Los Angeles shows were over before we knew it, but it had been a fantastic three nights. The crowd was massive, the audience energetic and welcoming, even those who came for The Forgotten. I drew some satisfaction from the fact that Chris had to be in hell.

Our tour dates would keep us going for months straight. Upon leaving Los Angeles, we would drive straight to Phoenix. Then head to Vegas, Salt Lake City, Denver, and El Paso without breaks. The drive was at least four hours between each and we would be going from bus to concert, concert to bus. On the rare occasion where we had multiple shows in the same arena, we would stay at a hotel and depart after the last show.

We were just about finished tagging our luggage when there was a knock at the door. Kat answered, showing Una and Nicholas into the room. We stood in a slightly awkward silence, waiting for someone to speak.

Both Una and Nicholas turned toward me, Una's forehead creased with nerves and Nicholas holding a look of concern on his face. I began fidgeting, feeling slightly insecure under their unsure looks.

"Um...Mia, can we please talk with you for a moment?" Una asked, her voice wavering for a moment.

"Is there something I should be worried about? You both look like you have bad news," I said, forcing a laugh to ease my own growing nervousness.

"Could you please join us for a moment?" Una requested once more, motioning for me to follow them into a bedroom.

"Uh…sure," I said, turning to shrug at the others.

"So, what's up?" I asked as I entered the room, furrowing my brow.

"Well, we're bringing in a third tour bus for the next week or two, if necessary."

I was unsure what the third bus had to do with me, but Una continued for Nicholas.

"Mia, we are bringing in the other bus for The Forgotten. Well, with exception to Christopher."

Oh, of course he would have to have his own bus. That asshole was more of a brat than I had originally thought. Apparently, his ego was too much for the saner members of the band to deal with.

"Okay, what does this have to do with me? I mean –"

"Christopher has a song he's started working on and wants to collaborate with you on it."

My eyes grew about three times their size. What was he up to? I started shaking my head, negating the question I knew was coming. I didn't like where this was heading, not one bit.

"No, no, no….wait –"

"Mia, I…we cannot make you do anything," Una said, taking a deep breath before continuing. "However, as a manager, the song would be great exposure for Hushed Mentality. It could also be a great way to launch your appeal with The Forgotten fans."

This woman was out of her damned mind. She knew he was a jerk and she wanted me to agree to stay with him, alone, on a bus, just he and I. Uh-uh, no way in hell. I was still trying to figure out my reaction toward him and keep my distance while doing so. The look I gave was exactly what she deserved for suggesting such an insane thing.

"I, of all people, know what my son is capable of. I'm pretty sure he's already shown you how he can be. And, for that, I apologize. However, I'm also sure you know, as well as I do, what he'll be like if this does not play out as he requests."

"So, I have to suck this up because he'll throw a damn tantrum and no one wants to deal with him? No, no way," I refused, throwing my hands in the air. "Are you kidding me?"

"No, Mia, that's not what I'm saying. If you decline, then we'll deal with him. I'm just being completely honest," Nicholas sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Honestly, if I were you…I wouldn't do it."

Una's head shot to look at Nicholas in shock.

"Nicholas," she hissed.

"What? I'm being honest with the girl. She deserves it," he said looking back at me.

"It's true, Hushed Mentality would get amazing coverage from the song, as well as being able to possibly debut the song on stage. It would be a career boost." He took another long breath. "Consider it and let us know before we finish loading the buses, please?"

He looked directly into my eyes, pleading.

My immediate reaction was to scream 'ah-nah, hell-nah', but an odd calmness came over me. I could only agree to think about it. Una and Nicholas walked out of the room and the girls rushed in. They immediately bombarded me with curious looks and questions.

"What are you going to do?" Laney questioned. "You aren't really going to do this, are you?" she asked, her eyes seeking mine for confirmation.

I looked up and they were looking at me inquisitively. Obviously, they'd been eavesdropping on the whole conversation. Who could blame them? I would've done the same.

"Do you guys want me to do it?"

Looking toward the floor, my stomach twisted nervously awaiting their responses. Could I do this? Could I be on a bus alone with Christopher for the purpose of a song? Yes, he's an asshole. Yes, he's treated me like shit. However, I can't help the way my body reacts to him, the way my pulse revs at the site of him. Jesus, Mia, he wants you to make a song with him, not babies. Although, making babies…I shook away my thoughts once more, looking at each of my bandmates.

"Oh, girl, we could never ask you to do this, or make this decision for you," Serena said, putting her arm around me.

"I need you guys, though," I said, exhaling after drawing a deep breath. "Time for a vote."

"We can't just vote on –" Kat started.

"This could affect the entire band, which makes it a vote-worthy subject."

I looked around, and they nodded. We stuck our fists out in front of us and began our vote. I closed my eyes.

"One, Two, Three…Vote!"

Opening my eyes, I look at the thumbs around me. Laney and my thumbs were down, Kat and Serena's were up.

"Shit. Tie breaker," Laney groaned.

Everyone was wearing their nerves on their face.

"Pick your champions," Kat said, rubbing her hands together.

"Serena, let's do this."

"Where?" Laney asked, scrunching her nose.  This wasn't one of her favorite moments.

"Hallway?" I suggested.

"No way," Kat said, shaking her head, an evil grin spread across her red lips. "The lobby."

“So be it.” We made our way into the lobby. Laney pinched her nose while Kat sat smiling in a lobby chair, looking completely at ease yet excited for the shenanigans about to ensue.  Serena and I stood in front each other, determination on both our faces.

"Penis," I announced one octave higher than my normal voice.

"Vagina!" Serena announced a bit higher.

Both of us glanced around the fancy lobby as distinguished men in suits and well-dressed women strolled around us.  No one was looking at us yet, but it wouldn't take long. The purpose of the game, or tiebreaker, was to get louder and louder until one of the two people involved was too embarrassed to continue.

Serena and I continued on, rattling off the respective reproductive organs in increasingly higher decibels. A woman entered the lobby with about five children just as Serena practically yelled, “Vagina!” The mother pulled her children closer and covered the ears of the youngest.  The moment she looked back to the clerk behind the desk, I knew we were about to be asked to leave.  With one last look to the wide-eyed children, the "puh" sitting on my lips, I grabbed Serena's hand and pulled her to the elevators.

"Really?" Kat griped as she followed.

Laney caught up quickly, looking relieved it was over.

Instead of complaining about my loss, I dialed Una on the way back to the room.

"Okay, Una, let's do this," I said, looking up as I spoke. I could visibly see the guilt forming in their expressions. I forced a smile, knowing they were worried on my behalf.  They had no idea that they were worrying for the wrong reasons.

Christopher

I knew Nicholas would give me a hard time about my suggestion of moving Mia onto a bus with me. However, after a few hours of convincing him that my reasons were purely professional, he finally agreed to talk with Una. Counting on Una to fall into manger mode and realize the exposure her band would get, I was sure she would at least propose it to them. All I cared about was having Mia on a tour bus alone, with the ability to make her so miserable she would walk away from the tour, unable to handle it any longer.

When the road crew started to load up the bus with her luggage, I sat back on the couch, lounging in victory. This was going to be too easy.

Mia was hesitant to step onto the bus. Seemingly losing, or winning, the battle within herself, she stepped onto the bus, rolling her eyes at the sight of me. I shot her a cocky, victorious grin. That's right, baby. I do get what I want. She walked past me and threw her things on one of the bunks. She looked around for a moment, put in her ear buds and laid on the bunk, positioning herself to face away from me.

This wasn't going to work for me. I got up, went back to her bunk, and stood over her, waiting until she acknowledged my presence. When she finally rolled over, she shot me a look of irritation.

"What do you want, Mason?" she asked, obviously really pissed.

I sneered. Who the fuck did the broad think she was? I'm offering to help her career, well, not really, but she doesn't know that, and she's talking shit? I don't think so.

"I'm here, you've got me. When you want to work on this song, let me know," she said and rolled back over.

I pulled the ear buds out of her ears. No, sweet tits, you are not in charge here. She sat up quickly and climbed to her feet, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. The little kitty wanted to play.

"I was simply going to say that you can have the large bed in the back of the bus," I said, smiling down at her. She saw right through me.

Something over my shoulder caught her eye before she looked back at me with her dark eyes and answered me.

"No, thank you. I'll stay right here," she refused, her jaw tense and smile forced.

"Is everything okay?"

Turning at Nicholas' question, I nodded with a shrug.

"Why wouldn't it be? I was simply offering Mia the large bed in the back of the bus."

I walked back to the couch and sat down. Nicholas raised an eyebrow in partial suspicion and surprise. He looked to Mia for confirmation.

"Its fine," she sighed. "Thank you, Nicholas."

I rolled my eyes. This damsel in distress act was so fucking lame. What the fuck did everyone think I was going to do to this chick? Rape her? He finally left and the bus started up. I turned back as Mia was stalking toward me.

"Look here, Mason, I don't care if everyone else walks on egg shells for you. Plain and simple, you stay out of my way; I'll stay out of yours. When this 'song' is finished, I'm out of here."

She turned on her heels and went back to the bunk. I let her have this moment. I turned on the TV, increasing the volume. She shifted around and I knew it was getting to her. I looked at the clock. Ten o’clock. Perfect.

"Can you please turn that down?" she groaned. I ignored her. "Mason! Turn it down for God's sake."

She pressed her pillow over her head and I stifled my laughter. Turning off the TV, I watched her body relax. I plugged in my iPod and turned it on, again at top volume. I sat back and waited for the yelling.

"What the hell, Christopher? Don't you sleep?" she demanded, laying face up with her hands over her eyes.

"Not as much as you seem to," I chided.

She sat up in a huff.

"Is this some sick way of saying you wanted to work on the damn song?"

I half grinned. She got up and walked toward the couch. Grabbing my ankles, she threw my legs off the couch and sat down.

"Okay. Let's start then," she huffed, sitting back against the couch.

I threw my notebook at her. She picked it up from her lap and looked over it.

"Do you have music to this? I mean, what do you want me to do?"

I shook my head. I thought she would be better than this.

"Don't shake your head at me," she threatened, her eyes were challenging me to deny it. "I know you're up to something. I just haven't figured out what it is yet."

I grabbed my guitar and played the song a couple of times.

"Sing."

I began playing again. She sang the whole song and then took the pen from the table in front of us and started making notes. Since I knew Nicholas and Una would want to see progress, the song was going to have to be finished. We worked on the song for about an hour and argued for another hour before the bus stopped at a hotel in Phoenix.

"Thank God!" Mia said, throwing the notebook at me and going to grab her things. She walked past me and off the bus without saying another word.

Her ability to disregard me really ate away at me. I shook it off and grabbed my own things before stepping off the bus. I was getting to her and that was what I hoped to accomplish.

The usual smattering of fans and paparazzi were waiting in the lobby when I arrived. I was checking in when I noticed Stacia, a backup singer, heading in my direction.

"Hey, Christopher," she said, using her most seductive voice. She slipped her hand up my chest and leaned her body against mine, kissing my cheek.

"Stacia," I replied, nodding and heading to the elevator.

The door opened and I stepped in, feeling her follow me. I smiled to myself. We've played this game many times.

"So, what floor?" she asked with her fingers hovering over the buttons.

"Eight," I answered.

"Eight it is," she said, smiling and winking at me.

After closing my bedroom door, she got straight to business, stripping off all her clothes until she stood only in heels. She sashayed to the bed and laid across it. Curling one finger, she motioned for me to join her.

Walking to the edge of the bed, I stood looking down on her. She moved onto her knees and removed my shirt before moving lower to unbuckle my pants. I looked down onto her bleach blonde head. She slid my pants and boxers down until they fell to the floor, a cotton and denim puddle at my feet. She kissed my neck and slid her tongue down my chest and over my stomach, reaching her final destination.

She circled my tip with her tongue before taking all of me into her mouth, letting her tongue sweep the underside of my cock before pulling back. She repeated the motion one more time before slowly bobbing her head back and forth. While the physical contact aroused me, I was having difficulty staying hard. This is a first, and more than fucking frustrating.

I gripped the back of her head and took control, thrusting in and out of her mouth at a quicker pace. Her gag reflex protested for a second, but I just went with it, savoring the feeling of the back of her throat. My muscles began to tighten and I knew I was close. She tried to pull away, but I kept her in place until I was finished. Releasing her, I went to take a shower, leaving her alone on the bed.

As I leaned into the hot water, I heard the bathroom door open and Stacia's silhouette formed on the other side of the shower curtain. I rolled my eyes when she reached for the shower curtain. Why do they always think sex, or head, is more than it is? She should know how this game works by now.

"Did you need something?" I asked, irritation dripping from my words. Her hand stopped its forward movement and lingered in the air, but she didn't answer me.

"You can go now," I said flatly.

"Asshole," she huffed and then slammed the bathroom door as she left.

When I heard the room door shut, I got out of the shower and went to lie down. The last thing I remember was the radio clock stating it was two in the morning.

I was sitting on my bed; my back leaned up against the wall, hugging my knees to my chest. He was yelling again, berating her for reasons I didn't know. His anger was palpable; the air filled with animosity and fear. Suddenly, the house turned quiet. My skin prickled, waiting for what was to come. A thud, followed by a scream, had me running from my room, rushing to her side. I slid down next to her, looking her over. The sharp sting registered to my cheek as he slapped me. I showed no emotion, only worried about her, for her. He grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me across the floor, throwing me into the familiar dark closet. He slammed the door shut and locked me in. I heard the screech of heavy furniture moving, blocking me inside. I was trapped, unable to be the warrior she needed. Curling into a ball on the floor, I covered my ears to escape the sobbing…the screaming.

The door slowly opened and there she was, reaching for me – battered and bruised. I grasped her outstretched hand and clung to her with all I had. She hurried us to my room, locking and blocking the door. Once we were on my bed, I curled into her side, reveling in her warmth, listening to her rapidly increasing heartbeat. He started pounding on the door, screaming bad names at her, at me. Calling her foul things that just weren't true. With every pound came another hateful name, a hateful remark. Why wouldn't he just go away?

I jolted up, screaming into the dark room. I ran my hands up and down my face, scrubbing the images from my head. Looking to the clock, I realized I had only been asleep for three hours. My eyes landed on the date, the eerie green lighting taunting me. Angrily, I climbed out of bed and headed to the shower to rinse off the sweat. It was getting worse; I was getting worse. Fuck!

Mia

Once we arrived in Phoenix, I ran off that bus as if my ass was on fire. I could not get away fast enough. He was driving me insane, and it was only the first four hours. I just wanted to get this over and done.

"Mia, everything okay?" Serena asked, falling in step with me.

She wasn't shy about examining me, her eyes tracing my frazzled appearance.

"Is he being an asshole? Do you want me to get my Nair?" Laney asked, catching up to us.

"No and no. Step away from the Nair, Lane," I sighed. "He is an impossible jerk. I swear, sleep is something he doesn't do and he has made it his quest in life to piss me off." I stopped walking to check in with the hotel clerk. "I want to rip his fucking head off!"

"Just call it off, Mia. It's not worth it," Kat said, leaning against the lobby desk, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

"You know I can't do that. Once I make my mind up, there's no going back. Besides, I'm a tough girl and it's only a week, right? What's one week of hell? Some people live an eternity of it,” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

They all gave me an unsure look.

"What? Do you know something that I don't?"

"Think about it, Mia. Do you think he's going to let it be that easy?" Serena sighed. "He's obviously up to something, not that I'm sure what it is, yet."

"Easy? I would never call this easy. I know the feeling. Believe me, he's definitely up to something. But, I'm giving it a week and that's it. That's what I agreed to."

We grabbed our hotel keys and headed toward our rooms. I would be damned if I would let him win. Whatever game he's playing, bring it on. Two can definitely play.

After my shower, I lay in bed for a while cursing the demon spawn that was Chris. I finally dozed off, completely turned on by the thought of him.

The next morning my cell phone chirped me awake. Grabbing the phone, I peeked at the screen. Really, this early? Crap, it was only eight in the morning.

"What, Laney?" I croaked out.

"Breakfast in twenty, wake up and get your ass down to the restaurant," she said and hung up.

I screamed into my pillow before I got into a cold shower, hoping it would wake me up. Throwing on some baggy jeans, a tiny t-shirt, and sliding on my flip-flops, I brushed my hair, twisting it into a knot at the back of my head. I smiled as I headed down to the restaurant, knowing Laney was going to scoff at my ensemble.

Entering the hotel restaurant, I saw just about everyone was at a large table. One quicker scan of the table informed me that Una and Christopher were the only two who hadn't arrived. I relaxed knowing Christopher wasn't around.

After getting my food, we sat around eating and talking. Once finished, I stood up to go collect my things to take back to the bastard's bus. Just the thought of it made me shudder. I looked over my shoulder, seeing a look of disgust take over Laney's face as she took in my outfit. I stuck my tongue out at her.

"I thought I got rid of those jeans last year?" she speculated, narrowing her eyes at me.

I smiled large and turned to leave, running right into the bastard himself. Stumbling back, I caught myself on a nearby chair.

"Sorry," I mumbled and walked around him.

As I was passing, he leaned toward me and I flinched away.

"If you want to put your hands on me, you could at least wait till we get on the bus," he smirked.

I scowled at him, wanting to slap the attractive little smirk off his face. Instead, inspiration struck. Stopping, I grabbed his arm and pulled his face extremely close to mine. I heard gasps from behind us. Our noses were less than an inch away, and his eyes widened when I licked my lips.

Using the sickliest sweet voice I could muster, I opened my mouth.

"In your fucking dreams, Mason."

I shoved him back and walked out of the restaurant extremely proud of myself, listening to the roar of laughter behind me. Then, I noticed Una had been watching. I mouthed “sorry” with an apologetic look on my face. She simply winked at me.

We met up with Una later in a small conference room for a few hours before leaving for the concert arena. Having spent most of the day trapped inside the hotel, I was ready to get out.

Along the way to the bus, I decided to climb on the Hushed Mentality bus to ride with my girls. It was only a short drive to the arena; my reasons were justified. When they boarded the bus, they smiled at me and I smiled back.

"What are you up to?" Serena asked, raising her eyebrow at me.

"Who, me?" I asked innocently.

"Yes, you," Laney grinned.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

I closed my eyes and laid my head back on the couch.

"Oh, come on. Why aren't you on the jerk's bus?" Kat laughed.

"We're just heading over to the arena. Why can't I prepare with the band before we arrive?" I asked, shrugging and laughing.

Christopher

When I got to the bus, I was a little surprised to find she wasn't around. Figuring she was stalling, I shrugged it off. When the bus started moving, I was pissed off. Where was she?

We got to the arena and I stalked off the bus in time to see her exit the other bus with her band. Her head turned in my direction. I glared. She smiled and waved. She fucking smiled and waved at me as if I was an idiot.

That bitch! Game on, Ryder, game on.

The concert was flawless and when it was over, we were ushered straight to the bus. Mia wasn't there when I arrived and if she didn't show up I was going to count it as an early victory. Yet, I wasn't sure she had been pushed far enough to leave the tour. Maybe she just left the bus.

Before I could contemplate this any further, she walked on and stopped when she saw me sitting there on the couch. She eyed me closely and then went toward her bunk. I put my leg up to stop her.

"What?" she barked.

"Sit," I ordered, motioning to the couch and throwing the notebook down on the table.

"I'm not a dog," she snapped.

"Just sit down."

Grabbing the notebook from the table, I threw it onto the couch cushion next to me.

"I'm tired and just want to go to bed," she growled.

I raised a brow at her. She had to realize I would just keep her awake.

She sighed, defeated, and plopped down onto the couch – as far away from me as possible. There it was again, that magnetism, raw and angry. I didn't understand this strange pull and I didn't like it. I studied her as she looked over the notebook. She was beautiful, sexy in an unassuming way.  I mentally scolded myself for wanting to pull her next to me, run my fingers through her long, soft, glorious locks, and imprison her mouth with mine. She looked up to meet my gaze.

"So, does this mean it's finished? Because it looks like you've got it all figured out."

"Not exactly. We still need to work some things out," I said, watching her face fall in disappointment. She really thought this arrangement was over already? Idiot. "I had your guitar brought in here." I pointed toward her guitar case. She leaned forward and grabbed it.

"Where do you want to start?" she asked, strumming the strings.

I had to admit, it was hot seeing her with her guitar. It would be even hotter if she were naked, strumming the chords of…I shook the thought away quickly. I needed to find Stacia, and soon. The last thing I needed were hormones getting involved. My unsatisfied cock is to blame. I am not attracted to her.

"Let's start at the beginning together and then we can work it out from there," I said.

She nodded, and I tapped it out on my guitar. We both started playing and singing. After an hour, she stood up and went to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water.

"Do you want one?" she asked, turning to me.

I shook my head and furrowed my brow at her. I didn't understand why she would offer me anything. My plan wasn't working as well as I thought if she was being polite. I needed to step up my game.

"I think I should start first. You should take the second stanza and we can join together for the chorus," I said, changing the subject back to the song.

She took a drink as she sat back down, nodding as she swallowed. We played the song out as I had suggested, making notes after we finished.

Three hours later, she laid her guitar in its case and headed back to the bunk. I followed, which seemed to make her nervous. I chuckled to myself. She relaxed when I passed by her and went to my bed in the back of the bus. I laid down on the bed and reluctantly fell asleep.

The thumps grew louder and his screams were deafening. Her grasp on me tightened, shielding me. A loud noise reverberated through the room; all I could hear was ringing. Her hands clasped around my head and over my ears. Looking up into her sad, swollen eyes, the smell was familiar, like fireworks.

I heard the door collapse and the dresser screech across the floor when he crashed into the bedroom. Shoving me off the bed onto the floor, she jumped up. A blaring roar exploded around my head. She screamed, "Run now!" and that's what I did…until she screamed again.

"No! Please Don't!"

Unable to resist, I ran back to her and her screams. When I got back to the room, my eyes landed on him as the explosion roared through my ringing ears. Red. Everywhere, red.

"Noooo!"

I jolted upright, my shirt and hair stuck to the cold sweat covering my body.

"Christopher?" Mia called, cracking opened the door. "Um…are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine," I spat out nastily.

"Are you sure? I can get –"

"I said I'm fine. Just leave me the fuck alone!" I yelled, standing from the bed and slamming the door in her face. I threw myself back on the bed and buried my face.

Why? Why am I imprisoned to relive that night every time I close my eyes? It's like a sick, twisted version of Groundhog's Day. Fuck it all. Tears slid down my cheek against my will.

Chapter Seven

Mia

Stupid, ungrateful, egotistical, annoying, door-slamming jerk. His soft whimpering had woken me. When I heard him screaming, I decided I should check on him. I was trying to be nice, see if he was okay… be a decent roomie.  Then, in typical Christopher Mason style, he decides to act like a fucking asshole. I shouldn't be surprised. He has yet to prove himself as anything more than jerk-off. Nevertheless, for whatever reason, I care. I fucking care. Well, welcome to the new and improved Mia who doesn't give a shit. Scream away, Mason. I'll be here, reveling in the fact that I. Don't. Care.

I climbed back onto my bunk and silently fumed until I finally fell back asleep. When I woke, the bus was empty. Pushing up on my elbows, I looked out the window. We were in the back lot of the Vegas arena. Grabbing my shower bag and a change of clothes, I headed to the shower.

While I was rinsing off, I heard a voice. I hurried to dry and dress. Once I started combing my hair, the door suddenly opened up. There stood Christopher with his usual scowl.

"Ever heard of knocking, asshole?" I spat, not bothering to look at him.

"Ever heard of locking the door, whore?"

Turning, I glared at him and slammed the door in his face, locking it.

He yanked the door back open, smirking. "Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that the lock is broken."

He walked away. My blood boiled so hot my face grew warm. Stepping out of the bathroom, I threw my brush at him, hitting him in the back of his right shoulder. He spun and stalked toward me yelling.

"What the fuck!"

I'm not gonna lie, at my five-foot-six stature, having a man a full foot taller stalking toward you is a little scary. Fighting the urge to take off running, I squared my shoulders and straightened my spine. He shoved his finger in my face

"Don't ever –"

Before he could finish, I smacked his finger out of my face.

"No! Don't you ever!"

Shoving past him, I walked off the bus and into the dry heat. I immediately heard the slamming and crashing of objects behind me, but kept walking. I didn't look back until I got to the entrance. Jackson and Nicholas scrambled to get onto the bus. Yeah, guys, go baby the asshole.

I found the girls, who could tell by the look on my face I was pissed off. They knew what, or rather who, was the cause. Instead of questioning me, they kept the conversation light.

"This heat is going to kill my hair," Laney pouted to her reflection in the large vanity mirror.

"Christ, Lane, you barely have enough hair to call yourself a girl. Quit bitching," Kat playfully teased.

"You're so mean," Lane said, sticking out her bottom lip.

I smiled, welcoming the familiarity of their banter.

We headed to the stage for sound checks before being sent off to hair, make-up, and wardrobe. After we'd spent three hours being primped for our thirty-minute set, Una came into our backstage room.

"Mia, is everything okay?" she asked, scanning me intently.

Here we go.

"Una, he's an asshole. A complete dick," I defended in a huff.

"He didn't do anything to you, did he?" she asked, kneeling in front of me.

I sat up straight and shook my head.

"Why would you think he did something to me?" I asked, seeing her hesitate. "I mean, yeah, he's been an asshole, but if you mean physically hurt me… wait, why would I have to worry about that?"

"I told you Christopher has a past. I don't know the whole story, but what I do know is that he has a temper, and Nicholas had to settle him down earlier today. Someone mentioned hearing you two fighting with each other. Then you ran from the bus, so Nicholas and I wanted to make sure –"

"It was just an argument." Realization hit me. "Should I be worried that he would hurt me like that?" My eyes widened.

"I –"

"We just wanted to be sure."

Nicholas' voice made my head snap as he entered the door.

"Has it happened before?" I demanded, scowling at him. Had they really put me on a bus with a guy that beats up women or something?

"Not with a person we're touring with, no. But, with strangers, yes," Nicholas admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I know you have this tension between you, so I just needed to be sure," he continued, walking over to put his hand on my shoulder. "He swore he hadn't done anything to harm you, but I needed to hear it from you. I'm sorry, Mia. We will have your things moved back to your bus before the show is over tonight."

I didn't say anything and I didn't move. Did I really feel like he was dangerous? That he could hurt me? No, I didn't believe that. For some reason, I didn't feel like he would, or could, be capable of hurting me. He obviously liked pissing me off, but he never once gave me the impression that he would hit me.

"Did he ask for you to move my things?" I questioned, still not looking at anyone or anything in particular.

"What?" Nicholas shifted back and forth. "Um…no, he didn't. I assumed –"

"He didn't harm me, has never harmed me. It was an argument. That's it. I think you guys are making something out of nothing." There was a knock on the door followed by the announcement that we were on in ten minutes. I got up and walked toward the door.

"Leave my things."

There was no way I was running after I stood up to him today. He would not win this way.

* * * * *

I watched from backstage with Laney as The Forgotten performed. The way she eyed Jackson I could tell she was completely infatuated. Nudging her arm, I smiled at her.

"What?" she asked, trying to hide her smile.

Nodding toward Jackson, I winked at her. She laughed and looked back at him.

"You want to kiss him and have his babies," I sang into her ear.

She smacked my arm and looked around us.

"Shut up," she laughed. "He's just so pretty."

Jackson captured her attention again. I raised a brow at her description.

"Pretty?"

She nodded and bit her lip, never taking her eyes from him.

"Well, I wouldn't tell him that."

She looked at me, confused.

"I'm thinking the seven foot, tattooed, and pierced giant probably doesn't like to be called pretty."

She started to scowl and I put my hands up in surrender.

"I'm just saying."

Laughing, she shook her head.

They started their next song, a track they didn't play very often. Jackson's nervous expression confused me. I looked at Elliott and Jimmy, who focused on Christopher, seeming very concerned. Curious, I began to study Christopher and really listened to the words he was singing. So many emotions passed over his face; anger, pain, sadness, happiness. He didn't even seem to realize he was on stage anymore. He was lost. Before I knew it, I felt a tear fall down my cheek. Wiping it away quickly, I realized the song was over and left the arena, heading to the bus.

Quickly showering and hurrying to change into some pajama bottoms and a tank top, I climbed into the bunk. My mind was dissecting Christopher's performance. What could've possibly inspired such an emotional performance? There was so much passion behind his lyrics. He seemed so alone in the middle of a crowded arena. Eventually, the contemplation exhausted me and I fell asleep.

I felt weighed down. I was sinking. My chest constricted, feeling as if I was going to be crushed. Waking with a gasp, I screamed at the dark figure above me. Shoving with my hands, I maneuvered my legs so I could use their strength to push. Using my feet, the figure fell back and groaned. Christopher?

Pushing myself back to the corner of my bunk, I tried to catch my breath. I stared at him, horrified. Had I been that wrong? Would he prove me wrong tonight? Shit, shit, shit.

"Fuhhckk…" he slurred and stumbled into an upright position.

"Stay back, Christopher!" I screamed. Scanning the room for anything I could use to fight him with or for a way to escape. I found nothing.

Looking at his face, it shifts from anger to pain and then guilt. He mumbled something I couldn't make out and quickly stumbled to his room. A loud crash and a groan came from his room.

I pulled myself up from the bunk and went to check on him. The new and improved Mia was long forgotten, crushed by this inexplicable draw toward him. I placed my ear against the door and called out to him.

"Christopher?" My mouth moved, but it was soundless. I took a deep breath and tried again. "Christopher?" I stated loud enough for him to hear, but I got no response. I quietly opened the door. Christopher was sprawled across the floor. It looked like he'd knocked everything off the small table next to his bed.

"Christopher –"

"Go. Away!"

Curling my body away from his anger, I sucked in a breath and walked toward him. Reaching for his arm, the tips of my fingers touched him and he pulled away. Standing quickly, he looked me straight in my face.

"Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone!"

Shouting in my face, his breath smelled putrid. Like alcohol and asshole. He threw himself onto his bed and put his arm over his face.

I was about to turn and leave when the bottles caught my attention. Scattered on the floor were a variety of pills and prescription bottles. Leaning down, I picked up the bottles and looked at the labels. I quickly stood and turned back to him.

"Christopher, did you take these –."

Before I could finish, his intent stare stopped me. Sitting up on the edge of the bed, his expression concerned me. I didn't know if I should be scared or not, but I straightened my spine and continued.

"Christopher, did you take any of these?"

He didn't move, just stared. I took one slow step forward, his eyes never hesitating. Taking his chin in my hand, I leaned down toward his face.

"Did you take any of these pills? How many did you take?"

When he still didn't respond, I dropped my head.

"Please, answer me?"

Still nothing.

"Fine, I'll get Nicholas," I sputtered and looked to the door. The sound of him sobbing made me stop. I looked down at him. He had dropped his face into his palms.

"I'll be right back," I said quietly.

He grabbed my arm, pulled me in front of him, and pressed his forehead against my stomach. I gasped loudly as his hands took firm hold on my hips. I don't know how long we stayed like that before my mind caught up with everything.

"Did you take any pills?"

For a moment, I thought maybe he wouldn't hear me. Then he shook his head against my stomach. Relief flooded through me. His hands slid around my lower back, circling my waist, locking me against him.

After standing there a little longer, I tried to pull away. He hugged me tighter and laid us both onto his bed. Fear settled into the depths of my stomach and moved up through my chest and into my neck. I bucked against him, trying to push away, the old ‘fight or flight' instinct taking charge. He ignored my movements and rolled so I was on my back, curling up next to me, his left arm draped over my waist as he wrapped his leg around my shins and buried his face into my neck. Secured to his bed, I lay there listening to his breathing become deep and even. All of the previous fear left me, leaving me languid and comfortable. Although, I knew this was a feeling I shouldn't be entertaining, I couldn't help it. I felt like his security blanket, as if being this person for him was completely natural.

Deciding that I was way too comfortable with the situation, I shifted just a little. When he didn't make a sound or a move, I tried to get up. His body locked up and his breath warmed the side of my neck as he spoke.

"Please don't leave."

I froze not knowing what to do. Part of me screamed to get the hell out, while the other part felt sympathetic. Yes, I was comfortable and couldn't help the butterflies swarming in my stomach, but was I doing the right thing? Just because he gave me feelings I had no intention of deliberating on, does it make it okay for me to stay with him? Sometime during my mental battle, exhaustion won and I slipped into sleep under his iron clasp.

When I woke up the next morning, I was alone in Christopher's bed. Rubbing my eyes, I took a deep breath and got up. All of the pills had been picked up, and the bus was empty. Well, at least there won't be an uncomfortable silence this morning.

Grabbing some clothes, I headed to the bathroom. After brushing my hair and my teeth, I slipped into jeans and a t-shirt. Stepping into my shoes, I exited the bus.

As I stepped off the last step of the bus, Christopher was right there, about to get on. His brow was furrowed. In a split second decision, I decided to treat him the same as I normally would. Ignoring him, I kept walking toward the arena. I wouldn't even know where to begin that conversation.

Christopher

We didn't typically play the song, and Jackson tried to protest, but I needed to do it. I wrote this song while trying to suppress my demons; feeling that maybe if I acknowledged them, they would leave. Obviously, acknowledgment hadn't worked, but it made me feel better. I started the song off, releasing every feeling that matched the words. As I continued to sing, I felt the burden slightly lift from my shoulders. I ran through a series of emotions, each emotion hitting home with each lyric I sang. A major weight lifted off my shoulders. I continued to sing the song, living it over, and over, again. Reveling in the despair, the loneliness, happiness; the nightmares that still dwelled. I let everything out through my words, repelling it from my body, exorcising my demons the best I knew how.

After we completed Losses, I caught a glimpse of Mia walking away. Turning, I saw the look on Jackson's, Jimmy's, and Elliott's faces. I scowled at them before we went on with our show.

Once the show was over, I disappeared. I didn't want to hear the questions or have everyone checking on me. If I had to hear anyone ask me, "how are you feeling", or "how are you doing", I would definitely punch them in the face. It was the one drawback to playing the song. No matter how much I needed the release, the demons were only so far behind me.

It wasn't easy, but I thwarted Darius and found myself a dark corner in a local bar. I started a tab. Drinking always made me feel better, drinking a lot usually made the dreams disappear. This wasn't something I did, especially on tour. Yet, tonight, I couldn't stop. I needed it. Leaning my head back against a wall, I closed my eyes only to be flooded with memories of her, of that night. The anniversary of that night was less than six days away. I only hoped I could consume enough alcohol to make it all go away.

The minute the bartender cut me off, I stumbled back to the arena toward the buses. A few paparazzi caught sight of me. Their flashes were killing my freaking eyes. Once I was close enough to the arena, a couple of security guards ran up to help me. I could hear them talking on two way radios, but I wasn't sure what they were saying. Darius appeared with a large scowl on his face and took in my appearance.

"I don't know why you do this to yourself," he grumbled and carried me to my bus. He tried to climb onto the bus with me, but I shoved him off.

I stumbled onto the bus and stopped dead. The bus was completely clean of my destruction of earlier, which I figured it would be. I just wasn't prepared for Mia. Nevertheless, there she was, in her bunk, as if nothing had happened this morning. With the way Nicholas berated me earlier and how I had to keep reassuring him I didn't harm her, I was sure he would have had her moved off the bus.

She didn't leave. I could only hope it was because she knew I would never harm her, could never harm her.

All of a feelings and memories from the bar came back to the forefront of my mind. I kneeled forward onto her bunk and slowly looked over her sleeping face. For whatever reason, her presence made the memories hurt less. As if my mind became numb to the affect they had on me. I leaned forward against her, pressing my cheek to hers. What was it about her? In this moment, she feels like the Lennon to my McCartney; the Grohl to my Cobain; the Anderson to my Tommy Lee….bow chicka wow wow. Jesus Christ, Chris, mind out of the gutter. I really need to lay off the booze. Suddenly, she jerks up screaming and shoves me off the bed.

"Fuhhckk…."

As I stumbled back into a standing position, all of the alcohol seemed to rush to my head. The bigger head. Well, maybe the smaller head, too. Gutter!

Her screaming for me to leave her alone made me focus on her. She had her back pressed to the corner of the bus wall; fear the prominent emotion on her face. Memories consumed me. Her face flashed before my eyes, full of pain, fear, and heartache.

"I'm turning into him."

Angrily, I stumbled to the back of the bus. Reaching the side table for the pill bottle, I lost my balance. The contents of the table landed on the floor around me.

"Christopher?"

I tried to ignore her, sure that she was making sure the coast was clear before bolting off this bus.

"Christopher?"

Fuck, why is she still here?

"Go. Away!"

Her fingers grazed my arm. Yanking away from her, I stood, and got in her face. "Leave. Me. The. Fuck. Alone!"

Dizziness swept over me and I threw myself down on the bed, hoping she would just go. I didn't need anyone else to see me in this state. She spoke again and I sat up, moving to the edge of the bed. The allure I had to her was palpable, seemingly entrancing. My eyes locked onto every movement she made, as if she were a siren calling me to my death.

"Christopher, did you take these…." she stopped short and looked at me.

Why wasn't she running? Why wasn't she afraid to be here?

"Christopher. Did you take any of these?"

I couldn't figure her out. Suddenly my chin was in her hand pulling my face to look her straight in the eye.

"Did you take any of these pills and how many did you take?"

After my silence, her face dropped with a sigh.

"Please, answer me?"

Still trying to understand, I remained silent. She never did what I thought she would do. Why was she still here? She didn't leave when she had the chance or when I told her to go. She would leave if she knew what you did, what was deep down inside of you.

"Fine, I'll get Nicholas," Mia started toward the door.

I thought of her and of Gwen. There was no holding it back any longer. Dropping my face into my hands, the sobs bubbled out of my chest.

"I'll be right back."

She was trying to reassure me. Reassure me, the person who just scared the shit out of her. Without thinking, I grabbed her arm, pulled her in front of me, and pressed my head against her. I'm not sure what exactly compelled the action, but I closed my eyes. There was nothing. There was no image, no memories…nothing. Just a blank slate, clearing my head of everything foul. I held her in place for a long time. She stayed with me, silently and longer than I expected.

"Did you take any pills?"

Shaking my head, I slid my hands around her waist, holding her to me. Afraid she would leave, now that she had her answer, I held tighter. She finally attempted to move, but I couldn't let her go. It felt like she was the only thing holding off the nightmares waiting behind my eyelids. I lay back on to the bed, taking her with me. Tension filled every one of her muscles and she tried to fight the move. I knew she was afraid and uncertain, but I couldn't let go. Not yet.

I rolled so she was on her back and I curled into her. Making sure she was unable to leave me, I buried my face into her side and closed my eyes. There was nothing; no pain, suffering, images of the nightmares, memories. There was darkness. Sweet, sweet darkness. My body relaxed into hers.

She shifted a little after we had relaxed and tried to get up. I locked up on her. There was no way I could give this up. Without her here, I had no idea of what was waiting for me beyond the darkness. Without moving my head, I spoke.

"Please don't leave."

Her hair muffled my voice, but she heard me. She seemed to relax a little, the tension bleeding out slightly. Most of all, she didn't leave.

When I woke the next morning, I couldn't believe I'd slept the entire night. I slept a whole night without waking up screaming. I haven't slept like this in…hell, I couldn't remember the last time I slept like this. Let alone a night where I slept without pills.

The night came back to me and I dropped my head down to the body pressed against mine. Mia was still in bed with me. She hadn't left. Gently pulling my arm off her, I sat up in bed. Running my hand through my hair, I looked over once more to Mia curled up on her side still fast asleep. She didn't leave.

Panic set in. This was too personal. It was too intimate. How did I let this happen? I had to get out of here. Grabbing some clothes on the way out of the room, I showered and dressed. Leaving the bus, I went for a walk to clear my head.

This wasn't in my plan. I didn't need to be an emotional wreck right now.

Maybe having her on the bus was a bad idea. Yeah, it was bad timing to have her on the bus with me. It was so close to…to that night and…it doesn't matter, I'm sticking to the plan. This changes nothing. I can deal. Just block it out, right? That's what I've been told for years, ‘the past is the past, the present is now'. What a bunch of bullshit.

I was just about to step back on the bus as she descended off the last step. I furrowed my brow at her, just waiting for her to say something about what happened. She didn't. Her face was completely blank. She ignored me and kept walking toward the arena.

Holy shit, was she really going to pretend it didn't happen? Part of me felt relieved, but a small part was angry with her. Tad irrational? Story of my life.

Mia

The Salt Lake City concert was amazing. The arena was the largest we'd been in yet and the crowd was insane. We were so into our performance, pushing ourselves so hard,  that at the close of the concert, we decided to hang out on the bus and relax instead of going out.

"So, how are things with the lunatic?" Laney giggled and took a drink of her beer.

I rolled my eyes and took a drink. There was no way I was telling them about last night. No way in hell. It had felt too personal, and that was saying much more than anyone needed to know. He needed me and, for the life of me, I couldn't tell him no. No matter what his deal is, I felt too close to him, too drawn in, to leave. But, was I admitting that? Hell to the motherfucking no. I'm in my own personal hell, that's all that needs to be known.

"Same ass, same hole," I laughed.

Kat broke into hysterics.

"I don't know how you do it," Serena said, shaking her head and looking apologetic. "We really shouldn't have let you get on that bus."

"No, I could've just refused," I sighed and took another drink.

"Is the song at least coming along?" Laney asked.

"Sort of," I said, shrugging. "We haven't worked on it much since the last time I told you about it. We’re working on asshole time."

I winked at Laney and she giggled.

"Fuck," Kat breathed out. "He's a real dickhead isn't he?"

"Who is?"

All of our heads turned to see Una standing in the doorway, smirking at us.

"Christopher," I answered nonchalantly. "Who else?"

"Is he still giving you a hard time?" she asked, coming in and sitting down with us.

"You could say that, but what else is new?" I asked, stretching my arms over my head. "Once we get this damn song finished, I won't have to deal with him like this anymore."

I gave her a large smile.

Una stood up.

"Mia, can we take a walk?"

My face dropped and I instantly got nervous.

"Calm down. I just want to talk, one on one."

She motioned for me to follow her. Placing my beer on the small table, I followed. Once we were a good ten feet from the bus she started speaking.

"I want to talk to you a little bit about Christopher."

I nodded.

"Now, keep in mind, I don't know everything. And, what I do know, isn't much, but I want to give you as much information as possible," she sighed. "I should have spoken with you sooner."

She looked at me apologetically.

"Maybe it will help, maybe it won't, but I have to at least tell you."

Now I was even more nervous.

"Christopher didn't come to live with Nicholas until he was around twelve years old. By that time, Christopher had many emotional issues. He'd lived with his mother. Neither Christopher nor Nicholas knew of each other. In fact, when Nicholas married Gwen, Christopher would have been around two years old. Gwen brought with her a son, Jackson, who was almost three." She paused. "Christopher was brought to Nicholas after his mother's death."

"After her death?" I repeated her last words.

"Yes," she answered. "That's really all I know, Mia, but perhaps it helps your situation. I'm not sure."

She stopped walking and I stopped, too.

We both turned and headed back to the bus. I was trying to absorb everything she had said. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make me curious and a little apprehensive.

Laney, Kat, and Serena bombarded me with questions when I got back. I gave them a very brief summary, leaving out some information.  A few minutes later, I told everyone I was tired and headed back to my bus to get ready for bed.

I was exhausted. After dealing with Chris last night, the intense concert, and Una's disclosures, I just wanted to curl up in my favorite blanket. I showered quickly, hoping the hot water would ease my tension. I threw on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before brushing my teeth and hair. As I exited the bathroom, I looked around to see if Christopher was here yet. With no sign of him, I buried myself into the bunk and slipped into unconsciousness.

I don't know what time it was when I heard Christopher yell out, but my eyes shot open. Fear settled in for a moment. I laid back down and took a deep breath, centering myself. Although I was very much awake, I layed still with my eyes closed. A few moments later, I heard his door slide open. I continued to play possum. I know it was kind of shitty of me, but I didn't know if I could offer my help again and get shit on by his bad attitude. Suddenly, an arm slipped under my body and lifted. I went stiff for a moment before relaxing. Can't play dead if I'm having heart palpitations.

He laid me down on the bed and climbed in next to me. I peeked through half closed eyes. All I saw was the wall across the room and the clock on his nightstand. He was lying behind me, spooning me. I felt the heat radiating off his body, pulsing in the sliver of space he had left between us. He wasn't touching me at all; no arm draped over my stomach, no small caress to my hand or back. He was just lying next to me. My mind was racing, not knowing if I should get up or just stay.

I shifted around slightly. Christopher moved, but barely. I settled into a comfortable position and decided to stay. If he went through the trouble of carrying me in here, then he must need me on some level. No matter how much of a front I put on, I can't deny the invisible chain link dangling between us. I couldn't explain it. It didn't make sense to me. I looked back to the clock, which showed four-thirty in the morning. After a few moments, I heard heavy, even breaths behind me. He was asleep. I closed my eyes and fully relaxed, welcoming sleep once again in the familiar, yet foreign, bed.

Just as the morning before, I woke alone.

Chapter Eight

Mia

Once dressed, I stepped out into rainy Denver. The drizzle was constant and the air cold. Shivering, I pulled my hooded jacket tighter around my body, wishing I would've worn a sweatshirt, too.

"Mia!" Serena called, running up to me.

"Hey, what's up?" I said with a smile, happy to see my sister. We walked toward the arena to grab something from the breakfast table.

"I was listening to the song you left with me, we should rehearse it," she said, a large smile spread across her face. "I think it's a really fun, energetic song, and maybe we can play it tonight – if we nail it in rehearsal."

"Sounds like a plan."

She wrapped her arm around mine. Once we finished eating, we set out to find Rob, the man we needed to talk to about rehearsing on stage. Once found, we told him what we needed and he complied.

"Shouldn't be a problem," he said. "Give me an hour or so, okay?"

Nodding to Rob, we walked to the Hush bus.

Kat and I decided to get some exercise, which I hoped would relieve some of the tension and stress in my neck and shoulders. Borrowing some workout clothes from Serena, I avoided running into Christopher at all costs. We went where the choreographer, dancers, and backup singers were working out.

"Hey, mind if we join?" Kat asked, winking at him.

The choreographer laughed at her, then he looked over to me.

"Mia, are you going to behave?" he asked, playfully scowling.

"Who me? Why wouldn't I?" I asked, bumping his hip with mine as I walked by.

Saying hello to our backup singers, I noticed a couple of unfamiliar faces. Trying to be polite, I gave them a smile. However, there were two bleached-blonde girls giving me dirty looks.

"Uh oh, there goes our normal workout," one backup singer giggled.

Her giggle pulled my attention from the bimbo twins.

"Why does everyone assume I'm such a terror?" I scoffed playfully.

"I wouldn't say you're a terror," she replied, stretching her arms over her head.

"You just like to change my established workout routine," the choreographer interrupted.

"Aww, you love it. It keeps it interesting," I teased, smiling like the Cheshire cat.

He laughed and handed me the remote to the radio.

"You might as well take it now."

Grabbing the remote, I hit the play button. The choreographer smiled and then started to instruct us with tension bands and lunges. After a few more songs and way too many squats and leg thrusts, I was dripping with sweat and ready to terrorize.

Starting to dance around, I got Kat, the choreographer, and the other girls to abandon their workout routine. We danced around each other, hopped, and grinded against each other. Closing my eyes, I let my mind go blank, getting lost in the music. The tension started to slip away and invigoration took its place.

When I decided to return to planet Earth, I saw that Laney and Serena had arrived and were dancing with us. When a personal favorite song came on, I turned it up louder. Elliott burst through the doorway singing the words in a high pitch squeal. Laughing loudly, we started dancing and singing with him.

After the workout session, I ran back to the girls' bus to shower and change. Then, we sought out Rob for rehearsal.

"Okay, let's play it as it was written first, then we can mess around with the arrangement," I suggested, my eyes scanning them one by one.

"Let's do this," Serena agreed, twirling her sticks in her fingertips with a nod.

Slipping my guitar strap over my head, I strummed. Serena tapped out the timing, and we started playing. We decided against using a microphone and played like we always did during our practices; facing each other. It is what has always worked best for us: playing off each other, keeping time with our instruments, uniting as the kick ass band we were. No one was better or in charge, we were whole, we were one, and the best music came out of that experience.  Once we finished with our first run through, I took a sip of water.

"What is that one called?" Laney asked. "I love it, by the way."

"Fallen Love," I answered. "So, now that we went through it once, what do we want to do?"

"I think it would be pretty if we stripped it down and slowed the tempo," Kat said, strumming slowly on her bass.

"I like the energy of the song," Laney pouted a little. "I'm not sure we should slow it down."

"Serena?" I asked, looking to her.

"Let's try it stripped and slow," she said, shrugging and giving us a wink.

Serena tapped out a slower timing and we began again. By the end of the song, we were still undecided. Honestly, both versions were good and it would all depend on the mood of the performance.

It turned out to be another amazing night on stage. After the performance, we hung out backstage for a while. Sitting around with a few beers, we sang songs from when we were in school and laughed about old boyfriends. They teased me for the many trips I took to the hospital during my skateboarding phase, and then started in on my dancing background. Una sat with us, laughing at our stories and our behavior. She and Xander seemed genuinely entertained. After noticing how late it had gotten, we all said goodnight and headed back to the buses. My heart sank a little when we parted ways.

The bus was empty, which was my personal preference when I was going to change. Showering away the stage grime, I felt better. I changed into my last pair of clean pajamas – terry boy shorts and an old band t-shirt. Both were a little small and tight. Groaning, I threw on a baggy sweatshirt. These have to be Laney's shorts.

"I really have to get some laundry done," I said aloud to an empty bus.

Ten minutes later, I felt the bus shift and heard the door swish shut. Pretending to sleep, I silently wondered if I would stay in my bunk tonight. A frustrated sigh hovered on my lips while I attempted to ignore his movements. When the sound of the shower filled the bus, I figured it was my opportunity to fall asleep.

Falling fast into the depths of welcomed oblivion, footsteps stirred me back to the present. I held my breath, waiting for him to stop next to my bunk. Instead, he continued forward. I released the breath and relaxed one more. Maybe he would let me be tonight. Just as the thought crossed my mind, the footsteps returned and ceased at the entrance of my bunk. So much for that idea. I felt his presence next to me. It was the weirdest thing to feel a person who wasn't actually touching you. He didn't move, didn't speak; just hovered above me like a creeper wanting to get his thrill. I felt self-conscious and shifted uncomfortably. Finally, there was a change in his presence.

Sliding his long arms underneath me, he lifted me up and held me to his chest. We were just about to his doorway when I found the nerve to speak.

"I have feet, I can walk."

He froze, holding me bridal style. After a couple of long minutes, he set my feet to the floor. I squeezed by him to grab my blanket from my bunk and headed back toward him. He was still standing where I had left him, frozen in place, running his hand through his dark, wet hair. Slipping by him once more, I laid down on his bed. Turning to my side, facing away from him, I pulled my blanket up over my head.

It took him a few minutes, but eventually the bed gave way under his weight. Taking a deep, calming breath, I focused on the beat of my heart instead of the warmth radiating from his body.

Christopher

After the show, I decided to hang backstage with the guys. It was nice to just sit and bullshit with each other like we used to. One by one, the guys headed to bed. I followed suit and went to the bus.

As usual, Mia was already in her bunk. I grabbed a pair of shorts and headed to the shower. Once I was done, I walked into my room and looked at my bed. Anxiety instantly set in, twisting in my gut and engulfing my chest. I told myself I wouldn't do it again, I wouldn't go to her. I sat down on the bed and scrubbed my hands up and down my face. I could deal.  I just had to get over the crushing feeling in my chest and not think about it. Yeah, right. On the verge of hyperventilating, I sought out my new drug of choice.

I stood over her for a few minutes, admiring how the lights filtering in caressed the outline of her body. I have no idea how she does it, how she can make me feel better, but I can't ignore it, either. I should feel embarrassed by my behavior; should feel guilty for using her in this way, should even feel self-conscious over what she has already experienced. The whole situation is so damn personal. Nevertheless, she makes it all go away and I'm a selfish prick.

Her body shifted, snapping me out of my thoughts. I leaned down and picked her small body up. I didn't give a shit if it was a selfish act; I just wanted to sleep without reliving my worst nightmare.

"I have feet, I can walk."

I froze at her words. She's never been awake before. Well, never that I knew of. I didn't know what to say or do, so I just placed her on her feet. She squeezed past me back to her bunk. Anxiousness rose into my throat, making it hard to breathe.

As I contemplated taking the pills in the table drawer, she slipped by again. Confused, I watched her climb onto my bed. She came back. I really didn't think she would. Lying down next to her, all I could do was stare at her blanket-cocooned body.

She never did what I expected.

"Christopher?"

The muffled grunt of my name woke me from a deep sleep. I rolled over, ignoring the voice. My arm flopped across the bed and onto a body. I don't remember fucking anyone.

"Christopher!"

Opening my eyes, I lifted my head. Nicholas stood in my doorway and he looked pissed.

"What?" I groaned.

Placing my head back down on my pillow, a pleasantly soft scent surrounded me. Mmm, is it flow...Oh Shit! Mia! Not a floozy I picked up after the show. I shot up to a sitting position and looked at Nicholas' wide, angry eyes.

"Christopher Tobias," he spat, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"It's not what you think," I said, putting my hand up to halt his lecture. I needed to explain. He would understand.

"Crap," Mia groaned.

At the sound of her voice, I looked down. Her face filled with shame and fear. Mia looked at my barely dressed body before she groaned and sat up. She, too, knew how this looked.

"Nicholas, it's not –"

"Mia, please excuse me and my son," he said, nodding to her and then looking at me with disgust. "Christopher?"

He walked out of my room.

"Fuck," I mumbled and stood up. I reached for my jeans from the night before and slid them on as I walked to the couch where Nicholas was standing.

"Nicholas, nothing happened. It's not what you think."

"I didn't agree to this arrangement just so you could get her into bed," he shouted before bringing his voice back down, remembering Mia could probably hear.

He was about to start into me again when the bedroom door slid open. Mia stepped out, biting her lip. Grabbing a pair of jeans from her pile of clothes, she walked by us, said, "Excuse me", and scrambled out the door. Wish I could get out of here that easily.

Nicholas turned his angry glare back on me.

"Nicholas, I didn't 'get her into bed'. I didn't fuck her, didn't touch her. We were just sleeping –"

"Do you think I'm stupid? You do realize I know you better than that?" he sighed. "I love you, but you can't do this –"

Knowing the full truth would be the only thing that would save this situation; I gave it to him, laying myself bare.

"I can sleep with her next to me. Really sleep," I admitted, resting my forehead in my palms. I waited for him to internalize what I had just said.

"I hope you…wait…"

Ahh, he's got it.

"You slept?"

Raising my head, I nodded.

"Without alcohol…without pills?"

"Without nightmares," I answered him.

His mouth was slightly open, conflicting emotions spreading over his face. He didn't know what to say.

"Somehow, she keeps them away."

Not being comfortable with "heart to heart" conversations, I kept my voice low.

"Damn it, Christopher," he sighed, sitting next to me on the couch. "I don't even know what to say right now."

He took a deep breath through his nose and looked me in the eye.

"You can't use her to keep the memories away. Instead of alcohol and pills, you're allowing her to be your drug of choice. It's not fair to her."

There was no way I was giving her up. Not now.

"You don't understand," I said, shaking my head. "With the pills and the alcohol, I still had the nightmares. No matter what I did to delude myself, they would still come. With her just being near me, in the bed, no touching, they don't. I sleep free and clear, no nightmares, no terrors, and no fucking memories. They're gone, my mind is blank. I don't even dream. I know it's wrong. Believe me, I fucking know it's wrong. But, I can't enter my room without knowing what the night will bring me. I can't sit on my bed, let alone lie down, because I know what's going to happen. The images play out through my mind. I feel like I'm going to have a fucking panic attack just by looking at my bed! I just….I want to be able to sleep. And she…she allows me to sleep."

Unwanted tears formed in my eyes.

"Why won't you let me get you some real help? Maybe talking to someone will help…help you get over the past?"

I stood up and stalked back to my room, leaving him on the couch. I know his intentions are good, I know he wants to help me, but I've talked to people. Well, I've kind of talked to people, and it did nothing. They were all suited douchebags that said they knew what I was going through, that they could help me. Really? You can fucking help me? Then why do I relive that night every time I close my eyes? Why do I see her terrified face and his black eyes every time I fall asleep? You can't change a monster; you can't fix the past or what I've done. You can't fucking fix death. From what I hear, that shit is fucking permanent.

Mia

My mind was racing. I slipped onto my band's bus and curled up on the couch. I could just imagine what we looked like in bed together. Last night, I hadn't paid attention to Christopher's lack of clothing. This morning, Nicholas and I both noticed his bare, tattooed chest on display. Groaning quietly, I covered my face with my arm.

Now that the thought was there, I couldn't help but think about each tattoo covering him. There was a large three-swirl design just over his heart that stood out to me amongst the other tattoos covering his mouthwatering chest. I couldn't help but notice the intricate design and wonder why he had gotten it. I also noticed his flat stomach along with the slight muscle definition lining his thighs. I wanted to run my tongue along his sculpted chest, biting each dark nipple on my way to his delicious, indented, belly button. Following the path to the dark strip of hair leading to his…I quickly shook my head to clear my train of thought and forced myself back to sleep.

* * * * *

"Mia."

"Go away," I groaned. Didn't I just get back to sleep?

"Mia, dear."

Opening one eye, I brought Una's fuzzy face slowly into focus.

"Hey," I yawned. "What's up?"

Stretching my arms over my head, a grunt slipped out of my mouth.

"Everything okay?" she asked, looking at me nervously.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, you aren't on the other bus and I thought maybe –"

"No, Nicholas came in to talk to Christopher. I gave them some privacy, that's all."

Silently, I prayed Nicholas didn't tell Una about his "discovery" this morning.

"Oh," she said, looking unconvinced, but forcing a smile. "Okay."

I curled back up on the couch to try to sleep a few more hours. No such luck.

"Mia, come on, get up!" Laney groaned.

"Why?" I growled, rolling over and glaring.

"It's past noon, that's why. Get up," she demanded, jabbing me in my stomach with her finger.

"Humph," I breathed out and stood to stretch. I changed into the jeans I brought with me, ran a brush through my hair, and climbed off the bus.

We made it to arena just in time for sound check. Once we got the thumbs up, we practiced the new song again. We decided that we were going to play it tonight in the original faster tempo. About an hour later, we were ushered off stage so The Forgotten could rehearse. I could feel Christopher's presence; could feel his eyes on me, raising gooseflesh over my arms. However, I refused to look at him. Nothing good came from acknowledging his presence. Only unwanted feelings and scowled brows.

After the concert, we went back to the bus to celebrate our last night of living in a cramped metal box on wheels. Tomorrow, we arrive at the airport and fly back to Seattle, where we have three days of scheduled studio time.

Christopher and I had seemingly established a routine. For the third night in a row, I arrived to an empty bus, did my usual nightly ritual of showering, and headed to my bunk. Sometime after I fell asleep, Christopher whisked me away to his room for another slumber party and I awoke the next morning, alone.

With my stuff packed and loaded onto the label's private plane, I took a deep, cleansing breath. This should be interesting. I stepped onto the plane and grabbed a secluded seat.

Once we were off the ground, I put on my iPod and lounged back in the seat. Pulling the hood of my oversized sweatshirt over my head and sleeves down over my hands, I was cozy and content. Too bad the asshole had to ruin it.

There was a jab at my back. I ignored it. Then I felt it again, only harder and slightly painful. Flipping around in my seat, I wanted to slap him.

"What the hell?"

There was that fucking smirk. Christ, I hated that fucking smirk. I just want to slap the damn viper piercings out of his cocky face. He tossed his notepad onto my lap.

"Are you serious?" I demanded.

He put his head back and closed his eyes.

"You woke me up just for this?! We haven't touched this damn song in a week and now you want to work on it?"

He turned his head back toward me and cocked an eyebrow.

"Just look at the damn song, Ryder," he stated flatly, apparently bored with my reaction.

Huffing, I grabbed the notebook and looked it over closely. He had finished writing the lyrics. I had to read it twice to make sure I saw it right the first time. I looked to him slowly.

"You're splitting the lyrics?"

He nodded.

"I'm supposed to sing this?"

He nodded again, furrowing his brows. It looked good and he actually took some of my notes into consideration. I was impressed. Not that I would tell him that. Throwing the notebook back into his lap, I rolled back over.

"So?"

"So, what?" I groaned, still facing away from him.

"I'm going to arrange for you to record your part while we're in Seattle."

Before I could even respond to his demand, he was out of the seat and almost to the back of the plane. Huffing again, I slammed myself back into the seat. He is so infuriating.

Waking up to an overcast Seattle day in May was a welcomed familiarity. Stepping off the plane, I inhaled deeply and raised my face to let the cool, misty air wash over me.

"Come on," Laney urged, grabbing my arm.

"Where are we going?"

"We're getting our asses to the hotel so we can get ready to go out tonight," she said, looking back at me and beaming brightly. I rolled my eyes.

Once in our room, Laney attacked each one of us with hair product and make-up before shoving clothes in our arms. Una met up with us for dinner. We discussed the plan for tomorrow at the studio.

After our dinner, we headed to a nightclub. The music was thumping loudly. The assistant club manager escorted us to the VIP area. It was a fun night. We were able to let loose for a few hours.

It took all the strength we had left to drag our asses back to the hotel. We all headed to our separate rooms to shower away the make-up, hair products, and sweat. When I stepped out of the shower, I slid on a pair of cotton pajama bottoms and a tank top. Walking out of the bathroom, I heard loud voices outside of my room. When I went to investigate the disturbance, I ran into Laney standing with our suite door open. She was staring down the hall. Serena appeared next to me.

"What the hell is going on?"

With a shrug, we started to walk over to Laney. Laney's face scared me.

"Laney, what's –?" A yell from down the hall cut off my question. Leaning into the hallway, I saw she was staring at a crowd that had formed.

"Christopher, please, let us in!" Jackson yelled, pounding on the room door.

Stepping around Laney into the hall, two men in hotel uniforms ran by me. I started toward the door with Laney and Serena at my heels.

"What in the world is going on?" Serena asked, using a hushed tone.

They were both looking at me for an answer.

"How would I know?" I asked, shrugging.

Jackson started banging on the door again just as a hotel worker slipped in next to him and slid a card-key in the slot. Nicholas was next to Jackson with fear and worry plaguing his handsome face. My eyes fixed on Kat standing next to Jimmy, her face filled with concern. Jimmy looked over to her. Seeing the expression on her face, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Walking over to Kat, Una pushed by and stood next to Nicholas. Her lips were moving, but I couldn't make out what she was saying. He shook his head without looking away from the door.

"Kat, what –"

Suddenly, the door opened. Nicholas and Jackson rushed in with Una holding the door open. Kat grabbed my hand.

"Mia, I'm so glad you're not on that bus anymore."

"What happened?" Still in shock from the scene unfolding around me, I couldn't take my eyes from the door. It was like a car wreck you couldn't help but watch the aftermath of.

"All I know is that Stacia went to Una upset after leaving Christopher tonight. Then, he started destroying his room, screaming, and wouldn't let anyone in."

My attention pulled away from Kat when I heard Jackson and Nicholas pleading loudly with Christopher. As I moved closer toward the room, Kat tightened her grasp on my hand. I turned and smiled at her, reassuring her. Squeezing her hand, I pulled away from her grasp. The draw was strong, like an invisible rope linking us together. Taking a deep breath to clear my head, I found the courage to enter the room.

"Mia, no," Laney yelled from behind the crowd.

Una turned around and looked at me. Panic flooded her typically calm and collected face.

"Mia, you need to go back to your room, please."

I shook my head.

"Mia, it's not safe."

There was a loud crash. We both jumped and looked in the direction of the noise. While Una was distracted, I took my opportunity. She tried to grab my arm as I moved quickly by her.

"Mia," she hissed.

Stopping just inside the room, I took in the sight before me. The room was demolished; the TV smashed, the couch flipped over, the mirrors shattered, and holes in some of the walls. Slowly, I stepped into the bedroom. A paramedic stood next to Nicholas, both of them trying to coax a distraught and injured Christopher.

The sight of Christopher was devastating. He was sitting against an open closet door with his knees pulled to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, and his head buried.

"Christopher," Jackson whispered and moved to touch him.

"Get the fuck away. Get out!" Christopher yelled.

I flinched from Christopher's outburst, and fear set in. What in the hell was I doing? The desire to flee coursed through my body, but the lure of Christopher dissipated my run instinct. Christopher slammed his head back against the door with a torn look on his face.

My heart ached for him.

"Get out! All of you!" he screamed, burying his head once more, his hands tightening on his legs.

Blood oozed from his hands. His knuckles swollen, turning a purplish-black, and cut open. Deep slashes covered the back of his hands, making them appear flayed and raw. My stomach churned at the appearance.

Jackson stumbled back and bumped into me. He quickly turned and grabbed my shoulders as I took my first step toward Chris.

"Mia, you need to get out of here," he urged.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nicholas snap his head around. Next thing I knew, Nicholas was next to Jackson, putting his hand on his shoulder.

"Let her go."

"But, you don't know what he –"

Nicholas gave him a look and simply said, "Let her go, Jackson."

He let me go and moved to the side.

Looking back over to Christopher, my heart began to echo in my ears as adrenaline coursed through my body. Swallowing my fear and apprehension, I grabbed onto the invisible string tying us together and stepped forward.

"I said go away!"

I jumped when he screamed.

"Christopher," I whispered, shakily.

He raised his head and looked at me, rage burning in his eyes. Terror began to cut at me. I was wrong. I couldn't do this. He was going to launch himself at me. I shrunk back. Noticing my reaction, his rage melted into something else. Guilt.

"Christopher?" I asked, kneeling down three feet before him, trying to keep my voice calm. His expression went blank and he simply stared at me. He was lost, and something deep inside of me longed to find him.

There was movement behind me. Without breaking eye contact, I put my hand out behind me.

"Don't!" I said.

The movement stopped.

Christopher's brow furrowed and he dropped his head back onto his folded arms.

I inched my way closer, wanting to be able to reach him, but didn't say anything else. The fact that he could now reach me registered with the part of me fighting for self-preservation. My instinct screamed again for me to run, but I just couldn't. Whatever this was, this feeling inside my gut calling out to me, I couldn't ignore it. Bracing myself for the possibility of an attack, I stretched out my arm. Unclenching my fist, I placed my trembling hand on the top of his head. I watched as the tension melted from his shoulders. I released a breath, relieved he didn't pummel me.

Slowly, I stood up to move closer, but he misunderstood my movement. Fumbling to his knees in front of me, he wrapped his arms around my legs and placed his head against my stomach. Instinctively, I pulled my arms up, bending them at the elbows, my hands turned palms out.

Christopher's arm stretched out. Wrapping his fingers around my wrist, he placed my hand back on his head. I brought the other hand down to join. A loud gasp slipped from my lips when he locked his arms around me, lifting me up.

"Nicholas," Jackson hissed in the background.

"Stay still," Nicholas hissed back.

Christopher moved us across the room. Afraid Jackson was going to step in and play the hero, I shot him a look telling him to stay back. Nicholas was holding Jackson in place. Relief washed through me. I had no idea what would happen if they tried to pull me away from Christopher.

Christopher laid us down on the bed and buried his face in my side. I could feel him relaxing; visibly see his muscles contracting from the prolonged stress, trying to unwind themselves.

"What the hell?" Jackson whispered.

"I don't know," Nicholas responded, sighing heavily. "But it worked, regardless."

"Nicholas," Una whispered. "What are we going to do?"

"I'm not sure yet."

The pain and stress in Nicholas' words were heart wrenching.

Lying there, with Christopher holding me like a stuffed animal, I tried to ignore the fact that everyone in the room was watching us. I knew they were analyzing everything, trying to make sense of it all. Hell, I'd been trying to figure it out since the first night.

The paramedic approached about twenty minutes later.

Chapter Nine

Christopher

When the plane landed in Seattle, everyone started to exit. Walking down the stairs, I caught sight of Mia removing the hood of her sweatshirt and raising her face to the Seattle mist. A look of relief and relaxation painted her natural face. The little one, Laney, interrupted my musings. She ran up and dragged her off, smiling like a crazy woman.

We arrived quickly to the hotel, and I went straight up to my room, agreeing to meet the guys for dinner later. A few hours and a shower later, I was sitting in the restaurant at the hotel with the guys and some other crew members.

Someone rubbed his or her foot up my leg and toward my thigh. Looking across the table, I saw Stacia, groupie extraordinaire, smiling seductively. I gave her a cocky smirk, remembering my evident needs. As soon as the conversation dwindled down, I excused myself to my room.

After a quick stop to the restroom, I went to the elevator. Stacia was perched against the wall practically eye-fucking me. She pushed the elevator button. When the doors slid open, she fisted my shirt and pulled me in with her. She smacked the "close door" button hard and then my floor number. This time she didn't have to ask, she had apparently done her homework.

She pulled my face down to hers and ran her tongue across my lower lip before moving down to my neck. She pressed her body firmly against mine, rubbing her tits against me while subtly gyrating her hips. I leaned back against the elevator wall and grabbed her ass roughly. She moaned into the side of my neck. Swatting her ass softly, I pressed my groin into her stomach, earning me another moan of approval. The ding of the elevator broke us apart and we awkwardly made our way to my room.

As soon as I kicked the door shut behind me, Stacia was on me again, tearing at my belt buckle and pulling my shirt roughly over my head. I directed us toward my bed, my anticipation growing. I slipped my boots off, pushed my pants down, and stepped out of them. Stacia dropped to her knees immediately, taking me fully into her warm mouth. She tightened her lips around the base of my cock, hollowed her cheeks, and drew back slowly. Releasing me from her mouth, she ran her tongue along the underside of my cock, swirled it around the tip, and drove back onto me. The tip of my cock rubbing against the back of her throat had me at full attention within a couple of minutes.

She pulled back and released me with a popping sound. Standing quickly, she pushed her dress off her shoulders, letting it slide to the floor. Once she removed the remaining satin and lace, she shoved me onto the bed and crawled up my body. I reveled in the feel of her bare tits rubbing against my chest while my cock sat at her entrance.

Stacia raised herself up and settled on my hips, taking all of me into her in one, swift motion. Swiveling her hips, she grinded against me. She brought her body up and placed her hands on my shoulders. She began rocking her hips in a steady motion before lifting back up only to slam down on me again. I could feel my orgasm growing. Grabbing her hips to set the rhythm I wanted, I closed my eyes and let her do her thing. A tingling sensation started to form at the base of my spine, letting me know I was close. Out of nowhere, a white haze started to fog my brain and sucked me back into my living nightmare.

He was yelling again, berating her for reasons I didn't know. His anger was palpable; the air filled with animosity and fear.

I can feel my chest start to constrict in panic. I am lost in this world now, surrounded only by the screams, the crying.

The sharp sting registered to my cheek as he slapped me. He grabbed the back of my shirt and pulled me across the floor, throwing me into the familiar dark closet. He slammed the door shut and locked me in, barricading the door. Leaving me to sit helplessly while listening to her abuse.

My body felt like it was on fire, the muscles beneath my skin drawn so tight they could snap at any moment. Small murmurs and incoherent ramblings bled from my mouth against my will.

Curling into a ball on the floor, I covered my ears to escape the sobbing, the screaming. Mommy! I need you, mommy. Please be okay. Please don't leave me, mommy. The door slowly opened and there she was, reaching for me – battered and bruised. I grasped her outstretched hand and clung to her with all I had. I couldn't lose her. She was my mommy, my everything.

Warm wetness poured from my eyes, overwhelming any ounce of control I still had left. I reached out, needing to hold on to something solid, stable. My hands found purchase on something warm and soft. I didn't know what it was and I didn't care. I just needed to become grounded.

An explosion roared through the air and all I saw was red.

Wiping my face, I looked down and saw my mother at my feet in a pool of blood. I began to sob, falling to my knees, pulling her lifeless body into my lap. “No, no, no! Mommy, you can't leave me. I love you. I love you, mommy! Don't leave me!

"Look what you did!" he screamed, pointing the gun at my head. "That was meant for you!  This is your fault! You should have never happened!"

My fists clenched into the softness within my hands, gripping tightly. I couldn't let go. I needed her. I needed her and now she's gone.

"Christopher! Christopher stop!" Stacia screamed, slamming her fists against my chest, pulling me out of the nightmare.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks while she feebly attempted to pry my clenched hands off her hips. I immediately let go of her, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened. My hands were starting to tremble. I clenched them into fists while trying to shake the nightmarish images from my head. She scrambled away from me.

"What's wrong with you?" she sobbed.

Her face distorted in terror and I could see the bruises starting to form on her hips. I stood to go to her, to make sure she was okay, but she flinched back.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean –" I stammered, reaching toward her.

She backed away until her back pressed against the closed door. I took one more step toward her, and her mouth opened wide.

"Don't you fucking come near me!" she screeched, putting a hand up. "Stay the fuck away!"

She yanked the door open and ran from the room. I grabbed my jeans and fumbled to slip them on as I ran after her to explain and apologize.

"Stacia, wait! I didn't mean to –"

She sobbed harder and screamed louder for help when she saw me. At the sound of her pleas for help, I stopped in my tracks. Slowly, I dropped to my knees, remembering my mother's pleas and sobs. I gripped my hair with both fists, rocking back and forth on the floor, trying to exorcize my demons. Christ, just make it all go the fuck away!

As I lifted myself from the floor, my eyes landed on a newspaper lying in one of the doorways. The date caught my eye. Feeling the darkness claiming me, I ran back to my room and slammed the door shut. Going through all of my things, I tried to find the pills.

Where were the damned pills?!

"Fuck!" I screamed, dropping to my knees, panic settling back into my chest.

I fucking bruised her. Those bruises were on her because of my hands. Pulling my hands to my face, I slowly rocked back and forth, images flashing through my mind like some sick and twisted home video. Emotions ripped through my body. Guilt, anger, and then rage. I stood up, pure fucking rage and adrenaline coursing through my body. I needed to release this…the fucking demon inside of me. I glanced over at the black TV screen and saw my reflection, the monster himself, glaring back at me. I cocked back and punched the screen as hard as I could. My fist shattered the outer glass. I punch it again, and again. Blood was pouring from my hand, shards of glass stuck in the skin. I didn't care, I deserved it.

I stalked into the bathroom, glaring at myself in the mirror. The red marks on my chest from Stacia's attempt to escape were raised and ugly. I continued to stare at the bloody marks, taking note of how I made her do this to me. I deserve it. I deserve to be marred, to be ugly. To be scarred and distorted, just like the monster I am.

An animalistic scream roared from my chest. I slammed my fist into the mirror, watching as the shattered pieces cascaded around me. I studied the blood pouring from my fist, my life source flowing out of me. I felt the rage return, the battering emotions inside of me start to take over. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

“I am not him. I will never fucking be him.” I shouted into the room. You are him. You're a monster. You hurt her and you'll hurt others. The blood is on your hands.

Blind rage set in. I stormed through the room, smashing and flipping anything in my path. Falling to the floor, I buried my head in my hands and let out a blood-curdling scream before breaking down into gut-wrenching sobs. The images started to flash through my mind again. Yanking my fists into my hair, I tried to make them go away. I heard pounding and screaming from the other side of my door, but I was lost.

The thumps grew louder and his screams were deafening. Her grasp on me tightened, shielding me, protecting me.

I rocked back and forth, waiting for the noise, waiting for the smell, waiting for my turn. To pay for what I had done.

The pounding on the door finally stopped and I saw Jackson rush toward me. He needed to go, they all needed to just go, leave me to my oblivion, leave me to my nightmares. It was my turn, my fucking turn to pay for what I've done. I shoved Jackson away roughly when he approached me. Nicholas halted his approach and tried to talk to me. I didn't want them here. What if they become my fault too? I shouted for them to leave. They were stubborn, stupid, and relentless.

Fuck, just go away! Run! Please!

"Christopher, it will be alright," Nicholas tried, stepping closer.

"No it won't! It never goes away!"

He stopped.

"It's my fault she's gone!" I screamed, the sobs pouring from my chest. "It's my fault!"

"No, Christopher, nothing was your fault," Nicholas said, trying to get close again.

I buried my head into my knees. I didn't want to hear their reasoning, didn't want to hear them console me. I just wanted them gone, wanting to bathe in my misery, drown in my horrific actions. They didn't know what I had done. If they did…

"Christopher?"

Jackson? Not again. Fucking leave before it's too late.

"Get the fuck away. Get out!"

Not allowing him to touch me, I slammed my head back repeatedly, trying to get rid of the horror. Jackson's presence appeared again. A red haze blurred the outline of his body.

"Get out! All of you! I said to go away!"

Just let it be my turn. Please, let it finally end. I deserve it after what I've done.

"Christopher."

The voice was soft, feminine. It was her. I opened my eyes and stared at her, Mia, my saving grace, my guardian angel. The look on her face conveyed her terror. She was fucking scared of me. I watched as she cringed away from me, guilt forming on my face. I would never hurt her. She made it all go away, and she was here. She moved closer to me and spoke again.

"Christopher?"

Waiting for the images to come, or for her to disappear, I could only stare. It had to be a hallucination. She couldn't be here. What sane person would willingly walk into this?

"Don't!" she shouted, but her gaze didn't falter from mine.

Dropping my head in shame, I waited for the guilt and rage to surface again. She would leave if she knew what I had done, what I was. I was no better than he was.

The images started to blur as she walked closer toward me. She reached out and placed her hand on the top of my head. Relief filled me, coursed through me. My chest felt slightly lighter, no longer constricting in unbearable pain. She sighed and shifted away from me.

No, not yet! Don't go yet! Please be real.

Scrambling to my knees, I wrapped my arms around her. Reaching for her hands, I made contact with one and placed it back on my head. Her other hand joined. Calmness coursed through my body. Her body twitched, but I couldn't let her go. Knowing the bed would be easier on her than standing, I locked my arms around her waist and lifted her. She gasped as I carried her across the room.

I placed her on the bed and climbed in behind her. I need silence. I need these images to go away. I need…her. I buried my face into her side and breathed deep. The scent of her filled my nostrils and I felt lighter, the horror was gone. She made it better. Somehow, she made me better.

Just as I was about to drift off, I felt someone tug at my hand. The rage that I was trying to calm down from reared its ugly head. I started to pull away, but her hand, soft and warm, touched my face, stopping me. Drawing my head back, my eyes met her kind, dark eyes.

"It's okay, Christopher. Let him look at your hand."

Drowning in her haunting eyes, all I could do was nod.

"Okay?"

Her thumb rubbed slowly against my cheek. There was still tension in her voice. She was still afraid I would hurt her or someone else. Burying my face, I let the pulling, poking, stinging, and burning in my hands continue.

With one last sharp sting in my arm, everything silenced.

Mia

Once the paramedic gave him the shots, I waited until his breathing slowed. Running my hand through his hair one last time, I began to remove myself from him.

"Mia," Nicholas spoke in a hushed tone.

Wiggling out from Christopher's hold, I stood from the bed. I stumbled slightly when my equilibrium protested my vertical ascent, and Nicholas grabbed my arm to steady me.

"Thanks," I whispered.

"Jesus, Mia," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "If anyone should be thanked, it's you."

He pulled me into a tight hug, a soft whimper escaping him. Rubbing his back lightly, I tried to comfort him.

Once Nicholas released me, I looked around and saw everyone looking at me, confusion in their eyes. Serena pulled me into a protective hug, not letting go of me.

"Nicholas –" Una broke through the silence.

"Una, I know, I'll deal with it all," Nicholas snapped.

He sat next to Christopher on the bed, placing a shaky hand on his son's arm.

"No, Nicholas," Una said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "I will get things taken care of in the hotel and see if we can move the next concert to a later date, giving you time to make a decision."

"Thank you, Una," Nicholas replied, turning to her with a look of relief and appreciation.

Tears glistened on her cheeks as she walked away, motioning for Xander to follow her. He moved quickly to her side, and they left the room in a huddle of hushed words.

"Mia?"

Using the last of my strength, I look up from Serena's shoulder. I wasn't sure what Jackson was going to say or how he was going to react. He furrowed his brow.

"Thank you," he said, leaning toward me and kissing my forehead. I just nodded slowly and buried my head back into Serena’s shoulder.

"Let's get you out of here," she whispered and pulled me along with her.

After climbing into bed and spooning with me, something we hadn't done since I was very little, she spoke.

"Are you okay? Do you need anything?" she asked, rubbing my arm.

Shaking my head, I let exhaustion swallow my consciousness.

The next day, I woke unsure of how long I'd been asleep. Serena was still behind me, and Laney and Kat had joined us at some point. Laney was lying at the end of the bed watching TV, and Kat was in front of me. Laney turned from the show she was watching when I sat up and stretched.

"Hey there, sleepy head," she said, smiling and rubbing my foot. "You hungry?"

My stomach grumbled in agreement. Laney jumped up and left the room. Kat wrapped her arm over my shoulder. I was waiting for the questions to start, but they didn't. For that, I was thankful. I still wasn't sure what the hell happened or why I was so drawn to help him.

It should have terrified me. He should terrify me, but I wasn't afraid of him. There really was no rationale behind this. Truthfully, I didn't even know where to begin explaining any of it. Moments later, Laney wheeled in a cart full of silver dome-covered dishes.

"I wasn't sure what everyone would want, so I got a bunch of different things," she said, smiling as she sat on the bed.

"We can all just pick at the food and watch horrible reality shows all day," she giggled.

A day of vegetation sounded like an amazing plan. Grabbing a plate of pancakes, I rolled one up, dipped it in syrup, and placed it in my mouth. Mmm…heaven. After eating all four pancakes, drinking two cups of coffee, and a large glass of orange juice, my stomach was full.

Stretching out, I took note of the time. It was after noon. The weight of their eyes followed me as I headed to the bathroom. Entering the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and decided I needed a shower.

Setting the temperature as hot as my skin could handle, I stepped into the spray. The water relieved my tense muscles. My vision started to blur from the tears welling up in my eyes. Leaning against the tile wall, I cried until there was nothing left in me.

The hotel towel was fluffy and soft as I wrapped it around my damp body. After towel drying my hair and combing through it, I went to retrieve clean clothes. Laney was waiting for me with clothes in her hand when I opened the door. Smiling, I hugged her. She left while got dressed.

I still wasn't able to process what had happened last night or any of the previous nights. Giving up on thinking through it all, I padded out to the living room. All eyes were on me when I entered the room - Una, Xander, Kat, Serena, Laney, Jackson, Jimmy, Elliott, and Nicholas.

Remaining silent, I walked to the hotel fridge. I grabbed a bottle of water and claimed a spot on the couch next to Una.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, putting her arm around me.

"Okay," I said quietly.

Even I didn't recognize my own voice. She hugged me tighter. Serena slid her arm through mine and moved closer to my side.

"You really okay?" she whispered in my ear.

Smiling small, I patted her arm to reassure her.

"Mia, I want to thank you again for your help with Christopher," Nicholas said, standing and walking to the middle of the room.

I nodded.

"I would also like to talk to you, when you're up for it, please?"

Taking a deep breath, I stood up. When would there be a better time for this conversation?

"Where do you want to talk?"

Nicholas looked surprised by my question.

"Mia, you don't have to do this now," Una said, grabbing my hand and holding it tightly.

"It's okay. I'm fine, really. Just tired," I reassured with a smile and gave her hand a squeeze. "Besides, I'd rather talk than be stared at like I'm some freak."

Elliott chuckled as I walked by Nicholas.

"Well?"

He gestured for me to lead and held open the hotel room door for me. Sliding on someone's flip-flops near the door, I walked out.

"How is he?" I asked, unable to look at him. Instead, I kept my head down as we walked the hallway.

"He's okay. Still drugged," he said, pausing before continuing. "My wife, Gwen, is with him."

Nodding, I chewed on my bottom lip. I felt an ache in my chest and the pull to go to him.

We walked in silence the rest of the way. When we came to the rooftop pool, I took a seat at an empty table. It was a pleasant day for Seattle. Not too cold, no rain, and even the sun peeked out from behind the clouds on occasion.

Nicholas took a deep breath and exhaled dramatically. Unease rolled off him in waves. I couldn't help but fidget while waiting for him to begin.

"I will tell you everything I know, but I assure you that the only one who can really tell you anything is Christopher. He is the only one that knows what happened that night."

Nodding in understanding, I continued to abuse my bottom lip with my teeth. Nicholas began.

"I was working in Chicago as a scout for Richard, trying to find the next big artist. While I was there, I met Margaret Mason. She was in the process of leaving her husband. We became friends, at first. After a couple of months, the relationship became physical," he confessed, his face flushed with the awkwardness of the topic.

"I, uh, left on a trip for work and when I returned, she was gone. I went to her apartment, but it was empty. I asked around to people…her neighbors, co-workers, but no one knew what happened to her. She was just gone. I tried a couple of times to find her just to make sure she was okay, but I never found anything."

"Maybe I should have tried harder. There isn't a day since Christopher arrived in my life when I haven't felt guilty for not looking harder for Margaret. Secretly, I hoped she would reappear one day, but she never did. Months later, I moved to Seattle. I never heard from her again."

I watched his face closely. He was sad, but there was a small touch of guilt lining his features.

"It was later I found out she had given me her maiden name. It was almost twelve years later when Christopher came to me. The police arrived at my door asking me questions about Chicago and Maggie. I told them everything I knew."

Nicholas shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Then, they told me about Christopher and asked if I would object to a paternity test. I, of course, agreed. After the results were in, I flew to Chicago to meet with the police, child services, and to finally meet my son."

"When I arrived they told me what they could conclude from the scene. Margaret had been killed by her husband and Colin had been found dead a few feet away from her, where it appeared Christopher had killed him."

My face dropped and my mouth was hanging open. I took a deep breath.

"Christopher killed his father? Or well, stepfather?"

Nicholas nodded.

"His father, um, stepfather tried to kill them both?"

"The police said it was determined to be self-defense."

I furrowed my brow and bit my lip. He didn't look like he believed what he was saying.

"But –"

"Mia, Christopher is the only one that really knows what happened that night, but he never spoke of it. In fact, he didn't speak at all. The doctors said it was shock from the trauma of seeing his mother's murder," Nicholas said, looking up and into my eyes.

"When the police finally arrived at the scene and were able to get into the house, Christopher was sitting on the floor holding his mother's body and rocking her."

Large, warm tears spilled over my cheeks. How could anyone make it through that, especially a small boy? I had to swallow the sobs that were building in my throat.

"I don't excuse Christopher's behavior, Mia. He knows he needs help, but he refuses. However, for some reason, you seem to help. I've never seen him like this with anyone. It usually takes drugs or other methods of sedation to calm him during a fit of rage," he said, sighing heavily. "I hadn't realized he was this bad, again. The date should have registered with me. It doesn't help matters."

He shook his head and rubbed his forehead.

"The date?" I questioned.

"Tomorrow is the anniversary of Margaret's death," he said, putting his head down. "I think it's why he snapped this time."

"This time?" I pressed.

He nodded reluctantly.

"He has had episodes in the past. There was a time when he constantly argued and fought with everyone. We were always left to clean up the messes he created with fighting and destroying hotel rooms."

"Why hasn't he gotten professional help?"

Nicholas cleared his throat.

"Gwen and I sent him to a child therapist and a grief counselor when he was younger, but he wouldn't participate. The sessions consisted of him sitting in silence for hours," he said, sucking in a ragged breath before continuing. "It was at that point when I thought he was lost forever."

His small chuckle caught me off guard and I wrinkled my brow at his reaction.

"I'm sorry. It's just that music is what brought him back."

"How so?"

"Gwen is a very accomplished pianist. She's played since she was four," he explained, smiling proudly. "It was her playing that drew Christopher back. He migrated to the music room in our house when she would play, or when she was trying to teach Jackson. Chris was a natural, a true protégé."

His smile was one of pride, but drowned in sadness.

"Both Gwen and I have tried multiple ways to get him more help; family meetings, forcing him to appointments. Hell, we even staged an intervention, but nothing worked," he said, rubbing his face roughly. "The last time he got help was over two years ago when he took too many of those damn sleeping pills he obtains behind my back. If Jackson hadn't needed to wake him up for a gig, we most likely would've lost him."

We both sat in silence awhile longer until I stood up. Nicholas stood up quickly after me.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern plaguing his handsome face.

Nodding to him, I felt the sudden urge to go back to bed.

Nicholas walked me back to my room. When I entered, it was empty. Thankful, I climbed into the hotel bed, falling asleep quickly. My dreams were far from pleasant, filled with images of a small boy covered in blood and tears as he rocked his mother like a baby.

Christopher

My eyes felt swollen and my body felt as if I had gone a few too many rounds with Mayweather. I tried to speak, but my lips wouldn't move.

"Christopher? Christopher, sweetheart?"

Gwen? Is that Gwen? Why the hell can't I see?

"Oh, Christopher, honey, open your eyes if you can hear me, please?"

I tried, but nothing worked. It was all black. Why couldn't I open my eyes? Why didn't my body work? What the hell happened to me?

I tried to scream, slightly panicking, but only a gurgling sound emerged from my mouth. As I fought the darkness, light began to creep in and it was blinding. Flinching back, I groaned at the sudden intrusion.

"Christopher?"

"Gwen?" I finally croaked.

"Oh, sweetheart," she sobbed.

Lifting my hand, I clenched and unclenched it. My body was once again under my command.

"Don't cry," I rasped. She grabbed my hand tightly. I groaned as a sharp pain shot up to my elbow.

"Oh, crap, I'm so sorry, honey," she apologized, releasing my hand immediately.

I tried my eyes once again. The glaring light was there, but it wasn't as intrusive as before. Squinting, I rolled my head to the right.

There she was. Her beautiful caramel-colored hair, fair skin, and signature full, red lips were peering back at me while tears slid down her cheeks.

"Please?" I asked again.

She stood closer to me and wiped her eyes. Her face shifted from sadness to anger.

"Don't you ever do that to me again," she yelled.

"I'm sorry," I croaked, not quite sure what I was apologizing for. I felt like there was a heavy, woolen blanket wrapped around my brain.

My senses were only just beginning to return. The soft beeps from machines, the coolness of the air on my skin, and the familiar scents of rubbing alcohol and freshly opened Band-Aids with a hint of flowers were in the air. As my eyes adjusted, I tried to sit up, catching a glimpse of a bouquet across the room.

"Wait, let me get the doctor," Gwen said, rushing out of the room.

Lying back on the pillows, I took in the blue and beige hospital room. Gwen returned, dragging a man in a white coat and blue scrubs into the room behind her.

"Ma'am, I think we need to call his assigned doctor," the man pleaded.

"Nonsense! You will help my son!" she scolded as a nurse rushed into the room.

"Mrs. Shaw, Dr. Cain is on his way now," the nurse said, attempting to reassure Gwen as the other doctor hurried out of the room.

I couldn't help but chuckle a little, wincing from an unknown pain in my arm. Looking down toward my hands, I noticed the bandages wrapped around them. I stared, still a little confused. Suddenly, the cotton lifted from my brain and last night came back in a rush.

"Oh shit," I exclaimed and sat up. "Stacia."

Groaning, I covered my face with my hands. The smell of new gauze invaded my nostrils. Gwen rushed to my side.

"It's okay," she consoled, hugging me and rubbing slow circles on my shoulders. "Everything is going to be okay."

I started shaking my head.

"No, no it's not." Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. Gwen wiped them away, holding my face to hers.

"It will all be okay. We will get through this together, as a family."

"It's my fault," I whispered as she squeezed me tighter. "I hurt her."

She hugged me closer and pulled my head to her chest, her heartbeat thumping wildly in my ear.

"How long have I been here?"

"Just the night," she sniffed. "You'll come home with me and I will take care of you."

Fuck, why couldn't the doctors kept me under for another day or two? I needed this anniversary to be over. A thought halted my musings.

"Is Stacia...?" I couldn't get the rest of my question out of my mouth.

"She's okay," she said, running her hand through my hair.

My doctor eventually arrived and reluctantly released me from the hospital. Since my physical injuries were nothing more than superficial and I hadn't tried to commit suicide, he had no choice. They made sure to give me their “professional advice” and spoke to Nicholas and Gwen before I signed my release papers.

The tension-filled car ride was eased when Gwen broke the long silence.

"I think he should come home with me for a while. You can cancel the tour," she said, waving it off as if it were no big deal to cancel a major tour. Nicholas had a look of amusement on his face.

"Gwen, I don't know what we're going to do right now, but we'll talk about it," he said, looking at her briefly as she pouted.

"It is a wonderful idea though," he reassured her.

"Can you not talk about me as if I'm not here?" I exclaimed. "Look, I know I fucked up –"

"Christopher, watch your mouth," Gwen scolded.

"Sorry. I know I messed up, major, but I don't want to cancel the tour. It's not fair to everyone else," I argued.

"I don't think it's –" Gwen began, but Nicholas interrupted her.

"Christopher, I can't agree to that. How do I know you won't do this again?" he asked, looking at me with pain in his eyes.

"I won't hurt anyone," I tried to reassure them.

"What about yourself, Christopher? I'm concerned about you," Nicholas spoke sternly.

I put my head back on the seat, not knowing what to say to convince him. My mind was scrambling for something I could bargain. Finally, my mental search came through. I realized what would convince him and internally groaned. I couldn't believe I was going to do this. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tightened my jaw and spit it out before I came back to my senses.

"I'll do whatever you want. I'll agree to get help."

Pulling my head up, I looked at both of them. Gwen looked like she was going to cry again, and Nicholas looked as if something was stuck in his throat.

"Christopher –"

"I have some stipulations."

He eyed me with suspicion.

"And what are those?" he demanded.

"I will not be doped up all day. If they want me to take the pills to sleep, I'll do that. But, I won't take pills all day."

"And?" he asked.

I hesitated.

"A couple of things, though one is probably unlikely," I mumbled, shifting nervously in my seat and swallowing hard.

"Continue," he urged.

"I refuse to lay on a couch while some Ph.D. demands that we talk about my feelings. I will talk to someone, but I don't want some stupid ass head doctor making me lie down and discuss my 'mommy issues,'" I asserted, looking at Gwen who was scowling at me.

"Sorry for swearing," I apologized, and she let a small smile sneak up on her lips.

"And the other request?" Nicholas raised his eyebrow.

Taking a deep breath, I bit the bullet.

"Mia," I looked him straight in the eye.

Chapter Ten

Christopher

"What about Mia?"

Nicholas sat up straighter and looked at me as if he were ready to pounce. Glancing quickly at Gwen, I noticed a small smile on her lips.

"It's not like that," I quickly corrected Gwen's unspoken assumptions.

She just nodded, her smiling turning to a smirk. Clearing my throat, I turned my attention back to Nicholas. He was still eyeing me, winding up for the attack.

"Don't let her leave the tour," I said with my eyes cast down. "I've been an asshole. And, after everything, especially after last night, I'm sure she…that Hushed Mentality is about to pull out."

"Christopher," Nicholas said. His shoulders relaxed and the tension in his jaw slackened.

I braced myself for him to tell me that it was too late.

"I don't believe they're going anywhere."

I looked up at him, watching his lips turn up in amusement.

"Mia is stronger than you give her credit for. To be quite honest, I don't think even your asshole behavior could have run that one off."

I rubbed the back of my neck and Nicholas chuckled.

"I think you have finally met your match," Gwen said, covering her mouth, trying to stifle a giggle.

"I think you're right," I breathed out.

Putting my head back onto the seat, I closed my eyes again. I thought back over the time we'd been on tour and all of the interactions with Mia on the tour bus and at the hotel.

When the car stopped in front of the studio, I was a bit surprised. I was sure he was going to take me straight to the hotel or even home.

"I'll be right back," Nicholas spoke and quickly stepped from the car.

I followed him.

"Christopher, you don't have to come in. We can head back to the hotel. I just need to check on a couple of things with Una."

"Una's here?" I asked, a little confused. Looking at my watch, I saw it was almost five.

Why the fuck did I just look at the time? Have I learned nothing by now?

I composed myself quickly before Nicholas could see any falter in my demeanor.

"Yes. The girls are recording," he explained, looking at me cautiously. Obviously, I hadn't pulled myself together as quickly as I thought.

"I want to go in."

"Christopher," said Gwen, who had gotten out of the car without me noticing, "I think it's best to wait here."

"I'm going," I asserted, walking through the entrance.

Once inside, I let Nicholas lead the way to the studio they were using. We walked in during the middle of recording.

"Hey, Christopher," Albert greeted, slapping the hand I extended to him. "These girls are good."

He nodded toward the booth where the girls were playing. Mia was singing into the microphone. It was a song I hadn't heard yet. The melody and tempo were different from anything I had heard them play so far.  When I didn't answer him, he questioned me.

"Don't you think so?"

"Huh? Yeah, they're good," I agreed, taking a seat next to him as he recorded the track.

There she was, behind the glass. Her eyes were on Kat as they harmonized. Al's voice pulled my attention back to him.

"Well, since you're here, do you want Mia to record the lyrics to the song you sent to me a few days ago?"

I hesitated before I answered. Would she want to?

"Yeah, let's do it."

Nicholas' hand went on my shoulder.

"Christopher, don't you think we should get going to the hotel?" he asked, his grip tightening.

"If Mia is willing to record this, then I would like to be here for it," I replied, not saying what I really wanted to. I just want to completely immerse myself into work, concentrate on the music, and distract myself from this day and its meaning.

Una leaned forward, pressed a button, and put her mouth to the microphone.

"You guys did great! Are you happy with it?"

"Yes, Definitely, Absolutely," they answered at the same time.

Una gave me a quick glance before she spoke into the mic again.

"Mia?"

Mia turned around at the sound of her name.

"Yeah?"

Her eyes were my immediate focal point. The haunting pools of dark chocolate drew me in and made my skin crackle. She was beautiful, breathtakingly so. Sure, I've noticed how attractive she is, but, before this moment, I don't think I truly realized just how beautiful she is. A new ache formed in my chest. Una's voice broke me out of my trance.

"We need to record your part for the duet with Christopher. Are you ready to do that? Are you prepared?"

Mia nodded and put a bottle of water to her lips. Her mouth puckered as she pulled the water bottle from her lips. Licking my lips and swallowing hard, my lower body awakened.

"Okay, we're going to get set up for it. Take ten," Una said, pulling away and looking directly at me. All thoughts of inappropriate ways in which to utilize a studio flew from my mind. "How are you?"

Christ, here we go again with this bullshit. I know I did it to myself, but, fuck, people, leave it alone. I'm not going to turn psycho on you, ‘nuff said. The booth door opened and I spun in my chair.

Kat, Laney, and Serena all walked into the room with Mia not too far behind.  Each one looked at me with wide eyes as they came through the door. I had prepared myself for this; the looks of pity, fear, and even anger. When Mia's eyes found mine, she smiled slightly and kept it emotionless. She said something to Una I couldn't hear and walked out the studio door. There was an urge to follow her, but I shook it off quickly.

"How are you feeling?"

I turned toward the question, seeing Laney with her legs crossed, looking at me expectantly. Both Kat and Serena stared at her as if their eyes were going to make a leap for the floor.

"Laney," Kat hissed.

"I'm okay," I responded, hesitantly.

"That's good to hear," Laney said, turning her attention to Kat who had a hand on her arm.

Kat mouthed "sorry" to me before she began hissing into Laney's ear.

"I was being polite," Laney growled quietly, but not quietly enough. I ignored them.

Mia came back and walked straight into the booth. She didn't glance in my direction once. She was probably pissed or most likely scared to death of me. She should be. If she knew what I had done, she would run for the closest door and wish me good riddance.

Isn't that what I wanted, though? Dropping my head in frustration and pinching the bridge of my nose, I took a deep breath.

"Okay, Mia, you ready?" Albert asked. His questions bringing my head back up.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she said, winking at him. A twinge of anger flashed through me.

The song started to play and she began singing. It was good, she was good, but something was off. It wasn't working out the way I wanted it.

"Stop," I spoke so suddenly, Albert snapped his head to me.

"What?" he choked out.

"Stop," I ordered, standing up. "It's not right."

"It sounds good, Christopher. She sounds great," he argued.

"It's not her. It's the arrangement; the song," I explained, hitting the mic button and killing the music. "Mia, stop for a minute."

Walking into the booth, I felt a twinge in my chest when she put a large amount of space between us. She was afraid of me. Well, that's probably for the best. I wasn't safe or good. Grabbing the paper she had, I started changing things on it. I placed it back down in front of her.

"Let's try this again," I said and smiled.

She looked at me, puzzled, before walking over to look at the paper.

"You ready?" I asked.

She nodded without looking at me. God, I wanted her to look at me.

"Al, whenever you're ready..." I said. He nodded and cued the music.

Placing the headphones over my head, I started my verse. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Mia looking at me. When she joined in, it caught me off guard. She’d started into the song sooner than I'd written.

When I glanced at her, she smiled. My verse finished and she started in on her solo. Taking her lead, I started breaking into small parts while she was singing. It came so naturally, so easily, that for the rest of the song I closed my eyes and got lost in it.

The urge to look over at her again was strong. I opened my eyes and took in her beauty. When she was like this, in her element, with her voice on display, she was more than beautiful. She glowed. With her eyes closed, she swayed to the beat, feeling the song on a deeper level. What we'd written on paper no longer mattered. We sang freely with each other and it felt amazing. When the music stopped, there was complete silence in the booth and on the other side of the glass.

I looked up through the glass to say something to Albert, but froze. Everyone was standing around Al with their mouths parted, staring at us.

Mia broke the uncomfortable silence.

"What the hell are you staring at?"

I laughed at her exclamation. She looked at me and smiled, and then looked back to them.

"Stop! You guys are creeping me out! I feel like a display at the Zoo. ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, over here is our main exhibit, the monkey preforming fellatio on itself.'"

I laughed out loud, I couldn't help it. I could see everyone else laughing as well. Al's chuckle cut through the intercom. He quickly gained composure.

"That was fantastic, great, amazing! Shit, I don't know what else to say. Actually, just listen to the playback."

He started the playback. When I felt her walk by, I turned, watching her leave through the door. For the first time, I noticed something I had never seen before. She had a tattoo in the middle of her lower back. My imagination ran wild with the knowledge, but I shook off the thought quickly, focusing my attention back where it should be. On the song. He was right. It was fucking great.

When the song finished, I walked out of the booth. The girls were standing and talking with Una.

"Um…Mia," I said.

She turned and, for a moment, I was once again lost in those dark, haunting eyes. My skin crackled and my body twitched in multiple places. Clenching my bandaged fists, I used the pain to snap out of my ridiculous behavior.

"You were great. I mean, the song sounds great."

Christ, I was a bumbling idiot now. She nodded politely and turned away from me.

When I arrived back at the hotel room, Nicholas informed me Jackson would be staying with me tonight. In fact, there would always be someone staying with me from this point forward. I thought about arguing. Realizing that I would never win the battle, I acquiesced.

"Hey, bro, looks like we are shacking up tonight," Jackson teased, punching my arm lightly.

"Yep, looks like you drew the short straw," I said, forcing a smile for my babysitter.

"Christopher," Jackson said, shaking his head. "I want to be here, if you'll let me."

After the other night, I just patted his back and headed to shower. Lord knows what he'll have to deal with tonight.

Jackson was already in his adjoining room watching TV when I got out of the shower. I sat down on the edge of my bed and turned on my TV. I instantly regretted it. There was the news with the date scrolling behind the weather forecast. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Yet, another mistake. There she was, my mother, lying on the floor.

Cramming my head into my hands, I started rocking, trying to get a hold of myself. Agony, guilt, and rage cracked open inside of me and began to seep in. I swiftly got to my feet, pushed myself toward my bags, and pulled everything out; trying to find the pills the doctor gave me. My hands clasped around the brown, plastic bottle. I popped it open, swallowed a pill quickly, and buried myself in the pillows on my bed.

Jolting up screaming is not the best way for anyone to wake up. However, for the psychopath's babysitter in the next room, it is even worse. Jackson burst through the door with fear and panic all over his face.

"Christopher? Are you okay?" he asked, sitting on his knees at my bedside. He grabbed the pill bottle and looked at it.

"How many did you take?"

Slowly rocking, I tried to erase the memories from my head.

"Christopher!"

"One, Jackson! I took one like they fucking told me to!" I said, standing. I grabbed the bottle from his hands and threw it against the wall. Jackson quickly stood and backed away from me.

"They never work!" I screamed, pulling at my hair. "Christ!"

Grabbing a sweatshirt from the pile I'd created earlier, I headed toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Jackson demanded, hot on my heels.

"I need to clear my head. I'm not going back to sleep!" I yelled over my shoulder, sliding on my shoes.

"Christopher, the doctor said lack of sleep just makes it worse. Why don't we call –?"

"Thanks, Doc, but I'm not going back to sleep. Screw that! They can find another damn pill that won't work for me tomorrow!"

Pounding my fists on the door, I leaned my head against it.

"Look, Jackson, I'm sorry. You're worried and I get it. You're doing your brotherly duty and I'm fucking it all up. I just…I need some air," I said, pulling open the door and stepping into the hall.

After passing the girl's room, about three doors down, I stopped. My body seemed to move before my head could really get into the game. I turned around and walked back. Standing in front of the door, running my hand through my hair, I lifted my hand to knock. My brain finally caught up to this brilliant plan and I chickened out, backing away until I pressed against the opposite wall.

Why? Why, why, why? What the fuck am I doing? She's asleep, she's afraid of you, and she completely ignored you when she saw you. Fuck! But, isn't that what we always did? We ignored each other all day, or, more so, hated each other all day, but she would still be there. She would be there, sleeping or not. She would stay. She had proved that more times than she should've.

Smacking the back of my head against the wall, I closed my eyes. Cringing at the thoughts and memories waiting in my head, I looked to the ceiling. Why can't I help myself? Why can't I make it stop? Essentially, I knew why I couldn't. I had to live with what I'd done. These were the repercussions.

The sound of knocking pulled me from my self-deprecation.

Pushing off the wall, I lowered my eyes. It was Jackson knocking on their door. He turned to me and smiled lightly. Before I could make a move, before I could say anything, the door opened. Red stood in the doorway looking groggy and confused. She was trying to focus on Jackson when he motioned to me. Putting my head down like a five year old in trouble, she scowled at me and shut the door.

Jackson looked at me with pity. Fuck that, I don't need his pity.

"Are you fucking crazy?" I hissed. "I'm gonna go –"

The door opened again and my words caught in my throat. There she was, squinting with massive bed-head. Not her best look, but kind of cute. Mia pulled the door all the way open, motioning for me to enter. Jackson grabbed my shoulder and shoved me toward the door.

"You're either in or you're out," Mia croaked, still half asleep. "I'm too tired."

Jackson chuckled, earning a glare from me.

Putting my head back down, I walked into the room. Jackson told her goodnight before shutting the door behind me. She brushed by me and walked into one of the bedrooms. Following, I watched as she climbed onto her bed and threw herself face down. Slowly, I walked over to the bed and stood there.

Should I say something, thank her?

"Either lie down or get out. You are freaking me out with the hovering," she mumbled into her pillow.

I kicked off my shoes and threw my sweatshirt on the floor next to them. Climbing into bed, I heard her breathing start to acquire a regular rhythm.

"Thank you," I said, the words barely a whisper. I rolled over facing her back.

"You're welcome," she yawned.

*****

"Christopher."

Pause.

"Christopher."

Another pause.

"Christopher!"

Hands gripped onto my shoulder and shook me roughly.

"What?" I groaned loudly.

"Can you move?"

Opening my eyes to the blaring daylight, I focused on the current scene. My chin was on her shoulder with my face buried into her neck. My arm was lying across her stomach, and my right leg was tangled with her left. She was pinned to the mattress.

"Shit, I'm sorry," I muttered, moving off her.

"No problem. You were just too heavy for me to move," she said, getting up and walking toward her bathroom.

I took notice of the small amount of clothing she was wearing. The shorts and the tank top barely covered her. Shaking off the thoughts, I rolled over, willing myself not to get a hard-on.

Mia

I knew I didn't have to let Christopher in, but what Nicholas had told me earlier was nagging at the back of my head. I couldn't, in good conscience, turn him away seeing as it was the anniversary of his mother's death. He obviously needed me and, when it came down to it, he wasn't asking for much. Moreover, left up to his own devices, what happened last night could play out once again. I couldn't take the risk, for his sanity and mine. Decided, I took a deep breath, preparing myself to play security blanket once again.

I opened the door, instantly greeted by Jackson standing on the other side. Since I was currently dressed in booty shorts and a tank top, sans bra, I was slightly embarrassed. Sucking it up, I simply extended Christopher the invitation. He finally came in, and I was just relieved to be able to go back to sleep.

Waking up this morning, I was a little foggy. Apparently, I needed more sleep than I had thought. Once my mind caught up to the situation, I felt a little uneasy. Christopher was on top of me and I was wearing next to nothing. I tried to wiggle my way out from under him. With each sway of my hips, my braless chest rubbed against his arm, jolting my nipples to full attention. In an attempt to ignore the amazing feelings it sent to my nether regions, I decided to wake him. Once he released me from his body trap, his amazingly warm and tantalizing body trap, I hauled ass to the bathroom.

After obtaining bladder relief, I wrapped up in the plush robe provided by the hotel. The evidence of my arousal was on display and I did not need to complicate things further. No matter how exciting the imagery may be. I took one last look in the mirror, reassuring myself that my lady bits were properly covered, and exited the bathroom. I stopped short. Christopher was still in bed, lying there with his eyes closed. I wasn't used to this. He was usually gone before I woke up. We didn't do the awkward morning after thing.

What the hell do I say? Do I say anything? Why is he still here? He usually takes off. Damn him! Okay, deep breaths. I'll just stick with the normal routine we've established. Ignore and evade.

Leaving the bedroom, I shut the door behind me. Laney already had breakfast sent up, so the cart was waiting. My current destination was toward the food. From the corner of my eye, I saw Serena examining my every move. I fully loaded my plate. A full mouth would be an excuse not to speak. I walked toward the couch with my full plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Her stare was relentless and annoying.

"Jesus, what already?" I snapped.

I took a large bite. These are really good eggs.

"Is he still here?"

Her mom voice was in full swing as she nodded her head toward my room, accentuating the point that she was referring to Christopher and not the other men I stash in closets. My mouth was full, so I shrugged with a nod back to her. Ha, ha, the full mouth plan was working.

"Are you ever going to explain all of this to me?" she asked, and my eyes followed her hands as she waved them around in frustration. She looked like a fish out of water. It was hilarious, but I hid my chuckle. Apparently, it was serious time.

I sighed.

"Look, there's nothing to explain."

Pausing, I took a drink of OJ.

"You were there the other night," I reminded, shoveling another forkful into my mouth.

"I guess, but I don't understand," she said with a shrug.

I swallowed the bite in my mouth.

"Well, when you figure it out, you let me know. I have no idea how to begin to understand it," I admitted, shaking my head.

"Oh, Jesus, you both are clueless," Laney said, plopping herself down between Serena and me. I grabbed my plate and steadied it from the bouncing motion.

"Then fill us in, oh wise Laney," Serena's voice exaggerated as I mock bowed.

"Just for that, nope!" she said, trying to pretend she was mad. Her creeping smile gave her away.

"Just say it already," Serena urged, sipping her coffee.

"Seriously, you don't get it?" Laney asked. A look of disbelief present and accounted for as she bobbed her head between the two of us. Satisfied that we had no clue, she shook her head and snorted. "Unreal."

"Christ, Laney, just spit it out," Serena yelled and smacked her in the arm.

"Well –" as she started to share her wisdom, my bedroom door opened.

All of our heads jerked to the opening door. I quickly looked back to my plate and shoveled in another bite. Laney and Serena kept their eyes on the door. Christopher appeared. In my peripheral vision, I saw him freeze in the doorway. I kept eating.

Ignore and evade. Ignore and evade.

"Um…good morning," Laney said with a small wave and a smile. Serena turned to her with a crinkled expression on her face, clearly informing Laney that she had lost her mind. I almost spat my food out on them.

Another bedroom door opened and Kat groggily walked out. As soon as she saw Christopher, she stopped and then shot a look to us. She shook her head and headed for the breakfast cart.

"Help yourself," Laney extended a breakfast invitation to Christopher.

I shifted a sideways glance at him. He still stood by the bedroom door, rubbing the back of his head in an attempt to tame his sweet bedhead. He just shook his head and walked to the door, exiting the hotel room like it was on fire. Dropping my eyes back to my plate, I felt that all eyes were on me.

"What?" I groaned loudly. I knew I was in for the badgering of a lifetime.

"You need to put a stop to this," Serena said, placing her coffee on the table in front of us.

I rolled my eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes at me! Is this what was going on the whole time you were on the bus with him?"

"Have you slept together?" Laney demanded, smiling.

"As in sex, not sleep," she explained before I had the chance to make a smart-ass remark.

"No," I groaned.

"Will you two back the hell up off of her?" Kat asked, joining in as she sat at the far end of the couch.

Serena ignored her.

"Look, Mia, I love you, but this is ridiculous. You can't fix him."

"Who said I was trying to?" I shouted, getting up from the couch. "You know, I didn't ask your opinion about any of this, and you sure as hell weren't complaining about him when you voted me onto that bus."

The low blow wasn't completely fair, but it was true. I didn't ask for any of this. This…situation wasn't my doing. I could see the craziness of the whole thing, understood where they were coming from, but I couldn't just walk away. Could I? Fact was, if I was being honest, I couldn't just walk away and it scared me.

Christopher

Running away was a chicken shit move, but I had to get out of there. We didn't do the morning after deal. Plus, with everyone's eyes on me, I knew questions were going to start erupting. Stay and have an adult discussion? Apparently, that wasn't my style.

Nicholas and Jackson sat in the living room drinking coffee when I entered my room. By the look on both of their faces, I'd interrupted another conversation this morning. A conversation I'm sure was also about me. Who's the fuck up of the town? This guy.

"Good morning, Christopher," Nicholas spoke over his coffee cup.

I nodded and went to my room. Quiet footsteps followed behind me. I turned around.

"Son, Jackson was telling me about last night," he said, pausing to search my face. "Do you want to talk? Is there something we can do to –?"

"I'm fine," I growled and turned back around to my bed.

"You call this fine?"

I looked to see him pointing toward the bottle and pills scattered across the floor.

"It was a bad night and I tried those,” I said, waving my hand toward the pills. I roughly sat down on the bed, huffing in irritation. "They didn't help. As usual, I might add."

"You need to talk to someone, Christopher. You need to tell them everything, release all of the pent up memories. You need to get help," Nicholas insisted, sitting next to me. "You made this deal in order to stay on the tour, remember?"

"I know, I know," I sighed heavily. "What do you have in mind?"

"I have a few grief and post traumatic counselors I think you should talk to. See if you are comfortable with them, then we'll go from there. Okay?" he asked, placing a comforting pat on my back.

"Fine," I growled and went to shower.

Chapter Eleven

Mia

Barely surviving the questions following Christopher's departure, I finally got my reprieve when we left for the studio. Una scheduled a couple more hours for us and I couldn't wait. The day was warm and sun-filled, instantly improving my mood. Al, who was sitting at his mixing table, greeted us instantly as we walked through the door.

"Good morning, ladies!"

"Good morning," we responded in unison.

"You ready for us?" I asked, sitting next to him and bumping his shoulder.

"Sure am. Get your pretty asses in there and let's make some beautiful music," he said with a large smile.

Una arrived with Xander in tow an hour after we'd started. She was on her phone from the moment she walked in until we walked out of the booth.

Her eyes landed on us and she motioned for us to sit around her while she finished her call. We sat down as she hung up. Turning to us with excitement glinting in her eyes, she smiled widely.

"Okay, we'll be leaving Seattle in two days for Dallas. We rescheduled the Chicago concert for a later date, but it will be made up."

The excitement of getting back on tour was short-lived when a thought occurred to me.

"Um, Una?"

"Yes?" she asked, looking up from her blackberry.

"The song is finished, correct?"

She nodded.

"So…I can go back on our bus, right?"

She nodded again.

"Okay, thanks."

Her answer should have made me relieved, which I was, but I was also disappointed. I was used to Christopher, was used to sleeping next to him. Although it wasn't a need, he became my regular even in the short amount of time we were actually together. I know it's odd, especially with the circumstances and lack of communication between us, but it felt right, normal even.  I also worried, worried about his condition and how he would fare without me. Xander interrupted my moment of admittance by rushing us from the studio to the car waiting to take us back to the hotel. Once in our room, everyone showered and changed for dinner.

"I say, that since this is the last night without a concert the next day, we should go out and get our party on!" Laney suggested, gyrating her hips and giggling.

Laughing, I shook my head.

"I second that motion," Kat agreed, entering the room in all her badass glory while mimicking Laney's gyrations.

Serena smiled with a nod and I just shrugged. "Okay."

We left to meet Una downstairs and ran into Nicholas and The Forgotten in the lobby. My skin tingled with nervousness. The idea of going to dinner with them was making my stomach flip.

"Good evening, ladies."

We all greeted Nicholas with a smile. I immediately noticed Christopher standing in the back of the group. I tried to avoid it, but I could feel him in the room; like a mass of electric energy pulling me toward it, beckoning me to its power. I mentally scolded myself for being weak, straightened my shoulders, and went into full avoidance mode.

Una arrived, looking casual gorgeous.

"Are we ready to go?"

"You know what, Una?" Laney said, grabbing her by the arm.

"What, Laney?" she answered with a nervous smile.

"I think you should come out with us tonight and unwind," Laney said, smiling brightly and batting her eyes at Una, who was already shaking her head. I ran up, grabbing her by the other arm.

"You know, I think Lane is right," I said, smiling and tilting my head in her direction.

"Sorry girls, but I need my sleep," Una continued, shaking her head. "We have a lot to –"

"Well, it looks like we're just going to have to kidnap you then. Come on, girl, you need to let loose. You're like a ball of stress asking to be unwound," Kat interrupted.

Turning my head to Kat, I saw her wink. Looking back to Una, I had to laugh at the scared look on her face.

The Forgotten did end up at dinner with us. I sat between Jackson and Una. Christopher seemed to sit as far from me as possible. His behavior was annoying me. Hypocrite much? I really need to get my shit together.

I spent most of dinner talking to Jackson. Turns out, we have a ton in common. We shared the same taste in music, enjoyed many of the same movies, and his personality was killer. I started to feel connected and bonded to Jackson, as if I'd known him for years. Not romantically, he just felt like a long lost brother.

After dinner, Nicholas excused himself back to the hotel, and Una tried to do the same. Laney and Kat got to her before she could slip away. Each of them grabbing an arm, they pulled her to the car.

"I am not going out," Una protested and tried to pull away.

I shoved her into the car and then climbed in behind her.

"It looks to me, like you are."

Serena laughed and climbed into the car behind me.

Turning back to the door, I watched Elliott climb inside the car. He pulled Serena onto his lap, much to her faked annoyance. My laugh was cut short when Jackson climbed in and pulled me onto his lap. Laney sat on Una's lap and wrapped an arm around her, giggling. Jimmy leaned in the door.

"Kat?" he asked, his brow rising.

She lifted up, and Jimmy slid under her. I was just about to comment on the filled car when Elliott yelled, "Come on, fucker, get in!"

My eyes snapped to the door. There was only one person left and he hesitated before leaning in.

"There is nowhere to sit, idiot. I'm just going to head back to the hotel," he said and stood back up.

"Christ, Christopher, just get in the fucking car, we'll make room," Jackson said, reaching out and pulling his arm.

"Alright, asshole. Elliott shove over," Christopher yelled back before climbing in, butting arms with Elliott.

Heat burned my face with the weight of Christopher's eyes on me. I looked up to confirm. Sure enough, there was the scowl of hatred across his face. I turned my eyes away and shifted in Jackson's lap.

"Jesus, Mia, your ass is boney," he said, readjusting my sitting position. Everyone started to laugh except for Christopher. I let out a slight chuckle still feeling slightly unnerved from the weight of his eyes on me.

Finally pulling up to club, we each stepped out one by one, looking like the clown car to put all others to shame. Kat and I latched onto Una before she could hightail it back to the hotel. Running in heels could be fatal. We were really just looking out for her health. Pulling her into the club, we were greeted by a ton of sweating bodies packed together and moving against each other. The music was loud, and lights flashed around the room.

Finally situated at a private table, we pulled Una out to the dance floor. Making sure to circle her so she wouldn’t make a break for the door. Eventually, she loosened up and started having fun.

Elliott and Jimmy appeared and started dancing with us. Elliott was all over Serena, Jimmy was on Kat, and I was goofing around with Laney and Una. Jackson appeared and started dancing with Una, which made her blush. When Una excused herself to get a drink, Laney and I surrounded Jackson.

Sweaty, slightly intoxicated, and earning enough ass grabs to fulfill a five year quota, we decided it was time to head back to the hotel. Once we hit the doors, Elliott had the brilliant idea to race Jackson. He had Serena riding piggyback and Jackson pulled me up into the same position. Elliott won and wasn't shy about rubbing it in. There were a couple of Rocky poses and Loser calls.

When the elevator doors slid open, we separated to our own rooms. My first stop was the shower, in desperate need to wash the sweat and the club smell from my skin. Walking back into my room, I heard a knock at my door. Already knowing who it was, I opened the door and hesitantly motioned him to enter. He walked over and sat on the bed before I climbed under my blanket and settled in.

All night he'd scowled at me and treated me as if I had the plague. Now, he shows up and just expects me to be welcoming. Well, why would he expect differently? It's what I just did. Welcomed him in a-freaking-gain.

Guilt began to eat at my anger. It would be different if we were friends. You know, if it was Laney or Kat I would never care. But, quite honestly, we didn't get along, didn't speak, and never acknowledge each other. He just expects me to let him climb in bed with me each night. I fell asleep wondering what he was going to do when we got back on tour.

There was nothing new about the following morning. Christopher was gone and I had my bed to myself. With one large exhale, I rolled out of bed.

We spent the early afternoon at the studio and the rest of the day getting ready to leave. Tomorrow we would fly to Dallas where the tour buses would be waiting after the concert. I wasn't looking forward to the flight, but getting back on stage was worth it.

Landing in Dallas, we went straight to the hotel. Our arrival was expected and a crowd had formed out front. Once we made it through the crowd of reporters and fans, we went up to our rooms. We decided to eat in the hotel restaurant in order to avoid the craziness waiting for us back in the lobby.

When dinner was over, Laney, Kat, Xander, Serena, and I congregated at the bar. We had a portion of the bar to ourselves and confiscated a pool table. The guys showed up after we'd been playing for a few hours. Everyone hung out drinking beers and shooting pool.

I wasn't exactly an expert pool player and neither was Laney. Jackson showed Laney and me some pool tricks to improve our game. Elliott was sulking because Serena was ridiculously good and kicking his ass. Jimmy and Kat spent most of their time sitting at a table with Christopher, watching.

Slowly, everyone drifted off for the night. I ended up sitting at the bar discussing music and books with Jackson. It was one in the morning when I decided to call it a night. Jackson walked with me.

We continued debating the best songs of all time on the elevator and the walk down the hallway to our rooms.

"How can you even validate I Want You to Want Me as a classic?" Jackson asked, exacerbated at my admission.

"Oh, my, God! How can you not give credit to a song that could even get you laid if you sang it to a girl?" I demanded, giggling loudly.

"I'm hurt, Ryder, seriously hurt."

He feigned insult and winked. We arrived at my door first. Jackson and Christopher were sharing a room further down.

"Um…well, thanks for an enlightening night," he said and smiled. "But, I still cannot support your music choice."

"Yeah, you too," I said and poked him in the arm. We stood there for a moment. It was awkward and uncomfortable, reminding me of the ending of a first date rather than friends gabbing it up. I really hoped he didn't think I wanted more than friendship.

"Well, goodnight," he finally said and he leaned over me.

I froze. How was I going to handle this? Dammit! I was going to ruin a friendship that just started.

He reached his arms around my shoulders and hugged me. I visibly relaxed, saying a small goodbye before going into the room. As I entered the living room of the suite, Laney caught my attention. She was sitting on the couch watching TV.

"Hey, you," I said, smiling.

She turned her head and I immediately noticed that something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" I asked, sitting down next to her.

"It's, uh, nothing really," she mumbled, shrugging lightly.

It was something. Laney didn't stammer unless it was something. I gave her a look, letting her know I wasn't buying into her lies.

She faltered, realizing I wasn't going to let this go. "Okay. Well, it's just…don't get mad, okay?"

I nodded.

"Are you and Jackson, um…you know?"

She looked up at me through her lashes and bit her bottom lip.

"What? No," I denied, shaking my head. "Laney, what would make you think that?"

"Well, you guys seem to have gotten close and…I guess I just didn't realize you were such good friends," she said with a shrug.

"Lane, it's not like that. We're just friends," I assured, wrapping her in a hug. "Okay?"

She nodded and smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"What?" I questioned. "Don't you believe me?"

"Oh no, I believe you, but I think he has a thing for you."

She looked really tore up. I didn't know what to say. I didn't feel like that was the case but I couldn't necessarily speak for him either. Reassuring her became a bit difficult.

"I highly doubt that. Trust me," I said, hugging her again. "Come on. Let's get some sleep."

She nodded before heading to her room. Smiling, she said, “Goodnight.” I could still tell that she was unsettled. Her smile didn't reach her eyes and seemed forced.

Feeling like shit, I climbed into my bed. My conversation with Laney was still plaguing my conscience. I buried my head in my pillows just as he knocked. I got up from my bed and trudged to the door.

When I opened the door, something seemed off. Christopher's face looked irritated, maybe even pissed off. I motioned him in and he hesitated. It seemed like he was going to say something, but instead he stalked into my bedroom.

When I entered the room, he was sitting at the foot of the bed. His shoes and zip up hoodie were still on, which was odd. I walked by him to get back into bed when the sound of his voice made me jump.

"Where were you at?"

"What?" I asked, completely turning myself to look at him.

"You heard me," he said with a shrug.

"Where was I?"

What the fuck? Who was he to come in here demanding me to answer for my whereabouts? I was still in a shitty mood because of how Laney felt, and now he was asking me about something that wasn't any of his business fucking business? I felt my face turn a slight shade of red as anger rose from within me.

"Nevermind," he spat. "Clearly you're going to avoid the question, just like everything else."

That was fucking it! The anger rolled through my body, consuming me. My skin flushed hot and my ears start to burn.

"Excuse me?" I snapped, my hands immediately going to my hips. "Are you seriously sitting here questioning me about my whereabouts, like I have to fucking answer to you? Getting shitty with me about avoiding things? What about you, you fucking asshole!"

Throwing my hands in the air, I stormed into the bathroom. I needed a second to breathe or I was going to blow a gasket.

"Jesus Christ, just answer me. It wasn't a hard fucking question," he growled, following me.

I stomped back toward him, stopping about three feet in front of him. His eyes were piercing mine, and the urge to hit someone had never been so strong before. My hands balled into fists at my sides. I was pissed. PISSED. How fucking dare he! Problem was, I didn't know if I was more mad at him or myself for allowing him to have this much of an affect over me. Any type of calming technique I had going on flew out the window.

"You know where I was!" I shouted. "I was downstairs with everyone else. You were there, hypocrite!"

"I'm a hypocrite?" he yelled back.

"Yes, you're a fucking hypocrite!" I spat and shoved his chest.

"Fuck you!" he shouted.

"No, Christopher! Fuck you!" I screamed, marching to my bedroom door and swinging it open. "Get out!"

"What?" he choked on his words. His anger morphed into anxiety. Too bad he had pushed me to the point where I no longer cared.

"You heard me. Get the fuck out! I'm so tired of this bullshit!" I said, taking a deep breath before continuing. "You treat me like shit from the moment you meet me. For the past couple of months you are the biggest asshole on the earth. And, then, I end up being used like a security blanket for your issues!"

Anger hardened his face. His piercing blue eyes darkened and narrowed on me. My own anger rose up, swallowing my small twinge of fear.

"You avoid me like the plague unless you want to criticize me or be a jerk, but you expect my door and my bed to be open to you whenever the fuck you decide to knock. Well, guess what, Christopher? This fucking arrangement is over! You don't fucking own me, we are not a couple, and I'm fucking tired of being your cuddle buddy while you treat me like scum. Get. Out."

"Fine," he ground out through his clenched teeth.

"Fine!"

My words met his back as he stormed out. When the room door shut, I collapsed to my knees and buried my head in my hands. The hot, angry tears dampened my skin. What just happened? What was he going to do? No! No, no, no! I don't care. Not my issue, not my fucking problem. Pulling my palms from my face, I used the back of my hand to wipe the tears away.

"Mia," Laney said, forcing me to look up. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, Lane," defeat and exhaustion prevalent in my voice, "It's fine. I've just…I've had enough."

She nodded and wrapped me in a hug. Burying my face in her shoulder, I released one last frustrated sob.

"Falling stars aren't always meant to be caught, you know?"

Sniffing, I wiped my nose with the back of my hand and looked up from her shoulder.

"What are you talking about?"

She shrugged and tilted her head a little.

"You know, falling stars?"

"I know what a falling star is, yes. But, I don't understand why you are talking about them."

She had completely confused me now. Had she lost her mind since I last spoke to her?

"Well, a falling star can also be called a shooting star. Regardless, I've always thought they were beautiful to watch at night. And, maybe one day, I would catch one," she said, smiling at me with a gleam in her eye.

I wrinkled my brow in confusion. "I don't –"

"A falling star is actually on fire as it enters the atmosphere. So, if I were to try to catch one, I'm pretty sure there would be some pain involved. Though, I suppose some pain would be worth it to find something so rare."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

She was adding to my frustration. I didn't have time for her riddles.

"Mia, you're trying to catch a falling star."

My mouth opened, but I couldn't even think of what to say. I stared at Laney's face for I don't know how long. We eventually moved from the floor to my bed, though I'm not sure how or when.

That night I slept with Laney in my bed, instead of Christopher. It was odd and it irritated the hell out of me to admit it, but I missed his presence.

Christopher

Watching her and my brother all night was disgusting. She was throwing herself at him every chance she got. Sitting next to him in the restaurant, grabbing a convenient seat on his lap in the car, and grinding against him at the club. Now, watching them down at the bar was nauseating. My stomach was in knots, and I felt the urge to tear them away from one another. They were putting on a desperate display.

So, I called her out after watching them say goodnight to each other. What does she do? She kicked me out. She fucking kicked me out! God, I hate that bitch! She called me a fucking hypocrite! Screw her! I slammed the hotel room door, causing Jackson's head to jerk up.

"Hey man, you okay?" he inquired, confusion in his voice.

"Yep. Why wouldn't I be?" I spat out with sarcasm. Idiot!

"You don't seem okay and –"

"And what, Jackson?" I demanded, crossing my arms over my chest.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well…um…you usually don't sleep here," he said, shrugging. His words sounded more like a question than a statement.

"Don't worry. Her bed is open if you want to join her."

I stalked off to my room. Could he be more obvious? Christ, it's disgusting.

"What the--" I heard him say as he caught up to me, stopping my door before it shut in his face. "What the hell are you talking about?"

My door swung back to the open position.

"Nothing," I mumbled.

Stripping down to my boxers, I went to the bathroom. I splashed water on my face and pulled out the pill bottle. I shook two pills into my hand and threw them into my mouth, hoping they may eventually work. Jackson was waiting for me when I returned from the bathroom.

"What do you want?" I grumbled.

"I want to know what the fuck your problem is," he said, shaking his head. "Seriously, Christopher, what the hell is all this really about?"

"Nothing," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Now, if you don't mind, I have some meds that will be putting me into a comatose state in about twenty minutes and lasting for about two hours."

I waved him off, just wanting him to leave.

"Whatever, Christopher. You seriously need to get your shit straight," Jackson said, walking out and slamming my door behind him.

Lying down, I covered my face with a pillow and screamed. Then I waited for the pills to take me under, hoping I would make it through the night.

"Nnnooooo!!"

I shot up, screaming. Jackson beat his record and was in my room in less than three seconds. I panted with my head in my hands, my tears mixing with the sweat on my palms.

"Christopher?" Jackson's voice came from across the room.

"I'm fine," I clipped out, unable to ease the tension in my jaw.

"Another nightmare?"

I nodded.

"Do you need anything? Do you want me to get –?"

"No!" I shouted, but then had to swallow the sobs lodged in my throat.

"Christopher, just let me go get –"

"Damn it, Jackson. No!" I yelled, throwing my fists down onto the bed.

"Christopher, what happened?"

He moved closer to me.

"Nothing," I groaned, annoyed. "She's just had enough of my psychotic behavior."

I threw myself back onto my pillows. The bed dipped where Jackson sat down.

"Are you ready to talk yet?"

"About what?" I growled.

"Any of it. All of it. Hell, you know," he said, his voice getting lower.

"She kicked me out tonight," I mumbled into my pillow.

"Why? What did you do?"

"Me? It was her. She's a bitch."

"Are you serious?" Jackson asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Yes!" I spat out.

"Holy shit," he exclaimed.

Leaning up on my elbows, I looked at him.

"You are unbelievable! She puts up with your shit. I mean, your asshole attitude, by the way. Then sticks around to comfort you when you need it, but she's a bitch? You're unreal, man."

"Look, I'm not trying to put your girlfriend down or anything –" I started, but was cut off by his hysterical laughter. "What?"

If this asshole was laughing at me, I was going to tackle his seven-foot ass to the ground. Giants go down hard.

"What are you laughing at?" I demanded, sitting up further, leaning on my palms.

"Oh, my God!" he laughed. "You think Mia and me…"

He continued to laugh at me. Once he caught his breath, he continued, "Fuck me, you're jealous! Aren't you?"

"Of what?" I spat.

"You are so pissed at the possibility of her and me that you fucking caused all of this, didn't you?" he asked, starting to laugh again.

"What? No," I denied, laying back down in bed. "You're crazy. Get the hell out!" Why the hell would I be jealous?

"Oh God, this is too funny!" Jackson said, standing and starting toward the door, laughing.

He got to the door and then leaned back in.

"By the way, Christopher, you are so off base. Mia and I are just friends."

Then he smirked and walked out. I heard him laughing all the way to his room.

"Fuck you, Jackson," I shouted and reached for the TV remote.

Flipping on the TV, knowing I would never be able to get back to sleep, I found Nick at Night. It was a familiar channel from my late nights, but I couldn't concentrate. Jackson's words wouldn't leave my mind: "you're jealous", "you are so off base", "just friends".

I was not jealous. I couldn't care less if she was with someone. It was about her throwing herself at him. It was disgusting. I'd almost convinced myself when my mind started to wander.

Was she with someone? I never noticed anyone before, but I had found time for Stacia and Jess…wait, was she like me with the no strings hookups?

Quickly killing those thoughts, I tried to focus on the TV. Unfortunately, my concentration on anything aside from her was shit. I couldn't turn it off. Deciding that a shower would clear my head, I got up and headed to the bathroom. I turned the water on to as hot as I could stand and tried to clear my head, focusing on the steady stream pounding against my back.

Once I was dressed, I decided to get out of the room and walk around. I glanced at the clock on the way out. It was almost seven thirty.

On my way toward the indoor pool area, I decided coffee would probably be better. I then turned toward the restaurant. Of course, my server had to be a fan, droning on and on about being how great The Forgotten is. Quickly excusing myself, I found my way to the fitness center figuring it was the best way to blow off steam.

Music was blaring loudly, along with some laughter. Peeking in, I saw they had a rather large fitness center. The first room was full of workout machines. The second room was a large glass room currently full of people, mostly women.

I recognized Kat and Laney first. After another few moments, I saw Jessica, Sara, and Mia. She looked like she wanted to go back to bed. The wall seemed to be the only thing holding her up. I sat down on one of the machines giving me a clear view into the room.

The instructor entered and Laney grabbed her arm, yanking her out to line up. Mia yawned largely and stretched her arms above her head. Kat pulled on the fabric of Mia's oversized sweatshirt.

Wait, is that my sweatshirt?

Mia shook her head, but then Kat stood with her hands on her hips in a stare down until Mia gave in to her demand. She pulled the sweatshirt off, tossing it over to the side of the room. Mia gave her a look that read 'happy now?' My eyes drifted over her body.

Is that even considered clothing? She's practically naked. An unwelcome internal debate began. The urge to rush into the glass room and wrap the sweatshirt back around her vied with the desire to see more of her. My battle died when the instructor began and the girls followed along. Laney and Kat were trying their hardest while Mia, on the other hand, was goofing off.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

I snapped my head around to see Elliott smiling at me widely.

"Couldn't sleep," I mumbled, quickly laying back on the machine and starting to bench press.

I don't need to catch shit for peeping. Lord knows what other crazy ideas Jackson would come up with if he found out.

"Do you work out every morning?" I asked.

Dumb question. I lived with him, for God's sake. I knew he didn't work out every morning, even though he did work hard to keep his large build.

"Hell no," he laughed and eyed me curiously before he continued, sitting on the machine next to me. "I come when I can roll my ass out of bed. Ahhh…damn!"

"What?" I asked, sitting up to look at him. Elliott wore a huge smile. I followed his gaze. He'd caught sight of the glass room full of women just as I had.

"How can you even work out when you have all of that right there for your viewing pleasure?" he queried, reaching over and lightly punching my arm. "I mean, look at all the half-dressed ass in there."

"I dunno," I said, shrugging and lying back down. What are my chances he won't notice the girls?

"Oh, fuck me. The girls are in there," he sighed heavily. "I shouldn't be allowed to watch them do this. It puts very bad images in my head."

I sat up again.

"Then don't watch."

"Are you insane?" he asked, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "How can you not watch?"

He pointed to the room and, sure enough, they were bent over, asses up. I was going to respond, but then Mia wiggled her ass at Sara, causing her to burst into laughter. My lower body woke up and began to stir. Apparently, I need to get laid.

"See what I mean? You're sucked in, too," he chuckled, leaning forward, elbows to knees. "I'll tell you what, I'm gonna get Serena into bed. It will happen. But, I have to admit, Mia's ass is superb."

He hummed a little. I glared. The urge to slap him in the head for his comment was almost uncontrollable. After our unproductive workout, we went back upstairs. I showered once again and got dressed for the day.

When I walked into the living room, Jackson sat lounging on the couch. He looked at me and smirked. Then he sat up and leaned forward so his elbows were on his knees. I sat down in a nearby chair.

"You ready for tonight?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. It'll be good to get back on stage," I said as I scrolled through emails and text messages on my cell.

"So…" Jackson spoke.

"So, what?" I asked, refusing to look up at him.

He started to chuckle. "Nothing, I guess."

I was about to tell him to fucking drop it, but our door opened and Nicholas entered.

"Ready?" he asked, motioning for us to go out the door.

"Christopher?"

Looking to Nicholas, I stopped walking. "I think we need to discuss your meetings."

"What meetings?"

"Your meetings," Nicholas said sternly.

"Ah…okay," I said with a shrug.

"I have two people I want you to meet this afternoon before you come to the concert," he said, continuing before I could interrupt. "One is already downstairs waiting, and the other is coming in about an hour. Once you're finished, you can head over." He put a hand on my shoulder.

"Fine," I sighed, not looking forward to this.

"Try to be nice," Nicholas quipped as the elevator doors sealed shut. "Gwen put a lot of effort and research into these two doctors."

I didn't reply. There was no point. I just had to put my game face on and get through it.

Once the elevator arrived at the lobby, Nicholas led me into the meeting room and left me with a small, balding man who stood as I entered.

"Hello, Christopher. I am Dr. Schultz."

He put his hand out and I shook it. He gestured for me to take a seat. "I would like the have a basic conversation with you, discuss what you want to accomplish from these sessions. Okay?"

"Sure, whatever." Shrugging, I slouched down into my seat. Pulling out my phone, I restarted where I had left off with my emails.

"So, what is it you would like to do and see from the sessions?" he asked while crossing his legs.

"I would like to not have nightmares and be able to sleep. Can you make that happen?" I asked, raising my eyebrows at him.

"I would like to try," he answered.

I rolled my eyes. They always say that. For the next hour, I sat there pretending to listen to him go on and on about how much he wanted to help me, what methods he thought may work, blah, blah, blah. By the time I had to meet with the second head-doctor, I was ready to slit my wrists.

Keeping my slouched position, I sent a text to Nicholas telling him that Dr. Schmuck was a big N-O. The door to the room suddenly opened and in walked a man around Nicholas' age who had dark brown hair and was slightly overweight.

"Christopher?" he asked, nodding to me.

"Yep," I confirmed, not moving from my position. I returned to the tasks on my phone.

"It's good to meet you. I'm Dr. Jenkins, but you can call me Dr. J," he said. He smiled and held out his hand. I shook it without moving from my seat. He sat down across from me.

"So, are you tired of meeting with different doctors yet?" he chuckled.

"Understatement. I've met with one and feel like slamming my head into that wall over there," I sighed.

"Maybe that was his treatment plan all along,” Dr. J chuckled. “Alright, well, what am I here for?"

I looked up at his question.

"What?"

"Why am I here? You don't look as if anything is wrong. So, you tell me," he said, sitting back and crossing his legs.

"Umm….I think you're supposed to start with the ‘I really want to help you' bullshit? Perhaps, you need to go back to shrink school. You're starting this interview all wrong."

"While I'm sure most people want to help, I'm not sure I can. Not if you can't tell me why I'm here," he said, keeping a straight face and shrugging.

I spent the next hour talking to him and realized I was impressed. He wasn't too bad. His approach was a relief. Instead of sputtering off some lame bullshit about what was wrong with me or how he could fix me, he let me take the lead. I liked that. After leaving, I sent another text to Nicholas telling him that Dr. J would work.

Chapter Twelve

Christopher

"How'd the concert go last night?" Dr. J asked, sitting down in my room.

"Good," I groaned.

We'd gotten back from the arena even later than usual and, without Mia, sleep doesn't come easily. I was still tired and hated having to get up this early to meet with Dr. J.

"Just good?" he chuckled. "From what I heard in the lobby this morning, it was better than good. You had fans camped out down there."

He smiled and sat back in the couch. "They seemed to have given the hotel staff some problems."

I shrugged.

"So, what do you want to do today?" he asked, leaning forward.

I shrugged again.

"Okay, how about I get some history directly from you. Is that okay?"

"Sure," I agreed, standing to get coffee – sure, I would need it.

"Let's start with the basics, shall we? You grew up with your mother and father correct?"

I took a deep breath, exhaling harshly through my nose.

"Stepfather," I gritted out. His crazed eyes and red, flushed face from that night flashed to mind, causing my fists to clench at my sides.

"Okay, stepfather," Dr. J commented, closely observing my reactions. "Let's move up to recent events."

He waited until I sat back in the large chair again.

"Tell me about a few nights ago when you trashed your hotel room."

After sipping my coffee, I put my head back on the chair with my eyes closed. Revisiting these things was never good.

"I had…I mean…I was…"

"Christopher, I know this is hard, but in order to do any good you have to want to tell me about it. I assure you, it's not going any further than this room right here. This is just you and me," Dr. J promised, lacing his fingers together.

It was difficult and complicated. How could he understand? Where the fuck did I start?

"Okay, let me try this. I'm going to ask some questions and you just answer me the best you can," Dr. J requested as he stood up and started pacing the room.

I waited.

"The night that you acted out was because of a nightmare?" he ventured, stopping to watch my reaction.

"No, not really."

"Was it a memory?"

"Sort of."

"Hmmm…sort of?" he asked, pausing. "Was there something that set off the memory?"

I sat my coffee down on the table in front of me and ran both hands through my hair – frustrated.

"It was the date. It was getting closer to…you know."

"No, Christopher, I don't. Tell me what it was close to," he replied, sitting back down and looking at me.

"Her death."

My hands tightened at the roots of my hair as I focused my eyes on the floor, attempting to stay rational.

"Your mother?" he spoke quietly.

Silently, I nodded.

"It's okay, Christopher. You didn't do anything wrong."

I looked at him confused.

"I hurt the girl I was with. I trashed a hotel room, and I almost attacked Jackson and my da…Nicholas! How's that not doing anything wrong?"

The ridiculous dismissal of what I'd done angered me. He had no idea what I was capable of, or what was deep inside me.

"You went through a traumatic experience and you have never had anyone help you deal with it. What you did wasn't something wrong, but something that happened as a result of your anguish," he said, looking me straight in the eye. "Tell me more about your mother, Christopher."

I hesitated, trying to figure this guy out before telling him memories of my mother and me. Taking a deep breath, I started with my first memory of my mother.

"I was five, I think. The day was warm and the sun bright.  She knelt by a small garden, pulling weeds from around her vegetables. I had one of those small pools made of hard plastic. You know what I mean?"  Looking to Dr. J, he nodded in response. "I can still see her glancing toward me every few minutes while I splashed around. Then I inhale too much water and begin coughing."  Using my thumb and first two fingers, I rub at my eyes. "She's immediately pulling me out of the water, rubbing my back, and calming that fear that sends you into a panic. She didn't care that I soaked the front of her shirt or that I'm wiping my running nose against her shoulder."

Pausing, remembering the feel of her sun-warmed arms against my water-cooled skin. Then, the memory quickly turned into another and, before I knew it, I had told him everything. Everything leading up to that night.

"Why did you stop?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

I didn't want to admit aloud what had really happened. I never wanted to admit that to anyone. I knew if I told him, then he would see the monster.

"I'm not saying that you have to talk about it today, but you need to get it off your chest before it destroys you. You know that, right?" he asked, getting up and walking to get coffee. "You've never talked about it, have you?"

I shook my head. "No. I don't want to think about it."

The pain accompanying it was too much.

"Yet, you relive it every night, do you not?"

Nodding, I put my head back into my hands.

"I see. Have you ever not had a nightmare?"

Pausing, my mind went directly to Mia. How do I explain what I don't even understand? Pulling at my hair, I couldn't focus my mind on anything except her. My dream catcher.

"I'm going to take that as a no?" he interrupted my thoughts.

"Um…no."

"No you haven't, or no you have?"

He was confusing the shit out of me.

"There've been nights where I haven't had the nightmares and shit," I admitted, taking a long sip of my coffee. I set the chilled liquid back onto the table.

"Uh huh, and what was different about those nights?" he asked, sipping from his mug.

He already knew. His expression gave him away. He just wanted me to say it, to talk. This is why I hate this shit. It was all a fucking game.

"You're giving yourself away. I know you've already fucking heard about it," I said. Frustrated, I threw my head back on the chair again.

"Of course, I've been informed by outsiders, but I want to know from you. You're the one that matters. You're the only one that can tell me exactly what happens," he said, sitting forward again. I raised my head, looking at him.

"Mia," was all I answered.

"And this is the same girl that got you to calm down during your episode?"

I nodded, refusing to answer aloud or even look at him. The next question was obvious, but the answer wasn't.

"Any idea what it is about her that causes this?"

I'd been trying to figure that shit out since the first night. It annoyed me. I didn't understand the what's, why's, or how's. Maybe she is made of fairy dust and my unconscious mind is attracted to it. Who the fuck knows. All I know is that it works, she works. Too bad I don't have her magical abilities any longer.

"If I fucking knew, then I wouldn't be talking to you, now would I?" I snapped, rolling my eyes. "Are we almost done yet? I need to get ready for the bus."

I roughly climbed out of the chair and took my coffee to the sink. I poured the cold, black liquid down the drain.

"If you want to be finished, then we can be. But, I think you're doing great. It's your call," he replied, following me to my bedroom. He stopped, leaning on the doorframe before continuing. "Can I ask a personal question?"

"You haven't been?"

I started throwing piles of clothing into random bags. Dirty or clean, it didn't matter to me.

"Does Mia look like your mother?"

My head snapped to him.

"What the fuck? You think that I think she is my….that she is her?" I exclaimed, anger boiling in the pit of my stomach.

"No, but it's common to be drawn to someone similar to a person you lost so tragically," he said, shrugging like it was no big fucking deal.

"NO! She doesn't," I growled, going back to packing my bags.

"Okay," Dr. J said, raising his hands in surrender. "How do you feel when you're around her?"

Rolling my head around, I tried to relieve the building tension in my neck and shoulders.

"I don't know. Calm, I guess. Like my mind becomes settled and the fucking horror reel cuts off."

"I think I was told that you two don't get along. Is that the case?"

"Yes…no…sort of," I stammered and sat on the bed. "Look, I was trying to get rid of their group because I didn't want them on the tour. My plan kind of backfired on me in the best way possible. I found that if she was with me when I slept, I didn't have nightmares. I actually slept. Before those nights with her, I couldn't remember the last time I had slept for more than a couple of hours."

"Are you willing to tell me exactly what happened? When you discovered this?" Dr. J asked, entering the room further and sitting on the bed next to me.

Starting with the morning argument, I told him what happened that night on the tour bus. The night I discovered that Mia was more powerful than any pill or drink. She was calming, comforting, and…fuck, she just worked. He didn't say a word when I finished.

"Well?" I barked.

"Well, what?"

"You fucking know what!"

Now he was just trying to piss me off.

"I'm not sure why she has this influence on you, but you should probably avoid using her to keep the nightmares away. You shouldn't continue to sleep next to her."

"Wha…Why?" I said, panic filling my chest. Bile pooled at the base of my throat.

"It would just be another addiction. You need to deal with everything and learn to sleep on your own."

"But, nothing works! Nothing!" I'd started shouting, but he was unfazed. "I've tried pills, I've tried drinking myself into oblivion, and I still wake up from the images. I'm two seconds away from finding the nearest coke dealer just so I don't have to sleep. It's just her. I don't even have to touch her, just her presence makes it all go away. Only her."

My voice had changed to pleading. He looked at me apologetically. "I understand you feel that way –"

"Feel that way? Are you kidding? It's not a fucking feeling, its fucking fact, Doc!" Throwing my clothes into bags again, I looked away from him.

"What I'm trying to say is that there is something else that will help."

He paused and so did I. I didn't look at him. He was going to places I wasn't comfortable with. Fuck, I do not want to go there. I don't think I would survive actually rehashing everything out loud.

"You need to talk about it," he continued, putting up a finger when I was about to interrupt him. "Let me finish." He sighed and walked up next to me.

"Even if it's not me you tell or talk to, you need to talk about it. Let it out, Christopher. Let it go. You won't lose anything but the nightmare."

"It's not that easy," I growled, looking ahead at nothing.

"I know it's not, but it's what will help you," he said, starting to walk away. "I actually think you may have made some progress today, but only time will tell if you continue."

I moved my eyes to him. He smiled.

"I think that's enough for now. We'll talk again another day, okay?"

I gave him a silent nod, thankful that he was leaving.

"Have a safe trip."

After the click of the door shutting, I sat back down on my bed. Doctor J must be crazy because I don't feel as if there was any progress made, not at all. In fact, I feel like shit. Eventually, I fell asleep and woke up in a cold sweat. And everyone wondered why I was always in a shit mood. They should try living off two hours of horror filled sleep every night and see how fucking perky they are the next day.

What if Mia were the only thing that could keep the demons away? I'm fucked. She kicked me out and told me she was done. Guess I don't have to worry about her becoming my drug of choice. But, what a pretty fucking drug she was while I had her. Perhaps she isn't the only one that can keep them away. Maybe I just need someone in bed with me. I could completely pull that off. Besides, there was also the pressing fact that I really needed to get laid. My dick was starting to feel seriously neglected.

Mia

Being on stage made everything right in my world again. This is what I needed, where I thrived. The argument with Christopher was long gone, leaving me in the here and now with adrenaline coursing through my veins and fans hyping me further. I hadn't seen him since the fight and there weren't any late night knocks on the door. Though I had started to feel lighter from not having to deal with his shit, I found myself missing him. Falling asleep became difficult without his presence next to me. It was fucking ridiculous. We had only slept together a handful of times and I was already used to his warm body next to mine. I contemplated making Serena sleep with me at night.

After the show, we headed toward the tour buses to load everything up. We would call our cozy spaces home again for next few weeks. Knowing there was a very large possibility I would run into Christopher, I took a deep breath before stepping out of the elevator.

Lucky for me, I made it to our bus with nothing more than cameras and fans crowding around. After climbing onto the bus's couch, I pulled out my guitar and notebook. I prepared to do some song writing during part of the trip. Laney plopped herself near me, and Kat and Serena sat with us as well.

"So what are you going to play for us?" Laney asked, leaning her head back on the couch.

"Oh, I know…do a remix," Kat piped in, situating herself in the large chair by the door.

"A remix of what?"

We often did stupid little remixes of old songs to pass time.

"Wait!" Serena said, jumping up, rummaging through some of her bags. "Ah hah! Let's use the shuffle!" I shook my head.

She was beginning the shuffle when Jimmy and Jackson climbed onto the bus.

"What are ya'll up to?" Jackson looked around the bus.

Laney's face lit up. I couldn't hide my smile.

"Oh, we're just preparing for some travel games," Laney chirped with bright eyes.

"Travel games?" Jimmy asked, raising an eyebrow in distaste, but lifted Kat up and sat her on his lap. "Oh, by the way, we are crashing on you guys." He smirked.

"I kind of gathered that," I drawled, rolling my eyes at him.

"Okay, well don't let us interrupt. Continue."

Jackson squeezed in between Laney and Serena, putting arms around both of them. I raised an eyebrow at him and he gave me the biggest shit-eating grin I'd ever seen.

"Hands off my woman, fucker!" Elliott boomed, his heavy footsteps accentuating his boisterous voice. Lunging forward, he grabbed Serena by her arm and put her over his shoulder.

"Elliott! Put. Me. Down. Now. You Neanderthal!" Serena yelped, slapping him on the back.

"Oh, I planned on it," he said, plopping them down onto a bunk and wrapping his arm around her waist.

She pushed up and sat Indian style. Shaking her head at him, she smacked his arm. He smiled up at her with complete adoration. A small twinge of jealousy passed through me. He truly adored her. It was amazing how attached he was. Christopher wasn't the only one of The Forgotten with a reputation.

"No nasty stuff! That's my bunk," Laney shouted at them.

"Oh, really?" Elliott commented with an evil glint in his eye. He pulled Serena onto her back and started planting loud wet kisses on her. Serena started laughing and yelling for him to stop. She was enjoying it. If she weren't, then he would be sporting a fat lip and sore balls right about now.

"Don't you dare, Elliott!" Laney yelled, standing to go after him.

"Get your girl!" Elliott yelled.

Jackson grabbed Laney's waist and set her back down on the couch. She fought against him, but I knew Laney. If she wanted up, she could get up. Tiny meant nothing to that evil little woman. Laney was enjoying Jackson's grabby hands.

Kat, Jimmy, and I laughed at Laney while she yelled at Jackson. She even put on the pout face, making me laugh harder.

"Okay, are we doing this remix thing or not?" Jimmy shouted, kicking his feet out in front of him and reclining the chair back, pulling Kat back with him. She squeaked at the sudden movement.

"Serena?" I shouted to the back of the bus.

The bus shifted again. The top of his blue-black hair appeared before I saw his face. My insides twisted, and I put my head down, hiding my face in my hair.

"Hey, man, you actually joining us?" Jackson asked, sounding astounded.

"Um…no. Nicholas told me to come get you. He wants to talk to you before we take off."

The weight of his eyes almost made me look up, but I didn't. If I did, I wasn't sure what would happen, and I didn't want to find out.

"Okay, but seriously you should hang. We're all going to be over here," Jackson said, patting Chris on the back on the way out the door.

"Come on," Laney urged, patting the seat next to her. Essentially, next to me since I was sitting on the opposite end. I looked up at her with wide eyes. She caught my look and offered me an apologetic expression.

"No, I'll just –"

"Dude, get your Emo ass in here and sit down," Elliott yelled from the back. "Don't be a pussy."

"Fuck you, Elliott!" he snapped. I dropped my eyes quickly before he realized I was watching him—again. “Unlike you, I'm not what I eat,” he yelled back.

Just as the bus shifted into gear, Christopher sat between Laney and I. Jackson came back onto the bus and shoved Christopher closer to me, claiming his spot next to Laney once more.

"So, where were we?" Jackson asked, wrapping an arm around Laney, leaning back on the couch. The bus pulled away from the hotel.

"We're still waiting…" I sang.

"I've got it!" Serena shouted. "Beat It, Michael Jackson."

Kat and Laney giggled. Laney grabbed her guitar, too. Kat stood up and grabbed beers, passing them out.

"Okay, here we go."

I started in on the beat and began to sing our twisted version. Laney followed in and took the solo, singing along with me. After a few riffs, Elliott joined in, catching on to our remixed version. Halfway through the song, everyone was singing along. Although Christopher wasn't participating, I did see him smile at least once. It hurt my heart that he didn't smile more often. It was such a beautiful smile, lighting up his whole face.

We did a few more songs before Laney decided on another time waster – iPod name that song. The objective of this game was to be the first to name the song playing. After putting the guitars away, Laney grabbed a couple of iPods and linked them up to the stereo on the bus. Everyone got comfortable and waited for Laney to start playing songs.

"You're going down, Mia!" Serena shouted.

"Hah! You wish you could beat me," I laughed back. "You won't even come close to the awesomeness that is me."

"Yeah right, bitch!" she laughed. "I have Elliott back here for help, too," she laughed.

"Damn straight, babe!" Elliott shouted, the distinctive sound of hands slapping a high five carried to the front of the bus.

"Whatever. My greatness will prevail!"

"Besides, Mia has my help," Jackson shouted. We high-fived.

"Okay, shut up!" Laney yelled. "Get ready. Set. Go."

She started the song. We started shouting out answers one right after the next, with Laney keeping score. Christopher even mumbled a couple of answers. The sound of his voice caused my nipples to harden as I squeezed my legs together. Fucking Christopher and his ability to turn me into mush.

After about an hour, we stopped to eat. Laney went straight into the restaurant, Jackson close to her side. Smiling, I watched them enter together, talking. It was also amusing to see this nearly seven-foot tall guy next to a five-foot-three girl who didn't weigh more than a hundred and ten pounds. Kat and Jimmy walked side by side, but seemed more on friendly terms than anything else. They were debating German car engineering. Elliott and Serena, on the other hand, were like newlyweds. He couldn't keep his hands or eyes off her. His arm was tightly around her waist, holding her close to his side.

As I took the last step off the bus, a hand grabbed my arm and spun me around quickly. Gasping in surprise, I realized who it was.

"Jesus, Christopher! You scared the shit out of me," I said, pulling my arm from his hand and trying to slow my heart down.

"I'm sorry," he said, not looking at me. Somehow, I knew he was apologizing for more than just my minor freak out. He cared enough to make this right between us. Apparently, I meant more to him than I thought if he was willing to admit he was wrong.

"Accepted," I replied, and I meant it. I couldn't stay mad at him. However, I also hoped that he didn't take my acceptance as his way back into my bed. Even though I missed his presence, I had to stick with my declaration. I couldn't handle being his bedmate and security blanket. Not when it wasn't healthy for either of us. I turned back toward the restaurant and headed in. The urge to look back at him was strong, but I fought it.

Christopher never returned to the bus. I suppose he went his own way. We continued goofing off during the trip until it got late in the evening. Elliott and Serena disappeared into the back bedroom. After hearing Serena and Elliott get down to business, I decided that buses are not sexy time friendly.  After their satisfying activities, we heard Elliott start to snore. I laughed at the absurdity and Laney joined in. A few minutes later, she announced she was going to bed and headed off. I looked at Jackson with raised eyebrows.

"What?" he asked me, fighting a smile.

I smirked and shook my head.

"Go get her, lover boy," I giggled quietly.

He smiled slyly before claiming a spot next to Laney.

Stretching out on the couch after grabbing my iPod, I looked over and saw Kat and Jimmy sharing an iPod and going through a Rolling Stones magazine. Closing my eyes, I let sleep take over.

Christopher

Hanging on the bus with the girls was more fun than I expected. The guys were right when they mentioned the good times they had over there. I hadn't planned to stay on the bus with them, but, between Laney and Jackson, it was a losing battle. It was also true that Mia was hilarious. I felt like I knew her, but I was wrong. Using her for my own selfish gain wasn't knowing her. Sleeping next to her, knowing her routines and habits, wasn't knowing who she is. She's gorgeous, vibrant, and stimulating. She is so comfortable in her own skin and can light up a room with her personality. It became painfully obvious, by the cramped space in my jeans, that I was I attracted to her more than I thought.

When I set out to apologize for my shitty behavior, she flinched. She fucking flinched away from me. Did I scare her? Did she honestly think that I would hurt her? I've done a fantastic fucking job of staying away from her like she asked. I've put my selfishness behind me and am working on getting better, but the fact that I caused her to flinch sent my blood to boil.

After she accepted my apology, she just walked away. Just like that. The realization of knowing I would not being sleeping much for the rest of the tour crashed down on me. Fuck. So what, if I was being a selfish asshole by hoping my apology would get me back into her bed, or her in mine. The feelings fluttering through my chest didn't make much sense to me. I was fucking pissed but I wasn't. Fuck her and her fucking morals.  I needed to work this out and be alone.

Walking toward my bus, Nicholas stopped me.

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking me over critically.

"Nothing," I quipped.

"Not hungry?"

"Nope," I snapped, climbing onto the bus. I attempted to calm myself down. Deep breath in and out. In and out. In and out. What reason did I really have for being pissed off anyway? I was being a semi-selfish prick and it backfired on me. The apology was genuine, but my motives behind it weren't. What the fuck ever. Didn't sleep before her, won't sleep now. Nothing new here, folks.

Once I felt a little bit calmer, I decided to grab some food and take it back to the bus. Waiting on my order, a hand slid down my side, resting on my hip. I looked down on my left side and found myself staring into familiar hazel eyes. She pouted her lips and batted her eyes.

"Can I help you?"

"You look so unhappy," Jess, one of the backup singers, said as she leaned into my chest seductively. "I thought maybe I could help cheer you up."

She smiled slyly and ran her hands over my chest.

"Here you go, honey," a woman with the bright orange hair said, holding my bag of take out.

Before heading out the door, I reached back and grabbed Jess' hand, pulling her along with me to the bus. I knew it would be empty, but her lips on my cock sounded like a much-needed distraction.

"Do you want a drink?" I asked Jess without looking back at her.

"Sure."

She made herself comfortable on the couch. Knowing how easy this was going to be, my thoughts of Mia dissolved into nothing. Who needs her anyway? I'll just fuck my frustration away and hope like hell that my brain doesn't rape me with its sick and twisted home movie reels all night. Fat fucking chance.

Jess took the drink I sat on the table in front of her. She drank while I ate. She also talked. Excessively. Does this chick come with a mute button? I prayed the beers I kept giving her would just make her pass out. Finally, pushing my take out containers away, I pulled her to the back bedroom with me.

She giggled, climbed onto the bed, and started to remove her clothing. I pulled her up onto her knees and faced her away from me. Pushing her hair away, I kissed where her neck met her shoulder. She moaned. Her lips attacked mine when I turned her back to face me. She was a little sloppy, but I didn't give a fuck right now. She removed my shirt slowly and worked her way down to my pants. She nipped at me through the denim while working on the button fly. My dick started to twitch which sent her into a fit of giggles and ridiculous moans. She pushed my jeans down to the floor and took me into her mouth. She was messy. There was more spit on my cock than actual suction. I started to stroke myself at the base, trying to stay aroused. Gripping the back of her head with my other hand, I wrapped her hair around my wrist and fucked her face. After I'd had enough of her mouth, I pushed her back on the bed. She giggled when I reached for a condom from the side table.

"Do you like it rough, Chrissie?" she asked.

Ignoring the fact that she called me Chrissie, I shoved her legs apart.

She called out as I pushed forward, her hands gripping my shoulders. I moved in and out of her, slowly at first, looking down at where our bodies met, watching my cock glide in and out of her. I started pounding into her harder, setting a brutal pace, trying to get off as quickly as possible. The sight of my dick thrashing in and out of her caused a familiar knot to form at the base of my spine. I brought my thumb down onto her clit and made a circling motion with just the right amount of pressure. Within a minute, she screamed out and clenched around my cock, raking her nails down my back. I drilled into her twice more, clenched my eyes shut, and released. Quick and easy. Just the way I like it.

A knot formed in the base of my stomach. Feeling dirty, different…wrong, but not wanting to evaluate this new fucked up feeling, I rolled off her and onto my side. Looking away from her bleached blonde hair and overly made up face, I reached for the pill bottle next to the bed. I took two pills without water.

She curled up to my back and her breathing started to slow. She was about to fall asleep. This was fucked up on so many levels. I could feel it in my gut. Typically, I didn't let them stay, but maybe…just maybe… The pills slowly took me under.

"Stop!"

Drops of sweat streaked down my forehead.

Jess was screaming at my outburst. With her back against the wall of the bus, she was panting with wide terrified eyes.

"C-Chri-Christopher, are you okay?" she stuttered, trying to even out her breathing.

"Bad dream," was all I could manage to get out. Standing, I left the back room.

"W-where are you going?" she reached toward me. "Come back to bed with –"

"Fuck off," I spat out and headed to the bathroom.

Climbing in the shower, I used the hot water to try to relax. Too bad my mind wouldn't stop racing.

Why did I even think that girl would help? What the fuck was it about Mia and why did I only need her? Why?! Why her? What is it that makes her so different, so calming, so…So, Goddamn MINE!

The door opened and I groaned when Jess entered the shower. She wrapped her arms around my waist and leaned her head against my back. Apparently, ‘fuck off' means climb into the shower with me. I released her grip and got out quickly, leaving her by herself.

Stepping off the bus in Memphis, I looked around. It was extremely early, but it was already warm. The ground was damp from recent rain. Trying to clear my head, I started walking with no direction in mind. Of course, I would see her. My temptress and walking nightmare rolled into one.

Mia had on workout clothes and looked like she was stretching out. I kept distance between us so she wouldn't notice me. A guy joined her, and their laughter carried across the damp lot.

Who is that? Instinctively, I took a step in her direction. The sudden desire to know who he was and what he wanted with her swept through me. They took off running together before my approach got their attention.

What the hell was wrong with me? I pulled my cell phone out and called Dr. J.

"Christopher?" he answered groggily. Shit, the time difference.

"I forgot the time. I can call back –"

"No, no, what's up?" he asked, trying to hide his yawn.

"Can we try to do some of this over the phone?"

I felt like a pathetic asshole, but my mind was racing with anger. I don't want to need her and it pisses me off that I do. It also pisses me off that I can't control the way my body responds to her. Counseling 101, talk that shit out even if it makes you a pussy. I fucking hate this bullshit.

"Of course. Want to tell me what happened?"

Obvious to the fact I wouldn't be calling him to talk sports or some other dumb shit, I told him about last night and this morning, spilling every detail. Christ, I feel like a girl.

"So, you tried another girl to replace the one I told you not to sleep next to, and you also figured that casual sex would help?" he asked, his voice faintly amused.

"Sort of," I mumbled.

"I see. Oh, Christopher…"

"I can't take not sleeping, especially when I know it's possible. I just have to have…"

"Christopher, you just have to help yourself. What are you going to do when she isn't around? You won't be with her forever, now will you?"

"Huh?"

"The tour is only for a period of time and then she'll most likely be out of your everyday life. Then what will you do? You need to help yourself and not depend on someone else."

Doc kept going on about self-help, but I became lost in the one comment, "she will be out of your everyday life." How had I not thought about this? I need to get my head out of my ass, or just convince her that I'm Prince fucking Charming and make her stay in my life.

"Christopher, hello?"

"I'm here."

He sighed. "Look, how about I meet you in Minneapolis? We can talk together then, in person. It's only a few days away. In the meantime, if you need to talk, call me. Any time, you understand?"

"Yeah, sure."

Hanging up with the doctor, I went toward the arena we were playing in tonight. As I rounded a corner, something slammed into my chest, and I had to catch myself against the wall.

"I am so sor-ry."

Chapter Thirteen

Mia

I woke up extremely early, especially for me. Everyone was still asleep, so I got up and grabbed some workout clothes, figuring I could go for a walk. Quietly changing in the bathroom, I tried not to wake anyone. I grabbed my iPod and was out the door. I got over near the parking lot fence and started to stretch out a little. That's when Rob surprised me.

"Holy crap, you scared me!" I laughed and smacked his arm.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to. No one else is typically up this early." He smiled and rubbed where I smacked him.

I shrugged. "I couldn't sleep any longer, I guess. What are you doing up?"

"I try to get out for some exercise when I can. Sitting at a sound and light table all the time isn't exactly a physical challenge," he chuckled, patting his stomach. "Want to run together?"

"I don't know about running," I said, twisting up my face.

"What if we race?" he asked, eyeing me. "Ready. Set. Go!"

He took off.

"Hey! That's cheating!" I yelled and ran after him.

We raced one way and then raced back to the arena. Yeah, I got my ass handed to me.

"Holy crap, you're fast," I gasped for oxygen.

He chuckled. Noticing we were on the opposite side of the arena, I would have to walk through the building and cut across to the other side. After saying goodbye to Rob and thanking him for the company, I headed to the bus. I hoped everyone was awake and the guys were gone so I could shower. I rounded the corner with my head down until I came face to chest with someone.

"I am so sor-ry," I stumbled on the last word.

Looking up, I locked eyes with Christopher. One of his hands was on the wall and the other was on my shoulder to catch his balance. I'd fisted his shirt to help hold him up. Heat pulsed on my shoulder from his hand and my nipples instantly hardened. Quickly, I let go of his shirt and took a step back.  His hand fell from me and he looked upset, his brow furrowed as usual. He looked tired. Chewing on my lip, I waited for his anger, but it never came. I broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah, um…sorry," I apologized with a smile I knew wasn't convincing. I walked around him.

"Accepted," he said quietly after I passed him. I looked back to see him walking in the opposite direction.

When I got to the bus, Jackson and Jimmy were gone and Laney and Kat were already dressed. I grabbed some clothes and headed toward the shower.

"Where did you disappear to?" Laney asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I went to walk, but ran into Rob. We ended up running together.”

Kat looked at me with a sly smirk on her face.

I shrugged and got into the shower. As I came out of the shower, I saw Una sitting on the couch with Kat, Laney, and Serena. They all looked up when they heard my footsteps.

"Mia, come here! Look at this!" Laney urged, motioning for me to hurry.

She shoved a paper into my hand. I looked down at it, confused. Realizing it was the Top 100 music listing, I read over it more carefully. There, in bold, black print, was "#1 Hushed Mentality".

"Oh, my God!" I screamed and started to bounce with excitement. "Is this for real?"

"I know, right!" Kat shouted and gave me a high-five.

"This is fantastic," Una said, wrapping her arms around Kat and Laney who were right next to her.

"It's so amazing!" Serena shouted.

We all screamed together, and then I smirked as I remembered Chris' comments at the start of the tour. Take that, asshole!

We had a quick meeting to go over rehearsals and tour schedule changes, as well as our schedule for today.

"Mia, you and Christopher are going to start rehearsing "Broken Inside" with the stage director. We want –"

"Whoa, wait, what?" I interrupted the bomb Una decided to detonate without pretense.

"We want to get “Broken Inside” out there to the public. It's a great collaboration, and we want to use the tour to publicize it. So –"

"Christopher and I have to perform on stage together, tonight?"

"No, no. Not tonight," she said, shaking her head. "You'll start rehearsing today, but we will probably hold off until the next show to introduce it. That's if the rehearsals go well." She smiled lightly.

"Oh. Okay," I sighed in relief.

"Is everything alright?"

I nodded and smiled halfheartedly.

"This will be a great way to get the song out there and keep the band's name sitting at number one."

"I know. So who is the 'we'?" I asked, continuing when she gave me a perplexed look, "You said 'we' want."

"Oh, the label of course, as well as Nicholas, and it's a fabulous opportunity to be able to do this. It will promote the records both bands will be releasing soon after the tour wraps up."

Una was extremely happy about this news. I, on the other hand, had knots in my stomach.

On our way to breakfast, Una grabbed my arm and pulled me over toward her.

"I almost forgot to tell you. Marcus arrived this morning, so he'll be here to work on the performance during rehearsals."

I smiled. "Good, that'll work."

She wrapped an arm around me.

Later, after breakfast, we were ushered to the stage for our full rehearsal. We had to reschedule our rehearsal for earlier in the day since Christopher and I would rehearse "Broken Inside" before The Forgotten rehearsed.

Performing onstage made me feel like a different person. I was more confidant on stage, sexier. I was totally in my element, releasing the inner rock goddess. Sweat dripped down my back as we performed and the spotlights weren't helping. I had Kat tie my t-shirt into a knot at the hem on my back, right under my bra line. My stomach was completely exposed, but it was much cooler.

After we got through our songs, a studio backup singer met me onstage. Una introduced us. He was a male back up vocalist I needed for an acoustic version of a song tonight.

We discussed the song a little and then went over it together. Laney led me in on her guitar. I started to sing, the backup singer joining in to accompany me on the parts we had discussed. It turned out better than I thought it would on such a short rehearsal. Excitement had me bouncing and hugging him. He laughed at my enthusiasm. After thanking him, I said goodbye until tonight.

Heading off stage, Una grabbed me.

"Mia, you need to stay here to rehearse with Christopher."

"I'm just going to get one of the crew guys to hose the sweat off real quick,” I said sarcastically, winking at her.

“Hurry up, okay? The stage will be reset for The Forgotten very quickly," she shouted after me, taking my comment in stride.

I nodded and gave her thumbs up in response. Returning to the stage, I spoke with Una for a second before getting the signal that the stage was ready. Elliott smiled and then pumped his fist. I pumped my fist into the air back to him. Jackson and Jimmy both smiled as I stepped out to center stage where Christopher stood.

"Ready to rock this out?" he asked, trying to sound cocky and upbeat, but it fell flat.

I nodded, shifting my eyes to the choreographer.

"Okay, you two. I want to start with just the music so we can go through the choreography, then you can put it into full performance."

"Wait…what choreography?" Christopher questioned with a confused expression. Elliott's muffled snicker came from behind us.

"Calm down, Christopher. It’s just some steps and standing positions. I'm not going to have you doing spins and dips," she reassured, rolling her eyes and waving him off.

The guys started playing, and the choreographer took us through the steps and positions she thought would work best. After finishing, she walked down to the front row and sat, getting an up-close look at her personal handiwork. Kat, Laney, Una, and Serena were already sitting there watching. Laney waved, of course. I smiled small.

"Okay, remember the steps are not concrete, so improvise. Also, don't be afraid to touch each other, for God's sake," she said, causing my face to heat as she settled into her front row seat. "Alright, boys, whenever you're ready."

Taking a deep breath, I stood in my rehearsed spot, off stage and hidden from the ‘audience'. The band started to play and Christopher tapped out the beat with his foot before starting in with the microphone in the stand. Entering from stage left, I walked toward him. A spotlight hit me as I joined him in song.

Christopher removed his mic from the stand and trailed behind me as I rehearsed the steps. Just as we fell into the chorus, we turned to face each other before slowly backing away and turning back to the crowd. Well, I turned back to the crowd. Christopher was still facing me. I continued the rehearsed steps and turned back toward him as we began singing again. We walked back toward each other and locked gazes. I couldn't tear my eyes from his. His voice was hypnotic, pain and pleasure rolled into the harmony of the lyrics. There was a fierce look in his eyes that drew me closer to this broken and battered man as he allowed his heart to bleed freely; the man I couldn't walk away from.

I was completely and utterly entranced, my belly swarming with butterflies as the final part of the song played. His arm snaked around my waist just as we rehearsed, causing gooseflesh to rise on my skin as we turned toward each other one last time. I stared into the deep pools of his eyes before the lights that were following us died out on the last note. In the darkness, my body felt on fire. I was hyperaware of every spot he touched, every caress, movement, linger. Shaking it off, I started to walk away. His hand tightened on my hip, but I kept moving.  He didn't stop me.

Once I was alone, I took deep breaths to calm myself. What the hell was that?

Christopher

What the fuck was it about her? My dick was hard as a rock. That was the most intense performance I've ever experienced. The lyrics mixed with her were right. She was just fucking right.

"I have to say, that was great!" the choreographer enthused, standing with a large smile. "One more rehearsal should be all we need."

I walked back toward the mic stand and forced what just happened out of my head. The Forgotten still had a rehearsal to do and I didn't need to get bent out of shape thinking about Mia. From the corner of my eye, I caught a smirk on Jackson's face and glared at him. It was the performance, that's all — caught up in a moment. That's what I continued to tell myself at least.

"Elliott, when you're ready."

He tapped out the beat. We started our practice and worked out some more ideas for tonight's show.

By the time we'd finished up, it was getting close to show time. We grabbed something to eat and headed off to prepare for the show.

"That song was fucking intense," Jackson said, breaking the quiet between us.

"What song?" Elliott asked.

"Christopher and Mia's song," Jimmy snorted.

"It's called "Broken Inside”," I corrected. I closed my eyes and laid my head on the back of the couch. I was so tired.

"Oh yeah, that was kick ass. You two sounded fucking awesome!" Elliott boasted.

"Thanks," I mumbled.

The cushion next to me dipped down.

"So, she's really good, isn't she?" It was Jackson, of fucking course.

"Who?" I asked, pretending I didn't know to whom he was referring.

"Yeah, right, like you don't know," Jackson responded quietly.

"Whatever."

"Try all you want, Christopher, you're only fooling yourself."

Before I could ask him what the fuck he was going on about, he was up and heading over to the empty chair next to Elliott. Putting my head back down, I was too exhausted to fight with him.

The show went flawlessly. We rocked the fuck out of the audience and they begged for more. This is what I fucking lived for. As soon as we walked offstage, we were ushered into another press conference. Mia and the girls were already in there. They were addressing all of the rumors and stories currently running in the tabloids and newspapers. Laney did most of the speaking, which didn't surprise me. We took our seats down from the girls and began to address our own tidal wave of nosey bitches.

Nicholas headed off questions about my incident at the hotel, as well as questions regarding a psychiatrist traveling with us. It was hard to sit there and allow Nicholas to clean up my messes. It was even harder to listen to them implicate I was a psychopath and woman abuser. Fucking, seriously? Apparently, there were also rumors running rampant about The Forgotten and Hushed Mentality being at war with animosity. These people needed to get a fucking life. Drama, drama, drama. Next came the question I'd been dreading.

"So, Christopher, it seems Hushed Mentality has taken the number one spot on the charts. Are you as confident as you were in the beginning of the tour that you'll be able to regain that spot and keep it?"

A quick glance toward the girls and I could see the sly smirk playing on Mia's lips.

"Every dog has their day," I answered, keeping my eyes on her.

Her eyes narrowed. I smiled large in her direction. Fuck yeah, let her be smug. I could dish it right back.

As soon as I hit the steps of the bus, exhaustion started to overtake me. I jumped in the shower to wash away the grime of the show and headed to my room. The pills were still lying next to the bed and I popped a few, hoping they would fucking work.

I lay down and thought over everything Dr. J had said. "You need to talk to someone about that night". "Let it go". "She won't be a part of your everyday life". I started to drift off, lulled by these thoughts while entering my nightly hell.

He was holding her in his arms, rocking her back and forth, back and forth. Tears streamed down his cheeks and I felt my body fill with something I had never experience before. I've heard the fights and each time experienced pain, guilt, confusion, anger. But, never before had I felt so much hate. He had the nerve to cry! After everything he did to her, he had the nerve to act like he cared. I was furious…yes, that's what I felt, and full of rage. I screamed at him before I launched myself onto him. My fists clenched tight as I slammed them into his face, over and over again.  He grabbed my wrists and threw me against the wall.

"This is your fault, you bastard! You should've never happened! You shouldn't be here.  You ruined all of it and now…and now…"

The gun was back in his hand, and I was staring straight into the cold steel. I heard the click, but moved before I heard the roar past my head. I launched at his legs, and he slipped on the blood….her blood.

I jerked awake, dripping in sweat and trembling from head to toe. Trying to push everything from my mind, I pressed the palms of my hands into my eyes. Elliott was next to me in a flash with a wide-eyed look. Apparently, I was more vocal than I thought.

"I'm fine," I groaned, throwing myself back onto my bed.

"Do you need anything?" Jackson sat on my bed and yawned.

"Nothing works," I muttered, rolling over to bury my head under a pillow, hiding the tears escaping.

"There is one thing," he said.

He stood and I heard the door close.

Sitting up, I grabbed the TV remote and tried to preoccupy myself. I dragged my ass to the shower as soon as I heard the rest of them moving around, hoping the cold water would wake me. After getting dressed, I got off the bus and went straight to the first coffee pot I could find.

We were in Topeka now with a show tonight. Then we would be on our way to Minneapolis where we would stay for a few days.

Heading into the arena to rehearse, I passed Mia, who was scrutinizing me. I had no idea why. I had been a good boy, doing what she wished instead of taking what I needed. After all the rehearsals, we waited backstage once again.

"I think we should go out while we are in Minneapolis. Let's hit a local bar. We haven't done that in a while," Elliott was speaking aloud to whoever would answer.

"Sounds like a plan," Jimmy voiced.

"I don't know. I think I'm gonna wait till we get there to see what's going on," Jackson added. "What about you, Christopher?"

"What?" I grumbled.

"Jesus, dude, grumpy much? Shit!" Elliott shot out.

"Fuck you," I retorted, holding no emotion to the statement.

I tried sleeping again on the bus on the way to Minneapolis. Turns out, sleeping was not an option, and the pills were barely enough to make me fall asleep anymore. I called Doctor J, and he offered to get a different prescription sent. I asked for a script that could keep me awake; however, he refused to provide them.

In a desperate attempt, I took three pills. Finally, I fell asleep only to wake a couple of hours later sweating and panting. Grabbing the pill bottle, I tossed it into the garbage can on the other side of the bus. My guitar and my notebook became my only form of distraction for the remainder of the trip.

Mia

It had been more than two weeks now, almost June, since our argument. Christopher's movements were sluggish. It was easy to see he hadn't slept and probably wasn't even trying to anymore. The constant caffeinated beverage he carried around with him made me assume this was the case anyway. I felt terrible. I knew that I could change this with just one word, but how would that ultimately help? It would put us straight back to stage one and I needed more than that.

When we met Una at the front desk in the lobby, I leaned in to her ear.

"Una?"

"Hmm?" she responded as she signed the papers for check-in.

"Is he alright?"

She looked up. I nodded toward Christopher who was leaning against a wall with his hand in his hair waiting for the elevator.

"He doesn't look well. Perhaps he's sick?" Una speculated, trying to ease my curiosity.

I pursed my lips at her, and she saw I wasn't buying it.

"Okay, he's probably having some issues again," she said, not looking at me, which was fine since I couldn't stop watching him.

Why do I feel so responsible? It's not my fault he can't sleep. It's not my responsibility to take care of him. So, why do I feel like the asshole? Yeah, he sleeps when he is with me, but he needs professional help. Until he gets what he needs, I'm just a temporary arrangement. I just can't be that person when I'm so emotionally involved, especially since, for him, I would simply be his drug of choice. No matter how much it pains me to admit, I want to be more than that to him.

Laney snapped me back to reality when she grabbed my arm and pulled me to the elevator. The doors opened, and we climbed on as one large group. Standing opposite of him, I could see the dark purple under his eyes and the furrowed brow. He was exhausted.

Laney rambled on with Jackson, but I wasn't really listening to what they were saying until we came to our floor and headed toward to our rooms.

"So, breakfast in our room?"

I returned to the conversation going on around me just as Laney shouted to Jackson. He nodded and smiled at her.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"Weren't you listening?"

I shook my head. She eyed me skeptically.

"They're coming over to our suite for breakfast in a few hours," she said, smiling and pulling us quickly to the room. "That means I need to get everyone dressed."

"Whoa there, Laney. I'm climbing into my large king-sized bed and getting some shut-eye. Count me out for dress up time."

She pouted, but I wouldn't sway.

"We don't have to do a damn thing until the show tonight, so I'm going to get some sleep and then get out for a while."

Kat led the way into the suite, and we disappeared into our separate bedrooms. Stripping off as much clothing as possible along the way, I climbed into bed. With my mind so wrapped up in guilt, I couldn't fall asleep.

Why should I feel guilty? It's not my fault. I just…I mean…Shit! I can't even think straight enough to argue with myself! Frick'em, frack'em, fruck'em…ack! After exhausting my brain with my nonsense, it shut down and I fell asleep.

About two hours later, Laney was being so loud playing breakfast host. I had no choice but to drag my ass into the shower. Once showered, I threw on some baggy jeans and a white tank top. Laney gave me the "outfit disapproval look" when I entered the living room.

Everyone had already arrived and most were eating, except Christopher. He was sitting in a chair with coffee in his lap and his head back on the chair, his eyes closed. Even from across the room, I could still see the darkness had reached his lids as well as some puffy redness.

Cue my feeling of being responsible. It's not my fault. It's not my fault. Not my responsibility. He is not my responsibility.

Walking to where the food was laid out, I loaded up a plate before sitting at the breakfast bar. I was two plates of food in when Jimmy decided to call me out on my eating habits.

"Christ, I think Mia could eat more than Elliott!" he laughed and looked from me to Elliott.

"Oh, trust me, she would give him a run for his money," Serena laughed. I glared at her.

"Shut up," I yelled back.

"Where the fuck does it all go?" Jimmy walked over and looked me over.

I smacked his arm.

"Leave me alone. I can't help it if I like to eat," I fired back, sticking my tongue out at Serena.

"Anytime you want to have an eat off, you let me know," Elliott said, smiling at me widely.

"I'll be sure to do that," I smiled back sarcastically and threw out my garbage.

"Okay, so what does everyone have planned?" Laney queried, looking around.

"Kat and I are headed to the pool," Serena said. "Mia, you in for the pool?"

I nodded.

Laney pouted. "I wanted to go shopping."

"Better luck next time, shopaholic."

Kat and Serena giggled.

"Girls in bikinis? I am so in!" Elliott said loudly. "What do you say, Christopher? Girls in bikinis?"

"Whatever," he grumbled.

Damn it. It's not my responsibility. He needs to talk to a professional or something. Besides, he isn't showing up at my door, so maybe he is getting better.

I damn well knew he wasn't getting better. It was a load of crap I was trying to feed myself to feel less responsible. All I had to do was look at him and I could see he was suffering.

"I have a meeting late this afternoon, but whatever. I don't care."

"You are such a miserable prick lately," Elliott voiced.

Christopher gave him the finger.

"Okay, sounds like we are pool bound."

Laney jumped up and hurried off to her room. I'm sure she had some special waterproof, pool-proof make-up and hair products to apply. The guys left to get ready while we changed into swimsuits.

Again, I fought an internal battle over my unwarranted guilt. I did throw him out, but he deserved it.

"Let's go," Kat yelled, pounding on my door and stopping my self-deprecation.

We were the first people at the pool. The water was cold, and it wasn't exactly hot outside at ten in the morning. However, if the weather reports were correct, it would be an exceptionally warm day for late May. Elliott pushed Jackson in, which resulted in Jackson splashing everyone.

After swimming for an hour, my skin resembled a prune. I packed up my stuff and told Serena I was going back up to the suite. On the way, I passed by Christopher, who was sitting in a lounge chair with his head lolled back. He had sunglasses on so I couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not.

Damn it, Mia, just keep walking.

With a large breath, I nudged Christopher's arm and motioned for him to follow me. At first, he wasn't following, so I figured he wasn't coming. I tried.

He appeared when I was getting on the elevator. It was a silent trip up to our floor. He hesitated when I walked past his room door, but continued to follow me.

After changing into the jeans and tank top I had on earlier, I found him standing against my doorframe. Motioning toward the bed, I sat down and grabbed for my favorite blanket.

"You don't have to –"

"Just lie down."

I curled up inside the familiar blanket as he crawled onto the bed. Moments later, I heard his breathing even out. When I looked over my shoulder, he was fast asleep. Sighing, I laid my head down, looking at him.

He really is physically perfect. A strong chin currently covered in rough looking stubble, but it still couldn't hide his gorgeous face. Dark lashes lined the lids that covered eyes so blue and so expressive. His lips were full and his skin, damn. His skin would make any woman jealous. His unruly, blue-black hair set all of this off.

Earlier in the tour, his hair stuck out is sharp spikes, but now it had grown out some. My mind drifted to how his hair felt when I had put my hand on his head. It was thick and soft. I even remembered his scent, like a forest after a storm. Taking advantage of the moment, I inhaled deeply and slowly fell asleep to the familiar smell of clean masculinity.

Voices woke me up. Looking up at the bedside clock, I saw we had been asleep for a little over two hours.

"Mia?" Serena shouted and leaned into my room.

"Oh shit!" she yelled in a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," I whispered and got off the bed.

Walking toward the door, I looked back. Christopher was still sleeping and was in the same position he had fallen asleep in. I closed the door behind me.

"What the hell is going on?" Serena interrogated.

Laney and Kat came out of their rooms and looked at us curiously.

"Nothing," I shrugged.

"He is nothing?" she argued, pointing toward my door.

"Ooohh…what did we miss?" Kat asked.

"Shhh!" Laney hissed, motioning for Kat to shut up as they huddled together like spectators. All they needed was a bag of popcorn.

"Mia, here, has decided to let him back in."

The emphasis she put on him didn't go unnoticed.

"Oh," Laney and Kat said in unison. They raised their eyebrows, both with sly smiles on their faces.

"Jesus Christ! It's none of your business!" I spat at her, sitting down on the couch. "I felt bad, okay? You've seen him. He looks like shit and it's pretty fucking obvious that he isn't sleeping. I was just helping him out so he wouldn't be such a wreck."

Serena sat down next to me and sighed.

"I just don't want you to get hurt."

"He's not going –"

"I'm not talking about just physically, Mia"

"Serena, it's not like that between us. It's just…I don't know what it is, but it's not like that."

"Are you sure?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Of course," I replied, rolling my eyes. "You've seen how he treats me. He's an asshole, remember?"

"Yeah, sure," she said dryly, looking like she was going to give up, but turned back to me instead. "Mia, did you notice anything when you were on stage with him?"

I shook my head and gave her the "’you're crazy aren't you' look."

"I didn't think so," she said.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's just –"

Christopher stepped out of my bedroom.

"Um…thanks," he said, quickly running his hand through his hair. He waved and left.

"See….nothing."

I headed back to my room to get away from the conversation.

"I hope they're fucking," Kat blurted.

"What?" Laney giggled loudly.

"I hope she's getting something worthwhile out of this little deal," Kat laughed.

I shut my door, not wanting to hear anything else.

Chapter Fourteen

Christopher

Both my mind and body were exhausted. I barely made it to the first poolside lounge chair. Hell, I was even too tired to bitch at Jackson for splashing water on me.

With my head resting against the chair, my sunglasses protected eyes from the sun. They also hid my focused attention on Mia when Elliott pulled her into the pool. She emerged. Her dark, saturated hair slicked back, her eyes even more prominent with the dark tendrils out of the way. It was easier to see the tattoo that ran down the length of her spine.

My muscles tightened in anticipation of her close proximity. The way she enticed me had my nerve endings tingling and my dick stirring to attention. I sat motionless as she began to walk past, disappointment flooding me without my consent. I seriously thought I might lose it over the unwanted feeling, but then she nudged me.

I froze, thinking my sleep-deprived brain imagined it all. Taking a leap of faith, I jolted into motion and followed her up to the room. Neither of us said a word until we got into the room and I weakly, oh so weakly, gave her another chance to back out. “Just lie down.” She didn't have to tell me twice. I barely remember putting my head down. Exhaustion crept over my eyelids and stilled my body. It was only a few hours of sleep, but when I woke, I felt better. Better, but alone. Her scent lingered in the emptiness next to me.

I looked up at the clock. I still had a couple of hours before my meeting with Dr. J. Deciding it was time for me to leave. I got my shit together and exited the room. Mia and Serena were sitting on the couch. With a quick thank you and a nod, I left. The tension between them was thick, and I knew it had to be about me. Serena was not shy about making her feelings well known. Who could blame her, though? I was an asshole using her sister to sleep. I'd hate me too.

Just as I threw my towel onto the floor, there was a knock at the door. Sliding into a pair of clean jeans, I grabbed the towel, tossed it over my shoulders, and answered the door.

"Good afternoon, Christopher," Dr. J said, wearing a pleasant smile.

"Hey," I replied, motioning for him to enter and stepping back from the door as I rubbed the towel over my head.

"Did I catch you at a bad time? I know I'm a bit early."

"Nah, it's good," I said, sitting on the couch and pulling the towel back around my shoulders.

"You don't look too bad. A little tired, but not as bad as I expected."

He took a seat in the overstuffed chair on my right.

"Yeah, about that…"

"Ahh…you had her help?" he asked, grinning.

Rubbing the back my head, I pulled the towel from my shoulders.

"This afternoon. She offered. Why would I say no?"

Keeping my eyes focused on the towel, I folded it onto the cushion next to me.

"It's okay."

My head snapped up to see if he was joking.

"You clearly trust her more than anyone else," he said with a small shrug.

He chuckled at the confusion stamped on my brow.

"Have you thought any more about why she seems to help when nothing else will?"

I kept my mouth shut. There was nothing to say. I'd thought about it a little, but I didn't analyze that shit. He was the one being paid to figure this shit out.

He smiled again.

"I'll take that as a no," he sighed. "Look, Christopher, she, for whatever reason, represents some sort of trust and comfort you don't seem to have with anyone else; unless there's another emotion or reason you can help me figure out?"

"Another emotion?" I asked, leaning back. I shook my head.

"Okay, then I'll have to go with trust since there're no other feelings you can offer," he said, eyeing me from his peripheral vision.

"What?" I spat. "Don't start acting like those other head shrink assholes."

"How about you answer some questions for me, unless you want to talk?" he asked, looking hopeful. I wasn't going to spew my guts out. So, I shook my head.

"Okay. Tell me exactly what happened the other morning when you called me."

He sat back and got comfortable while I went through it all. When I finished, he didn't say anything.

"Alright, now tell me about the following days, leading up to her helping you again." I did as he asked, telling him everything that happened up until this afternoon.

"So, she wasn't there when you woke up in the bed?" He leaned forward, elbows to knees.

"No, why?"

"Well, it seems you need her to fall asleep, but I wonder how long it takes you to wake up after she gets out of bed, or if you even realize it at all." He rubbed his head. "This is interesting."

"Now you're going to tell me I shouldn't let it happen again, right?"

Putting my head back on the chair, I made a silent vow to disobey his order before he made it.

"No."

For the second time, I looked at him completely confused.

"What? I thought that –"

"Christopher, if it's trust and comfort she gives to you, then we can work with this, for now. If she's willing to allow you to sleep there, then go ahead. However, you still need to realize once she is gone from your life, you won't have that. You need to deal with this problem straight on."

He paused to look me in the eye. I nodded in agreement. Everyone kept coming back to her leaving me, being gone forever. Maybe she would. Who the fuck knows. Or maybe, just maybe, I'd make a deal with the Devil asking for her to sleep with me for the rest of my life. I could fucking dream.

"No, it's not just a nod I need from you, Christopher. You need to understand. It's time for you to work up to talking about it. If she is the one you trust and she already knows the story from others telling it, maybe –"

She would definitely leave if she knew the truth. That wasn't fucking happening. I barely had her now, if I spilled my guts she would be out that door faster than a bat out of hell.

"NO," I snapped. Leaning forward, I leered at him. "I don't want to talk about it, with anyone. I don't want –"

"To relive the same memory you already relive every time you go to sleep?" Dr. J finished my sentence with a small amount of sarcasm.

Tightly clenching my eyes, I put my head into my hands. His hand came down gently on my shoulder.

"I know it's hard, but you need to let it go. It's not the only thing you have left."

Her image flashed into my head. She was holding me close, brushing her fingers through my hair.

"Let the guilt go, and fight through the pain and hurt."

Unable to move, I squeezed back the tears threatening to spill out. I was so sick of fucking crying. I don't want to feel like this anymore. I want it to go away, but I can't. How can I let her go, when it's my fault?

"How many people have you loved, Christopher?"

His question caught me off guard. I turned and examined his face for a moment.

"Have you ever been in love with someone?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? How do you not know?" he asked, looking puzzled. "Obviously you loved your mother. Did you love your fath…um…stepfather?"

Rage erupted throughout my chest, wrapping around my arms until my fists balled. How could he ask about that asshole? I fought the urge to beat the shit out of Dr. J.

"It's okay to have loved him. He was your father, and he wasn't always the monster you remember, right?"

I tried to fight them, to hold them in, but still hot tears streamed down my cheek. I closed my eyes and shook my head. I refused to remember him as someone I didn't hate.

"It's okay to have loved him. Your love for him has nothing, nor had anything, to do with what happened. They are two different things in themselves. Do you understand?"

I nodded to placate.

"Look at me."

My eyes stayed hidden in the darkness of my lids.

"Look. At. Me."

Yielding to his request, I slowly parted my lashes and looked through my tears.

"Nothing to do with it," he asserted.

Another tear streamed down. I licked at my dry lips, the taste of saltiness registering on my tongue.

"Have you ever been in love with someone?" he asked again.

I shrugged.

"I-I don't think so,” I answered, coughing to clear the wavering emotion in my voice.

"Why do you think that is?"

I shrugged. How the fuck should I know?

"Are you afraid to lose them? That you'll hurt them?"

My heart accelerated, blood pounding in my ears. Good little shrink. I'm a fucking mess, an emotional basket case.

"Okay, why don't we stop? You seem to have had enough. Besides, I'm sure you want to enjoy some of your free time."

He stood.

"No."

"What?" he asked, his attempt to cover his surprise at my response was slightly humorous.

"No, I've never been in love with anyone," I replied. Hoping to clear my head, I inhaled deeply. "I can't see them get hurt. I can't watch them leave. I don't think I could emotionally handle it. Aside from that, I don't deserve love. I have nothing to offer and would be a constant disappointment, much like I am to my family. What I have inside of me isn't worthy of love."

Slowly, he sat back into his seat. Silence hung in the air. He hadn't been prepared for that response. Like the cocky bastard that I am, I relished in his surprise. Take that and shove it up your analyzing ass.

"Life and love is all a risk. You have to accept it all. What happened when you were younger wasn't because of you, or because of love. It was because of a bad situation that one person couldn't deal with. You defended yourself."

His hand lightly grasped my forearm as he stood again. I grimaced at his words. He wasn't saying anything new or informative. Just the same bullshit everyone else has tried to comfort me with. If he knew the truth, he wouldn't be saying this shit.

"Christopher, you speak as if you're already sure you'll cause the downfall of a relationship. You are a good man. You just need to realize it."

A loud snort escaped in response. I was not a good man. I was something entirely different.

Another long silence filled the room. Doc lightly cleared his throat.

"I'll see you the day after the concert, right?"

I nodded my head in response. I was done fucking talking, done listening to bullshit no one knew anything about.

"Have a good evening," Dr. J said as he departed the room.

Reeling from the conversation, I lay back against the couch. Why do I feel comforted by her? Why would I trust her? I barely know her. What draws me to her? Did the monster in me just want to destroy her? It's always the same shit constantly running through my head. I still didn't have any fucking answers.

"I can't spend all day obsessing over this shit," I growled into the empty suite. I stood up from the couch. I was sick of analyzing bullshit that had no clear answers.

A glance at my watch told me dinner was in a few hours. With all the pent up tension, I had Darius set me up in the hotel fitness center and escort me down. Some weights and hopefully a punching bag would provide some relief.

Sore from pushing myself hard, the hot shower washed away some of the tension in my muscles. My phone beeped while I was in the shower, and when I finally checked it, there was a text from Jackson.

'Going out for dinner. Lobby, forty-five minutes.'

The message was from fifteen minutes ago, so I had a half hour to shave and get dressed.

Taking out the spikes pierced into my lower lip, I began to lather up my face. My eyes settled on my reflection. All I could see was the monster with blood on his hands. I closed my eyes and gripped the sink, willing away all thoughts. I forced myself through the rest of the shave and got ready to meet the guys in the lobby.

Sitting in one of the private areas of the restaurant, we heard laughter from the other side of the room. Elliott stood up and looked. He was such a nosey bastard.

"Elli!" a familiar voice called out.

Elliott's face lit up and he waved. Jackson stood next and laughed before sitting down with a shake of his head.

"It's the girls," he chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. Of course, it was the fucking girls.

After finishing dinner, we started to share ideas we had been working on for new songs. I was finding it hard to concentrate with all of the rampant bullshit running through my mind from my earlier session. Time to man up, the new album isn't going to write its-fucking-self.

"Uh oh."

Jackson's random statement caught my attention. He was watching Elliott stand up with a look of death on his face.

"Wha –?"

"Shit, grab him!" Jackson yelled, rising out of his chair and trying to grasp Elliott's arm.

Now that the restaurant had started to empty out, Elliott had a clear line of sight to the girls' table. Looks like I wasn't the only one distracted. There were three guys hovering around their table. By the looks on Kat and Mia's faces, they weren't welcome.

One guy slid down next to Serena, putting his arm over her shoulders. She scooted away, removing his arm when his other hand went to her thigh. She scowled, the distinct words "don't touch me" on her lips.

Elliott was like a juggernaut, reaching their table before either of the bodyguards could get to the harasser. He lifted the guy next to Serena and shoved him away. Serena grabbed Elliott's arm and tried to calm him down.

This guy was about to get the ass beating of a lifetime.

The douchebags started to get vocal, so Jackson, Jimmy, and I walked over. Mainly to keep Elliott from busting a cap in their ass.

The guy and his group were finally escorted away by restaurant security and our bodyguards. We paid the bill and left. Elliott stayed with Serena, riding back to the hotel with her instead of in our car.

As I slowly walked through the lobby, exhaustion began creeping up on me once again. Out of the corner of my eye, Mia and Kat passed by, arm in arm and walking funny. It looked like they were trying to trip the other one. I didn't know what the fuck they were doing, but I felt the corner of my mouth turn up as I listened to them laugh with each other.

Mia jumped on Kat's back and demanded a piggyback ride into the elevator. We reached the elevator only to find them both lying on the floor, laughing their asses off.

Mia stood up quickly and helped Kat to her feet as we all entered the elevator, laughing at how silly they both were. I stayed at the back of the elevator while the rest exited. Jackson wrapped his arm around Laney's shoulders and led the way to her room. The giant and the elf. Seeing Jackson attempt to shrink himself down was fucking hilarious. Why he always went for chicks half his size, I would never know.

Elliott had his hand in Serena's back pocket and held her close to his side. After tonight, he was showing everyone she was with him. Dude was practically pissing on her leg. The claim he was staking on her was alarming. This was Elliott and he didn't stick with one girl, not even in the bedroom. He rolled in multiples of two, and sometimes more on special occasions.

Kat and Mia were walking behind Serena and Elliott mimicking them. Kat had her hand in Mia's back pocket, and Mia curled up to Kat's side making kissing noises. Serena looked back and glared at them.

"Will you two grow up?" she snapped, trying to be mad. Mia ran up and tackled her in a bear hug almost sending them both to the ground. Serena laughed aloud before shoving Mia off her and latching onto Elliott once more. How fucking sweet. I have a cavity. I felt like a peeping tom watching them. I was so odd and out of place. Seemed to be the story of my life.

Everyone entered the girls' suite while I was still in the elevator standing with my dick in my hands. I didn't know whether to stay or go and felt like a fucking loser. They were all friends. They had bonded and shit. I wasn't a part of this. I didn't belong. Did I even want to be here? The Clash's Should I Stay or Should I Go started playing in my head. Should I stay or should I go now? Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be trouble…Kat shook me from my thoughts by wrapping her hand around my arm and pulling me out of the elevator with a wink and a smile. Christ, I was so caught up in my 'feelings', I didn't even see her come back for me. My man-card just got revoked.

Laney was already passing out beers as everyone found a seat. Jackson, Laney, and Kat sat on the couch. Elliott secured Serena to his lap. Grabbing the empty chair closest to me, Mia appeared and sat on Kat's lap.

"Ah, thanks, babe!" she giggled.

"I swear to God, I'm going to kill you two," Serena growled.

Kat, Laney, and Mia laughed. Mia moved off Kat and took a spot on the floor. Jimmy sat down next to her.

"Okay, so I think we should learn more about each other," Laney said enthusiastically. The girls groaned. Laney scowled at them.

"What are we missing?" Jimmy questioned.

"That's Laney code for playing a stupid game," Kat said, rolling her eyes and taking a swig of beer.

"They're not stupid. I bet we could learn a lot about everyone," she said as she crossed her arms over her chest and sat back. Jackson pulled her over and planted a kiss on the top of her head. Her anger quickly melted.

Is that being in love? Or, is it this caveman style Elliott has going on? Needless to say, I've never been in fucking love.

"No," Kat stated. "Let's just watch a movie or something."

"I'm going to get pajamas on, so you guys can figure out what you're going to do," Mia said, standing and leaving the room.

My fingers twitched to touch her when she walked by me. Jackson saved me from obsessing over the reaction.

"I think that sounds like a good idea," Jackson agreed. He stood up and turned back to Laney.

"Care to join me?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows and pulling Laney from the couch.

"Um, my pajamas are in my room," she said, motioning to her door with a tilt of her head.

"Did I forget to mention your pajamas are optional?" he teased, winking and causing her to giggle.

I rolled my eyes. Is that being in love? I almost gagged. I'm really not cut out for that shit.

"Alone time sounds fan-fucking-tastic!" Elliott said as he stood. Serena slipped off his lap. He bent forward and threw her over his shoulder, carrying her toward her room.

"Elliott! Put me down!" she yelled as a loud smack echoed through the room.

Mia entered the room just as Serena and Elliott were going through the bedroom door.

"Don't knock her up! She's not a nice pregnant woman," Kat yelled.

"Ahhhhh…she's going to kill you!" Mia laughed.

"Damn straight I am," Serena yelled just before her door slammed shut.

I grinned and everyone else laughed.

"I'm not tired," Kat groaned and looked at Mia. "Want to go play pool?"

"Do I look dressed for going down to the bar?" Mia motioned down to her loose polka-dot covered cotton pants and tank top.

"Sure," Kat smiled.

"Okay," Mia caved, shrugging and slipping on some flip-flops. Jimmy and I both stood.

Turning, I watched her pull on a sweatshirt. I preferred the tank top.

"Are you really going down there like that?" Jimmy raised his eyebrow.

"Why not?" she asked with a shrug and wide grin, walking out the door.

Kat, Jimmy, and I followed.

Kat was good at pool. Mia sucked ass. She seemed to embrace it, though. She kept doing these weird shots: putting the stick behind her back, blindfolding herself with a napkin, turning around backwards to shoot, and, at one point, she lifted her leg onto the table and shot from underneath.

Shaking my head, I observed their antics.

"What?" Jimmy bumped me in the arm and leaned onto our pool table.

"Nothing," I shrugged. "They're just fucking goofy."

"You could use a good dose of what they have going, trust me," he drawled, lightly hitting my shoulder. "Your shot."

Turning around, I lined up my stick. Hands ran up my back and I jerked around quickly, causing me to scratch. Jimmy snorted. I growled at the familiar blue eyes.

"Hey there, Chrissie," she said, smiling up to me and batting her eyelashes, leaning into my chest. From behind me, Jimmy stifled his laughter.

"Tonya, you know I hate that fucking nickname."

She leaned in closer and pouted up at me. I was about to say something else, but Kat was behind her imitating Tonya's pout face. I fought from laughing. Jimmy didn't.

"What are you doing here?"

"You don't sound happy to see me," she said, trying to be seductive.

"That didn't answer my question." I hitched my eyebrow, utterly unimpressed.

"Richard wanted to visit to see how things were going, so he asked me to accompany him, as his assistant, for the trip," she said, shrugging. "You know."

"Yeah," I replied, pulling away from her and turning back to the table.

There were hushed voices behind me as I took my next shot. When I stood and walked around the table, Mia was gone. I was going to ask, but just let it go. She had already made it perfectly clear that she wasn't my business.

After another hour of shooting pool and losing fifty dollars to Kat, while also being rude as shit to Tonya in hopes that she would just go the fuck away, I retreated to my room. I slid they key card in and opened the door. Giggling coming from Jackson's room assaulted my ears as soon as I stepped in. I made a b-line for the shower, hoping they would be done by the time I got out. Much to my disappointment, they weren't. They were either on to round two or Jackson's libido was fucking impressive. Whatever. Jackson's impressive fucking was not where I wanted my mind to go.

Throwing on a pair of pajama bottoms and t-shirt, I sat on my bed for a moment contemplating my next move. She let me in this afternoon. Would she let me in tonight?

One loud moan from Jackson's room was all the motivation I needed. I shot to the door and got the fuck out. Time to see if I can fulfill my fantasy. Sleep.

Just as I was about to reach the door, Kat came walking up. She smiled easily and opened the door, gesturing for me to enter. Stopping just a few steps into the room, Kat brushed by me and knocked on Mia's door quickly before walking away.

"Come in," she called, her voice muffled by the closed door.

Grabbing the knob, I ran my other hand through my damp hair and opened the door. She looked up from her laptop. Waiting, I gauged her reaction. She looked conflicted for about half a minute before she gave me half a smile and patted the empty side of the bed.

After lying down, I looked over and watched her.

"What are you doing?"

She jumped a little and looked down at me in disbelief.

"What?" I asked.

"Um...nothing," she answered, turning back to her laptop screen.

"No…what?" I insisted. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I know," she shrugged. "You just…I mean, usually you're asleep right after you lie down. I wasn't expecting you to speak."

She kept her eyes on her computer. The discomfort between us grew tenfold.

Something in me started to churn, wanting her to look at me. Her quiet behavior with me was so different from who she was with Kat, Jackson, or any of the others, for that matter. It took me a moment to realize I felt bad, maybe even hurt, by it. There was no way that was right, though. Why would it hurt me? Christ, I needed some sleep.

"Oh," was my most brilliant response. "You still didn't answer my question," I reminded.

"Um…yeah," she said, pausing. The slightest blush tinted her cheeks. "Don't make fun of me, okay?"

Was she watching porn?

She turned her eyes on me and, in that moment, I couldn't think straight enough to actually speak the dialogue running through my head. I just nodded.

"I have a small addiction to two things on the internet," she said, pausing to rub her face, which broke my stare.

Porn, totally porn. Please God, let it be porn.

"Gossip websites and YouTube."

Huh, I didn't see that coming.

She half-smiled with a crinkled nose and a light blush. That blush was so appealing on her round cheeks. I'd never really looked at her close enough until this moment. Her eyes weren't so haunting, but beautifully deep. The shape of her face and the way her bottom lip pouted more than the top was so…so perfect. My hand twitched again, longing to touch her face.

She started chewing on her pouted lip. This pulled me from my thoughts. She was obviously uncomfortable with the way I had been looking at her a so intensely. I felt like an idiot. Smooth move, asshole. Way to be the creepy guy down the hall that masturbates to dolls and chokes himself.

Deciding natural was the way to go, I asked, "So, are they saying anything good?" Rolling onto my left side, I looked at her computer screen, trying to relieve the discomfort.

"Not really, just the same old stuff," she said nervously before starting to watch a video onscreen. Following a white wire connected to the laptop, I realized she had earphones in one ear.

"What's the 'same stuff'?" I asked, curiosity getting the best of me, especially when her posture stiffened a little.

"Oh, you know. Same big star couples splitting and hooking up," she laughed nervously and waved it off.

"What couples?"

"The usual ones," she said, pausing and continuing. "That's why I've switched over to YouTube."

I let her change the topic, but was still curious. Typically, I didn't scour the internet for celebrity gossip, but now I really wanted to know.

"Can you turn the sound on?"

She nodded and unplugged the headphones.

We stayed in those positions, watching people who posted their homemade videos; music, pranks, skits, and bloopers. Mia laughed hysterically at some of them and I couldn't hold back on a few. Laughing felt good, like a part of me was missing up until this point.

Then she pulled up videos people had made singing or dancing to my music. She was almost in tears over a forty-something-year-old guy in an excessively small Forgotten t-shirt. This guy sang horribly. I busted into uncontrollable laughter when he smacked his own ass. This shit is rich.

Her smile and laugh were like nothing I'd seen or heard in so long. It was such a different night between us. I don't remember falling asleep, but, apparently, I passed out at some point.

"Christopher? Christopher, honey?"

I opened my eyes, and there she was, my mother. Her dark hair framing her lovely round face and blue eyes mirroring my own; her face so filled with kindness and love. Love for me.

"Mom?"

She smiled and pulled me to her. Resting my head against her chest, her hands were running soothingly through my hair. She smelled like fresh bread and ginger.

"It's okay, baby. I love you," she said, her warm lips pressed to the top of my head.

"Please, don't leave."

"Mom?"

"Mom!"

She was gone.

I woke up with a shudder. This was not a nightmare. This was different.

"Uh…Christopher?" Mia asked, her quiet voice coaxing my damp eyes to look at her.

Our faces were closer than I expected. Blinking a couple of times, I focused on her biting her lip. She was so close, right there. Shit. I have her pinned against me.

"I'm sorry," I gasped the words out quickly, letting go of her.

She half-smiled.

"It's okay," she said, still chewing her lip and looking at me, confused.

"What? I said I was sorry," I snapped, the words holding more venom than I intended. I guess old habits die-hard.

"Yeah, I know. Uh…did you have a nightmare?" she asked, her nerves creasing her brow.

"No."

I waited for the questions to begin, but they never did. Surrendering, I looked over. She had rolled to her other side and pulled the covers over her head. She never does what I expect.

Looking over to the clock beside the bed, I saw it was only five in the morning, and I was wide-awake. It was probably pointless to try to get back to sleep. It will never happen now. The bad will just follow.

Thinking over the new dream I couldn't understand, I tried to make sense of how I was feeling. This wasn't followed by the usual feelings of terror and guilt. Neither of those emotions surfaced, nor did the rage that usually accompanied. I slunk back into sleep wondering, yet again, what it was about her.

Waking up this time, a familiar soft warm scent surrounded me. It was intoxicating. Stretching my arms up, I put my hands behind my head. Looking at the ceiling for a few minutes, I took in how great I felt. Glancing at the clock once again, I saw it was after eleven in the morning. Hell, I can't tell you the last time I slept this long.

A stirring motion brought me out of my reverie. Looking down, I saw Mia curled up next to me, almost buried into my side.  The position left her face available for me to gaze at. Pale skin on her round face, full flesh tone lips, and even with her eyes closed, you could tell they were large and framed by thick dark lashes. Again, she entranced me.

Lying there, I watched her sleep until she whimpered and groaned. I bit back laughter at her lack of desire to wake up. She stretched out like a cat. My humor halted when her hand landed right in my face.

"Oww!" I said, pulling my face back to check my nose.

"Oh shit!" she cursed, rolling over quickly and sitting up to look at me in horror. The laughter resurfaced from the look on her face. She looked petrified and it was hilarious. I couldn't contain it.

"Are you okay?" she huffed. "It's not funny."

I laughed harder and she started laughing, too.

"I'm so sorry, I swear!" she said through spouts of laughter.

The whole situation was just fucking funny, either that or I had finally gone bat shit crazy.

"It's fine," I said. Gasping, I tried to catch my breath.

"No, I shouldn't be laughing. I'm sorry. I didn't expect to be so close to you."

She bit her bottom lip. It was time to admit it. The lip biting was starting to become one of my favorite things to watch her do. She definitely had a habit with that lip.

"I'm fine," I said again, shaking off my current train of thought and sitting up. "What a way to wake up, huh?"

Looking at her, I ran my hand through my disheveled hair and rubbed the back of my neck.

"I really am sorry, I didn't mean to do that, or to wake you up like that," she said, looking at me apologetically.

"You didn't wake me."

After the words came out, I wanted to take them back. I watched her expression change to confusion.

"I mean, I'd just woken up before you, but hadn't gotten up yet," I amended.

She nodded.

We both got out of the bed. My eyes followed her toward her bathroom.

Mia

I'm a complete ass! I can't believe I hit him in the face. While I had desired to hit him a multitude of times over the past weeks, I was still horrified. In my bathroom, I waited to hear my room door shut before jumping into the shower. I prayed the hot water would wash away my humiliation. No such luck.

Drying off and getting dressed. I stepped out to where Kat and Serena were sitting. Kat had her guitar, and Serena had her sticks in her hands.

"The dead have risen!" Serena exclaimed, using her best southern preacher voice.

"Hardy – Har – Har!" I mocked, grabbing a bagel and some orange juice. I looked around the room. "Where is Laney?"

"Getting dressed," Kat replied, strumming her guitar.

"What time do we have to take off?" I mumbled around the food in my mouth. I would be surprised if anyone understood me.

"That's disgusting," Laney said, emerging from her room and looking at me with her face crinkled up. I opened my mouth to show her all of my food. "Jesus, Mia, can you try to be a lady for a second."

I snorted, "Um…no."

Before Laney could say anything else, Una walked into our room with Xander and Tonya flanking her. Kat huffed when her eyes landed on Tonya. I fought back my laugh. Tonya glared at her, and Kat quickly gave her the finger. A snort escaped this time.

"Good morning," Una sang stepping into the middle of the room. "Everyone sleep well?"

We nodded.

"Good," she paused, "Well, let's get going. You have to rehearse. And, Mia, you need to do one more rehearsal with Christopher before we go live with the performance in Chicago. My father's here to observe the rehearsal and give his approval."

Nerves began to flame up all over my body knowing Richard would be sitting in on rehearsals. There was an instant lump gurgling in the pit of my stomach. I so did not want to screw this up. We followed Una to our car.

Richard greeted us as soon as we got to our dressing room. It wasn't the first time he'd heard us play and it wasn't the first time I'd met him. I didn't know why I was getting so nervous. My stomach knotted and butterflies swarmed in. This is stupid, Mia. Calm down!

"Good afternoon, ladies. You all look well," he greeted, smiling brightly, his eyes lingering on Kat.

Once in position onstage, I looked back to the girls, who winked and smiled their encouragement. Serena tapped it out and then we started our rehearsal. Letting the music take over, I became the other Mia; stage Mia. I felt the rhythm consume me as I sang out the lyrics, becoming one with every song we played. One the last note, I heard clapping from the tiny audience. Richard was giving us a standing ovation. I beamed.

The choreographer grabbed me as I walked offstage.

"Mia, did you forget you have to rehearse with Christopher?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I was going to grab some water and wash the sweat off my face. Can I get ten minutes?"

"Okay, but hurry. Stage changeover will be done soon," she shouted at my retreating figure.

Back onstage, Christopher was taking his position. I took my place off to the side. The music started, the lights dropped, and Christopher began to sing. He must have been really stepping up his game with Richard watching because he seemed completely absorbed in the performance.

When I reached his side this time, he turned to me. That was new. I began my part and headed toward the front of the stage with Christopher following closely behind. Two different people began to perform with each other. Drawn toward each other, we sang and got much closer than we had before. When the chorus picked up again, his arm slid possessively around my waist as he locked his eyes onto mine. He sang and I shivered, overwhelmed by intensity burning between us. My skin felt hot, too hot, and oversensitive to his every touch, brush, movement.

The blue flames in his eyes became too much. I had to break away before I exploded from the electricity shooting from his eyes and coursing through my body. I've never felt this exposed, this…close to the edge. With the last chorus, I turned back to the empty seats. His arm didn't release me as easily this time.

"Amazing! Absolutely amazing!" Richard said, approaching the stage. "Christopher, you wrote this?"

"Um…yeah, but Mia worked on it with me for a couple of weeks."

"Fabulous," Richard breathed out. "You have such great chemistry together. It's perfect."

"So, Da-Richard, what do you think about Chicago?" Una asked, appearing at Richard's side.

"I think you should get it all worked out and start it," he commented, turning away from Una, back to Christopher, motioning for him to come. "Christopher, come, talk with me."

Hesitantly, he released my waist. I was more than a little confused by everything. It just didn't make sense. I walked backstage to get ready for the night wondering what it was about Christopher Mason that set my skin on fire.

We were almost ready to go out onstage when Richard appeared in our dressing room. Standing upon his entrance, we greeted him. He walked to each of us and took our hands one by one, lingering a little longer on Kat's. Well that is interesting.

"I just wanted to wish you a great performance tonight," he said, looking at all of us, stopping again on Kat. "I'll be watching tonight from the box and am extremely excited."

As he backed out of our dressing room, we all shot Kat a questioning look. Looks like I wasn't the only one that noticed. She simply shrugged. Shortly after his departure, the stage assistant came back to bring us out to the stage. The concert began.

We were dragging our asses back to the hotel. The night had been intense, and I decided soaking in the tub would calm me down. The audience had been so receptive and was now singing along with a couple of our songs. It was such an amazing feeling when you could see the words you wrote on a crowd's lips.

A knock on the door interrupted my hot water relaxation.

"I'm in the tub," I groaned.

Serena appeared in the doorway looking down on me with skepticism.

"What?" I spat out.

"You have a visitor," she replied, raising her eyebrow.

"Oh," I said, biting my lip. "I didn't realize it was that late. Just send him in, but shut the bathroom door. I'll be out in a few."

She just stood there looking at me.

"Please?"

She scoffed and then took a deep breath through her nose.

"Fine," she growled.

"Thank you," I said, overly sweet. "You're the best sister ever."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she grumbled, closing the door.

I climbed out of the tub and dried off. Looking around, I realized I had only brought my underwear in here with me.

"Shit!" I said aloud at my own stupidity.

"Uh…"

Damn it, he heard me. My face warmed with my embarrassment.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I, um….yeah, I'm fine."

Slipping into my underwear, I grabbed the robe off the back of the door, thanking my lucky stars I had something to put on. Sitting in the bathroom for the rest of the night would be a bit awkward. I opened the door and went to my large duffle bag, locating my last set of clean pajamas – short shorts and a cami. I groaned. Nice.

Looking around, I found a t-shirt and sniffed it. Even though it's wrinkled, it didn't smell. I shrugged, figuring I could throw it on instead of the cami. Christopher's eyes were on me as I went back to the bathroom to get dressed.

Once dressed, I brushed my teeth and hair. Turning off the lights along the way, I made my way to bed. Climbing under my covers, his breathing gave away that he was still awake. I pulled the covers over my head.

Falling asleep was difficult. Restlessness twitched in my limbs no matter how exhausted I was. Christopher's breathing had finally evened out. He had fallen asleep. Lucky bastard.

I shifted to lie on my stomach, hoping the new position would help. It was working. The tension in my muscles slackened, my mind began to drift off, and as soon as dreamland approached, a hand smacked me on the ass.

Chapter Fifteen

Mia

Surprise stilled me for a moment. Listening closer to his breathing, I found that he was still asleep. Slowly reaching down, I picked his hand up and dropped it back to his side. As I was reaching behind me, he shifted and pressed against my side firmly. The hand I was trying to move slipped from my grip as he slid his arm around my waist. I was stuck, wrapped in a Christopher Mason cocoon. Wiggling around, I tried to relieve some of his weight. Holy crap he was heavy.

His hand met bare skin, and I froze. My body pulsated from his touch. Biting my lip to silent the groan on my lips, I shifted again. Finally, I could breathe again. Christopher's weight no longer felt crushing and, thankfully, he hadn't woken up.

Still, I couldn't sleep because my mind and body were too aware of his touch; of his closeness. Irritation pricked at me. There was no way I was going to let him cause this reaction in me. Stealthily slipping out from under his arm, I decided I was thirsty and went to the refrigerator under the bar. I was mid-swallow when the suite door opened, startling me. Kat came into the room.

"Where were you, young lady?" I choked on the water as I spoke, causing Kat to jump.

"Fuck, Mia, what are you doing up?"

"I asked you a question first," I reminded in my best parental tone.

"I couldn't sleep," she admitted, shrugging. "What about you?"

"Yeah right," I said, rolling my eyes. "I was thirsty."

Lie. There was no way I was going to fess up to the fact that Christopher made my libido open her eyes and purr, ready to play. No f-ing way. We studied each other's faces, knowing we weren't being completely honest in our answers. After saying goodnight, I went back to bed.

Christopher had rolled over to the other side. He was twitching and mumbling in his sleep. I didn't know if I should wake him or stay back. What if he was having a nightmare?

Climbing onto the bed next to him, I was startled when his eyes snapped open and the loud gasp left his mouth. I stopped moving. His breathing was ragged as he wiped his face. Feeling my eyes on him, he snapped his head around to where I stood by the bed.

"You weren't here?" he questioned in a whisper.

"I-uh- couldn't sleep," I said, lifting the bottle in my hands. "I got up to get a drink."

I felt horrible, like it was my fault. Putting the water bottle on the nightstand next to the bed, I slid under the covers. His breathing was still erratic and his body was tense.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he whispered.

"Sorry," I whispered back.

"For what?"

"Leaving," I said, barely getting the words out.

"You're not a prisoner," he chuckled in a hushed tone.

I rolled to my side and fell asleep.

Christopher

Jesus, did she really think she had to apologize for my nightmares? It's not her fucking fault they exist. I'm such a douchebag. Rolling over, I could smell her scent. She inhaled deeply, but quietly, her breathing becoming slow and steady, indicating she was asleep.

I don't know what compelled me, but I reached out and touched the hair splayed out over the pillow. It was so soft and warm. As I leaned in closer to her, the scent intensified. The last thing I remember is closing my eyes and deeply breathing her in.

A knock on the door woke me. With a heavy sigh, I opened my eyes to darkness. A flash of panic set in, until I realized it was Mia's hair. Immediately aware of our tangled bodies, I pulled back when the door started to open. Mia stirred. When she started to stretch, I moved my face away so she didn't sock me again.

"Wake up! We have to get going," Kat called, entering the room. "Oh, by the way…I'm borrowing this shirt." She grabbed a shirt from the closet.

"Go away," Mia groaned.

I chuckled.

"Get up. Breakfast is out here, and we're leaving in a few hours. You have to get your bags tagged."

"Tag this."

Laughter erupted from my chest when Mia flipped Kat her middle finger.

"Sorry, sleeping beauty, you're not my type. However, your rock star right there is pretty hot." Kat winked with a devious smile.

"There you go, Christopher," Mia yawned. "An open invitation. Don't you have a thing for blondes?"

I snorted, trying to ignore the stab in my chest at her words. My reputation and preference for blonde-haired women was common knowledge, but for her to push me into another woman's arms hurt. Yeah, I'll fucking admit it.

"I doubt my invitation means anything when he already has an open invitation to your bed."

Mia grabbed her water bottle from the side table and tossed it at Kat. She ducked and ran out laughing. That was my cue to leave. Sliding on my shoes, I looked over to Mia, still buried underneath her blanket. Her comment was still nagging at me when I left her room.

When I got to my room, Doctor J was sitting in the living room.

"Oh shit," I cursed, looking toward the clock. "Is it that late?"

"You're not that late, just a couple of minutes," he reassured with a smile, patting the couch. "Have a seat. I take it you were sleeping?" He gave a small grin.

Nodding, I grabbed some coffee before I made my way to the chair.

"So, how are things going?"

I shrugged.

"Come on, Christopher, you need to give me something or I might as well go."

Putting my head back on the chair, I closed my eyes and wished I were still in bed – with Mia.

"Any new developments or everything pretty much the same?"

Taking a deep breath, I told him about the dream I had of my mother; the non-nightmare of just her and me. He nodded as I spoke. Then I went on to tell him about last night when Mia had gotten out of bed. He kept nodding. No words, nothing insightful, just nods. We sat in silence for a moment before he finally spoke.

"What do you think the dream of your mother was about?" he inquired, sitting back to put an arm on the back of the couch.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "I've never had that one before."

"How did the dream make you feel?"

I groaned. Always about the fucking feelings with this guy.

"I know you hate the feelings question, but humor me."

"I don't know," I said, sipping my coffee. "It felt comforting, I guess. At first anyways."

"At first?" he probed further.

"Yeah, in the end she was gone," I sighed. "And I felt alone."

"Has anything changed lately, I mean on a day-to-day basis?"

I shook my head.

"Hmm…tell me about the past two days, give me as much detail as you can about each day from start to finish."

I was annoyed, but started telling him about my days in detail. He sat quietly, listening and sipping his coffee.

"So, you've actually started to form an amicable relationship with the girls?"

Shrugging, I gave a small nod.

"Well, I can't tell you what your dreams mean; however, I believe you're making some progress in your own head. If you could just let go and talk –"

"Not an option, Doc!" I spat out.

"Okay, well…I'm going to come to Chicago with you so we can talk more the day after your concert."

I looked to him and then at the clock. We had barely made it forty-five minutes.

"I know we're cutting it short, but you have to get on your bus, and we most likely won't get any further today," he said, standing up. "So, I'll let you get going. And, Christopher?"

I looked up to him.

"Think about what I've been asking you to do," he requested, continuing before I could protest. "Just consider it."

Nodding, I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, and one more thing."

I looked to him again, annoyance all over my face.

"Are you sure you've never been in love?"

He left me with a furrowed brow before I could question him, or could give him an answer.

Everyone was on the bus when I climbed on.

"Hey, man," Elliott said without looking away from his handheld video game.

"Hey," I replied.

"Ready for a long trip?" Jackson asked, lounging on the couch with a movie starting on the TV.

"Yeah, sure."

I went back to my bedroom on the bus and got my notebook and guitar. I needed to focus on something aside from dreams, Mia, and head doctors. Obsessing over this shit never made it better. I heard Jimmy snoring from a bunk outside my room, and felt myself get even more agitated. I considered decking him with a pillow but decided against it.

We made one quick stop on the way to Chicago, but other than that, it was straight to the arena for rehearsals. Mia and I rehearsed on the stage one more time before we perform the song live for the first time tonight. Richard had unexpectedly joined us in Chicago, so we both knew how much we had to rock this performance.

Hushed Mentality was on stage, finishing their last song of the night. The Forgotten was standing off to the side of the stage, watching their performance as well as pumping up for our own. Jackson was doing warm-ups on his guitar, ensuring his fingers were agile and loose. Elliott was jumping around, twisting his sticks in his hand and drumming them against anything and anyone in sight. He attempted to come at me but I gave him the fucking death glare.

As soon as the girls took a bow and thanked the crowd, they left the stage. Mia rushed to wardrobe with annoyance on her face as the make-up and hair people were all over her. Roadies swarmed in, setting the stage with our instruments to get us ready. I took a deep breath, jumped up and down a couple of times, cracked my neck, and headed out onto the stage. After hyping up the crowd and introducing The Forgotten, I took my center position on stage. The audience started to cheer and chant. Looking to my left, I saw movement in the shadows. Mia was getting into position.

Elliott did a double tap on his bass drum leading in Jackson and Jimmy on their guitars. The intro transformed into the first riff as my cue to start singing.

A single spotlight illuminated me just as the first note left my lips. The crowd erupted. Mia joined in with her own spotlight. The intensity of her approach rippled over my skin. She started walking toward the front of the stage, beginning her solo verse.

I followed her. We got to the front of the stage, and backed away as rehearsed. Turning back toward each other, I saw her for the first time tonight. Her dark eyes were shining with an intensity so bright, I almost forgot my words. Her hair pulled up loosely at the back of her head with pieces hanging out, framing her face. Her make-up was a little darker, and the dress she was wearing made my stomach flip and my dick twitch.

The black dress reached to the floor and flowed around her body with every movement. A studded belt ran just below her breasts, accentuating her curves, and one strap ran over her left shoulder.

Thankfully we had hit the crescendo of the song, Jackson's solo. I regrouped, got my shit together, and started into the final verse. With my arm tightly wrapped around her waist, I sang the last word and put my forehead against the side of her head. The audience erupted into cheers, chanting our names. I inhaled deeply and tightened my hold on her.

My entire being protested when she pulled away and waved to the crowd, leaving the stage. It took everything in me to let her leave. The cheers and applause faded in my ears as I watched her walk away.

"She won't be on tour with you forever. Oh, and one more thing" I heard as I looked back to Doctor J. "Are you sure that you've never been in love?"

The show must go on. Pulling my shit together once again, I turned back to the crowd, “Hushed Mentality's lead singer, Mia, everyone! Make some fucking noise! She just rocked the shit out of you!” I listened to the crowd break out into another cheer.

“Are you ready to get fucking rocked all over again, Chicago?” I screamed out, just as Elliott started tapping out our next song. We went through our set flawlessly. The crowd was amazing, and we were drenched in sweat. Music always made me ride a euphoric high incomparable to any other. When I was on stage, I was a god. None of the other shit mattered. It was just the music and me.

Walking through the lobby, tons of fans with pictures, posters, t-shirts, and pens in hand, greeted us. They pressed forward through security for autographs.  I was signing the t-shirt on the back left shoulder of a fan, when one of the girls' security guards shouted.

"Step back, young man," his voice boomed and his thick muscled arm pushed back a dark-haired man.

"I know them," he protested, pushing at the guard's arm. "Mia, Serena! We went to school together!"

I was mid-eye roll over the commonly used statement when Mia turned to him.  She called off the guard and pulled the guy into a one-armed hug.  Serena quickly joined them.

My back stiffened. The fans calling out to me faded into nothingness. I watched her pose for pictures and sign a book the guy produced. Is that a yearbook? My hands balled into fists, and the pen in my hand snapped, the ink collecting in the crease of my fingers.

There was laughter and more embracing. No matter how hard I listened, there was nothing that helped me figure out who this guy was.

Half an hour later, our fingers cramped from signing more tits and ass than memorabilia, we headed to the elevator. Serena and Mia were boasting over the stalker fan. Kat and Laney seemed disappointed to have missed him, but all were excited to have a fan they knew. I stood in the corner brooding over their stalker fan. I was fucking pissed and instantly hated the guy. Why, I didn't fucking know, but something about the situation had my stomach in knots.

Once on our floor, the girls disappeared into their room, still conversing over the idiot from the lobby.

"Who the fuck was that?" Elliott growled when we entered our room. Thank fuck I'm not the only one pissed over this shit.

Jimmy chuckled.

"I don't know," Jackson answered, trying to play it cool about the stranger.

I walked directly to the shower.

Thoughts of her having a boyfriend, a lover, or a goddamn fuck-buddy started to fester in my head and eat at me. Was this why I never saw anyone around? Was there some guy back home? The hot water wasn't easing my tension at all. Climbing out, I dried off, and found a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. The image of her fucking that guy wouldn't go away. I released a groan into the empty room. Why the fuck did I care? I'm not fucking her, just sleeping with her.

After the television proved an unsuccessful distraction, I tried sleeping. Before I closed my eyes, I knew it was a mistake, but I just couldn't go there and see her with him. My mind raced back to my session this morning.

"Are you sure that you've never been in love?"

Was that really it…did I have stronger feelings for her than I wanted to admit? No. Is it supposed to feel this way? Who the fuck knows. What is love anyway? As far as I'm concerned, this isn't love. This is irritation because I wanted to fucking sleep, but couldn't stop thinking about Mia fucking this guy. Fuck, now I'm making up boyfriends for her in my head. Get your fucking shit together, Mason. You don't want to fuck her, why shouldn't she be fucking someone else. Not like I haven't had pussy while we've been sleeping together.

Attempting to convince myself that I didn't care who Mia fucked was exhausting. I now had a pounding headache and a stomach in knots. I just wanted to pass the fuck out and not care anymore, about anything. I turned the TV off and closed my eyes, willing myself to shut everything off.

The smell of sulfur filled my nostrils, the taste of sweat and tears on my tongue. Then, there was the fear. The fear was like a dense fog. My mother was lying on the floor in a pool of her own blood. I covered my face with my hands and sobbed. Taking my hands away, it wasn't my mother laying in front of me anymore, but Mia instead. Dropping to my knees, I pulled her lifeless figure into my arms, cradling her and sobbing.

"What have you done?"

I looked up at the voice so familiar yet foreign. It was Mia again, standing over me. She wasn't covered in blood at all. I looked back into my arms, trying to figure out whom I was holding on to, but they were empty. "You're a monster," she screamed before blowing past me and out the door.

"Mia! Wait, please!" It was too late. She was gone.

My body propelled to the end of my bed and the scream of her name echoed against the eggshell-colored walls. My breathing stayed ragged and the vision of Mia were plaguing the back of my eyelids. Her lifeless body, the accusing eyes, the disgust in her voice, all of it was on a constant loop.

Jackson, Jimmy, and Elliott crashed through my door, falling over each other, with panic across their faces. They halted at what had to be a crazed look plastered on my face.

With jerky movements, I grabbed my jeans and pulled them on quickly.

"Christopher?" Jimmy said.

I shook off his hand and stepped toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Jackson demanded, blocking the doorway. I shoved him.

Elliott bound toward me from behind, I'm sure in an attempt to subdue me, but I made it to the door before he caught up.

"Christopher!" Elliott yelled.

I ran. I had to get to her. I needed to make sure. Reaching the hotel room door, I pounded with both fists. Elliott grabbed my arms, pulling me away from the door.

"Calm down, man!" he yelled at me.

"Let. Go!" I growled, trying to shake him off me.

"No fucking way, man!"

"Christopher! Calm the fuck down!" Jackson pleaded, standing in front of me, pressing on my chest with both hands.

"Let. Go!" I growled again.

The door opened, and Laney stood there, a horrified expression spread across her tiny face.

"J-Jackson?"

"Shut the door, Laney" Jackson ordered. "Call my dad."

Then there she was, looking over Laney's shoulder. A tear slipped over her cheek as she looked at the scene before her. Curiosity had morphed into worry and then fear.

Shifting my weight back, I caused Elliott to lose his footing and fall against the wall. Jackson reached for my shoulders.

"Christopher, stop!"

Shoving him out of my way, I forged ahead.

Laney jumped out of my way. Stopping directly in front of Mia, I looked down on her wide fear-filled eyes. Grabbing her arms, I pulled her to my chest, taking us to her room.

"Christopher? Christopher!"

Kicking her door shut once we were inside, I held her tighter to my chest. She was okay.

The doorknob rattled as someone tried to open it. Slamming my hand on the door, I then locked it. With one tight arm still wrapped around her, I leaned against the locked door.

"C-Chris, you…you need to calm d-down," she stuttered.

She was attempting to put on a brave front. I was scaring her and I hated it. It wasn't my intent, but I needed to know she was okay. I had to know, to be near her, to protect her.

My breathing was still as ragged as when I first woke. Closing my eyes, I tried to calm myself. The image was still there. Pulling her along to the bed, I finally released her. Gripping at my hair, I tried to purge the image of her dead body. Mia pulled herself as far from me as she could. With my fists in my hair, I paced the floor at the end of her bed.

"She was there…she was gone…you were in her place," I rambled, trying to explain. "It's my fault…I could've stopped it…why the fuck didn't I stop him?"

Stopping mid-pace, I turned to her and said, "I won't let it happen to you, too." My pacing continued.

"Christopher?"

She had barely spoken loud enough for me to hear her over the yells behind her bedroom door.

I jerked my head to look at her, and she forced a relaxed expression over her face.

"Hey…calm down, okay?"

Sitting down forcefully on the bed, I looked away from the fear on her face. I covered my eyes with my hands and let go of the sobs gripping at my chest and burning my eyes. Tears ran rampantly down my face. I had no control left.

The warmth of her hand on my shoulder sent a wave of relief over me. Climbing onto my knees in front of her, she cupped my face and looked into my eyes.

"It's okay. Just a bad dream," she whispered.

"No, you were there. You were…" I choked on a sob and buried my head in my hands. "She was…she is…He…"

"I'm right here," her voice was gaining volume.

"Christopher! Open the door!" Nicholas was yelling and pounding on the door.

"Just let me break the fucking thing down," Elliott shouted.

"No!" Mia yelled to the crowd behind the door. "It's fine."

"Mia, you need to let us in. You don't know what –"

"It's fine. I'm fine…just shut up! Please?"

"Unlock the door," Doctor J. said.

She moved to stand off the bed, but I grabbed her waist pulling her back down and burying my face into her shoulder.

"Let me unlock the door."

I shook my head. "Don't let him in."

"Nicholas?" she asked, her voice trembling.

I shook my head.

"Jackson?"

I shook my head again.

"The voice I don't recognize?"

She meant the doctor. I shook my head and held her tighter.

"Who is 'him', Christopher?" she asked, but I just shook my head.

Images of him raced through my mind, and I squeezed her tighter.

"Okay, okay," she conceded, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing me back.

"I can't open the door right now, but everything is fine," she yelled back to the door.

"Christopher, please, let us in," Dr. J. requested, his voice muffled by the door.

I shook my head.

"Not right now," she yelled. "Just give me a minute."

"Fuck this. Get me a knife or a fingernail file," Kat demanded.

"Christopher?"

I looked up into her face. There was no fear. There was only sadness and kindness. She cares.

"Are you okay?"

I shook my head slightly.

"Do you want to tell me?"

I didn't move, just stared at her. She chewed on the inside of her mouth.

"She is…and you were…"

The tears started streaming down my face again. I could taste them as they passed my lips.

"I'm right here," she said sternly and took my face into her hands. She looked me directly in the eyes. "I'm fine, you're fine. It was just a bad dream."

Pressing the side of my head to her chest, I could hear her heart beating rapidly. Her right hand stroked my head and the left pressed between my shoulder blades.

Pushing us over so we were lying on the bed, my head still pressed to her chest, I closed my eyes and held her. Her soft, warm, familiar scent filled my senses and calmed me. Her hand ran soothingly through my hair.

"You're fine," I mumbled into her t-shirt.

Mia

I'd expected him earlier and made sure to get Jace out of here before Christopher arrived. Explaining things to Jace would be worse than dealing with Serena. We'd known Jace for years, having met him when I was ten and Serena was twelve. He was like a brother to us.

When Chris finally arrived, he terrified me. Shock and horror rose inside when he started dragging me around. Pacing around the room while mumbling incoherently had my nerves shot. I thought he was going to snap completely. Once I made out what he was saying, I realized he was just as scared, terrified. It had been a dream that brought him here. When the tension left his body and his breathing returned to normal, I knew it wouldn't be long before he was out cold.

The metal clicks came from my door just before the knob turned and Kat entered with a proud smile.

"I told you I could do it," she boasted.

Nicholas and an unfamiliar man rushed in, looking down at the sight of Christopher and me.

"Are you okay?" Serena asked, kneeling by the bed and brushing hair from my face.

"I'm fine," I assured her with a nod.

"Mia, I presume?" the unfamiliar man asked, nodding and smiling at me.

"Yeah," I said, my face warming with my admission.

"I'm Christopher's doctor. Any idea what happened?"

"Not really. I think it was another dream, but…this time he seemed worried or panicked about me."

With a shrug, I moved my hand from Christopher's head to remove some hair that fell into my eye. He startled me when his arm flexed and his hand reached up from my waist to put my hand back on his head.

"I thought you were sleeping," I said, pinching a couple strands of hair and gently tugging.

He shook his head against me.

"I'll check back in on him later today," the doctor sighed and half-smiled at me.

I looked at the clock, my movement causing Christopher to tighten his embrace.

"I'm not going anywhere," I assured. His hold loosened and I was now free to read the time on the clock – 4 a.m.

The doctor looked to Nicholas.

"I'll be in my room. If anything changes, please, let me know," the doctor said. Nicholas nodded and the doctor left the room.

"Come on," Jackson said, grabbing Laney and ushering everyone from the room except for Serena and Nicholas.

"Will you be alright?" Serena asked kissing my forehead.

"I'll be fine," I reassured.

"She's fine," Christopher mumbled.

Serena scowled at him and walked toward the door.

"Mia..." Nicholas said hesitantly, obviously looking for the right thing to say.

"It's okay, Nicholas. I've gotten used to it at this point," I said, trying to laugh freely.

"I just hope he realizes how much you've done for him."

I smiled at Nicholas as he left the room.

Why do I do these things for him? Allow him to use me, to scare me, and then just...ugh. Chris curled up closer into my side. My face flushed hot when I realized the position put his face to my boob. First, it was my ass, now my boobs. I settled down into bed, embracing the situation and the odd comfort I felt with Christopher lying next to me, and closed my eyes.

When I woke, Christopher was gone. Sitting up, I looked around, but he wasn't anywhere. Furrowing my brow, I took my irritation to the shower. That's right, idiot. Used again. Congratulations, you win the dunce cap award.

Once I dried off, I slipped into a pair of boxer shorts and a white tank top. After last night, I planned to stay in bed with the television and my laptop, vegetating. We wouldn't be back on the buses until tomorrow morning and the only real plans I had were to meet Jace later for dinner.

I was completely engrossed in my mind-numbing television and internet addiction when my doorknob turned, breaking me out of my trance. I expected it to be Serena or Laney, but it was Christopher. My eyes widened and I sat up straighter.

"Um…hi," he mumbled from the door.

"Hi."

Suddenly, my lip seemed like the best piece of bubble gum ever.

"Do you mind if I come in?"

"Uh…sure," I said, closing my laptop and sitting Indian style.

As he shut the bedroom door, I saw two brown bags in his hands. He sat on the bed and opened the first one.

"I, uh, got some coffee," he said, handing me a cup without looking at me.

"Thanks," I spoke softly, taking the coffee and pulling off the lid. While blowing on the coffee I saw him from the corner of my eye. He was watching me. "What?"

He dumped the first bag onto the bed. A cascade of regular creamers, flavored creamers, sugar, alternative sugar, and cinnamon packets flooded the space. I smirked and looked up to him with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't know what you put in it," he explained, taking a white box out of the larger brown bag and sitting it on the bed between us. "I got some donuts."

"Thanks," I repeated.

Pouring some vanilla cream into my coffee and then four packs of sugar, I felt Christopher's eyes on me. Ignoring it this time, I sat back against the headboard and sipped the coffee. This was…different.

It was quiet for a while.

"Christopher –"

"I need to tell you," he said in a rush of breath.

I clamped my mouth shut and chewed on my ever-so-delicious lip again. Curiosity swallowed me up, and I wanted to know what he was going to say.

"Mia, I...I don't know where to start," he muttered, running his hand through his hair and setting his coffee on the table next to the bed. His nervousness drowned out my curiosity.

I put my right hand on his left bicep, and he froze.

"Start where you want."

The words came out quieter than I'd intended, but he heard me. I started to slide my hand away, but he grabbed it and held it. I didn't pull away.

Chapter Sixteen

Christopher

When her hand touched my arm, there was the instant reprieve. She began to pull the hand away, but in that moment, I needed her touch more than anything. Holding her hand in place, I didn't release my worried breath until I was sure she wasn't going to move.

"I-I'm sorry about last night," I mumbled, looking down at her hand. The black nail polish was starting to chip from the tips of her fingers.

"It's –"

"No, it's not okay," I insisted, still unable to look into her eyes as I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I scared you."

Finally getting my balls back, I shifted my eyes to hers and grasped her hand with both of mine.

"I need you to know I wasn't going to hurt you. I would never…I…" I stammered, pausing and lifting one hand to run it through my hair.

"You know I have dreams," I said, my eyes finding hers once more.

"Nightmares," she spoke softly, nodding without breaking eye contact.

"Yeah, nightmares," I sighed. "I know Nicholas told you about--"

Before I could finish what I was saying, she grabbed my hand with both of hers, looking at me with reassurance.

"About before I came to live with him," I finished after a moment.

She nodded and started chewing on her lip again.

"Last night I had a nightmare, but this time," I said, my chest tightening at the memory. "This time you were there and you were…hurt."

My eyes found the bed again. I couldn't look at her, afraid of the emotion I would see in her eyes at my admission. When her hand squeezed mine, I reflexively raised my eyes to her. She half-smiled with understanding. Using her willingness to listen, I continued on.

"I had no right to…to just barge in and…do what I did last night. I can't even tell you how sorry I am for all the hell I've put you through; the comments, the looks, the fucked up arrangement at night," I said, swallowing hard.

"My nightmares…..they….well…" I floundered, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to relieve some of the tension building in my shoulders. "They involve that night when I lost…"

My throat tightened and I couldn't finish. Get your shit together, Mason.

"You don't have to talk about it," she said, squeezing my hand and scooting closer. Her eyes weren't just full of compassion, but pity as well. God, I hate that she fucking pitied me.

"That's where you're wrong," I snorted. "Everyone thinks I need to…and to be honest…I'm starting to agree, but –"

"Don't do it until you're ready," she said, making my eyes detour to her mouth as she smiled easily. "And you definitely don't have to explain to me."

"The thing is, I don't think I could…tell anyone else."

My eyes dropped back to the mattress as her body tensed. Here it comes. She's going to tell me to fuck off and walk out the door. Going to leave me when I'm about bare my fucking soul.

"Well then…I'll listen."

I jerked my head up to look back into her eyes. Did she really just fucking say that? Determination set in her hazel eyes. She tightened her hold on me once more. I couldn't fucking believe it. She was going to stay, was going to listen. Should I have really expected any less from the person who never does what I expect her to do? I swallowed my nerves and apprehension.

"I was eleven when my…when she was…when she died."

"Your mother," she stated as fact, not question. I nodded anyhow.

"My fath-stepfather…"

Rage began bubbling in my chest, images flashing in my head.

"Was the cause," she finished. Again a fact, not question. I nodded to confirm.

"He was angry because I wasn't his son, among other things," I said, inhaling deeply and blowing out the large nervous breath. "He'd known for years, but it all came to a head over time."

As I blinked back the moisture in my eyes, my next words poured from my lips. "It was meant for me."

Her small gasp almost snapped the control I had over my tears. I took a deep breath, attempting to rein the emotion in once more.

"He meant to hurt you?" This time it was a question. All I could do was nod.

"She…she protected me," I whispered, tears falling over my cheeks. I couldn't step them, no matter how hard I tried. No matter how hard I told those fuckers to rein in, there was no stopping them. "She saved me."

The sob tore through my unwilling chest and throat like scissors through paper. Using both hands, I buried my face in my palms. The images flashed behind my eyelids, and his shouting echoed in my ears. All the blood, it was everywhere. The sobs intensified as I rocked back and forth. My chest tightened as that night played out in full perspective.

It took me a moment to realize she'd wrapped her arms around me. Holding my back to her chest, she rocked with me, allowing me to carry on. Overcome by the relief her presence provided, I turned in her arms. Wrapping mine around her waist, I pulled her closer. She shifted and laid us back onto the bed. My head was against her chest, my arms around her waist, and her arms around my shoulders. When she began stroking my head, I started to calm enough to continue.

"He told me it was my fault; that I should've never happened and it was supposed to be me," I choked, squeezing her tightly. She squeezed back, and her reassurance relaxed me.

"Then, he started holding her after he…"

The rage start to boil again in the pit of my stomach, and my jaw tightened.

"Shhh…you don't have to say anything else," she hushed me, her right hand stroking my hair. Her left hand lay on the side of my face. My tears dampened her palm.

"I killed him."

"I know. It's okay," she said quietly.

"I don't fucking regret…"

I broke off. I'd taken a man's life. The man I'd seen as my father for years. Yet, I felt nothing but satisfaction for doing it. I was a monster.

"I'm fucking glad the bastard–"

"It's okay."

Anger rose within me. Leaning on my elbow, partially hovering over her body, I looked at her face. Her eyes were full of confusion.

"How is it okay to fucking kill someone and not care? What kind of monster does that make me?!" I shouted, making her flinch, but the fear quickly dissolved.

With both hands on the sides of my head, she pulled me closer to her.

"You were only a boy, Chris. He took the person you loved most away from you. He betrayed you. You didn't betray him."

Dropping my forehead to her chest, I inhaled deeply. The scent of her tamed my anger.

"It was my fault. It should have been me, not…her," I gasped, tears streaming over my nose, absorbing into her t-shirt.

"Do you think she would say that?" she asked, her hands running rhythmically through my hair. "It shouldn't have been anyone, but that wasn't your fault."

"It's my fault he's dead," I spoke harsher than intended.

"He would've killed you. You protected yourself, which is exactly what she would have wanted."

She talked as if she knew exactly what my mother would say and feel. I didn't deserve her, didn't deserve all she had done for me. Waves of emotions washed through me.

We fell silent.

I'm not sure how long we laid there in silence or when exactly I'd fallen asleep, but I woke later from a peaceful, dreamless sleep. I opened my eyes to see Mia sleeping next to me – my arms around her like she was a child's stuffed bear.

As I leaned up to take in her peaceful face, her hand slid from my head. Brushing a few strands of hair from her face, I got lost in her features again. Her lips, her skin, her neck. I ran my fingers lightly across her cheek. She was so soft. Without thinking, I skimmed my fingers over her lips.

Knocking on the door causing me to pull back, I quickly laid back down, closing my eyes.

"Mia, we need –" Laney began as she entered the room, but quickly fell silent.

With the sound of soft steps, I was sure she had turned and left. Curiosity finally won. I turned my head and opened my eyes. She hadn't left. In fact, she was sauntering over with a huge smile. The moment her eyes met mine, her smile morphed into a smirk.

"What?" I whispered.

"Nothing," she replied, shrugging. Grinning mischievously, she disappeared into the closet. Reappearing a few minutes later with some clothes, she set them out.

Laney walked over to Mia's side of the bed.

"Mia!"

"What?" she grumbled.

"We have to get ready for dinner, remember? You need to get up," Laney reminded, nudging her arm.

Mia groaned and started to stretch. The length of her body pressed against mine, warm and inviting. Her eyes flew open, snapped to me, and then took in our position.

"Shit, sorry," she muttered and rolled away quickly.

Fighting my groan of disappointment, I sucked on my lips to stop any verbal protests. Instead, I shrugged.

"Come on, Mia. We're gonna be late," Laney said, throwing the clothes at her before walking toward the door.

Were they having dinner with someone?

"You've got about thirty minutes to get ready," Laney yelled over her shoulder and exited the room.

"Damn it! I can't believe I slept that long," Mia groaned, dragging herself toward the bathroom.

As soon as I heard the muffled sound of water spraying, I left.

Once out of the hotel room, I took a deep breath. My stomach churned, and the tension I was experiencing wasn't normal after having slept so well. I needed Doctor J. Something felt off, fucking wrong.

As soon as my feet hit the hallway, I called him, letting him know I was on my way. He was only a few floors down so I didn't have much time for notice. When he answered the door, he was in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and bare feet. Casual Doc was new.

"Come in," he invited and motioned for me to enter. Taking a seat in a chair, I slouched back as my leg began to bounce nervously.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, eyeing me closely.

"About this morning –" I ran my hand through my hair.

"Don't worry about this morning; just tell me what's going on," he encouraged, his eyes never leaving me while he sat across from me.

Sighing, I leaned forward.

"I had a typical dream, but this time Mia was a part of it."

"Christopher, what is a typical dream?" he asked, leaning toward me.

"I – I…Shit!" I erupted, putting my head in my hands.

"It's okay," I heard the frustration in Doctor J's voice.

"I talked to her," I mumbled without looking up.

"You told her? You opened up and told her about that night?" he probed, not bothering to hide his disbelief or excitement.

"Sort of," I exhaled.

"Can you explain 'sort of' to me?" he asked, the chair creaking as he settled back.

"Nicholas had already told her what I'm sure he told you, so she already had an idea. I just included some unknowns."

His mouth opened, but stopped him before he could speak.

"I didn't talk about the whole night," I admitted, still unable to look into his face.

"I see," he sighed. "Well, it's a start. A good start."

I sighed.

"I know you hate this, but can you tell me about your emotions right now?"

"They're the same," I groaned loudly and my stomached churned, contradicting my statement.

"Christopher," he said, not buying it.

"Christ! Look, I'm not sure how I'm feeling, okay?" I said, slouching back in my seat and finally looking at him.

"About…about her knowing?" he asked. I couldn't speak. Instead, I shook my head. "What about then?"

"I'm not sure. I just have this nervous feeling."

Laying my head on the back of the chair, I shifted my eyes from him.

"And, then, this tension was looming over me. I've never felt this after sleeping."

"When did you get nervous? After your dream, after you spoke to her, after you woke up?"

"I thought she would take off running or be terrified after we talked, but she wasn't. She never does what I think she will," I said, the confession feeling surprisingly good to verbalize.

"Okay, so what did you say when you left to come here?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"She was getting ready to go to dinner with someone when I left," I said with a shrug.

The intensity of his examination started to make me fidget.

"Someone?"

"Yeah, she and the rest of the girls are going out with some guy tonight," I said as my stomach tightened again. I swallowed back the lump forming in my throat.

"Are you feeling well?"

"I'm fine."

"Uh huh," he said quietly. We sat in silence for what felt like an hour. "I want to propose something."

Lifting my head, I looked warily at him.  There was something in his eyes making me cautious.

"What?" I raised an eyebrow.

"I want to try to talk about that night," he suggested, raising a finger to stop my argument. "I want you to bring Mia here with you."

"Are you fucking crazy?!"

"Christopher, you trust her, she comforts you. It seems to be the only thing that helps you deal. If she's here then maybe you can relax enough to talk about it."

"Fuck no!" I snapped, standing from the chair and preparing to leave.

"Sit down!" he said, the tone of his voice stopping me. I'd never heard him angry.

"Christopher, at first, we'll try with her in the same hotel room. If that doesn't work, we can bring her into the same room. This way, if you feel too vulnerable or feel out of control, she can help."

"There's no way I'm using her like that. It's bad enough she already puts up with –"

"She cares about you," he said, his words not only cutting off my argument, but stirring something else inside of me. My body collapsed back into the chair.

"What?" I asked, my voice breathier than I intended.

"If she didn't care, Christopher, she wouldn't do what she's doing. You don't see that?" he asked, his questioning look making me uncomfortable.

I opened my mouth but closed it again, unsure of what to say.

"I'm going to cross a very fine line right now, but I just don't know what else to do with you," he admitted, taking a deep breath. I braced myself for what he was going to say.

"Christopher, you have feelings for Mia. You care for her, deeply. I won't say love, but you definitely feel something more than just security and comfort. Everything you've been doing is showing all the signs –"

"You've lost your fucking –"

"You aren't going to admit it to yourself because that means someone else you care about can be taken away from you," he continued, pausing before he spoke again. "Christopher, let's just try my idea, and if it doesn't work then fuck it. We stay with our current method and hope you make more progress."

He sat back in his chair. I couldn't hold back my chuckle from his use of the word fuck. After staring at each other for a couple of minutes, I broke.

"Fine," I conceded, shaking my head and standing up to leave the room. "Only if she agrees to it."

Jackson, Jimmy, and Elliott were sitting around the living area of the room. All their heads turned to me when I walked in.

"Well, hello there," Elliott spoke first.

"Hey," I mumbled, walking into my room.

Stripping along the way, all I wanted was the shower. It only took five minutes before someone broke into my solitude.

"Hey, man, we're going to head down to the bar for some food and beers. You coming?"

"Yeah, sure. Can you give me fifteen?"

"Cool."

"Hey, Jackson!"

"Yeah man?"

"I'm sorry about –"

"No worries, brother," he replied and shut the bathroom door.

Stepping out of the shower, I took a long look at myself in the fogged mirror. Did she care about me? Did I care about her? Shaking away the plaguing thoughts, I got dressed. Ten minutes later, I was slipping on my shoes and stepping out of my room.

"Let's roll! I'm fucking starving!" Elliott shouted, practically running out our door.

Guilt reared its ugly head. I ran and caught up to Elliott at the elevator doors.

"Elliott, man, I'm sorry about –"

"Dude, shut the fuck up! I do not do Doctor Phil moments," he said, sticking his fist out with an expectant look. I bumped my fist to his. "See, now we're solid."

He smiled widely and took heavy steps onto the elevator. I didn't deserve their forgiveness so easily. It wasn't the first time they had to deal with my shit, and yet here they still were. Having my back, no matter what kind of shit I threw their way.

We were sitting around a table watching Elliott and Jimmy play pool when the sound of singing filtered into the bar from the lobby. We all looked at each other.

"What the hell –" Elliott laughed, breaking off his exclamation.

I followed his gaze, seeing the girls enter the bar. Arm in arm and singing loudly, they strolled toward the bar. Guess they decided to tip the bottle back early. At least they were in key.

"Now let me get this straight,

Put the lime in the coconut, you drank them both up"

They burst out into laughter when they reached the bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elliott move. He reached them and quickly wrapped his arm around Serena. Mia walked over to the antique jukebox and turned on some music. She turned around very dramatically and faced Laney, giving her a come-hither wave of her finger. Laney sauntered over just as Mia started to sing along to the song theatrically. Once Laney reached her, Mia broke out into the goofiest fucking dance move I had ever seen. Laney and Mia both laughed out. I couldn't help the small chuckle that snuck past my lips. My thoughts reverted to Doctor J's comments about me having feelings for Mia.

Did I like her? Sure, I guess. I didn't not like her, I suppose. There wasn't much not to like about her. Are my feelings stronger than like? I don't…

"He's such an ass," Jackson said breaking me out of my thoughts. He motioned his head to Elliott flamboyantly singing. I nodded in agreement and pulled my water glass to my mouth. Elliott walked back over to the table, grabbing his beer and smiling from ear to ear.

"Are you seriously ditching our game?" Jimmy asked disbelief.

"Dude, see that amazing hot ass chick waiting for me over there?" he responded, pausing for effect. "Now take a look at you."

He paused again.

"I think you should now have formed the correct response to your absurd questioning."

"True," Jimmy agreed with a nod. "It would take her being drunk to get with your ugly ass."

Jimmy laughed and plopped into the seat next to me. Jackson and I laughed out.

"Not one of them is drunk, you stupid fucks," Elliott said with a wink.

"Are you serious?"

The three of them turned and looked at me as if it were the first time I'd ever spoken. Elliott shook his head.

"Yeah, I'm serious. They just like to have a good time without worrying about what people think. Something that you," he pointed directly at me, "Mister Emo-Boy, should give a try."

He smiled and headed back, taking Serena and Kat under his arms.

"He's right," Jackson said, looking at me. I glared.

"What?" he asked.

"He's right?" Jackson repeated.

"It's true, dude. You need to lighten the fuck up,” Jimmy chimed in. He smacked the back of my head and left the table.

"Well, fuck me if I'm going to sit here with you when I could be over there," Jackson said, punching my shoulder and chuckling.

Finishing my water, I headed up to the bar for another when I felt a presence next to me. Looking down to my right, my eyes landed on Serena, who was giving me an intense, despising look. The fuck I do to her?

"Can I help you?"

"Don't you dare hurt her."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she asserted, poking me hard in my chest before turning away. I was starting to get really fed up with people shoving me around.

Looking up, I locked eyes with Mia. She smiled warmly and then looked away. My chest tightened up. I wanted her to look back at me again. Growling at myself silently, I shook it off.

We headed back to our rooms. When we reached the girls' hotel room, Laney wrapped her arm around mine and pulled me into the suite with her. She sat on the couch and pulled me down next to her.

Everyone sat around while Laney set up iPods for the 'Name that Song' game. Laney had decided she would set everyone up with a partner. Serena and Elliott, Jimmy and Kat, and then she put Mia and I together. I looked to Mia. She didn't seem bothered by it.

I needed to stop overanalyzing this shit. Everything was fine until Doctor fucking J, head shrink extraordinaire, decided to put in his two cents about caring and shit. No one asked for his fucking opinion. Now I feel like a tool. Any time Mia is around, I start thinking about my feelings and shit; if she cared, if she felt something I was missing. Over fucking analyzing. Making sand castles out of air.

I decided to shake it off. Mia didn't look uncomfortable, so I wouldn't be either. Laney began the game while sitting on Jackson's lap – deeming him the tiebreaker judge. Mia and I were a force to be reckoned with. She was good, and we complemented each other well. I wasn't big on hip-hop or rap, and she didn't have the classical background knowledge I did. In the end, we dominated.

Soon, the beers and the late hour had gotten to everyone. Two by two, they started to dwindle off to bed. Jackson took Laney with him by piggyback. Elliott quickly followed Serena to her room, without invitation. Jimmy disappeared, as did Kat. I didn't see them go together, but I assumed.

Mia stood and walked into her room. I got up from the couch not knowing what to do. I fidgeted for a minute wondering if I should go back to my room or just jump in her bed. I didn't want to be presumptuous and just take her shit over, charge in as if I own the place.

"You coming?" she asked, breaking through my inner debate. I didn't say anything. "I'd prefer not to be woken up at two, three, or four in the morning if you don't mind."

I tensed and scowled until I heard her laugh lightly. She was teasing me.

I walked into her room and quickly realized I didn't have anything to change into. I stood there slightly awkwardly and watched her walk into the bathroom. Fuck it. I stripped down to my boxers and climbed under the covers. Ten minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom and slid in next to me. My body twitched all over to get closer to her. I brought my hands up behind my head to prevent them from reaching out.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice hushed but loud enough to make me jerk in her direction.

"Uh…yeah."

Nothing else was said. Instead of falling quickly asleep, I found my mind wandering, once again, back to the doctor and his oh-so-amazing words of wisdom. I wondered how she was going to react to sitting in one of my sessions with me. If she was finally going to tell us all to go fuck ourselves.

Mia's warm body pressed firmly against me, tearing me from my thoughts. She draped her arm over my chest and wrapped her leg around my waist. Her face pressed into the crook of my neck. Her warm breaths tickling my skin told me she was asleep. My cock stirred at her warmth. Everywhere she touched burned as if tiny fireworks were erupting from my nerve endings.

Angling my head, I looked down at her. Instead of sleeping, I got lost in her again. By the time I was finished watching her sleep, I think I'd memorized every line, curve, freckle, the exact spot of her nose piercing, the small v- shaped scar near her hairline, and any other mark on her face. Wrapping my arms around her, the calm and ease rushed over me. Like the addict I am, I overdosed on her.

Chapter Seventeen

Mia

Waking up next to Christopher wasn't something new. However, this morning I woke up wrapped around a half-naked Christopher. Our bodies pressed into each other, my palm resting flat on his tattooed chest, inner thigh pressed firmly against his extra band member. Oh, Holy Baby Jesus, he was sporting morning wood. It was overwhelming; his scent, the physical contact…the size of him. It has been too long. My body peaked to attention as my libido did a happy dance, thinking the drought was over.

His left arm snugly wrapped around me, his hand flat against my lower back, his fingertips grazing the band of my pajama shorts. As I tried to slide away slowly, praying he wouldn't wake up and see me draped across him, he tightened his hold and rolled so we were chest to chest. My hard nipples rubbing against his hard chest caused me to gasp.

Suddenly, he rolled bringing my leg up over his hip. My lady-boner firmly pressed against his erection and I almost wept. In joy, in pleasure, in pain and torture…I didn't know. But, my libido was ready to dance around his pole, complete with crotchless panties and stilettos. I could have him right now if I wanted. Strip him down, run my lips along his long, hard…I shook my head, these thoughts weren't doing any good. Focus, Mia!

When his right hand slid further down, now partially on my butt, I took deep calming breaths. Inhaling his scent did nothing but fuel the fire already burning an inferno inside of me. The heat built between our bodies. I had to fight from pushing forward and grinding against the large erection winking at me less than an inch away, taunting me with its presence and promises of orgasms. I mentally slapped a chastity belt on and ignored my urges.

Biting my lip, I started to pull away. When I lifted my leg, his lower body shifted forward. I gasped. Oh, holy motherfucker, that feels way too good. All of my inner turmoil flew out the window. His eyes fluttered open and widened. He looked down at me, but didn't move. I couldn't speak, afraid of what may actually come out of my mouth. Apparently, he couldn't either.

"Mia!" Serena shouted from the other side of the door.

We both jumped and our bodies smacked against each other in all the right places. Fuck! I'm going to have a bitch of a case of blue lady-lips. Both of us gasped and rolled away from each other.

"Yeah?" I called in a shaky voice, sitting up on the edge of my bed, my thighs seeking out friction against each other.

"We need to get ready to go."

"Okay," I yelled, walking straight to the bathroom. It took every ounce of restraint I had not to run back to Christopher and hump his leg, among other things.

Thoroughly showering, applying two layers of lotion, brushing my teeth twice, and actually doing my hair, I killed as much time as possible in the bathroom, hoping that he bolted from my room first chance he got. I walked out of the bathroom and sighed in relief that he had indeed followed our routine. Once dressed, I started bagging and tagging my things.

There was a knock at my door. I turned to see Una standing with Christopher's doctor.

"Hey," I half-smiled.

"You all ready for Cleveland?" Una asked, entering with the doctor close to her side. I nodded.

"What's up?"

"Good morning, Mia. I'm Doctor J. We briefly met the other night," he said, shaking hands with me. "I'd like to speak with you for a minute, if that's okay."

"Um...sure, I'm about done here so just –"

"Xander will finish it up for you, Mia," Una offered, smiling as Xander quickly came in. I smiled at him.

"Okay…well, where would you like to talk?"

"Here's fine," he replied, motioning around the hotel room. Nodding slowly, I sat down on the bed.

Xander and some of the crew grabbed my bags, closing the door behind them.

"So, Mia," he began.

"Yeah?" I responded, chewing on my lip.

"I've been trying to work on getting Christopher to talk about the night that haunts him, among other things."

I nodded in understanding.

"What I would like to do is have you there during one of his sessions. Do you –"

"Whoa…wait a minute. Aren't those supposed to be private or something?"

"I think that private between you and Christopher passed some time ago," he said, offering a smile and a light chuckle.

"Good point," I mumbled as warmth crept over my neck, chin, and cheeks.

"Christopher has already agreed to having you there, but only if you're willing, of course. Are you willing?"

"Do I have to do anything?" I asked nervously.

"Just whatever it is you do now," he said with a smile. "Listen, at first we're just going to have you close by. If necessary, we'll have you join the session. Obviously, you seem to calm him, so I'm hoping it's enough to get him to open up a little. I believe this will be the first big step for him, if it works."

Silently, I sat thinking about it.

How did I get into this? Oh, I know…the asshole carried me, sleeping, into this. I'm going to kill him. I took a deep breath, hoping it would clear some of the nervousness and tension from my body. I'll just feel like shit if I don't agree, and even if they attempt this without me, I'm sure I'll just have another frantic visit to diffuse.

"Okay," I agreed, my voice was just above a whisper.

"Wonderful," he said, standing. "Thank you, Mia. I think this will be good for him."

Hesitantly nodding again, I half-smiled.

"Mia, can I ask something without you being terribly angry?"

Looking up at him, I furrowed my brow.

"Sure," I answered reluctantly.

"Do you care about Christopher?"

My mouth fell open. How…why…would he think…? Maybe because you sleep with Christopher every night even after all his crap. Maybe because you step into crazy situations to help him.

"That's what I thought," he said, smiling without waiting for my answer.

"I didn't say –"

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything. You do realize it's okay to care about him?"

I stayed silent. He chuckled.

"You two are definitely an unusual pair. Well, just so you know, there seems to be some sort of connection with you two regardless of the other stuff," he commented with a smile. "I'll probably have his next session in Cleveland, so I'll try to work something out with both your schedules while we're there, okay?"

I nodded and he left. Throwing myself back on the bed, I released a large puff of air. The shit I get myself into.

Christopher

Waking up in the compromising position was slightly shocking, but mostly pleasing. My head screamed to let go of her since she was clearly trying to pull away. My body, on the other hand, locked up and screamed to roll her over and drill into her until she screamed my name.

My body was close to winning the internal battle until Serena caused a completely different effect. We both jumped and the friction was almost too much. If she hadn't scrambled to the edge of the bed so quickly, I would have definitely followed my body's demand for her.

Being around her after that little episode would have been more than fucking awkward. So, I did what I do best. Evade and run like hell, ignoring my body telling me to run in the bathroom, press her against the tiled wall, and have my dirty way with her. I received some confused looks from Kat and Laney when I exited shirtless.

We were halfway to Cleveland when the doctor called me.

"Hello?"

"Hey," he responded. "I wanted to let you know that we'll be scheduling a session together in Cleveland, and Mia will be joining us, okay?"

I was silent for a moment.

"She agreed?"

"Of course she did. I told you she would."

"Okay, thanks."

We said our goodbyes and hung up.

She really agreed to this.

We ended up meeting the day after we'd gotten to the hotel in Cleveland. I arrived to the room first, and Doctor J ushered me in. I took a seat.

"How are you feeling today?"

"No, how are you today, Christopher? No, how was your trip? Always straight in with emotional bullshit.” I remarked, slouching back into the soft couch cushions. I was starting to get nervous, really fucking nervous. Like I'm about to whip my cock out on stage. That kind of nervous bordering on petrified.

He laughed.

I tried to get comfortable, but knew this was going to be hard, really hard. In fact, I don't think I can do this. The door opened, and the doc greeted Mia. He motioned her in. She was chewing on her lip again. Sighing, I forced a smile when she glanced in my direction. Her nervous smile brought guilt into the fucked up mess of my emotions. The doctor showed her into the other room and then settled down in a chair across from me.

"Okay, this is going to be hard, and I realize that, but I think it'll be good," he said with a slight nod, smiling at me. "Let's start off slowly, though. Tell me about your mother."

"Her name was Margaret, and I look a lot like her," I offered with a shrug.

"Go on," he pushed. I shrugged again.

"Christopher, you have to try here. Tell me about the relationship with your mother. What do you remember from your childhood?"

"I remember her laugh," I spoke quietly. "She was funny and always happy."

"Continue," he pushed again.

"She used to chase me around and tickle me, used to have me help her bake, and she always ran her fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head for no reason."

Pausing, I tried to avoid the tears threatening to push past my lids. Taking a deep breath, I continued to talk about what a great mother she was, how much I loved her, and how much love radiated from her.

"Good. She sounds like she was a wonderful mother and woman, Christopher. You are very lucky."

His words angered me. Fire burned in my chest.

"Lucky? How am I fucking lucky? She's fucking dead!"

"Yes, but you had her in your life. You got to experience her greatness and keep it alive in you."

Still disgusted with his comment, I diverted my eyes to the wall behind him.

"Tell me about Colin, before it got bad. Was he always a difficult man?"

"No," was all my anger would allow me to say.

"I know you hate him now, Christopher, but please think back to when you didn't. Trust me, it will be okay," he said, trying to reassure me. Fat fucking chance. Talking about Colin was never a good thing.

"Fine," I spat. "He was, at one point, the ideal father; baseball, football, the whole nine yards. Always into the father-son shit."

"Okay, when did it change?"

"I was around seven, I guess."

"What changed?"

"Look, he knew I wasn't his biological son. I didn't know until I was around six. That's when they had an argument and I overheard what he was saying," I said, drawing a deep breath. "My mother was pregnant."

"Your mother had another child?"

"Yes, but it died at birth or something. I didn't exactly get told the details," I said, shrugging again.

"So, what happened?"

"They grieved."

"How did they grieve?"

"Colin became angry. My mother and I became closer."

"Explain the anger, please."

"He started drinking a lot and they argued more, but it wasn't too bad. Then he lost his job at the bank because of his drinking, and things got worse. He started verbally abusing my mother; calling her a whore, calling me a bastard, telling her she caused the death of the baby. Shit like that," I continued, clenching my fists.

"When did it turn physical?"

"My mother got a job to pick up where Colin was lacking. After he found a job, it wasn't enough, so she kept working, but only part time. He didn't like it and kept trying to force her to quit. She wouldn't."

My nose flared as I deeply inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm the anger.

"I was about nine years old when I saw her bruised for the first time. She tried to say she hurt herself by accident, but eventually I realized he was doing it to her."

My body started shaking with anger, and Doctor J could see it, too, because he stopped questioning me. Sitting quietly, he waited for me to get myself under control. I was shaking my leg, and my knuckles were bone white.

He finally broke the silence and pulled me from the images starting to seep into my head.

"Christopher, do you want to stop?"

I couldn't answer.

"Christopher?"

Shaking my head ‘no', my body started to go into the frenzy of feelings. I could see her. My mother was lying on the floor in her own blood. The rage was coming. I slammed the palms of my hands onto the table and clutched the edge, trying to stop it, but I couldn't. Rocking, the tears that I had tried so hard to contain rolled over my cheek to the edge of my lips. I brought my hands to my face and roughly wiped them away.

"Fuck! This is why I don't want to talk about it!"

Screaming through my hands, I dug my fingernails into my scalp at my hairline. A cocoon of comfort wrapped around me and a hand was on my head.

"Shhh," she whispered.

As if she was some sort of magnet, I leaned my head onto her, wrapping my arms around her.

"It's okay," she whispered.

The doctor watched the exchange between us, but I didn't care. She was here and she helped.

"Can you continue?" he asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I nodded.

"Are you sure?" she whispered to me.

"Just don't leave. Don't leave me," I said quietly, and her embrace tightened. Sitting upright, she scooted next to me holding my hand.

"Okay, whenever you're ready to continue," Doctor J spoke softer than before.

"It started happening almost every night. Her begging him to go to bed, or her screaming because he'd hit her, scared her, or broke something."

I paused and Mia leaned against me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. Her cheek pressed to my shoulder as she laced our fingers together. Looking down at our entwined hands, I finally centered myself. I continued.

"Then, he became more physical with me, shoving me and smacking me in the head. My mother wouldn't stand for it, but he would just attack her, too. If I intervened, he would toss me into a closet and lock me in until she would come for me."

A sob broke through my lips. Mia ran her hand in circles on my back. I looked over at her, and saw tears running over her cheek.

"Can you tell me about that night?" Dr. J pushed, and the image flashed.

My hands tightened to fists. When Mia flinched away from me, I realized I'd been squeezing her hand too tightly. Releasing her hand, I pulled her to me, hoping she wouldn't leave after I hurt her.

She pulled away. Panic and defeat begin to fill my chest, until she slid behind me on the couch. She wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my chest. With her face pressed to my back, I took a deep breath and laid my hand on top of the one she placed over my heart.

"My mother and I were watching television together when he got home. It was something we did every night before I went to bed. When she heard him come in, she pulled me closer and wrapped her arms around me, kissing my head. I felt so safe in her arms, so comforted, loved. I could deal with anything we went through as long as I had her next to me, always. She was my rock, my best friend…my only friend it seemed like. She was my world.

“We sat quietly and I had started to nod off, listening to the sound of her steady heartbeat as my head lay on her chest. There was a crash in the kitchen that jerked me awake. I spun around and looked into my mother eyes. I don't know what I was hoping to find, but I saw fear flash through them. I didn't know what set him off, all I knew was that she was scared. In turn, I was scared. He started screaming and stormed into the living. There was fire in his eyes, like the depths of hell resided in his soul.”

I could feel myself trembling. I felt like I was stuck in my living nightmare. The visuals were slipping through my mind so clearly, it was like it was happening all over again.

Mia's embrace tightened.

"Without warning, he grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away from my mother. She screamed for him to stop, but he shoved her back down onto the couch, screaming, “Don't you fucking move, bitch. I'm not fucking done with you.” I was terrified, trying to figure out a way to stop him. He stalked back toward me. I wanted to run, to yell, to punch him, something. But, I couldn't, I was frozen in that moment. All I kept thinking was he was mad at me, if I went away maybe he wouldn't hurt her.

He grabbed me by the back of my neck and shoved me out of the room. I fell, but he wasn't deterred. He picked me up by the arm, and dragged me to my room, the whole time yelling, “You're a fucking mistake. How could either of you think I could ever love a bastard son? You don't deserve the air you breathe, the money it takes to feed you. You are nothing!”

Mia's whimper momentarily wrenched me from my memories. Tears were pouring down my face, and hers. Reaching around, I grabbed her arm and pulled her to my right. With her legs still on either side of me, I pressed my side into her chest.  Her fingers moved through my hair. Sighing, I closed my eyes at the feeling.

"My mother stood up and shoved him away from me. She told me to go to my room and lock the door. I didn't want to leave her alone, leave her with him, but I did as she asked. I sat on my bed listening to him berate her repeatedly. He called her a whore, accused her of killing their child. Said she was a worthless piece of shit that protected the wrong child. I could hear her crying, trying to soothe his anger. She said that she loved both of her children, would never dream of hurting either of us. He roared back at her and suddenly everything was quiet except for her light whimpers. A thud and a scream broke the silence. I couldn't just sit there while she was protecting me, doing what she always did. I needed to help her, should have been the one protecting her,” I cried out. Taking a deep breath, trying to control the tears choking me, I continued on, “I ran out of the room and tried to attack him, but I was too weak.  He grabbed me by my hair and dragged me back into my room, throwing me into the closet, locking me inside. I curled into a ball in the corner with my hands over my ears. I couldn't listen…I couldn't listen to how helpless she was knowing I couldn't do anything. I tried to block it all out, but her screams and moans of pain filtered through.”

I wiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand, and Mia ran both hands over me. Her heartbeat increasing in my ear.

"Suddenly the door opened and she was there, like an angel coming to rescue me. She reached her arms out to me and I clung to her with everything I had, every muscle in my body. I hugged her so tightly. I pulled my head away from her shoulder and saw how bloody her face was, bruising and swelling already starting to mar her features. There was no way his fist had done that to her face. It had to be something else. She kissed my head and told me not to worry, that everything would be okay. She told me that she was fine, that it didn't hurt that bad. She attempted to carry me over to my bed but she was limping so badly we almost fell. I told her to put me down, that I could help her.

"‘No, baby, I don't need help. I need you to be safe. Go, go get on your bed,' she said as she shoved my dresser in front of the door. She limped over to the bed and curled up around me, cocooning me with her warmth, her love. She held me so close to her I could feel how fast her heart was beating. She kissed my face, over and over. Told me how much she loved me, how she would never let anything happen to me. That I needed to be strong for her and she would be strong for me. She kissed both of my eyelids and said, “I love you, Christopher, to the moon and back, always and forever.” She continued to say the words over and over again while gently rocking us on the bed. His screaming and pounding started up again and she held me closer.

"A deafening roar shot the room and my ears started ringing. She clasped the sides of my head, covering my ears. When I looked up at her, I saw the mixture of fear and love in her eyes. “’I'm so sorry,’ she said," I snorted. "She fucking apologized before that bastard pushed the door in and shoved the dresser away."

I buried my face in Mia's chest.

"It's okay," she whispered against my ear. It took a moment, but I found my voice again.

"She shoved me off the bed to the floor and got up, standing over me. She was protecting me again. Her face was so bloody, bruised, and swollen she was almost unrecognizable, but she stood in front me, ready to take on an army to protect me. He got through the door and stalked toward us. His eyes looked black, no remorse left. His movements were jerky. She must have seen something I didn't because after a couple of minutes, she told me to run. Thinking she was coming behind me, I ran. I was almost to the front door when I heard her scream. That's when I realized that she wasn't behind me at all, but still fighting. She was going to do whatever it took to make sure I was safe."

Clenching my eyes shut, I fisted the cushion beneath us. A ripping sound filled the silence.

"Christopher, we can stop," I barely heard the doc say. There was no turning back at this point, I was stuck in the past, reliving the day that broke me for so many years.

"'No, please don't!' she screamed. I knew I had to go back to her, for her. I couldn't just run away. She needed me and I had to do anything I could to help her get out with me."

"It's okay, Christopher," Mia said in a hushed tone, sending a rush of emotion through my chest. "Of course you couldn't. No one expected you to. It's okay."

Sucking in a ragged breath, I tried to calm myself. My words almost sounded garbled and I felt like I was drowning in my own fucking tears. Taking in a deep breath, I let it out, hiccupping. I took in another and started again.

"I finally reached the bedroom door and stopped short. He was pointing a gun in my face. I heard a click and saw movement in front of me. It was her," I choked on the last words.

"I felt her blood splatter across my face, but I couldn't hear anything. The ringing in my ears was so loud I could barely comprehend what had just happened. I looked up and saw him yelling but I couldn't hear. I wiped my face and looked down at my mother, lifeless on the floor in front of me. In that moment, I saw red. Everything around me became hued in shades of red and my vision became tunneled, the ringing replaced by blood pounding through my ears."

My body rocked back and forth slightly as Mia held on tightly. When I almost brought us off the couch onto the floor, Doctor J twitched to catch us. But, before it could happen, Mia put both hands on my head and spoke softly into my ear trying to relax me. I took in her soothing words and calming energy, allowed it to fill my present self with the strength to continue.

"He blamed me, told me it was supposed to be me and that I'd caused her death. He grabbed my arm and threw me against the wall, away from my mother. Then he leaned down," I said, my rage fighting against the pulsing touch of Mia. "He pulled her into his arms and cradled her," I sneered, feeling the same rage I felt that day.

"What did you do, Christopher?" Doctor J's voice was like a shock to my system.

"I screamed at him for touching her. How dare he fucking touch her after everything he did to her. After he fucking killed her!” I screamed out, “I attacked him, went after him with rage consuming my by body and adrenaline pumping through every vein. I tried to fight him, tried to gouge at him with my nails, but he was too strong. He overpowered me, throwing me back against the wall. He started screaming at me again, grabbing the gun from the puddle of blood it had fallen into. He pointed it back at me, screaming at the top of his lungs. But, I didn't hear anything, not a word. He cocked the gun and I moved, flying toward him and catching his legs as he pulled the trigger.”

I was shaking, feeling every ounce of anger I felt that night. My stomach gurgled and bile rose up fighting against my anger.

"Christopher, what happened then? It's okay. You only did what was necessary at the time."

"The gun slid across the floor. I got to it first," I continued, numbness finally seeping in. “He tried to stand but there was so much blood on the floor, he slid. He fucking slid on her blood!" I roared, the numbness evaporating into pure fucking hatred again.

"It's okay. Let's stop," Doctor J suggested, sounding concerned and tense. Mia only held onto me and continued to whisper in my ear.

"I walked over to him with the gun," I said, a sneer tugging at my lips. "He pleaded with me."

I snorted.

"He had the fucking nerve to beg for his life, while my mother's blood was soaking into his clothes."

Mia's chest jerked, a soft cry escaping her lips.

"I held the gun to his head and pulled the trigger," I confessed, all emotion gone. My hardened eyes focused in on Doctor J. "I killed him and I'd do it again. And again."

It was quiet for a long time. The doctor didn't say a word. Mia's light cries were all I heard. She held me tighter than I could ever remember being held.

"You defended yourself, Christopher. You were just a boy, who watched a man that you trusted and loved, take away your mother," he sighed heavily. "You didn't do anything wrong."

"I killed him," I growled. "And I'm glad that he's dead! I'm happy I did it!"

"It's time to let go, Christopher," he said, pausing. "I think that's enough now."

Sagging against her body, I closed my eyes and cried. It was silent for a moment, before the sound of a door echoed in the room. Opening my eyes, I saw the chair where Doctor J had sat was now empty. I buried my face once more into Mia, who was wiping tears from her face.

"Are you alright?" she whispered.

"I don't know," I whispered. The numbness had overcome me once again during my confession. "Thank you."

"Just remember me in your next Grammy speech," she shot back.

I couldn't help but chuckle. It wasn't wholehearted laughter, but I was more than thankful to her for making the situation lighter.

After readjusting so that my back was against the couch and she was in front of my body, I kept my head pressed to her chest. My arms wrapped around her upper and her lower back, and she kept her arms around my shoulders. We lay there for I don't know how long. She just held me and allowed me to hold her.

It was in this moment I become conscious of three things. One, my nights were going to change; for better or for worse, I wasn't sure. Two, I was scared Mia would run away from me now that she knew I was a heartless murderer. And, three, I didn't want to ever be without Mia.

Chapter Eighteen

Mia

The doctor hadn't come for me, but when Christopher's voice raised, the urge to go to him took over. He seemed to be at the panic point and he needed me. I couldn't just lurk in the shadows listening to him relive something that haunts him to this day. Plus, I needed him too. In order for me to be strong for him, I needed him to ground me, give me something solid to hold onto. Doctor J smiled when I glanced over and wrapped my arms around Christopher.

Listening to everything Christopher said made my stomach turn. It sickened me that someone could put a little boy through that. It was heartbreaking and devastating. I tried to stay strong and not cry, but there was no avoiding it. Not when I could feel his pain. It made my heart bleed while his lay open like a wound.

By the end of the session, I was emotionally exhausted. Christopher readjusted our position, and I fell asleep. Doctor J returned to his suite some time later and I jerked awake, causing Christopher to wake as well.

I went back to my room, leaving Christopher and Doctor J behind to talk more.

Back in the suite, we were doing our own thing. Kat and Serena were curled up on the couch watching a movie. Laney was browsing clothes on her laptop, and I was in my room with my guitar and notebook. They were watching me, but no one asked, and I didn't want to talk about it. Besides, it wasn't my story to tell.

I took all of the emotions inside of me and let them bleed onto the paper, expelling them from myself. A few hours had passed when Una arrived. The song wasn't done but it was a start. She ushered us to the arena for stage rehearsal.

We crossed paths with The Forgotten, but didn't say anything. Deep down, I wanted to see him, just to make sure he was okay. I wasn't sure if I should expect my sleeping buddy or not, but I didn't have to wonder for too long. We'd just stepped into our rooms when there was a knock at the door.

Serena gave me an unsure smile as I answered the door. He looked a mess when I opened the door. He wasn't panicked or freaking, but he looked distraught. Stepping back, I allowed him space to enter. Instead of walking by me, he wrapped his arms around me. Holding me tightly to his chest, he exhaled and relaxed the tension in his body. I pushed the door shut and stood there for a few moments.

Reaching behind my back, I tried to pull his hands from my waist, but he wouldn't let go. Slowly, I began coaxing him toward my bedroom. Tripping over his feet a couple of times, he finally loosened his hold.

I took his hand and pulled him into my room. I released his hand, and he sat on the bed as I started toward the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

My heart ached at the desperation in his voice.

"Shower," I offered my quick and quiet response, grabbing some pajamas. "I'll be quick."

I hoped it was reassuring, but I don't think I succeeded. Braiding my damp hair, I clasped the end when I exited the bathroom. He hadn't moved. Seated in the same spot, he stared at nothing. Slowly, I walked toward his stoic presence.

"Chris?"

He didn't respond.

"Christopher?"

Still nothing.

I reached out, placing my hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," I said, keeping my voice low and tilting my head to get him to look at me.

In one briefly startling moment, his hand came up and grasped my forearm.

"You okay?"

Christopher didn't respond. Instead, he pulled me toward him and then onto the bed. Laying us down, he buried his face into my neck and wrapped his arms around me. His racing heart thudded against my chest, and his tears dampened my neck. Rubbing slow circles on his back and running my other hand through his damp hair, I hoped I was helping.

The clock wasn't in my line of sight when he started twitching and groaning in his sleep. Cupping his face, I tried to whisper words of reassurance. He was still working through the aftermath of his session, and I began to think about his disclosures.

He purposely killed a man. But, the man deserved it. My own thoughts shocked me. A heavy jerk of his body pulled me from my deliberation. He was really struggling tonight and I felt helpless.

"No, don't," he mumbled against my chest. "Don't leave me," "I'm sorry," "My fault," and "Please," were just some of the pleas he made throughout the night. All I could do was run my hand through his hair and hold him as tightly as possible.

Waking the next morning, I was exhausted, but my bladder screamed for relief. I stretched out, Christopher's solid body wrapped around me. He shifted around and tightened up.

"Don't leave," he mumbled into my back.

"Just give me a minute. I'll be back, okay?" I replied, patting his hand and feeling him hesitantly loosen up.

Once in the bathroom, I got down to business. Bladder came first, teeth second, and twisting my braid to the back of my head, third.

When I climbed back into bed, Christopher instantly reached over, grabbing my left hand and pulling me onto my side, against his back. Lacing his fingers into mine, he held our entwined hand to his chest. I rested my cheek against his back.

His heart thumped against our hands. The beat accelerated. He was still struggling, and I felt so bad for him. Deciding I could definitely sleep more, I let myself relax into the new position. Closing my eyes, I took one deep breath.

"Are you afraid of me?"

He said it so low, I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or if I was hearing things in my half-sleep state.

"N-no."

He exhaled a breath he had been holding.

"Do you hate me?"

"Why would I?"

"Do you?" he demanded, a frustrated edge to his voice.

"No," I answered, quick and honest.

"You did hate me," he stated, more of a fact than a question.

"I hated how you were being toward me, toward all of us. You didn't even know us and….and, well, you were being an asshole."

His body shook slightly, and I realized he was laughing.

"Thank you, Mia."

“For calling you an asshole?"

He laughed silently again.

"Yeah, and not running and screaming after everything."

After that he didn't say anything else, we just lay there in silence.

He smelled so good and familiar. I lay against his back letting his scent absorb into every pore. The spark in my stomach lit just from his smell. Feeling him against my body made the spark ignite into a flame. My libido peeked up once again, stretched and began slipping on fishnets. I forced it into a cold shower.

Christopher

The images and memories had flooded me throughout the rest of the day and evening. Doctor J talked to me one-on-one after Mia left. He had given me some anxiety medication. He warned me of the aftermath of my session, but he would be following us on tour a little longer for my sake.

I got back to my room where Jackson was on psycho watch. Lying in bed, I was alone and sobbing like a little girl. Doctor J came in to talk with me and give me some other medication to calm me. We couldn't even do our rehearsal because of the state of my pathetic ass.

I slept for around three hours. The rest of the time, I spent tossing and turning, pacing my room, and taking shower after shower. When I emerged from my room, Jackson appraised my state. He half-heartedly smiled when he realized I was still a wreck. I headed for her room hoping she was there. If I could just feel her next to me, I knew I would be better.

The door opened slowly. Once I saw her, my raw emotions drew me to her. I wrapped myself around her. After her stumbled attempts toward the bedroom, I finally allowed her to move us. I knew there was the possibility of freaking her out with the way I was acting, but, like I said, I'm an addict and she is the drug.

While she showered, there was nothing to do, except think. My mind was lost in that night and the session, until her hand was on me. The moment she was on the bed, I buried myself into her scent and the feel of her skin.

In the morning, all I could think was she had to be terrified and even hate me by this point. There's no way she cared the way Doctor J seemed to believe. So, when she got back into bed, I wrapped her around me. No matter how much I feared the answers, I needed to know.

She seemed to be completely honest, calling me an asshole as well as answering my questions. Thanking her was the very least I could fucking do. There was so much more I wanted from her at this point. She just didn't know it, and I was too much of a pussy to say it aloud. The risk of rejection was far too great.

Una and Xander‘s arrival interrupted my little cuddle session. It was almost time to leave for the arena for tonight's concert.

It was odd how no one looked twice at Mia and me lying in bed anymore. They moved around us as if it was nothing at all. However, in all honesty, it had become so much more than fucking nothing. At least for me it had. Maybe it had always been more and I just didn't want to see it.  I was too fucking wrecked to entertain that thought.

Finally, I relinquished my hold on her and left to get ready for the night. I did so reluctantly. She was walking out of her room behind me when I stopped and turned to her. I only looked into her eyes for a moment and ran my fingers along her cheek. She looked confused as I turned and went on my way. The tingling in my fingertips remained throughout the morning.

Sitting backstage, waiting for Hushed Mentality to finish their set, I noticed the room was uncommonly silent. It was obviously because of me, but I couldn't handle the sneak peeks they were giving when they thought I couldn't see them.

"Okay, just fucking say it already," I opened, sounding just as defeated as I felt.

"Say what?" Jackson asked with a shrug.

"Whatever the fuck it is that you guys are so quiet about, it's driving me fucking insane." Eyeing each of them one at a time, I waited for someone to answer me.

"Dude..." Elliott started.

"Elliott," Jimmy hissed.

"Someone better fucking tell me!"

Jackson leaned forward.

"Look, Dayton was cancelled."

I shrugged.

"That means we have a week off, actually ten days," he continued. "We're flying back to Seattle tomorrow morning."

"Okay, so what's the big fucking deal?"

"The girls are going back home to Whidbey Island," Elliott said quietly.

That's when it sunk in. Mia would be hours away.

"Christopher, stay focused brother, we have to go on stage soon."

"I fucking know that," I snapped, scowling at him. "I survived before Mia, if you remember. I can fucking survive without her," I growled, turning my attention to the filthy fucking wall across from me.

“Barely.” I heard someone say under their breath.

Before I could say anything else, the stage assistant came back to take us to the stage.

The next morning brought us to the airport. I talked to Doctor J on the phone before we left, and he thought it would be a good opportunity for me to try some nights alone.

Slowly, I climbed on the private jet. Mia was in her normal sleeping position with her oversized sweatshirt and iPod. After liftoff, I got up and sat next to her, undetected. As soon as we started to descend, I went back to the back of the plane pretending to gather my things as an excuse.

We stepped off the plane and two separate cars awaited us. The larger van would take the girls to Whidbey Island, and our car would take us to our Seattle home. A twinge in my stomach turned into a knot when Mia gave me a small wave as she climbed into the van. Sighing, I ran my hand through my hair and forced myself into the car.

Our first night home, the guys tried to keep me distracted. We went out to dinner, played pool at our favorite bar, and they even considered a strip club. I couldn't believe the extent to which they were going. The fact was, I didn't know what was going to happen tonight, and truthfully, I just wanted her.

I took the pills and showered. Hoping the combination would help me sleep, but it didn't help my nerves when I got into bed alone. It took me awhile to settle my thoughts. Eventually the pills took over and I fell into unconsciousness.

Waking six hours later, the dreams weren't gone completely; however, the rage and pain wasn't as severe. I was better at handling it, and felt better about that. Now a new feeling surrounded me with more intensity than it had ever before.

Loneliness. The bed was empty and cold.

We spent some days at the studio working on some tracks, other days doing some appearances on local news and radio shows, along with a satellite broadcasts. Paparazzi followed us everywhere we went, and this particular evening, they were staking out the bar we were in.

Jimmy and Jackson were playing pool. Elliott had disappeared twenty minutes ago. I had to wonder if he'd resorted back to his previous tendencies and taken off with the pink-haired girl I saw approach him earlier.

"Oh. My. God! You're him, aren't you?"

The squealed question caused me to choke on my beer. Looking over my shoulder, a tall strawberry blonde stood wearing a star struck look and barely anything else.

"I can't believe it's you!"

Her dress could have possibly been a shirt with a belt wrapped around the waist.

"You are the Christopher Mason, right?" she asked, inviting herself to sit next to me.

Her dress rode up and her boobs were one small squeeze from popping out of the low neckline. I nodded to her cleavage.

"Oh! My! God!" she squealed, tossing her head back. "This is amazing! I so love you!"

Her hand came down on my thigh. If I wanted her, I could have her.

"You're so amazing," she said, her voice dropping seductively and her hand creeping toward my crotch.

Jimmy caught my attention for a moment. He was behind her with a large smile and giving me his thumbs up approval. My first thought was to agree, but then she moved closer. Her floral perfume hit me, and her hand slid inside the crease of my groin. I must've lost my ever loving mind. Next thing I knew, I grabbed her hand and pulled it from my leg. She looked as surprised as I was, but then something else took hold of me. It felt fucking wrong. She wasn't right. The fake hair, make-up, lack of clothing, and her smell. It was all wrong. Standing, I marched off to the men's room.

Once I was safely inside, I leaned back against the door and took a deep breath. I'd lost my fucking mind. That girl was completely my type. She was throwing herself at me. I was sure I could've brought her into the stall and fucked her every which way. What the hell was going on with me? She wasn't Mia. I shook the thought from my head. If that was the case then I was fucking screwed and my cock wasn't going to be screwed at all.

"So, nothing else is going on?"

Elliott's voice caught my attention. Slowly, I climbed onto the toilet looking down into the stall where I heard his voice.

"Elliott?"

"Uh, hey, let me call you back, okay?" he said, followed by a moment of silence. "Okay, yeah. Later."

He stood and walked out of the stall.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, stepping down from the toilet seat and leaving my stall.

"I needed some place quiet to make a call."

"To who?" I demanded, still curious about his behavior.

"Serena."

"You couldn't talk to her at the table?"

"Not with that pink-haired girl trying to get me to leave with her," he snorted. "I don't want Serena to think I'm fucking around."

He walked by me and out the door. Stunned by his admission, I fell silent. Elliott was really with Serena? Wait, Elliott was being fucking faithful? Mind blown.

Night seemed to come quicker than I ever noticed before. After repeating the previous night's routine of pills and showering, I tossed and turned. It was all I could do. My body was restless, and she flooded my mind and senses. It wasn't that I couldn't get through the night because of the dreams, or that I couldn't get through the night without her. It was just that…I didn't want to. I longed for her to be next to me. I finally fell asleep only to wake up around four thirty in the morning, immediately knowing what I was going to do. This week apart had been too much. I needed her.

Slamming doors and drawers, I threw some shit into a bag.

"Dude, what the fuck are you doing?" Elliott growled, stumbling into my room and falling onto my bed.

"I'm taking a trip," I answered quickly.

"At four thirty in the morning?" he laughed. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Whidbey Island," was all I said. Elliott's attention was peaked.

"I'm so fucking going with you!" Elliott yelled, bounding out of my room and across the hall, digging through his things.

Then Elliott's voice bellowed from further down the hall.

"Who's up for a road trip, bitches?"

"Shut the fuck up!" Jimmy yelled.

"Elliott! Jesus!" Jackson groaned. "Shut up!"

"Okay, well we'll see you pussies when we get back from Whidbey Island," Elliott laughed loudly.

"What?" Jackson called out. I chuckled.

"You heard me, fucker! Get your shit together!" Elliott now yelled from his room.

We packed and had a car waiting before five thirty in the morning. Jackson called Nicholas, Elliott called Serena, and I arranged for the car.

It would take a few hours to get there, but I didn't care. I sat back and relaxed for the duration of the trip with my notebook in hand. When we arrived to their house, it was about ten in the morning.

Elliott was the first one out the car and to the front door. As I climbed out, Serena answered the door with a full smile. Elliott grabbed her into his arms. Her little boy smacked him in the leg for making his mom scream.

After Serena and Laney greeted and helped us find a place for our bags, we entered further into the house. The smell of bacon and syrup wafted around the living room. Thoughts of my mom making breakfast surfaced.

"Have a seat. Breakfast isn't ready just yet," Laney said, smiling slyly, knowingly.

Jimmy slouched into a chair and Jackson took the love seat. Elliott sat on the floor next to Ryan with his back leaned against the couch. They watched cartoons together. Instead of sitting, I looked around at photos hanging on their walls.

They had plenty of Ryan's pictures as he grew and celebrated different holidays and events. Then there was a picture of four small girls standing with their arms around each other. There was a tall one with curly red hair in the middle – obviously Serena. A tiny little girl with a large sequined bow on her head, though the hair was very long, it was unmistakably Laney. Next, was a tall all-American blonde – undoubtedly Kat. Finally, on the far left side was the dark brown-haired, brown-eyed girl next door, Mia. A smile tugged at my lips and my finger outlined her body.

"That was in second grade."

Surprised, I jerked around. Kat was standing there leaning against the wall.

"Well it was second grade for us, but third grade for Serena," she corrected, smiling with her eyes staying on the photo. "It's not too hard to figure us out."

She smirked and headed to the living room. When Serena called for Ryan to come eat, I finally stepped into the living room. Elliott wasn't far behind Ryan.

Laney walked out. "Come get something to eat."

She smiled brightly and turned back into the kitchen. Just as I began to stand, I heard heavy footsteps. A tall guy walked down the steps. He was still half-asleep. My stomach bottomed out. I sat back down on the couch. Was he here with Mia?

"Aren't you going to eat?" Laney appeared out of nowhere.

I shook my head.

"I'm not feeling great, probably from the long car ride."

She nodded curiously. Her mouth opened for a second, but her attention turned to the lighter footsteps coming down the stairs. It was Mia. She stopped short when she saw me on the couch. She looked confused and then shifted her eyes slowly to Laney.

"Your ass wouldn't wake up when I came in to tell you they were coming. If I remember correctly, you told me to go fuck myself until noon and then try again."

Mia smiled and bit her lip.

"Oh, it's real funny, Mia. Ha, ha. You're so mean in the morning," Laney huffed, rolling her eyes and going back into the kitchen.

"You guys drove down this morning?" Mia asked.

I nodded, still feeling sick to my stomach.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied.

"He said the car ride might have bothered him," Laney yelled from the kitchen.

"Do you want something?" She was biting that lip again.

All thought left me. I wanted coax that lip from between her teeth with my tongue and bite it for her. Then the asshole walked back in from the kitchen, erasing all thoughts of sexy lips and biting. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head with a big smile. Then he sat in the chair next to me with a full breakfast plate.

"Sucks about your stomach. Serena's pancakes are phenomenal!" he said, taking a large bite. I wanted to stick the fork in his fucking eye.

"Oh, shit, I should introduce myself. Hey, man, I'm Sean," he said, sticking his hand out.

Who is this fucking guy? He must have seen the confusion on my face.

"What, man?"

I shook my head and then shook his hand.

"Christopher," I mumbled, my stomach starting to relax.

"I know who you are. You guys kick ass," he said with a smile as he stuffed more food into his mouth.

"Sean! Why the hell are you eating in the living room?" Serena yelled from the kitchen.

Mia turned back to Sean and smirked, then whispered, "You. Are. So. Bust. Ed!"

She laughed and took off for the kitchen.

"There wasn't any room in there with –"

"Damn it! You don't need a whole table to yourself. Get in here!"

Sean got up and dragged himself back into the kitchen like a little kid. Stopping in the doorway, he looked back.

"Do you have sisters?"

I shook my head.

"You're a fucking lucky man. I got stuck with three, plus the two adopted females."

He gestured to Kat and Laney.

Sisters? I was thoroughly confused walking into the kitchen. He's clearly African-American. How the hell were they related?

"Oh, Sean, you wuv us so very much!" Kat was pinching his cheek and they were laughing at him.

"So, Sean is your brother?" Jackson had a perplexed look on his face. Thank you, Jackson!

"Well, since it's obvious that none of us are black, he's technically our stepbrother," Serena clarified, standing with her back to us while wiping down the counter top.

"But, we would never treat Sean like anything but our big brudder!" Mia added, playfully shoving his head and stealing bacon from his plate.

"Hey!" Sean said, smacking her hand.

"So, why Whidbey Island?" Laney leaned her elbows onto the countertop.

We fell silent. Elliott saved me from confessing.

"Like I could be away from my sexy woman for ten days. She is too damn important to me," Elliott said, winking at me. I gave him a thankful smile. Thank fuck for Elliott.

"Language!" Serena scowled at Elliott and then shifted her eyes to Ryan, who was watching how close Elliott was getting.

"Alright, well what do you guys have planned?" Laney asked, looking around the room.

"You got nothing, huh?" she laughed. "Okay, well I am going to the mall if anyone cares to join."

"I'm in," Kat said, her plate clinking in the sink as she set it in the basin.

"You guys realize you can't just go to the mall right?" Jackson inquired, cocking an eyebrow at them.

"And, why not?" Laney asked.

"Uh…maybe because of the mobs of fucking people that will tackle your ass," Elliott said, laughing.

"Oh, shit," Laney groaned. "What are your plans, Mia?"

"Absolutely nothing," she said with a large smile.

Laney rolled her eyes.

"You aren't going to do anything?"

"Nope," she confirmed, still smiling proudly.

I loved her smile.

"I've got a date with some laundry."

"I want to go to the movies," Serena said as she joined the group at the breakfast bar.

"Then the movies you shall go," Elliott promised, bowing to her. She rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips gave away her lack of real annoyance.

"That's not a bad idea. We can call and try to get the balcony," Laney said, her mood brightening. “Who's in?"

"Wait. I have to see if Linda can watch Ry," Serena said, turning for the phone.

"Leave Ry with me," Mia offered.

"You aren't –"

"Didn't I just say I wasn't doing anything?" she asked, giving Serena a look.

"Are you sure? I can call Linda."

"Leave my man with me," Mia insisted, ruffling Ry's hair as she walked by.

"Hey! Watch dah hair, An Mia!" he yelled.

The kitchen slowly cleared out as everyone disappeared to get ready. Jackson took his things to Laney's room, Elliott took his to Serena's room, and Jimmy took the spare room. I dropped my things in with Jimmy.

After everyone was dressed and Serena kissed Ryan about fifty times, they headed out the door.

"Do not keep him up all night, Mia," she warned. "And keep the junk to a minimum, please?"

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it. We're going to eat vegetables and be in bed by seven," Mia said, her smile full of sarcasm.

"Yeah, right," Serena said, turning her eyes to Ryan "You be a good boy for Aunt Mia, okay?"

He nodded, and they were out the door. I stopped on the porch next to Mia and Ry.

"You aren't going?" she asked without looking at me.

"Nah, not in the mood for a movie theater."

She nodded in understanding. The car disappeared in the distance. She spun around to Ryan.

"Okay, she's gone!" she squealed, giving him a high five. "What do we do first?"

Ryan put his finger to his chin to think about it.

"I know!" he yelled, running into the house.

"Ry, man, what are you –"

Before she could finish, music came on. We entered the living room, but Ryan wasn't there.

"Ry, where are you?" she called in a playful voice. "Ahhh!"

Turning at her scream, Ryan stood with two large water guns, squirting Mia. I laughed.

"Oh, you think that's funny?" she asked, grabbing one of the guns and spraying me right in my face. "Ha, take that!"

She laughed and then turned on Ryan.

"Ahhh…An Mia stooppp!" he giggled and ran out the door with Mia chasing him.

Catching up to them in the front yard, I watched them spray each other and laugh loudly. Then, they stopped and started whispering to each other. My curiosity was piqued. When they came running toward me with guns aimed, I figured it out. I put my arms up as a shield, but they both drenched the front of my t-shirt and started laughing.

"Dat's so funny, An Mia," Ryan chuckled.

"I know, huh? Want to do it again?" she asked, both of them aiming at me.

"I'm unarmed! You can't shoot an unarmed man!" I shouted.

"Gedsa gun den."

That little boy looked at me as if I was stupid. Shaking his head with a huff, he ran by me and up the stairs, quickly returning with another gun and holding it out for me.

"You huv da ged yer own wader!"

This kid was hilarious. He showed me where to fill the gun up before going back outside. Mia was sitting on the steps. As soon as we were outside, he turned on me and sprayed.

"You little…" I started, laughter covering the rest. I chased after him.

Euphoria spread through me. It was like being a kid again, running around during a June summer day chased by my mother. I got an instant high.

"Ahhh….An Mia help me!" Ry screamed, running from me and hiding behind Mia.

"Time for some payback!" I said, holding up the gun with a gleam of revenge in my eye.

"Ry, run!" she shouted and squirted me with her gun, laughing. I sprayed her back, and she started laughing harder and telling me to stop. From behind me, I felt water on my back. I turned to see Ryan was squirting me.

"Good job, Ry. Get him!"

She grabbed my gun from me while I was distracted and squirted me with both guns. Mia tried to run, but I grabbed her waist and lifted her over my shoulder.

Definitely a good job, Ryan, I get to touch your Aunt Mia. God, she felt fucking amazing. Flames ignited against my water-cooled skin.

"Pud An Mia Down!" Ryan yelled.

"I'm afraid that Aunt Mia needs to learn a lesson," I said with a chuckle.

"Don't listen to him, Ry. Get him!" she chortled.

I had seen the hose earlier in the battle. Once we reached it, I grabbed it and turned it on her. She screamed at the cold water and tried to wiggle away. The wiggling wasn't doing anything to deter my inner dirty teenage boy.

Once thoroughly soaked, I set her on her feet so she didn't slip out of my grasp. To my surprise, she tried to wrestle me for the hose. Finally knocking it out of my hand, she tried to lunge for the nozzle. My eyes glued to her very wet t-shirt shaping the curve of each amazing tit. This was the only reason she succeeded in knocking it out of my hand. Thank God, the water was cold. Her nipples were peaked at full attention and entrancing me in the most devious ways. I snapped my eyes away from her glorious tits before she could notice.

We both scrambled for the hose when Ry picked it up with an evil smile. He turned the water on both of us.

"You traitor!" Mia yelled and Ryan giggled. We were almost laughing too hard to get him. We tripped over each other, and the wet grass didn't help our cause. She reached the valve for the hose and shut it off.

"What are you going to do now, little man?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You all wet, An Mia," he said, looking at me and giggling. "You, too, Cwis."

Mia scooped him up and carried him into the house.

"Ewww…you all wet!" he screamed.

With the water battle over, the three of us went inside to change into dry clothing.

Mia walked Ryan to his room and helped him get some clothes from his dresser.

"Do you want me to help?" she asked, kneeling down in front of him.

He shook his head. "Imma big boy."

She smiled at him.

"Okay, I'll be back in a minute," she said, ruffling his hair and meeting me in the hallway.

"Your stuff is in the spare room, right?"

I nodded. She nodded back and walked into her room. She nudged the door, but I kept going before it closed all the way. I changed into a dry pair of jeans and another t-shirt. I heard noises in Ryan's room, so I walked toward it. Mia's door was on the way and, as I passed by, I glanced over. Just as I did, she passed her partially open door. She was in her underwear and a tank top. Groaning internally, I froze, looking at her, wondering what it would feel like nestled between her warm legs. My dick twitched at the thought. I needed a cold shower, or ice bricks to put on my balls. They were starting to fucking hurt.

"Is An Mia in dare? I need help," Ryan said, emerging from his room. As I snapped my head to look down at him, Mia cursed and scuffled noises came from her room.

I'm so fucking busted.

Chapter Nineteen

Mia

I thought I'd closed my door completely, but having been away from home for so long, I forgot that the door gets caught on the carpet. So, when I heard Ryan and saw Christopher outside of my door while I stood there in a pair of underwear and a tank top, I felt like a damned fool. I hurried to the other side of my room, the heat flooding my face from embarrassment. Please let him have just been walking by and not have seen me running around half-naked.

I hesitated at the top of the stairs. Taking a deep breath, I grew my girly balls and headed downstairs, attempting to keep the embarrassment off my face.

Ryan's laughter carried up the steps. When I could see into the living room, I couldn't help but smile. Ryan held his play swords out, and apparently, he had stabbed Christopher, who was lying flat on his back with his eyes closed. I covered my mouth quickly to stifle my laugh. Ryan kept poking Christopher lightly with his sword and saying his name, but he didn't move. Ryan huffed and walked closer. Christopher jumped up suddenly and grabbed Ryan's sides. Ryan squealed loudly and burst into laughter. This time I couldn't help but laugh aloud. Christopher turned his head quickly toward me. For a short moment, he looked surprised and slightly embarrassed, but mostly smug. I kept up my "pretend it didn't happen" façade. But, by the smug look he was trying to hide, I knew he saw me.

After a round of light sabers and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, we settled into the living room to watch a movie.  Eventually we all fell asleep, Christopher having slid next to me on the couch, and Ry on a bean bag on the floor.

It was almost dinnertime when Ryan finally woke up.

"An Mia?" he said groggily.

Sitting up straighter, Christopher started to stir next to me.

"Hey, bud, did you have a good nap?" I inquired, smiling. He nodded and tried to climb up onto my lap. He frowned when Christopher's arm was in the way.

I tried to push Christopher's arm over but he locked down on me. Grabbing Ry, I sat him on Christopher's arm. When Chris tried to move Ryan away, I nudged him with my elbow. He pulled his arm back and opened his eyes. He saw Ryan cuddled up with his back against my chest and his legs stretched out over my lap. Christopher buried his face into my hip and went back to sleep. I sighed, feeling over crowded in my personal space.

After Ryan had about twenty minutes to wake up completely, he spoke up loudly.

"I'm hungry," he said, jumping off my lap and grabbing my hand to pull me up.

Christopher jerked awake when I let Ryan pull me off the couch and into the kitchen.

After ordering a pizza, playing video games, coloring pictures, and a playing a rousing game of Go Fish, it was time for Ryan's bath.

It was after eleven when everyone got back from their movie and dinner. Evidently, they had a few drinks as well. Shortly after returning home, everyone wandered off to bed. It wasn't too long before Christopher showed up in my room and lay down next to me. My last thought before going to sleep was if he was doing any better.

* * * * *

"An Mia!" Ryan charged into my room and jumped onto my bed.

Rolling over, I looked at the clock. Yuck…seven in the morning.

"Ry, it's early. Can't it wait?" I groaned.

"Mommy said we can go to the beach today!" he yelled, jumping. Christopher started stirring next to me in the bed. Ryan stopped moving.

"Is that Cwis?" Ryan asked, looking at me, confused.

I nodded. Ryan smiled.

"Is Cwis yowr boyfend, An Mia?!"

My face heated while he giggled.

"No, Ry." I shook my head.

Ryan leaned over me and poked Christopher. He raised his head and smiled groggily at Ryan.

"Morning, Ry," Christopher greeted, putting his head back down and covering his face with his hands.

"Did eww huva nightmeer, Cwis?"

Christopher's head came back up quickly to look at Ry. I watched Christopher.

"Um…Ry –"

"Yeah, Ry. I had a bad dream," Christopher said, smiling at him.

"Oh," Ryan said, looking perplexed. "Mommy heps me wiff my bad dweams. She even sings me a song to help me get back to sweep."

Ry smiled at him. Christopher smiled back.

"Oh my God, Ryan!" Serena came running in, offering him a stern look. "Leave Aunt Mia alone. She was sleeping."

"I'm so sorry he woke you up," she said, the apologetic look on her face for me. Her face hardening when her eyes landed on Chris' face.

I shrugged and got out of bed.

After breakfast, everyone got ready for the beach. Ryan was beyond excited. He had his sand buckets, shovels, and all the beach toys he owned in a large bag. He dragged the bag to the car.

When we got to the beach, everyone carried coolers, blankets, towels, and other bags. Laney laid out three large blankets. Kat set up the coolers in rows. Serena put the large beach umbrella up, while I helped Ry get all his toys placed out into the area he claimed for castle building.

"Okay, let's hit the water!" Kat yelled as she stripped off her beach cover-up dress and headed to the edge of the water. Her red string bikini definitely left little to the imagination. Jimmy and Elliott followed closely after her.

Christopher seemed to have found a comfortable spot under the umbrella and lounged with his arm over his face. Apparently, the beach was not his thing.

Serena stepped out of her shorts, pulled off her tank top, and headed toward the water in her green halter bikini. Elliott hooted and hollered as she approached the water's edge.

"Wait for me," Laney shouted to Serena.

She pulled her sundress off and caught up to her. Laney had on a black micro bikini barely covering her tiny ass. Jackson stepped quickly behind Laney, his eyes focused on said lack of ass coverage.

Ryan and I sat building sandcastles and moats until familiar voices interrupted us.

"Mia!"

I looked up to see Sam, Amy, Jace, Sean, and Jon walking down the beach, their beach bags over their shoulders.

"Hey," I said standing to hug Amy.

"We heard you were back, girl," Jace drawled, walking over and lifting me into a large hug.

John married Linda, who had lived in the apartments near the beach and introduced us to many of the kids who'd grown up around here.

"Yep, the rest of the gang is swimming," I said, motioning out to the water.

"Well, let's get out there with them!" Sean yelled, grabbing me up into his arms.

"I'm watching Ry!" I yelled, wiggling to get out of his hold.

He placed me on my feet.

"I got him," Amy shouted with a laugh.

I screamed again, when Sean grabbed my arms. I tried to dig my feet into the sand for leverage, but Jace's arms wrapped around my legs. He and Sean lifted me up and carried me to the water. I yelled at them the entire way.

They tossed me into an oncoming wave and then dove into the water behind me. Once my head emerged from the water, I heard everyone laughing. Sean's laugh was the loudest because he was the closest, so I jumped on him trying to shove him under the water. My plan failed when Jace grabbed me and lifted me up. He threw me back into the water. This went on for a while before everyone decided to switch gears and play chicken.

At the end of the afternoon, everyone was water logged and tired. Ryan fell asleep in the car on the way back to the house, so we agreed to grab some take out from the diner in town.

Once everyone had eaten and lounged, we took turns showering. Deciding on a movie to watch for the evening was difficult with so many people; however, we finally settled on Gladiator. Before a third of the movie was over, I headed to bed.

I'm not sure how long I'd been asleep, but I woke up to my door shutting roughly. I wasn't completely awake when Christopher's figure appeared at the side of my bed.

"Shit! Christopher," I said, startled. "You scared the fuck out of me."

I tried to laugh it off, but looking at Christopher's face, I knew something was off. "Are you okay?" I asked, slightly nervous.

My nerves were firing warnings across my body when he didn't respond and simply stared at me intently. His eyes roamed over my face and then down my body, making me extremely uncomfortable.

"Christopher, what is wro –"

Before I could finish, he moved quickly over my body, using his hand to push my legs apart. I tried to pull myself up, but he was above me too fast.

"C-Chris?" I stuttered.

He didn't speak. His hand cupped the side of my face and his lips came crashing down onto mine. His viper bites pressed against my chin. The pulse that took over my body was foreign to me. His lips were deceptively soft and gentle, yet rough at the same time. His tongue lightly played along my lower lip, tasting it, savoring it, before lightly sucking and nipping at its plumpness. I released a breathy whimper before opening my mouth and allowing the entrance he was seeking. His tongue coaxed mine into the most erotic dance of sliding, sucking, biting, and twirling. It was the most amazing kiss I'd ever had, the feel of his tongue piercing only intensifying the moment. Then the reality of the situation started to sink in.  I started to push him away, but he moved his lips over my jaw and down my neck. The fiery sensation he left on my skin was more intense than anything I'd ever felt, like all of the endorphins in my brain released at the same time. I felt euphoric, light as a feather. Forcing myself to come back to reality and keep focused on what was really happening, I shoved him again.

Christopher's hand moved from my face and slid down to cup my neck. His other hand pulled on the collar of my t-shirt, seeking access to my collarbone. He situated his body and weight between my legs, his thick erection pressing against my cotton covered entrance. I almost moaned aloud at the sensation. I was so wet, so swollen, I wanted to grab his ass and force him inside of me. Thank god, we were still fully clothed.

"Christopher?" I breathed out heavily.

His lips never moved away from my skin. His tongue and teeth grazed me. I stopped myself from inching forward and rubbing against him. I needed friction, I needed…I needed to stop!

"Christopher!" I groaned aloud, or maybe moaned. At this point, I was barely holding on by a thread. He ran his hand from my neck down the side of my body, taking in my every curve.

"Christopher, stop!"

He abruptly stopped everything and rolled off me. Both relief and disappointment washed over me. I lay there for a moment trying to catch my breath and figuring out what exactly to say. Right now, I wanted to curse myself. My clit throbbed and my nipples ached. Fuck me for being so noble. Taking in a deep breath and trying to gain one iota of control, I decided to be angry.

"What the hell was that?" I demanded, sitting up to look down on him. "What's going on with you?"

My anger was all bravado. I wanted to be angry with him, but my body refused to be mad over how it felt right now. I was more annoyed with myself for not being angry. Maybe I was annoyed for not taking advantage of the situation. I couldn't tell at the moment, I just knew I was feeling annoyed…and turned on. Stupid hormones.

"I, uh….I…I'm sorry," he whispered and rolled over.

"What's going on, Christopher? Did you have–"

He flipped back around toward me.

"No, I didn't have a fucking nightmare, Mia! I haven't even gone to sleep yet!"

I flinched at his tone and volume.

"Then what's going on with you?" I asked with a little more compassion than anger this time.

"I don't know. Just forget it happened," he said, sitting up. "I can leave, if you want me to."

Knowing I should ask him to go, I sat there trying to think. How does one react to these types of situations? Do these situations even exist with other people?

"Just go to sleep," I finally spat. "Maybe you'll be honest about what's going on with you eventually."

I lay back down and rolled onto my side away from him. Falling asleep did not come easy when you had the female version of blue balls and your skin tingled all over. Every place his mouth had touched still burned with desire. Just feelings him next to me was enough to rev my engine right now. I know there is something binding us together. Never before, have I felt so wanton from a kiss. Never before has my skin burned from a simple touch. Never before have I longed for a presence and missed it when it wasn't here.

"Mia?" Christopher whispered very close to my ear. I shivered, gooseflesh rising on my skin.

"Yeah?" I barely croaked out.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"No. I mean I'm sorry for everything. Not just tonight, all of it.”

He shifted away from me.

I drifted off to sleep shortly after that and woke to Christopher's arm around my waist, under my shirt against my bare stomach. I nudged him a little trying to get him to roll over. Instead, it caused him to lean closer into my back and to slide his hand further up until it rested just below my breasts. Flames lit across my flesh like tiny erupting volcanoes. Taking a deep breath, I tried to move. He locked his arm around me and nuzzled his face into the back of my head with a sigh.

"Please don't move."

I thought he was still asleep. I felt the tips of his fingers brush against my neck, moving my hair away while placing tiny, open-mouthed kisses in its path. I couldn't help the shiver that passed through my body. I glanced over at the clock on the nightstand. Four in the morning. It was four in the morning, and I had Christopher teasing my neck with his delicious lips. I really needed to decide now how I felt about this. I wanted it, oh how badly I want it, but, in the end, it would ruin and complicate everything. Resigned to my decision, I needed to stand firm.

"Christopher," I used a warning tone, hoping it would be enough to stop him. It wasn't. "Christopher, what are you doing?"

Finally, he spoke very huskily in my ear.

"Don't make me stop."

My body screamed to let him continue. Stay strong, stay strong. You can do this!

"Christopher," I gasped when he took my earlobe between his teeth. "Christopher you, we, can't do this…please…maybe you should go back to Seattle…."

He broke his silence again.

"I don't want to go back. I don't want to sleep alone," he groaned, his hands stilling.

I snapped my head around, his words like a bucket of ice to my libido.

"I'm not someone to fill your bed for you! I know I agreed to let you sleep with me, but I didn't agree to be one of your whores," I snapped defensively.

Pictures of all his groupies, the ones I pretended weren't around on the tour, flashed through my mind. I didn't need more light to know his features had hardened, his body tensing.

"I never said you were a fucking whore," he spat.

"Then, what is it that you're doing? Hmm?" I argued. "You don't want to be alone so you climb into the most convenient bed, knowing I won't turn you away, and decide that you can stick your dick in me because you're horny? You have to be fucking kidding me. ‘I'm lonely. Let's go see if Mia is willing to be an incubator for my cock.'”

"Fuck, Mia! It's not like that. I'm not trying to ‘stick my dick in you' because I'm lonely," he said, defensiveness pouring off him in waves.

"Oh really...then what is this? Is it just –"

"Fucking shit, Mia!" he continued before I could speak up again. "What is this? I don't know what the fuck this is!"

He rolled onto his back and ran his hand through his hair.

"I sleep better than before, not like when you are there, but better," he sighed heavily. "However, I don't want to sleep without you. I don't want you to be anywhere but fucking next to me. Why? I don't fucking know, I can't…I don't..."

I was too shocked to speak. He doesn't want to sleep without me. He doesn't want me anywhere but next to him?

"Then, there's this weird connection with you. You have to feel it. Fuck, please tell me you feel this, too, and that I haven't totally lost my fucking mind!"

His head moved in my direction but I was still trying to process what he'd said. He rolled back over to my side and cupped my face again. Sparks erupted at his touch. Yeah, I knew what he was feeling.

"Please, tell me I'm not the only one that feels this?" he begged, his eyes close enough for me to see the desperation in his plea.

Before I could even think of a response, his lips crashed down to mine and he pushed his tongue into my mouth. I didn't stop him. I couldn't stop him. Our tongues danced with each other, battling for full exploration of the other's mouth. Christopher slid his hand down my body and wrapped his hand around the back of my knee, pulling my leg up over his hip.

Our bodies pressed firmly together, chest to chest. His erection against my leg only fed the pulse increasing between my legs. Dampness pooled in my underwear, and my lower body lit on fire. Only he could extinguish this fire, this need, burning inside of me. Only he held the key to what I oh so desperately needed. I shifted my hip and grinded again his hard length. Heat gathered and flooded my system. He grasped my hips, pulling me closer to him, as his lips trailed wild, wet, tongue lashing kisses from my neck to the top of my chest. His hand moved from my hips to the hem of my shirt resting on my lower belly. He started to push my shirt up, his hands caressing my stomach in his ascent. Reality crashed back in with a heavy thud. I halted all movement and my libido screamed ‘cock blocker’ in frustration while yanking on her hair.

"Christopher, I don't think this is a good idea," I breathed out heavily.

His grip tightened on me, but then softened. He sighed heavily against my neck.

"What's going on?" I asked him, slightly annoyed but mostly sexually frustrated.

"I just…I know you feel whatever this thing is between us. You have to," he said, his voice as pleading as his eyes.

"I don't know what it is between us, Christopher, but I don't think this is what we should do," I said, barely getting the words out as my body flamed in argument. "So, you want to tell me what's really going on here?"

I placed a hand on his head, fighting against everything that is holy not to fist his hair, yank back his head, and attack his mouth.

"Nothing," he mumbled.

"Fine," I said, pulling my body away to roll over and get up. He gripped me, not allowing me move an inch.

"I don't like other guys touching you," he mumbled.

"Other guys? What are you –?"

"At the beach," he muttered his response. I thought about it and remembered the guys at the beach, friends with which I'd grown up.

"Are you fucking kidding me!" I yelled. "You're jealous! You're all over me because you're jealous of someone else touching me!" I accused.

I had to admit that I was flattered, but mostly irritated.

"No," he groaned. "Okay, yes, a little."

He huffed and removed his hand from me to rub over his face.

"I'm kind of…territorial…with you," he whispered. "You don't belong to them. You don't belong with them. They would never treat you…" he stopped, cutting his words off with the snap of his jaw.

"Okay, first of all, I'm not with them, and, second, who is it you think I belong to? You?"

He stayed silent.

"I belong to no one! You feel like I'm some possession for you to have? For you to keep and toss away when you're finished?"

"No! Christ, Mia, that's not what I am saying," he said, frustration filling his words.

I knew he was struggling with something, but just the mention of me "belonging" to someone was maddening as hell.

"So, you're trying to claim me by fucking me? Some, ‘I stuck my dick in her first, so she's mine' bullshit?” I asked, my irritation unmistakably evident now.

"God dammit, I didn't plan anything," he spat, but moved in even closer to my body. "Whatever this is, this thing we've got between us, this feeling. It took over. Yes, I was jealous, but it didn't drive me into your room. I was driven by this feeling, the one that you feel now, I can see it in your eyes. I couldn't stop, didn't want to stop. I just kept thinking, 'if it feels this fucking good just being next to her, this fucking good being in her presence, then it's got to feel so much better actually being with her'. I know that makes me sound like an asshole, I know I'm a selfish prick, just taking, always taking. But, Mia, I can't resist the need I have for you."

His mouth was so close to my skin, his words whispering across my already over-sensitized flesh. I didn't know how to respond to what he was saying. I couldn't think straight with his body pressed so close to mine, his lips just millimeters from my skin. His words were full of promise. The low tone of his voice so enticing, I was putty in his arms. I know he had to notice my reaction, but I had to stay strong. I had to ignore every fiber of my being telling me jump his bones. Pulling up my big girl panties, I shifted away from him. He rolled onto his back, defeated, leaving an inch of space between us.

Waking up the next morning, I wasn't surprised to find myself alone. I was, however, a little surprised at the way Christopher avoided me for the rest of the week at our house. I couldn't help missing him, missing his body next to mine at night. I also couldn't blame him, per say. He had opened up to me and I had basically kicked him in the balls with my rejection. But, that didn't change the fact that I was pissed he would avoid me. Grow some balls and stop evading me based on what happened. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

Christopher

Leaving before she woke up, I attempted to keep my distance from her the rest of the time we were there. Not going to her room at night and not staying in the same room alone with her or too close to her became my new routine. I was avoiding her, but if I didn't, I would just grab her and pull her to me again. She didn't want that. She didn't want me that way. She had refused me even after I bled my fucking soul for her. She wanted honesty, I gave it to her, and she pushed me away. So, I was desperate to put distance between us.

Distant is what we now were.

Chapter Twenty

Mia

Everyone was tired on the plane to Pittsburgh. Since it was June, Ryan accompanied us. Una and Serena had hired Andrea, our new personal assistant and traveling nanny. Andrea was a sweet girl. She'd been a personal shopper and assistant for a semi-famous model, a B list actress, and she had experience with children. Andy had grown up the oldest of ten kids and worked for almost three years in a daycare during college. It was a bonus that she was a fan. The fit seemed perfect.

Christopher still kept his distance, ignoring me for the most part. So, my pride put us back into our original, silent, avoid and evade agreement. Regardless of the fact, it hurt more than I wanted to admit.

In Pittsburgh, we performed at an open-air amphitheater for two nights, then the weekend before the Fourth of July at their River Regatta.

Having free time between the events, we took Ryan out on some excursions.

The Pittsburgh Zoo became our outing for Pittsburgh. It was extremely humid, but at least we had a personal escort to minimize the crowds of people swarming us. All of us, except for Chris, who chose not to come along. It was hard, but I hid my undesired disappointment well.

Elliott and I stopped at just about every place food was available. Everyone sat in a private animal showing where Ry could get close enough to touch and feed animals with the handler. It was great until they brought out the tarantula. Once the fury eight-legged menace was before us, I shuddered.

"Oh, hell no!" I yelled, swinging my leg over the wooden bench and running to the back of the wooded enclosure.

"What's the matter? You afraid of spiders, Mia?" Jimmy taunted and made creepy spider leg movements with his hands.

"Ones the size of my face? Yes!"

"You are such a girl," Elliott teased.

Pulling at the collar of my t-shirt, I looked down. "Well, what do you know, I have boobs."

I looked back at Serena and Elliott's amused faces.

"I guess that makes me a girl, huh?"

"Not necessarily. That dude back there had tits, perhaps I should thoroughly check other areas to be sure."

There was a loud crack when Serena's hand met his shoulder.

"Oww, shit, baby! I was only joking," he whined, rubbing his arm as Serena glared at him.

"Well joke like that when you aren't around my very impressionable child," she said, turning back to Ryan, who was using his index finger to touch the spider. I cringed.

"Isnot dat bad, An Mia," Ry said, looking up over the fuzzy creeping spider.

"You just keep the creepy crawler over on that bench with you."

The animal handler chuckled at my behavior.

After the long stay in Pittsburgh, we were off to New York. We pretty much had a week to ourselves with the Fourth of July weekend. I spent most of my time with Serena and Ryan. We took him to FAO Schwartz so he could see the large toy store. Elliott bought him a couple of things much to Serena's displeasure. It was nice to see Elliott bond with Ryan. We made sure visit Coney Island and the Bronx Zoo as well.

The days we weren't sightseeing with Ry, we were in a recording studio working on upcoming projects. Nobil Records had acquired a New York location during a merger with a small New York production company a few years ago. They kept the studio after they closed the company's main office.

When the Fourth finally arrived, we gathered to watch Macy's Fourth of July Fireworks. It was amazing. Ryan's face was brightly lit, and his eyes were so wide. He sat on Elliott's shoulders, looking straight up into the sky with amazement all over his face.

Christopher remained distant and did everything he could to avoid me at all costs. I hated that we'd returned to being so ignorant of each other. After everything that happened, I never would have predicted we would slip back into this routine.

Soon concert day arrived. We played in New York City, then Buffalo, and then hopped on the buses, destination Springfield, MA. We took Ry to some beaches. It wasn't as warm, since a storm front had moved in, but he still enjoyed the kite flying and collecting seashells.

The weeks and months began to roll by quickly. Traveling frequently from Philadelphia, PA, to Charleston, WV, and then to Columbus and Youngstown, OH, to Atlantic City, and Charlotte, NC. In between the concerts, there were phone calls at the butt crack of dawn for radio interviews, flights to New York for morning television shows and sometime late night shows in the same day. Being famous is exhausting, but I was riding the euphoric cloud and stoked that we were catching this much attention. I was stunned at our growing fan base who considered us worthy enough to be on television. Never in a million years had I thought we would be this big.

When we reached Richmond, VA, the effects of the business started to get to me. I was worn out, exhausted, and my body was screaming for me to slow down. I started to feel off, my throat was scratchy and sore. Preforming was going to be an issue without rest. I went a full day without talking to anyone and trying to get as much sleep as possible. The morning of our rehearsal, the symptoms worsened, moving into my ear.

Una saw my state and convinced me to see a doctor, scaring me by speaking of hearing and voice damage. She arranged for a doctor, an old college friend of Richard's, to visit the hotel. I hated to be a pest, but I felt like shit and did not want to deal with our growing fan base asking for autographs and pictures.

The doctor came in and did the basics. Pulse, blood pressure, checked my ear, nose, and throat. He took a culture of my throat, but could already see swelling in my ear and tonsils. He called in a prescription, and Andrea went to pick up the antibiotics along with other antibiotics he wanted to put me on.

The next morning, I woke up feeling worse than the day before. I buried myself in my room and refused to leave the cozy cocoon of my bed. The test results came back that day and the doctor called to change my prescription. He called in Rifampin, which he said was a stronger antibiotic. It was for a bacterial infection. Apparently, my tests revealed an infection in my nose, throat, and inner ear. I switched medicines as soon as it arrived, soaked in a hot bath, and went back to lying in bed.

Swallowing my own saliva hurt. Let alone trying to consume anything. The loosening of my clothes made it clear I had already begun to lose too much weight.

Una had the rest of the girls, and Ryan, looked over as a precaution. To prevent spreading germs, my interaction with everyone was limited, which was fine by me. I curled into a ball in the middle of my bed and waited for death to put me out of my misery.

Christopher

Laney had become a regular in our room and bus thanks to Jackson. They were practically inseparable, and it was really fucking disturbing to watch. If I had to witness one more tongue-fucking make out session or hear how vocal Laney was in the sack, I was going to castrate him.

"Morning, Christopher," she chirped as soon as I walked out of my bedroom. I was still groggy and hadn't slept soundly for weeks now. The nightmares were not so much the problem. It was fucking Mia. I longed for her, felt empty without her next to me.

"Morning," I groaned. I really wanted to tell her that good morning could go fuck itself, but I refrained. It wasn't her fault that Mia and I were on separate continents as far as I was concerned.

"Jacks, I want to go and check on Mia before we take off, okay?" she spoke too quickly but I still made out what she said.

Jacks? What the fuck kind of…wait…check on Mia? Did something happen?

"Check on Mia?" I blurted before I could stop myself.

"Um, yeah, she's sick," Laney said, turning away quickly and moving toward the door.

"Sick?" I pressed.

The smirk on her face made me uncomfortable.

"Yeah, she's been really sick with a bacterial infection in her throat. The doctor had to send in stronger medications for her this morning," she said, looking worried. "You know we're all worried about her throat and her voice, and Mia seems to be really stressed by it. Anyhow, she's been stuck in her room for the past couple days trying not to die."

She smiled and grabbed Jackson's hand before walking closer to the door.

"Oh, Christopher?" I turned around when she yelled for me.

"Yeah?" I raised my eyebrow.

"You can't see her," she stated firmly. I furrowed my brow.

"Why would I –?"

She cut me off.

"She's quarantined in a sense. At least until her new meds have a full twenty-four hours to work their way into her system. She can't really be around anyone," she said, smiling slyly and heading out the door with Jackson.

Plopping down into a chair with my coffee, I flipped through the channels, but I couldn't get past the fact that Mia was two rooms down and really sick. I tried a shower to clear my head, but it didn't work.

Finally, slipping into some shoes, I marched down to her room. Serena answered with a questioning look on her face. I pushed by and headed toward the closed door I assumed was Mia's.

"Christopher, you shouldn't go in there," Una warned, standing in front of me, blocking me. I grabbed her shoulders and moved her as gently as I could.

My hand grasped the knob.

"Christopher, she's really sick and possibly contagious," Serena chimed in. Her hand on my shoulder, she sighed. "Give her till tomorrow, and then come back."

It was the first time I think Serena actually asked me to come back or to be around Mia at all. I knew she hated Mia's involvement with me and I didn't blame her one bit.

"Someone better call the doctor now to get me the same shit. I'm going in there and not one of you is going to stop me."

Without looking at either one of them, I turned the knob and entered her room.

I looked straight toward her bed where I knew she would be. Curled up in the fetal position, she looked like hell. Her frame was smaller, her skin paler, and she looked a fucking mess. Still, the moment my eyes rested on her, I wondered how the fuck I hadn't fought harder for her. How I've stayed away from her for this long because my fucking ego was bruised. I swallowed down my feelings and kicked off my shoes, tossing my hoodie to the floor. She needed someone to comfort her, to be with her, and that someone was going to fucking be me. I climbed into the bed next to her. She lifted her head to look toward the movement.

"Shhh…just go back to sleep," I urged, lying flat on my back next to her.

"Hhhrrissss…"

She was trying to say my name, probably tell me the same thing Una and Serena already had.

"Please don't talk, you sound like shit," I said, giving her a teasingly disgusted look.

Her elbow met my side quickly, knocking the air from my lungs.

"You must not be too sick if you can still hit like that," I teased again.

This time her hand slapped me in the leg.

"I know I shouldn't be in here, but after all you've done for me…this is the least, the very least, I can fucking do. You shouldn't be by yourself."

She shifted and got comfortable. Then I heard the sound of her sleeping sighs.

I don't know how long I laid there before falling asleep next to her, but when I woke up with her head on my chest and my arm around her, it was the best fucking wake-up of my life. From this moment, there would be no more ignoring Mia. She was mine and I was damn sure going to make sure she knew it.

I stayed with her until she woke the next morning. Unfortunately, I had a session with Doctor J that couldn't be ignored. Leaving was hard to do, especially when she was still sick. I felt like I had just gotten her back.

"Tahng ew."

I laughed at her attempt to speak.

"No problem," I said with a shrug. "Don't speak, you really do sound like shit."

She gave me her middle finger as I walked out the door chuckling.

Mia

The show in Richmond was cancelled. I was pissed off and felt like I let down the band, but there was no way in hell I was going to be able to sing. I could barely talk. Christopher became my light during dark days. To say that I was happy when he first came to me would be a lie. I was thankful, yes, but to think it took me getting sick to get his head out of his ass irritated me. My hostile feelings were short lived. I had missed him so much and the fact that he decided to be there for me, that he risked the same thing happening to him, made my heart flutter.

I had been sick for what felt like months, but had only been a few of days. Waking the third day after starting my new medicines, I felt a hundred times better. To the relief of everyone, I was well enough to finally get on a tour bus and head to South Carolina. To my relief, I could finally shower and eat. It took a week until I was performance ready, though I was on a cocktail of medication for fourteen days.

It seemed like just yesterday we were walking into the record company for the first time. Now, between the months of tour dates and my health set back, it was September and close to my birthday. Knowing Laney, she would torture me somehow. She has every year since we were kids. I always tried to go low key, but Laney always had other, more elaborate, plans for us.

When we arrived in Myrtle Beach, I knew I was going to be in for one of her grand schemes.

"Happy Birthday, to you! Happy Birthday, to you!  Happy Birthday, dearest Mia!"

Covering my head, I groaned as Serena, Kat, and Laney barged into my room singing at the top of their lungs. Kat was rocking out on her guitar. Christopher shook with laughter next to me, finding humor in my torture. I smacked him.

"What was that for?" he yelled out, playfully.

"Don't encourage them," I groaned.

Then the blankets ripped from my bed to the floor. Ryan managed to get up on the bed and bounced as he sang Happy Birthday to me. Sitting up quickly, I pulled him on the bed, tickling him.

"Top it, An Mia!" he laughed and I let him go.

Laney disappeared from the room and reappeared with balloons.

"Oh, God," I mumbled, falling back onto the bed.

"Mia, hurry and get dressed! We need to eat breakfast and get on with our day!" Laney said, bouncing with excitement. "Oh, and we will be outside for a bit, so dress casually."

My surprise was evident. Holy shit! I don't have to dress up. She smiled.

"I'll have your outfit for later picked out and ready before we leave," she giggled.

Well, that was short lived. Sighing, I headed to the bathroom. I shut the door and she yelled again. At least this time it wasn't at me.

"Christopher, go get dressed! We are all going!"

Leaning back out of the bathroom door, I caught Christopher's lounged attention.

"You better hurry before Sergeant Slaughter comes back in here and yanks you out of the bed."

He chuckled and ran his hand through his overgrown hair.

"I heard that," Laney shouted from the living room.

I ducked back into the bathroom and closed the door.

After breakfast, we went to the NASCAR Speedway. We started on the bumper boats before moving on to go-cart racing. After six rounds, Elliott crushed us. He was ridiculous and cheating. He had to be cheating. Apparently bored with kicking our asses, Elliott took Ryan over to the children's go-carts and went around with him a few times. Serena and I stood watching.

"He's really good with Ry, huh?" I said, nudging her.

A smile spread across her face.

"Ry really likes him too," she said. Her face then fell.

"Hey…what's with the sad face?" I asked, putting my hand on her shoulder.

"I just…I don't know. What happens when we aren't touring with them anymore?" she queried, looking at me with a worried expression.

I hugged her.

"It will all work out."

She sighed and nodded her head, but she wasn't convinced.

"Has he said anything about it?"

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "And, believe it or not, I haven't been able to bring myself to ask him." She laughed a little.

I feigned shock.

"What? The great and powerful Oz is afraid of a boy?" I chuckled.

She smacked me.

"Ouch! It will all work out." I kissed her cheek and put my arm over her shoulder.

"Are you sure I'm the big sister?" she asked, putting her head on my shoulder.

"Hell yes! I'm not that old yet!" I laughed.

"You little bitch!"

I took off running with Serena close on my heels.

Elliott let Ry win a few times, and when they finished, we went to play Jurassic Golf. Ryan loved the dinosaurs, and I loved the fact that I was actually kicking ass at something. I did a couple of victory dances in Kat's face since we were opponents.

"You are a sore winner!" she complained and stuck out her tongue.

"Oh, are you offering some tongue service for my birthday?" Everyone in our group turned around to look at us.

"You know it, baby…I would love to get my tongue between –"

"Ewww…too much information, Kat! That's like incest!"

We both laughed.

"So it's only because I'm like your sister?" she raised an eyebrow.

"You know it, baby!" I said, smacking her ass. "You are one hot bitch!" We both burst into a fit of laughter.

When the afternoon was over, we headed back to the hotel. Ryan was going to the pool with Andrea and then having a movie night while the rest of us went out to honor the birthday plans Laney arranged.

"Mia!" Laney yelled from within my room.

I walked into the bedroom and into her grasp. She pulled me over to the bed.

"Get dressed," she urged with a smile, motioning to my outfit.

"Oh, hell no! It's my birthday I shouldn't have to wear –"

"Put it on, Mia!" she ordered, scowling.

I could try to fight her, I could even try to negotiate, but eventually I would lose this battle. I always did when it came to the birthday outfit.

"I'll be back to do your hair," she said sternly and walked out of my room. With a salute from me, she gave me one more unyielding look.

Turning back to the bed, I sighed at the clothing lying before me. There was a pair of black skinny jeans, which weren't the problem. The problem was the super tiny black vest looking top I was supposed to put on and then the shoes. She was definitely trying to make this the last birthday I would ever be able to walk.

I put everything on before she came back into the room. She had my size perfected. Everything fit like a glove. I stood in the mirror trying to cover up my stomach. It was really exposed and the corset-like effect of the vest gave me more cleavage than I'd ever had in my life.

"Fuck!"

I turned at Kat's exclamation.

"Mia, you look hot. I put my tongue offer back on the table. Screw the incest shit. I would totally be your girlfriend." She smiled and winked before she pulled me into the bathroom.

"What are –?"

"I'm doing your make-up," she said, patting the counter top for me to sit on.

When Kat finished, Laney arrived armed with the curling iron. She didn't say one word, instead went straight to work. Once she was finished, they spun me around to the large bathroom mirror.

I whistled.

"Why do we have make-up and wardrobe people, when you guys are capable of this?" I laughed. Kat and Laney gave each other a fist bump.

"We are amazeballs," Kat boasted.

"Holy Hotness!" Serena said as she leaned into the bathroom, looking me over.

"Why thank you, my dear." I curtsied.

"Don't look at my girlfriend like that," Kat quipped playfully.

Laughing, we left for the next location on Laney's birthday to do list. The guys were waiting down in the lobby for us.

Christopher

Jesus Christ, how fucking long does it take to change your damn clothes? ‘We'll be down in five minutes,' they said, ‘we just have to change real quick,' they said. They fucking lied. Lies, all lies. Fucking women!

"How much longer?" An equally frustrated Jackson was growling into his phone. "Okay, but hurry your ass up!" He sighed after he hung up. "Fucking women!"

Feel ya, bro.

We'd been waiting for thirty minutes. Thirty fucking minutes. Apparently, five minutes in women time. A few minutes after Jackson ended the call and they still hadn't pranced their asses down here. I was about to suggest waiting in the bar, but the elevator dinged, alerting its arrival. Kat and Serena step off. Quietly, I huffed in annoyance.

"Finally!" Elliott shouted and strolled over, wrapping himself around Serena. "I'm starving." He pulled her toward the lobby doors.

Seeing as only two of four had walked off the elevator, I stayed where I was and looked back to the elevator. Laney exited, her head bobbling with her chipper walk. Then, there was Mia. My lips parted, completely forgetting how to breathe. Holy fucking mother of Christ! All of my wet dreams just became a reality. How am I supposed to contain my raging hard on for her when she looks this fucking killer? She's killing me. My balls are fucking weeping. Clearing my head, I forced myself to regain composure on the way to the car.

I had to focus on anything but Mia in that outfit. It was much harder than I thought it would be. My brain couldn't get past the thought of her very long, long legs in those tight black pants, the exposed creamy skin of her stomach, and the way her dark hair flowed around her practically bare shoulders. I could only imagine those legs wrapped around my waist, the feel of her stomach under my fingertips, the way her hair would feel wrapped around my fist as I devoured her inch by fucking inch. Then, there was the tattoo. That damn black tattoo taunted me with the way it dipped into the waist of her pants. I was so fucking hard right now; I don't think an ice bath could quench my desire.

We arrived at Broadway Louis and migrated to the arcade. No matter how hard I tried to avoid her in hopes of dissuading my dick, I continued to find myself following her with my eyes. The guys in this place were gawking at her and I wanted to gouge their eyes out. She is mine, assholes. Even if she doesn't realize it yet. At least Laney had been smart enough to have both sets of security with us tonight.

At one point Mia took off her shoes and stood next to Kat on a Dance Dance Revolution machine. Their laughter was infectious and I found myself smiling with them. I could undoubtedly pick out Mia's laugh from anywhere. Becoming so attuned to her scared me.

"So, are you going to go over there or are you just going to eye fuck her all night?" Laney asked, smiling and offering me a beer. I accepted it.

"What are you talking –?"

"Please," she said and put her hand up. "Don't even try it." She rolled her eyes and walked over to Mia.

Once she was there, she turned and motioned me over. Taking a large drink of my beer, I walked over. My eyes started at her active feet and slipped up her legs, over her ass, the smooth concave slope of her lower back. I had to stop there, before I found the closet bathroom and jerked off. Nuns, puppies, babies. I was trying to tame my thoughts, but it was no use. My cock was throbbing. It really needed to be touched.

After the Dance Dance Revolution battle between Kat and Mia was over, they tried to get me to do it, but there was no fucking way I was getting on that machine. Honestly, Mia could've gotten me to dance with a monkey on my fucking head if she really tried, but she didn't press on the subject much. I was becoming a total pussy where she was concerned. Lucky for me, Xander arrived and they forced him to play instead.

Copious amounts of alcohol later, we were all starting to get pretty fucking trashed. I had lost count. I'm not a pussy when it comes to alcohol, but I was starting to feel fucked up. By the looks of everyone else, they were also riding the alcohol high train. We started playing the Daytona Car Race game, taking turns in groups of four.  Laney grouped everyone, preparing our buddy groups for her next scheduled destination. After Elliott kicked our fucking asses in fake racing, we decided to head out.

Club Boca was a beach-themed dance club in Myrtle Beach. It was definitely not my scene, but Kat, Serena, and Mia were out on the dance floor so fast you wouldn't have thought they just arrived.

Sitting back, I watched from the VIP area. Jackson and Elliott were sitting with me. Jimmy was out on the floor with the girls completely willing to take all their crazy moves without thinking twice. The drinks kept coming, eventually turning into shots. I drew my line at shots. I was already feeling good, no reason to waste a good buzz by getting fucked to smithereens.

Looking out on the floor, I couldn't help but be drawn to Mia. She was dancing with Xander now. I fell into a trance with her hips. They moved and her body slid against his. It was so fucking hot. I couldn't help but picture her sliding her hips over me. Licking my lips, I adjusted myself for what felt like the hundredth fucking time tonight. She was practically fucking Xander with their clothes on.

Through my alcohol-induced haze, it finally clicked in. She was practically fucking Xander with their clothes on. I felt my face heat and chest started to constrict with a familiar pang. It was the same way I felt seeing those douchebags touch her in the water. What had she called it? Jealousy. Fuck that. I'm not fucking jealous of anything or anyone. I'm Christopher fucking Mason. My name alone has made chicks orgasm all over the world.

"He's gay, you know."

My head snapped in Jackson's direction.

"Your face is giving away what you're thinking," he said with a smirk.

I was about to protest his correct assumption, but a deep scowl spread across his face. His attention wasn't on me anymore. It was on the dance floor. Glancing where he was looking, two guys were trying to push their bodies onto Laney. She looked like she was stuck between them and desperately trying to escape.

Jackson stood before I could look back at him. I got up and attempted calming him to the point that death wasn't on his radar. Laney could handle these douchebags and he didn't need to stride in like a fucking caveman. Once I grabbed his arm, trying to keep him from going apeshit, I looked back to the floor to assess the situation. One of the douches moved toward Mia and shoved Xander to the side.

Oh, fuck that!

Both of us moved with the speed and grace of a jungle cat to the floor. I pulled the aggressor off Mia and stood between them.

"What the fuck, dude?" the guy shouted.

Seething with anger, my fists clenched and my nose flared with hot breaths.

"Christopher," Mia called from behind me. "Christopher!"

I looked down at Mia, and her hand came to my face.

"It's okay."

She moved her hands to my fists and tried to unclench them with her fingers. I started to relax a little, but not enough to keep me from pummeling his face into the fucking ground.

"Holy shit! You…You're Christopher fucking Mason!" the asshole exclaimed, all excited. "From The Forgotten."

Annoyed, I turned back to glare at him. The anger rose again. When it reached my eyes, they fucking burned with intent. Nobody fucking touches her except for me. He backed up a little.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know she was your girl. Man…shit…Christ, I'm a huge fan."

I was about to lose it again, but there was a tug on my arm. Before I could turn, Mia was standing in front of me.

"It's okay. Honest mistake," she said with an uncomfortable laugh.

"Oh wow, you're…"

My jaw clenched tighter.

"Fuck me, you're Mia Ryder!"

He turned his head toward the douchebag Jackson had removed from Laney.

"Dude, I was fucking dancing with Mia Ryder!"

A proud smile spread across his face. My body tensed up. She spun around when she felt my flexed body.

"It's okay, Christopher. Calm down. It's over. Relax."

She turned back to the asshole in front of us.

"It was a simple mistake. Have a goodnight."

I wrapped my arms around her, and she leaned back against my chest. She started guiding us backwards, but this asshole wasn't getting the hint.

"Can I get a picture with you guys?" he asked, holding up his cell.

That was it, I fucking lost it.

"Hey, ass clown, how about you take a fucking picture of my fist shoved up your ass? Will that be enough of a fucking memory for you?” I coaxed, hoping like hell he would come at me.

"Maybe another time," Mia quickly replied, trying to ease the situation.

Turning in my arms to face me, she began pushing me backwards.

"I'm gonna kill that –"

She shoved me harder.

"It's over, Chris," she said, her hand cupping my face. I looked down into her eyes. "It's okay. He wasn't going to hurt anyone."

I scowled. Is that was this was about? Did she really think that was why I had come out here?

Her body pressed against mine, and the pulse between us took over. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her behind me and out the door. The flashes of cameras and reporters' questions flew out around us. We got in the first available yellow car. Letting go of her hand, I buried my face in my palms.

"Christopher, are you okay?" she asked in a low tone.

Okay? Hell no, I'm not okay. I'm not okay without you. Why can't you see that? I don't want anyone else to touch you. I wanted to scream it at her; make her understand.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just needed to get out of there. Sorry," I mumbled.

"It's alright. I've reached my alcohol limit anyhow," she giggled and motioned over her shoulder. “My knight in shining armor, coming to save me from a drunk wanting to dance,” she mused, poking fun at my behavior.

I didn't respond. I was on edge and the alcohol wasn't helping. The rest of the drive was quiet, and soon we arrived to her room. Before opening the suite, she turned around, looking up to me. There was a sway in her body from the spin and the alcohol.

"Goodnight," she lightly slurred. "Unless you're staying here."

She laughed and opened her door. I helped her into the room. She pulled off her shoes and tossed them to a corner of the living room.

"God, that feels so much better!" she moaned like she was in ecstasy. My dick twitched from the sound. I wanted to make her moan, make her fucking writhe in ecstasy, and scream my name, over and over.

My silence must have bothered her. She turned around and looked at me, confused.

"You're quiet, you know that?" she said, smiling. Her eyes met mine dead. In two long strides, I stood before her, silently pleading with her to see how I felt.

Cupping her neck, I slid my other hand to the small of her back and crushed my lips to hers, intently and passionately. A voice in the back of my head kept yelling that she was going to protest and we'd both had too much to drink, but the pulsing heat between us drowned the voice. When her hands wrapped around my neck and her fingers laced into my hair, the little voice was officially strung-up and shot.

We hungrily attacked each other, battling for domination of the other's mouth. Moving us toward her bedroom, I kicked the door shut behind us. She jumped from the noise, but didn't remove her lips.

I fisted her hair, pulling her closer. Her taste was heavenly. It was like getting a taste of mythological ambrosia of the Gods. I wasn't worthy, but I couldn't stop. She moaned and I stiffened. She tilted her head back and gasped for air.

The tilt allowed my lips to move over her chin and down her throat. Her fingers gripped my shoulders. I kissed at the base of her neck. She wasn't pulling away or rejecting me, she was pulling me closer.

I ran my hands down to her collarbone and traced the path with my lips. Her fingers reached the hem of my shirt, coasting along my stomach, up to my chest, before taking my shirt over my head. I reached back down, frenzied from her actions. I took the scrap of a shirt she was wearing and ripped the buttons from their thread, exposing her glorious fucking tits to my wrath. I dipped my head and traced her lace nipples with my tongue. They peaked to attention and my cock became rock fucking solid.

She tore at the button of my jeans and wrenched them down my legs, brushing her hands against my erection. I sucked harder on a nipple while attacking her pants and throwing them to the ground. She moaned the most glorious of moans and my control was gone. I grasped onto her thighs and lifted, wrapping her legs around my waist. Pushing her down on the bed with our bodies still in full contact, I grinded up against her wet heat and poured my attention into her other nipple.

Pushing the remains of her top from her body, I took her nipple fully into my mouth. I suckled, licked, and lightly nibbled. Fuck, she tastes good, sounds good, and the feel of her bare skin combined with the smell of her arousal consumed every one of my senses.

She whimpered, using her hands to pull my head closer to her.

My fingers slid over her soft stomach until I reached the lace edge of her panties and dipped my hand under. Slipping one finger over her, she called out my name.

The heat and wetness awakened my primal need. Dipping my index finger inside of her, she writhed, tilting her hips to my hand. Inserting my middle finger alongside my index, I began pumping them in and out of her. Rhythmically, she moved her hips against my hand. She moans again, bit her lip, and starts playing with the nipple I wasn't lavishing. God, she's so fucking hot. Releasing her nipple, I watched her work herself into a frenzy on my hand.

"Christopher…please," she growled the sexiest plea I'd ever heard in my life. It was musical. I wonder if she would let me record it for the next album.

So fucking turned on I could barely think, I remove my fingers from her and strip her panties away from her body. Shifting myself around awkwardly, I got my boxers off and positioned myself at her entrance. Heat radiates from her pussy against my hard flesh, causing a tremble through my body. Rubbing my tip against her clit, we moan in unison. One lift of her hips toward me and I dove into heaven.

"Oh fuck! Christ, Mia!"

A shiver ran up my spine. So fucking tight, and warm, and wet, and fucking perfect, she pushed her hips forward against me again but I had to pause for a second. She felt too fucking good, I was about to lose my shit already.

"Please, Christopher…please…"

The mewling was not helping my situation. Calm, Christopher. Do not need to lose your shit yet. You are not a one and half pump chump. Keep it together, man.

Feeling a bit more in control of myself, I began slowly thrusting in and out of her. I needed to be deeper, needed…I wrapped her legs around my waist, opening her wide to me. I thrust in again, a little harder this time. We are so deeply connected now. I wanted to get lost in her forever. She feels so amazing, too amazing. Palming the back of her right thigh, I lifted, and squeezed. Thrusting harder, deeper, hitting the exact spot I was aiming for. My movements were rhythmic, like the most beautiful guitar riff playing throughout my body.

"Oh, God…Chris….Ungh...fuck," she moaned, meeting my movements.

Every muscle in her body tensed up. Then her heavenly body clenched down on me so tight there was no stopping my forceful orgasm.

"Mia…shit…oh ggg..."

Spilling deep inside her, I buried my head in the pillow above her shoulder. Our hips slowed, riding out the orgasmic high. Both panting and sticking from sweat, I rolled us to our sides, her bare chest rising and falling against mine. Lightly running my fingertips over her curves, a desperate need to commit every one of them to memory took over. Just before I'm about to fall into a satisfied sleep, I bring my lips to her ear, whispering, "Happy Birthday, Mia."

Mia

Oh, fuck me, how much did I drink last night? There was so much sunlight in my room. Opening my eyes, a blast of the worst headache ever pierced my skull. My head was spinning and I felt like death. Rolling over, I landed on a bare chested Chris. Grabbing the comforter, I pull it over my head and wish the sun away. Trying to remember what happened last night, I could only hope I didn't make an ass out of myself. Once my mind finally caught up, my eyes flew open and I flipped the covers off my face, sitting up quickly.

"Oh shit!" I screeched, covering my mouth and scanning his body. A very naked Christopher started to stir. I lay back on my pillow and covered my face with my hands, instantly sober.

What did I do? Oh, God, what did I do? Oh, my God, Serena is going to kill me. Fuck, Una is gonna flip out. Son of a bitch, this can't happen. I glanced over at Christopher one more time. He is so goddamn beautiful, and good Lord, could he work a woman over. A brief moment of satisfyingly good memories from last night passed through my mind. My libido stirred to life, ready for another round of Christopher Mason.

His hands on my skin, the way the cool metal ball of his tongue piercing felt against my nipple. His viper bites rubbing against my inner thigh.

Groaning, I bit my lip hard. Stop it, Mia! This will never work.

"I'm taking you remember last night?" he chuckled.

"This is so not funny, Christopher," I mumbled through the arms covering my face. "Oh, God , what did I do?"

"Well…you couldn't keep your hands off my –" I covered his mouth with my hand.

"Shut up," I growled. "Okay, let's just pretend this didn't happen. Deal?"

"Pretend, what? Mia, why are –"

"Just shhhh."

I put one finger to his lips. "We both had too much to drink. Just get dressed and pretend nothing happened last night." Grabbing the sheet from the bed, I wrap it around myself heading for the shower. "Oh, God, I'm such an idiot."

I groaned all the way to the bathroom. After collapsing into a ball on the shower floor, I tried to forget last night happened. As if I could forget the way his tongue, his hands, and those long fingers played my body. Once I felt a little more human, I got out and dried off. Walking back out into my room, I stopped short.

"You're serious?" he asked in a frustrated tone. "You want to pretend it never happened?"

I didn't move for a moment. With a simple nod from me, his face went from hurt, to sadness, to anger.

"Christopher, this just complicates everything. We have to work together, I know you, well you have your 'groupies', we travel together, and you're trying to work on...all your stuff. At the end of all this, you will go your way and I'll go mine. I was just starting to feel like friends and then I had to go and get super friendly."

Apparently so friendly that I introduced my vagina to his cock.

I groaned again.

"It's my fault. It's best just to stop it all now."

Before I could make my way any closer to him, he stood up and grabbed his shirt. He slipped it over his deliciously broad and tattoo covered shoulders.

"Christopher –"

"Don't fucking worry about it," he snapped. "It's was nothing, right? Didn't mean shit? I'll just go grab one of my ‘groupies' and fuck her until I forget. In fact, maybe I'll grab two, or three."

Hurt coursed through my chest. But, fuck me, if I didn't deserve this.

"Oh, by the way," he said, drawing my eyes from the bed to him standing at the door. "We are not fucking friends."

He closed the door behind him.

Standing there in my robe for a few minutes, long fingers of hurt wrapped around my heart and squeezed. I collapsed to the carpet and cried. What did I let happen? I ruined everything.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mia

A week in Myrtle Beach passed and Christopher stayed away. Once again, he avoided me and this time it really was my entire fault. I should have never let anything happen. I couldn't even blame the alcohol. I was well aware of what was going on. I just couldn't stop, everything felt so right. He had felt so…shit, I couldn't even describe it. I shook off those thoughts, and we went on stage.

A month of performances went by. Myrtle Beach, SC; Atlanta, GA; Birmingham, AL; Pensacola, FL; and we were in Orlando, FL this weekend. The only time you found Chris and I together was on stage for our duet. The first night was really uncomfortable and off. Laney noticed it and tried to quiz me, but I rebuffed her. It was hard enough to shake the thought of him. I didn't need her bringing it up, too.

In October, there weren't many tourists, so we talked to Una about Disney. She made some calls and got us passes to all the parks. Ryan was so excited, we found ourselves riding the same rides multiple times. Elliott was acting as much a kid as Ry. We spent four afternoons visiting the parks.

Laney got her picture with every princess she could get and even talked me into the Princess Boutique. She exited the boutique in full Snow White attire, while I was Jasmine.

Elliott definitely favored Epcot and the different countries, since he could eat something different in each place. Jackson loved the different drinks available. Kat and I loved the Mickey Mouse hats we sported throughout the park, as well as the many photo ops we had with people who recognized us. To top off the Disney trip for me, I got to meet Maleficent and Ursula. They are my favorites.

The hotel we were staying in had an amazing indoor pool that I took full advantage of. On the last day before the concert, I went and did a promotional radio meeting.

No one said anything, but the looks were signs they knew something happened between Christopher and me. Serena's looks were the worst. She knew me too well and I feared she’d already put two and two together. Luckily, no one brought it up.

After Florida, we traveled to Little Rock, AK and then spent Halloween in New Orleans, LA. The New Orleans show was amazing, and going through all the areas of New Orleans was heartbreaking and interesting at the same time.

Halloween in New Orleans was something I would never forget. We all dressed up as ghouls and took Ry to the Boo at the Zoo event. On the way back to the hotel, we stopped to check out the Voodoo Music Experience in City Park. Amazing!

Once Andrea had Ryan in bed for the night, we joined the Vampire Lestat Fanclub for their annual Queen of the Damned Ball. Laney was adamant we change into vampire costumes before we attended, so we each picked a vampire costume from a different era.

The music was great, the people amazing, and the Vampire-themed alcohol was aplenty. Laney passed Vampire Juice out to everyone. One attempt to sip at it and my stomach turned at the smell of tomato and horseradish.  From that point forward, water was my choice of drink.

Before we left New Orleans, Una called a meeting where she informed us that the duet "Broken" was number one on the charts, and the single was already selling record amounts in online downloads. We were excited about the news, but a small part of me ached.

"Mia," Una said, turning her attention to me. "Richard and the label want more collaboration."

"You mean another duet with Christopher?"

"Well, they would like for you two to work together on another song yes; however, they want this to be something that Hush would typically perform. Richard has suggested Christopher be featured on your song this time, instead of you featured on his," she said and smiled. "Do you think this is something we can accomplish?"

"Um…sure, but is it expected before the end of this tour? I mean –"

"No, no, no,” she shook her head for emphasis, “there really is no timeline for it, though they would prefer you to have it sooner than later. For this tour, we don't anticipate a performance. We simply want to record and distribute, for now."

I nodded, and we finished a few other things Una needed to discuss. Before leaving, she said one last thing.

"Mia, I'll get with Nicholas and let him know about the collaboration. They'll probably want to schedule a meeting for you both to meet with Richard and so forth, okay?"

I gave her thumbs up and she left.

Our last night in New Orleans was a late one. Laney and Kat decided my current mood was getting on their nerves, so I needed to get out. We hit a couple of clubs. One was a dance club I wasn't in the mood for, but the jazz club was fantastic. They had open mic night and it was great.

The travel to Jackson, Mississippi was miserable. I spent most of the trip and first evening nauseated and puking. Thankfully, I was feeling better by the time we left for Vegas and hoped no one else would catch it. I was tired of being the sick one on the tour. However, I held out ridiculous hope Chris would show up during my sick night. Unlike before, he didn't show up.

Christopher

Saying I could easily forget that night was the biggest lie I would ever tell. After I fucking bled my heart out to her, shared my past with her, kept her company while she was sick, she wanted to throw my ‘groupies' in my face and tell me she felt like I was using her like one? Fuck that. I was angry but I was also fucking hurt. She ripped a huge, gaping wound in my chest. She wanted to pretend it didn't fucking happen. While I felt like she kicked me in the balls and face at the same time, I could definitely pretend.

The memory of the night plays in my head on what felt like fucking repeat. Yet another experience to haunt me. While the Alcohol played a huge part in us being so unguarded, it wasn't the cause of our actions. The moment I tasted her on my lips, felt her beneath my body, entered her so deeply, it was as if I was complete, whole again. Being complete was something I hadn't felt in a long time. There was no way I could just let go of it, and I sure as fuck couldn't be friends with her. I wanted more, but she didn't. What the fuck ever.

Throughout a huge part of the tour, I kept myself busy with music and writing.  You wouldn't believe the songs that write themselves when you've been slapped in the face and your hearts been fucking stomped on.

It was hard to be close to her and not be with her, so hard my body became desperate in her presence. When I saw her swimming with Ryan in the Orlando hotel, it took every ounce of strength not to grab her like a fucking caveman, drag her back to my room, and scream at her until she submitted as mine.

During my latest session with Doctor J, in Jackson, I started to place the connection with Mia. The doctor had started asking me questions about relationships. We started with the relationship between my mother and me. Then we moved on to Gwen and Nicholas.

He helped me understand that I was very "soft" when it came to Gwen. After talking in some detail and length, I realized I cared for Gwen as a motherly figure, but not as a replacement. Nicholas was a different matter. I resented him and his life. While I had to suffer through hell, he was living the life with a family of his own. Similar feelings also seemed to apply to Jackson. I had a jealous streak when it came to Jackson and his relationships with Gwen, Nicholas, and, honestly, anyone else we come in contact with. It was easier for Jack to relate to others than it was for me.

Having never looked at the way I felt about people in comparison to how I treated them, it felt like weights coming off my shoulders, five pounds at a time. The largest weight was when Doctor J brought up women in my life – girlfriends, lovers, friends.

We discussed Stacia and Jessica, as well as the nameless others. The mention of Stacia caused a flood of guilt. I'd heard nothing in regards to her since that night and could only assume Nicholas had "taken care of" the situation. Doc saw my face and was quick to call me on it.

"What's going on up there?" he asked, motioning toward my head.

I shook my head.

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me about it."

"It's just, well, Stacia…"

"What about her?" he pressed when I paused.

"I'm assuming Nicholas took care of it, but…" I trailed off, and he nodded for me to continue. "I never apologized for hurting her."

"And this is something that's bothering you?"

I shrugged.

"I guess. It's just that…Christ…it makes me just fucking like that prick!" I growled.

"Just like who?"

"Him," I growled.

"Your stepfather?" I nodded. "Christopher, you had no intention of hurting Stacia. You have issues that needed and still need worked out. You're not Colin."

"Then why do I feel like I am?" I snapped.

"It's called guilt, Chris. You feel guilty for hurting her."

I sighed and rubbed my rough hands over my face.

"Perhaps you should talk with Nicholas about Stacia to make sure she's okay?"

"I-I don't know," I said, shaking my head.

"You know, by now you should realize that holding things in will only eat away at you."

"I know, I know."

"Okay, well, think about it. Let's keep going with your relationships. What about Mia?"

Once he brought her up, a knot, twinge, and a wave of happiness laced in tension swelled. He asked me to talk about the feelings and actions toward her. It was much harder than discussing the others. Then he asked me that damn all too familiar question.

"Have you ever been in love with a woman?"

I sat there in silence for a few moments, mulling over this question a-fucking-gain. He waited patiently for my answer, but I had nothing to offer. How could I answer the fucking question when I don't know what feelings I'm looking for? I looked up to his face.

"What does it feel like?"

He shook his head.

"You would know it if you felt it. However, with your situation, I'll try to explain. Just know, by no means is love something that can truly be defined in words."

He smiled and leaned forward toward me.

"Being in love with a woman can drive you crazy. She makes you feel like a great man, but can also bring you to a childlike state in a matter of one or two words. She can make you laugh when you want to cry, let you think you have all the power, but you know all that strength and power lie with her. You can see a forever with her just from her smile or a look, and sometimes you'll feel like you hate her for it."

He lightly chuckled.

"You'll never find anyone who can make you feel this way again, make you whole…"

My expression stopped him from finishing his explanation. I swallowed hard and my eyes widened in realization.

"Christopher?" he said with a small smirk.

"How long have you had it figured out?" I asked, not taking my hardened eyes off the coffee table in front of me.

"Oh…I've assumed for a while now, however it's not something someone can tell you. You have to discover it on your own for it to be genuine and real."

He sat back smiling widely.

"So, this is what it feels like?"

He nodded.

"It fucking sucks, doesn't it?"

Doctor J burst into a boisterous laugh.

"Oh, the student is learning so quickly," he said, calming his laughter. "My boy…it will be the worst and the best thing you've ever realized."

With that, he patted me on the back and excused himself from my room. I felt like a fucking moron. I am in fucking love with Mia.

Mia

In Vegas, the stomach bug came back, but dissipated as quickly as it arrived. Convincing everyone to let me out of the room for a while, we decided to take a walk through the Vegas strip together. Our bodyguards, Bishop and Phillip, objected to our very public stroll, but eventually they settled for tagging along.

Cameramen followed us and randomly asked questions. Sometimes they got an answer, other times just smiles. When we passed an IHOP, I made the girls go into the restaurant. Fans stopped us to sign autographs and we posed for some pictures as well. The paparazzi bothered us some, but as long as we gave them a few shots and were cordial, they didn't stalk our every move. Our security team's presence also deterred them from coming inside the restaurant. After we ate, we headed back out to the strip and visited a few different places.

We didn't get to just shop and do normal things like we used to. You never realize how much you miss it until it's taken away from you. On the way back to the hotel, we stopped in a store to grab some snack stuff. Bishop and Phillip stood at the entrance of the store to keep a close eye on those who entered. Kat headed straight for the Slurpee machine, Laney b-lined for the chip aisle hoping to find some vegetarian chips, and I went straight for the junk food aisle.

"Oh, Mia," Kat sang coming around the aisle.

"Yes, Kat," I sang back.

"Look what I found," she said, tearing open a large yellow bag. I smiled when I caught sight of the big red fish on front of the bright yellow bag. She shoved the opening toward me. The smell filled my nostrils and I clasped one hand over my mouth. My stomach twisted and my body convulsed. My eyes searched around the store. When I located the restroom sign, I didn't hesitate. I barely made it to the toilet before IHOP made its encore presentation in a convenient store toilet. It had tasted so good going down.

Washing out my mouth in the restroom sink, I looked up into the mirror above the sink. Serena's reflection was in the mirror.

"Shit!" I said as I turned around to her. "Don't do that! It's like being in a bad horror flick."

She had a scowl on her face.

"What?"

"Those were Red Fish."

"Really?" I drawled, exaggerated.

"You love those things," she continued.

"Thanks, Captain Obvious," I laughed.

"But they just made you sick" she said, furrowing her brow in confusion. "You've seemed really off lately, too."

"So what? You know this stomach bug has been –"

"Yeah, but you've been sick a couple of times and then the fish made you sick enough to throw up?"

"Yes, Mom, I puked. My stomach has been –"

"Did you sleep with Christopher?" she blurted.

"W-what?" I stammered, standing frozen, trying to fight the blush encompassing my entire head.

"You did!" she exclaimed, putting her hand on her forehead. "Jesus Christ, Mia!"

"What?" I said defensively. "You know we've slept together. I didn't say we had sex."

"It's written all over your face," she said, covering her face, a muffled groan escaping around her fingers. "It was your birthday night when you two disappeared, wasn't it? When he stormed out of our room, and stopped talking to you again?"

"I'm old enough to have sex with whomever I want," I spat and narrowed my eyes on her. "No matter how much you like to play mom –"

"Did you use a condom?"

"What?"

"Oh, Christ, what if you're pregnant? Or worse, what if you caught something from him?"

Our discussion was elevating to argument very quickly.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? I'm not pregnant!"

"You had sex. Did you use a condom?"

I hesitated at her question.

"I'll take that as a no," she snapped, venom dripping from her words. "Jesus, Mia, you have all the symptoms."

"You damn well know I'm on the pill! I've been on it since you got pregnant."

We wore matching glares.

"When was your last period?" she questioned like she had a medical degree.

"A few weeks ago when I started the white pills, jerk!" I shot back.

"You had a period?" she demanded. I could tell she didn't believe me.

"Yes," I shouted.

"Shh! Calm down. Was it heavy?"

"Oh. My. God! I'm not doing this. I had a period and I'm on the pill. I have the flu or something, let it go."

I pushed by her, but she grabbed my arm.

"Since you're so sure, you won't mind taking a test for me," she challenged with a raised eyebrow and a fake smile. I was about to argue with her, but she produced a white and blue box in an extended hand.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You've been on antibiotics, Mia.  They can completely mess up your pills." Serena pulled me back toward a stall. I stopped in place.

"What?" I yelled, yanking my arm away from her. "No, I'm not—"

She'd gone crazy. Did she really just carry those around in her back pocket or something?

"I grabbed it on the way in here."

I hated how she could read me.

"Uh-huh," I muttered, eyeing her skeptically.

"Just do it, Mia," she shouted back, "since you are so sure!"

"Fine, Asshole!" I yelled and grabbed the box, stomping into the stall.

Sitting there for what felt like forever, I obviously couldn't perform under pressure.

"Are you done?"

"Shut up, I can't pee!"

I tried not to laugh too hard when I responded. Serena stifled her laugh as well. Part of me was glad the harsh words were over and we were getting back to acting like sisters again.

Finally, I was able to perform.

"Hand it to me," Serena ordered.

"Ew! I just pissed on this thing, no!" I shouted and fastened my pants.

Reaching over, I grabbed the white stick off the top of the toilet paper holder. One pink line stared back at me.

"What does one pink line mean?" I asked, walking out.

"That would be a negative," Serena exhaled in relief.

"Ha, told you!"

I handed over the stick to her and started a happy dance.

"Whoot whoot. Mia 1, Serena 0," I laughed.

"Damn it, Mia, you didn't wait for the results line."

I looked at her confused. "Huh?"

"You were looking at the control line before the test was finished."

She fell back against the wall and looked at me with shock in her eyes.

"What?" I asked, reaching down to grab the test. "What the hell is a control line?"

Two dark pink lines taunted me from the little gray window. Fuck me running!

"Shit!"

My eyes snapped up to Serena's face. Her eyes closed, head leaned against the wall.

"What…how…I'm on the fucking pill! I've been taking it every day. There has to be something wrong with this….go and get another one, a different one."

"Mia –"

"Go! Now!"

She pushed off the wall and went back out to the store. When she returned, I tore open the new box and went back to the stall.

"That's the only other kind they have here," Serena informed in a sad tone.

I tried to force myself to pee again, but I was getting nothing. A bottle of water appeared over the stall door. Pants around my knees, I stood up and grabbed it. Chugging the water, I waited. It felt like I sat on the damn toilet for hours before I could finally produce enough urine.

I sat looking at the front of the test waiting for the result. Pregnant popped up in the little gray oval. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck Me! I'm pregnant. I'm pregnant with Christopher Mason's baby. What the fuck!

"Damn it!" I screamed, dropping my head to Serena's shoulder as tears unwilling spilled forth.

"What the hell is taking so long?" Kat exclaimed, bursting through the restroom door.

"Yeah, what –?" Laney started.

They gasped in unison when their eyes shifted from Serena embracing me to the white sticks on the sink.

Everyone walked back to the hotel in stunned silence. Kat collected the tests, mumbling something about sick fucks and media. Serena had my right arm and Laney my left, helping me walk back. Bishop and Phillip stole curious glances. Despair wasn't strong enough of a word for the way I was feeling.

Of course, we just have to pass Christopher and Elliott walking through the lobby. I couldn't look at either of them. Keeping my eyes forward, I began walking faster.

Shit! Can he tell? Of course, he can't tell. I've lost my mind. Maybe the tests are wrong. They aren't one hundred percent accurate. There's still like a point one percent they are wrong. Maybe I'm dehydrated? Could that cause a false positive?

"What happened?" Elliott's eyes on me were like stun guns, but I refused to meet them.

"Nothing, she just isn't feeling well again," Kat said, shrugging.

Christopher's curious look was the worst, but I ignored him, too. There was no way I could look in his eyes without breaking into a hysteric fit. It was straight to bed when we got to the hotel. Exhaustion crept up on me and I fell soundly asleep. I woke up with Serena lying next to me. I rolled over.

"Hey," she said, her eyes open and looking at me.

"You okay?" she asked.

"I guess," I said, sitting up. "I don't know what I'm going to do, Sis."

A tear escaped my eye and slid down my face. I hadn't called her Sis since I was very, very young, but, in this moment, I felt like a small child.

"Maybe it's wrong."

The hopeful whisper of denial didn't sound convincing to my own ears. Serena sat up next to me.

"We'll get through this. I'll be there, and you know Linda will be there for this baby just as she is for Ry. It will be –"

"Whoa, Serena, I don't know if I can."

"It's not easy, but you know what it's like."

"No, you don't get what I'm saying. I don't think I can go through with the pregnancy. I think maybe the best option here would be –"

"Do not finish that sentence! Don't even fucking think about it, Mia," she shouted loudly, bringing Laney, Kat, and Una into the room. "You can't do that. That's the most horrible thing you've ever –"

"What the hell is going on?" Kat asked, approaching the bed and sitting at the end. Laney and Una stood next to her. Neither of us responded. Instead, we acted as if she never said a word.

"I have to consider all of my options and that is one of them," I argued back.

"Someone please tell me what's going on?" Laney sighed, loud and dramatic.

"She wants to kill the baby," Serena growled.

My eyes grew large and I quickly turned toward Una, who now turned her wide eyes on me. She moved her eyes over my stomach and back to my face.

"Mia…you…you're pregnant?" she barely whispered.

I nodded as tears slipped past my lashes. Laney stood up and put her arm around me.

"Serena, take it easy on her. She's fucking scared."

"Mia, you know I was scared at twenty-four, but I did it, and look at Ryan. Would you want me to have gotten rid of him?"

"How can you even ask me that?" I sobbed.

"Okay, everyone, calm the hell down," Kat broke in. "This is Mia's decision, not ours. We need to support her, not scream at her."

Kat shifted her eyes to Serena who was still steaming mad.

"No, I think it's his decision, too," Serena snapped, shifting her eyes to me and raising a brow. I wanted to rip out her damn eyebrow piercing.

"You wouldn't."

"Mia, you can't honestly think the best option is to kill an innocent child," Serena pleaded.

"Alright, enough!"

We turned our stunned faces to Una. She took a deep breath.

"I just made a call to the doctor and he'll be here in about thirty minutes," she said, turning to look at me. "How do you know for sure?"

I pointed at Serena.

"The pregnancy test Nazi made me take a test this afternoon because I threw up!"

Una rubbed her forehead with her hand.

"You did this in public? What if someone could've seen all of this happen?" Una asked and sunk down to the bed. "You guys have to think more about being in public. The paparazzi could get a hold of this story and run wild with it."

She sighed. Kat assured her she collected the tests and only gave the clerk a hundred dollars without explaining why. Una looked slightly relieved, but started to make more phone calls. A half hour later, the doctor arrived and did some basic tests on me while everyone waited outside of my room.

"Well, the urine test is a positive, and it will take a couple of days to get the blood test results. We also have to get you into a doctor's office for more blood work, a checkup, and some other things if the blood test confirms the urine sample. I'll get it all scheduled for you and keep it a private matter," he said, smiling before heading out of the room.

Serena was the first one to enter the room. "Mia –"

"You know what, Serena? I need my big sister right now, not a pro-life advocate!" I spat and lay back down on the bed. My door shut.

"I'm sorry, Mia. I really am. I just hate the thought of –"

"I know," I sighed. "I'm sorry if it bothers you, but I have to make the best decision for me."

I heard her open her mouth to speak again.

"I haven't made up my mind, Serena. I'm just considering all options." We sat in silence for a long time before Una came back into the room.

"Mia, the doctor has scheduled your appointment with me and I'm going to move the meeting with Christopher and Nicholas to another day, okay?"

I could only nod. The mention of Christopher made me feel nauseated. I decided not to leave the hotel room until it was absolutely necessary.

Christopher

Sitting in the hotel living room, Nicholas mentioned my meeting with Mia today was rescheduled due to an appointment. I tried not to look disappointed about not getting to be with her.

Seeing Mia at each concert, I could see a drastic change in her attitude and physically. She just wasn't the same. Her body looked thinner, her skin a sickly pale white, and her eyes were plagued with deep purple bags. I'd heard rumors of her being sick again, but my pride didn't allow me to inquire any further.

Once Nicholas left, Jackson followed me into my bedroom slamming the door shut.

"What the fuck, Jackson?"

"You fucking liar," he yelled.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Fighting between confusion and anger, I tried to stay calm.

"Bullshit," he yelled, raising one eyebrow cockily. "You said you weren't sleeping with her."

I sighed and sat down on the bed.

"I guess you heard from Laney."

"No, not exactly."

I looked up at him, confused.

"I overheard a conversation when I was in their room."

"Oh," I sighed again and ran my hand through my hair.

"That's all you can say?" He stood in front of me, arms over his chest.

"What do you want me to say? It was just the one time, Dad."

"Just one time?"

"Yes, asshole," I snapped, my words soaked in sarcasm.

"Whatever. I can't believe you want her to have an abortion. That's just so pathetic, Christopher, even for you. You're a fucking douchebag."

Jackson's words tore through me.

"Abortion?" I coughed.

"You didn't know?" he whispered in realization.

"How do you know? Are you sure?"

Her looking sick, the rumors of being sick, her appointment; it all fell into place. One time? Seriously, one fucking time and the boys decided to run rampant and take anything they could fucking get, including her fucking ovaries? Mother of fucks.

"Shit, Jackson!  What the fuck do you know?"

"Christopher, I thought you knew and you wanted….Fuck!" He rubbed his hands over his face.

"This is your last chance, Jackson!" I threatened, grabbing onto his shirt.

"I told you. I overheard part of a conversation when we were in Vegas." He took a deep breath. "Maybe it's not yours." Jack's voice trailed into a whisper with the last two words.

Pain and then anger took turns biting at me.

"What did you hear? Are you sure she is…and she's going to…Wait! You waited till now, and you found out in Vegas?" I demanded, searching his face and seeing pain.

He explained what he heard almost a week ago, and then told of his suspicions about her appointment today.

"Today?" I asked, grabbing a sweatshirt and slipping on my shoes.

"What are you doing?" he yelled as I ran from the room.

"I have to stop her!"

Out of the suite, I ran for girl's suite.

There was no fucking way I was going to let her abort my child. Fuck no! I had a fucking say. It was my child, too. I had to get to her. I had to tell her…

Reaching her door, I beat on it furiously. About to knock again, the door swung open and Laney's confused and nervous face greeted me.

"Where is Mia?" I asked breathlessly and pushed by her. I went to her room to find her. It was empty.

"She's not here," she said. "She had an appointment."

"Where is she, Laney? I need to find her."

I was practically begging for information.

"Christopher…." she sighed and took a breath, "she went to an appointment. She'll be back later this after –"

"No, Laney. Where is she now? What's the appointment?"

Grabbing onto her shoulders, my fingers dug a little too deep.

"It's a doctor appointment," she choked.

"Let go of her, Christopher," Jackson yelled and approached from the door. Releasing Laney, I started pacing and running both hands though my hair.

"What doctor, Laney?"

She bit her lip and furrowed her brow, clearly hesitant to answer me.

"Fucking shit, Laney! Tell me! I need to stop her!"

Laney's eyes widened.

"You know?" she whispered.

When she wouldn't respond, I pulled out my phone and called Una.

"Christopher? What –"

"Where's Mia?"

"She's at an appointment. We'll be back –"

"Una, I need to fucking talk to her! Please?" I begged, heading downstairs to get a car.

"I'm sorry, Christopher. We'll talk when we get back."

She hung up. The bitch hung up on me!

"Fuck!" I screamed aloud in the elevator, scaring a small elderly couple.

"Sorry," I mumbled before running off the elevator toward the front doors.

There was a yellow car sitting right out front. Climbing in, my phone pinged. It was a text message from an unknown number.

I'm the only ally you have right now. 1505 Westlake Avenue – Dr. Lin. Hurry!

Throwing two hundred dollars at the driver, I gave him the address and told him to get me there in five minutes. He saw the money and floored the gas pedal.

Rushing into the medical building, the main lobby filled with large bellies or tiny babies. I stood shocked for a moment before I remembered why I was here. One deep breath and I rushed to the large window. Behind the plexiglass sat a plump brunette in blue scrubs.

"Hello, I'm looking for someone."

I tapped the window impatiently. She turned to me with an annoyed expression.

"I'm sorry, sir, you'll need to wait out here," she spoke nervously and took in my disheveled and distraught appearance.

"You don't understand. I need to get back there –"

"Is your wife back here?"

"No, not exactly…but I'm the….the…" I swallowed hard.

"The father?" she raised her eyebrows.

I nodded. Fuck me, I was going to be someone's father. That would take some getting used to.

"Are you expected?" she demanded. I hesitated too long in my response, and she realized I wasn't. "Give me the name and I will check with them."

"M….actually, I would rather write it, just to keep it private."

She looked at me as if I was insane. I wrote it on a piece of paper, ripped off the sign in sheet, and slid it over to her.

"I don't have anyone by this name here, sir. You must be mistaken," she said, pushing the paper back to me.

I dropped my forehead against the glass window roughly causing her to jump. I was so frustrated I could smash the window and climb across the desk to look for Mia myself. Then a door to my right opened and a nurse appeared asking for a Mrs. Haney. While she was looking around the room, I took the chance and ran by her, down the hallways.

"Sir, you can't be back here! Sir!" nurses were yelling.

I didn't give one fuck, I kept moving and looked at the charts on the wall. Passing all the doors, I hadn't found her name. Sliding down a wall, I sat on the floor with my head in my hands. They lied to me. I groaned loudly.

"Sir, you need to leave now." A large, red haired nurse stood above me with a stern look on her face.

"I just need to find her. I need to tell her…that I….that….she can't do this," I said, a tear escaping from the corner of my eye. "Please…I need to find Mia Ryd –"

"Shh, sir we don't have anyone here by that name," she sighed, putting a hand out to me and helping me up. Then she leaned in close to me.

"There is no one here by that name," she said loudly. "But, Amy White is there." She pointed to a room and walked away.

It took me four long strides to reach the door she showed me. I knocked, but got nothing. Opening the door, there was no one there, but clothes and bags on a chair. Turning around, I looked back out the hallway. Then muffled arguing filled the space around me.

"Serena, stop it! Please!"

Mia!

Rushing toward her voice, I busted through a gray door with a small window.

"I don't want to hear it, Serena!"

Storming into the room, a foreign sound filled the room.

"Whoosh, whoosh whoosh, whoosh."

"Sir, you can't be in here."

Is that all anyone in this place has to fucking say?

"Is that –?"

"Christopher?"

Panic and fear tainted her voice. It was too dark to see the expression on her face, but I was sure it wasn't a pleasant one. She scrambled up from the table and the sound disappeared. I rushed to her side.

"You shouldn't be here."

Mia

"I'm sorry, Christopher. We'll talk when we get back," Una said before she hung up. I exhaled the breath I'd been holding.

"You should tell him and see how he feels about this," Serena chimed in.

"Jesus, will you just shut up for a little bit. I'm not making any final decision in this car, and I'm not telling Christopher."

Serena finally fell silent for a few moments, distracted by her cell phone. I pondered what would happen if he somehow found out.

We entered through a rear entrance at the medical building. The nurse showed us into a room quickly and sat down a chart with my cover name, Amy White. The nurse went through a multitude of questions and basic stats—blood pressure, weight, urine samples. It was lovely.

Doctor Lin arrived and conducted the pap smear, a belly check, and then informed me he wanted to get an ultrasound before I left so we could determine how far along I was and check on the heartbeat.

"I don't want to see or hear anything."

"Mia, how can you –?"

My glare shut her up. The doctor cleared his throat.

"That can be arranged," he left the room and, soon after, a nurse arrived.

Escorted to another room, a nurse helped me onto a padded table. The nurse moved the pillow to the opposite end so I wasn't able to see the monitor screen and told me the technician would mute the sound.

When the technician came in, she darkened the room, and started to perform the procedure. First, a cold gel squeezed onto my abdomen and then a wand-like device placed against my skin. I reminded her I didn't want to hear any sounds and she nodded in understanding.

As I watched the wand move around, the technician's other hand clicked and tapped buttons. There was a muffled commotion out in the hallway.

"Oh Mia, the baby…she, he, is –"

"I don't want to know."

My annoyance with Serena was growing. Why had I even brought her along?

"Mia, how can you not want to at least see the baby inside of you before you decide you want to get rid of it," she lectured.

"Serena, just drop it and let it go. You're supposed to be here for me, not for your speeches." I was getting frustrated and angry. "I should've had Laney come."

"That's it."

Serena walked around to where the technician was standing and leaned forward.

"Serena, stop it. Please!" I shouted. "I don't want to hear. Serena!"

Then the sound filled the room.

Whoosh, whoosh whoosh, whoosh.

Tears immediately fell over my cheeks.

Oh God! It was true. It was real. I was pregnant. There was a little person, alive and thriving inside of me.

"Sir! You can't be in here," the technician yelled and I twisted my body around.

"Is that –?"

"Christopher?" I gasped. He knew…fuck it all, he knew. Oh, shit!

Scrambling, I tried to get off the table. He was next to me before I succeeded.

"You shouldn't be here," I growled.

"I shouldn't be here?" he asked incredulously. "What the hell is going on? Why does Jackson think you're getting an abortion today?"

He placed his hands on my shoulders, but I pulled away from him.

"Mia?"

"Jackson's wrong and you shouldn't be here."

Slipping off the table, I tried to walk around him.

"Um...miss? We aren't finished yet. I still need to finish with the –"

"Okay!" I snapped, glaring back at her in the darkness. "Christopher, you need to leave. I have to finish –"

"Fine. Finish then," he said and plopped down in a chair.

"You can't stay," I spat.

"Oh, why can't I? I'm well acquainted with your body, Mia. Nothing I haven't seen,” he smirked.

He has got to be fucking kidding me? This asshole and his smirk was about to need a fucking dentist!

"Someone get him out of here please," I begged and leaned back against the table.

"Christopher, you should go so they can finish –"

"No chance in hell, Una, dear," he spat each word with inflection, his eyes never leaving me.

I sighed.

"Can we give them a few minutes?" Serena asked, looking to the nurse and the technician. They nodded and left the room.

Una and Serena followed their lead. Climbing back up on the table, I let my legs dangle off the side.

"So, are you ready to talk to me yet? ‘Cause I'm not leaving you alone until you do."

Where did this side of him come from? He usually ran the moment I pissed him off or rejected him. Why couldn't he do it now?

"Christopher," I whimpered and rubbed my face with my hands. His hands circled my wrists, pulling them away from my face.

"Are you pregnant?"

The look on his face was something I couldn't read. Anger, fear, panic, excitement…I didn't know. I sat silently and swallowed hard.

"Damn it, I deserve to fucking know!"

He was definitely angry. Flinching a little at his tone, I still couldn't say that one word. It wouldn't come out. I closed my eyes and bit my lip. He caressed my face with his hands. Dear lord, those hands could make my whole body light on fire.

"Mia, are you pregnant?"

I nodded the confirmation.

"And it's mine?" he whispered, almost inaudible.

I could only nod once more.

He sighed loudly. At the sound of his ragged sigh, my eyes flew open.

"See, this is why you didn't need to know."

Shoving his hands away, I wrapped my arms around me.

"W-what are you talking about?" he stuttered.

"Your sigh…I know you're angry, but it's not like I did this alone or on purpose. I'm on the pill for fuck's sake! Yet still…somehow, you seem to have super fucking sperm! I can't believe you fucking knocked me up, just oprene fucking time, really, Chris? God, I hate you!"

I put my head back in my hands. Sobs bubbled out of my chest. Again, he grabbed my wrists and pulled them away from my face.

"Why won't you just leave?" I cried quietly.

"I can't," he said in a hushed tone.

He wrapped my arms around his waist, pushed himself between my legs, and lifted my chin. He kissed me firmly, but lovingly. This is new.

Pulling back, he looked at my face. I tried to look away but he wouldn't let me.

"I need to tell you something."

There was fear and anxiety all over his face and in his voice.

"Wh –?" He placed his finger over my mouth before I could get the word out.

"Mia … fuck!" he said, running his hand through his hair. "Why is this so hard to say?"

He half smiled and then pressed his lips to my forehead.

"I…" he paused.  "I love you," his words whispered against my forehead.

"You love –?" I choked out the words.

"Yes," he said, not letting me finish.

"You don't love me, Christopher."

"Don't tell me how I fucking feel, Mia," he snapped, anger lacing his words once again.

"You barely know me…you can't –" I tried to protest.

"I'm in love with you," he insisted, kissing me again, and this time my hands found purchase in his hair. He moaned into my mouth and then pulled away.

"Sorry." He shrugged.

I looked at him, confused.

"You're stuck with me. I'm in love with you, and now you're having my baby." Then there was his grin…his cocky grin.

"Christopher, I don't know what I'm –"

"Mia, for some reason you think you need to get rid of everything that happened, but I can't let you get rid of my kid," he said, pulling me closer. "I can't let that happen."

He was begging me not to do it, pleading with me.

"Please don't."

"E-excuse me, miss, are you ready to continue? We have another appointment in a few minutes," the technician asked, stepping back into the room.

"Yeah," I mumbled, reaching to wipe a tear from my face. Christopher beat me to it, using his thumb to wipe it away.

"Don't cry. It kills me to see you cry," he whispered into my ear, helping me to lie back down on the table.

The technician continued, and the sound filled the room again. My chest tightened and a feeling of nausea filled my stomach.

"Is that the um –?"

"Yes," the technician confirmed, smiling at Christopher, "That's the heartbeat."

A smile spread on Christopher's face. I couldn't share the smile with him. No matter what he said, I still wasn't sure.

The technician turned the monitor in our direction. I turned away and watched Christopher's face instead. It slipped into a look of confusion.

"Here's your baby."

I still didn't look. Christopher's eyes widened.

"Looks like you are about eight weeks," she said and finished the scan, pulling the wand away from my stomach. Relief flooded through me. It was over.

"What does that mean?" Christopher asked.

"It means you have a long time to go yet," she chuckled. "But, trust me, it will go by quicker than you would expect. Here you go."

Christopher reached out and took a small square picture of the baby.

"Look," he urged, turning it toward me. And, there it was, right in front of my face. More tears started to form and fall down my face. "Don't cry, please. I'm so sorry, Mia. I'm sorry I did this, caused this. I'll make everything better. I know you hate me –"

"I don't hate you, you loser. I'm just mad."

I sat up and he helped me down from the examination table. He placed the tiny picture in my hands. I stared at it for a moment. The door opened and the nurse returned to take me back to the other room. Christopher stayed in the hallway while I changed back into my clothes.

"I told you, you should've talked to him about all of this," Serena lectured.

"It doesn't change anything," I grumbled.

"Wh-what do you mean?" she stuttered in confusion.

"It means, Serena, that it's my body and my choice," I said. She opened her mouth, but I didn't let her finish, "A choice I still need to make."

Opening the exam room door, Christopher was leaning against the wall with his head back and his eyes closed. He actually had a small smile playing on his lips.

Could I really do this? Can he handle this? He said he was in love with me. I care about him, but love, raising a child, being a family? I just wasn't sure.

How will he react if I don't say it back to him? Will it set him off, again? I knew about the horrors of his past, but I didn't know anything else about him, and he didn't know anything about me.

I still had a decision to make.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Christopher

I didn't realize it would be so hard to say it aloud, but as soon as I did, all of the weight I'd been carrying lifted.

When she said she hated me, it was like a knife to the fucking heart. Even if she was emotional and confused, there was some small truth to it. I'd gotten her pregnant. She didn't want to be pregnant, especially not with my child.

Fuck! I'm going to be a father. Could I even be a fucking father? I don't know a fucking thing about parenting. Will I turn out like him? Will I hurt them?

No. I could never hurt her. It would kill me to hurt her.

Hell, seeing her cry was almost too much for me to handle. Mia is having my baby. An easy smile tugged at the corners of my lips. We are having a baby.

"You ready?"

My head snapped forward when Una asked Mia. She nodded.

"Okay, everything's taken care of, so we can get out of here." Then she turned to me. "Did you seriously come in through the front door?"

I nodded and grinned.

"Christopher, are you trying to draw attention?" she scolded.

"If I'd been fucking told before, then none of this would've happened, now would it?" I retort, raising my eyebrow.

She huffed.

"Come on. You need to sneak out of here with us."

She motioned for me to follow. I quickly caught up with Mia. She pulled away a little and her reaction confused me. When we got back to the hotel, I followed Mia back to her suite. She looked irritated, but I didn't care.

"I'm just going to lie down. I'm tired," she said, rolling her eyes and walking into her bedroom.

Following her, I shut the door behind me. She was kicking off her shoes when she heard the door close. Leaning against the door, I watched her.

"What?" she asked, catching me. Her voice saturated in irritation. I shrugged.

"No, what?"

She was annoyed, and I had to stifle my laugh.

"Nothing." I slipped my shoes and sweatshirt off before climbing onto her bed.

She disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes and then reappeared in sweatpants and a t-shirt. The moment she sat on the bed, I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulling her to me.

"Christopher, you don't have to hover, or do this," she said, motioning to me holding her. "I'm pregnant, but I don't expect you to act differently." She turned around to face me. "You don't have to pretend to be –"

"Mia, I told you how I feel. I'm an asshole and I don't say or show how I feel very often, so how about you just fucking enjoy it?" She rolled back over without saying a word. "Do you want me to leave?"

"Do whatever you want," she mumbled.

Smiling at my small victory, I buried my face in her hair. She gave me permission and who the fuck am I to let that go?

She fell asleep not too long after and I lay there listening to her breaths. A while later, she shifted to her back. My hand now lay on her stomach and I couldn't help but slowly rub over her stomach.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up. Stretching, I could feel her entire body. Looking down, her head rested on my chest, her leg and arm draped over me. I wrapped my arms around her, and she started to stir. She woke up shortly after and rolled away from me. That wasn't going to work, so I rolled to my side and put my arm around her. She stretched and peeked through her lashes.

"Hey," she groaned.

"Feel better?"

She shrugged.

"I'm not really tired, if that counts as better." She sat up and I pulled her back down.

"Christopher," she laughingly protested. "I need to get up."

"You don't need to do fucking anything," I countered.

"Oh, really?"

"Really," I imitated her tone. She rolled her eyes.

"I'm starving, so I'm going to go –"she stopped talking when she realized I wasn't letting her go. She narrowed her eyes.

"What do you want to eat?"

"I can get my own food," she asserted, trying to sit up again.

"I don't want to leave the bed. So, what do you want to eat?" I asked with a grin.

"Since when did I fall under your dictatorship, mister?"

She poked my chest.

"Um...since you are carrying my child," I teased and she tensed. Shit Christopher…too far.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Don't worry about it," she whispered and tried to get up. She turned to me. "Is the bathroom off limits too?"

There it was again. She was annoyed. Shaking my head, I released her. While she was in the bathroom, I made the call for room service.

I still wasn't sure of all the emotions coursing through me, but when she was with me, it didn't matter.

Mia

Oh God, I'm pregnant… It isn't some jacked up nightmare. I'm fucking pregnant. Christopher Mason got me pregnant. Fuck…shit…fuck!

Pacing the bathroom, I was finally alone long enough for a proper freak out. I wasn't sure about being pregnant, let alone being someone's mother. I wasn't confident I could do it. Could I even think about having a baby with someone I really just met? Plus, I was young and my career was just starting. How will it work for a child if both parents are constantly in the spotlight, working, and traveling? Is it unfair to bring a child into this life?

Oh, God. I'm pregnant. I wanted to go back to my birthday and take it all back. Take back the way his hands worked my body. The way his tongue teased my nipples, and…Oh Christ, get it together.

After my mini meltdown, I hopped into the shower, hopeful I could rinse away the stress, if only momentarily. Things were going well until I ran my hand over my stomach. That's when the ultrasound picture flashed in my head. The shower camouflaged warm tears that began to run down my cheeks.

What am I going to do? What if I couldn't do it and decided I wanted the abortion? Would he freak out? Would it send him over the edge? Could I go through with a pregnancy just because he may have a meltdown if I didn't? No. It was my decision. He would just have to deal.

Once I dried off, I slipped my sweatpants and t-shirt back on. Entering the bedroom, I saw Christopher sitting with his head back against the headboard and eyes closed.

Was he rethinking everything? Was he serious about wanting this baby? Would he respect my decision if I didn't want it? Of course he wouldn't. He would probably show up as he did today, only this time he would throw a tantrum. My hands found themselves on my stomach again. Looking down, I released a large sigh and a single tear.

"What did I tell you about crying?"

Christopher was staring at me with that stupid fucking grin on his face. I quickly dropped my hands and walked toward the bed. I wanted to slap the cocky grin off his face. Leaning back onto the bed, I lay flat on my back with my hands behind my head. My shirt moved before Christopher's fingers brushed my stomach. I looked down. His eyes were fully concentrated on my now exposed abdomen, his hand spread out like a fan.

When he realized I was watching him curiously, he pulled back his hand and mumbled, "Sorry."

"What were you doing?" I asked, emotion overload putting my words just above a whisper.

"I don't know, I'm still kind of…I dunno in –"

"Shock?"

"I guess that, too. But, I'm more in awe than anything," he admitted with a shrug.

"Awe?"

"Yeah, I mean, you have a tiny fucking person inside you, Mia. Fuck, it's a tiny person that…well…I helped to make. It's weird, creepy, unbelievable, and just amazing all at the same time."

He got really quiet after that.

"You're that interested in all this?"

"I'm more than 'interested' in this," he said, placing his hand on my bare stomach. "I think I'm excited about it."

His head bent to my stomach, and he pressed his lips to my skin. A gasp escaped me, and he grinned up at me. I tried to push my shirt back down, but he wouldn't allow it.

"I would've never thought I could be like this, or feel like this."

He kissed my stomach again, and this time I had to swallow a moan, but he saw right through me. His kisses traveled further up my body and between my breasts when there was a knock on the door.

Thank God for the interruption.

Christopher pulled my shirt down and rolled over as the door opened.

"Did you order all this food?" Laney asked, looking at me flabbergasted. She stuck her thumb out over her shoulder, motioning behind her.

"What food?" I sat up.

"I didn't know what you wanted," Christopher said. "You wouldn't answer me."

"How much food is out there?" I asked, turning back to Laney. She was smiling largely.

"Oh, enough to feed the whole floor of the hotel," she giggled.

I twisted back to Christopher.

"What?" he shrugged. "I didn't know what you wanted, so I just told them to send up everything on the breakfast and dinner menu."

"You did what?" I yelped, slapping my hand to my forehead. I climbed out of bed, heading toward my door. Once I saw all the trays and carts, I groaned. "I can't believe you did this."

"Eat up," Kat laughed from the couch. "Chris Junior needs nourishment."

I glared.

After eating, I stayed in my room on my laptop while watching TV. Mentally exhausted from the constant spinning with pregnancy-related thoughts, my head was starting to hurt. The not knowing what was to come was the worst.

Christopher only left once to get a change of clothes. As much as I appreciated his support, it was nice having time to myself. I was suffocating under everyone's constant presence. I took Christopher's absence as the opportunity to do some pregnancy related research. Regardless of everyone's opinions, I needed to figure out what was best for me.

First search, pregnancy in the general sense –symptoms and changes, up to future things I could expect over the next few months. It didn't sound very appealing. Second, I looked at complications and concerns – another not-so-pleasant topic. Moving on to the third, much more taboo subject, abortion, I read over the facts, not the opinions. From what I read, it wasn't pretty, and there were still complications that could arise from the procedure. My brain felt full and I started to feel sick.

Sighing heavily, I threw myself back on the bed. Reaching for the remote on the side table, my hand met a piece of smooth paper. I knew what it was, but I reflexively brought it into my sight. There was the picture of the….I couldn't bring myself to say it. Not yet.

Too wrapped up in my own thoughts, I didn't notice Christopher return. Lying back with my arm over my face and the picture against my chest, I was trying to sift through all of the information. It wasn't until he spoke that I jerked upright.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What do you–?"

His long finger extended toward my bright laptop screen. I cringed when I saw what I'd left out in the open. I was so sick of everyone lecturing me and telling me what to do. Slamming the computer shut, I stood from the bed. Anger bubbled from the pit of my stomach.

"Well?" he growled.

"You know what? I don't have to fucking answer to you!"

His face dropped.

"The last time I checked, this is my body," I shouted, using one hand to motion across my body. "My decision to make."

Laney and Kat appeared in my doorway. The glare I gave made them retreat quickly. My glare turned back to Christopher, who stood looking half-crazed.

"I won't let you do it, Mia! You better get it through that fucking skull of yours, I will fight you on this. That is my fucking baby, too. I have a fucking say in whether you kill it!" he said, his eyes wild and his chest heaving.

"Fuck you, Christopher!" I cursed, crossing my arms over my chest. "And you know what…you can get the fuck out of my room, too!"

I started toward the door, but Christopher stopped me.

"Let go of me!" I cried, trying to push his arm from its hold around my waist.

Before I could blink twice, he lifted me with one arm and carried me back to the bed. Opening my mouth, I was going to give him the bitch out of a lifetime.

"Fuck, Mia! Just shut up and listen to me!" he snapped, leaning over me, causing me to scoot back and drop my weight to my elbows.

Angling his body over mine, his face was intense. Fear took hold, but it didn't last long. He pressed his lips to mine, firmly, while cupping the back of my neck to keep me from pulling away.

"Don't ever fear me," he whispered against my lips. "I would never hurt you...could never hurt you, baby. Never."

His lips pressed harder. Pulling back slightly from my lips, he pressed his forehead to mine.

"I can't," he said, kissing me, "I won't let it happen."

He kissed me again, pressing his body against mine until my back rested against the mattress.

"I want you," he said, kissing me more fervently. "I want our baby."

His tongue moved into my mouth and twisted around mine. Instinctively, my tongue searched out the steel ball. I found it and almost moaned.

"There is nothing in this world I want more than you, than this," he said, his tongue and lips moving over my jaw.

I came undone and slid my hands over his shoulders. Christopher slipped his arm under my lower back and pulled us higher on the bed. He rested comfortably on one elbow above my body while pressing his weight and arousal between my legs. Heat flooded my body.

"Say you won't," he whispered against my neck.

"Please, Mia," he pleaded, sucking, the viper bites digging deliciously into my skin.

"Christopher," I croaked. He wasn't playing fair.

"Mia, please, please, say you won't kill my, our, baby. Please?"

His forehead pressed against my shoulder as the words left his lips. Panting from his actions, I tried to clear the lusty fog from my head.

"Say it," he urged with a little more intensity, squeezing my hip.

"Say it, Mia, please? Promise me."

His hand slipped over my stomach, under my shirt. His thumb rubbing circles on my skin. The words slipped out of my lips without any control on my part.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Mia

"I can't promise you anything."

He stilled.

"I'm sorry," I whimpered. "I just, I need to think about all of this, absorb it, and –"

"And I'm supposed to just sit by while you decide the fate of my child?" he demanded, suddenly kneeling above me, his face swathed in fury.

"It's my body," I argued.

"It's my child," he snapped.

"Get off me," I growled, shoving him. He moved from over top of me. I stood from the bed.

"We aren't done talking about this," he snarled.

"Oh, yes, we are!"

"Mia," he warned.

"I've heard what you have to say about this. Now, it's time for me to decide what I want, not what everyone else wants me to do."

We were in a stare off. His piercing blues were trying to penetrate my dark brown. I have no idea how long we would've stayed that way, but a knock at the door concluded it.

"What?" he snapped at my door.

"The last time I checked, this was still my room, not yours," I pointed out with a scowl. I opened the door.

"Mia?" Laney asked, looking at me with a worried expression.

"Hey, what's up?"

"We were planning on going to –"

"Perfect, let me get changed."

With fake enthusiasm, I plastered a large smile on my face. Not really in the mood to leave, but I had to get away from Christopher.

"We need to talk," he disputed while I grabbed some clothes.

"We are done talking," I said, slamming the bathroom door to change my clothes.

"For now," he growled through the closed door.

When I opened the door, he was gone. Sighing in relief, I met the girls in the living room. They were all sitting and waiting for me.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Are you sure you want to go?" Kat ventured, looking me over.

"Yeah, why?"

"You look…well…"

Serena cut her off.

"You look like shit."

"Gee, thanks. I love you, too." I rolled my eyes. "I need to get out and not think about this right now."

"Okay then," Laney said, hopping up from the couch and linking arms with me. "Let's head to dinner then."

Laney arranged a private balcony box to watch a movie, and then we went to dinner. It was a nice evening, and I only had to think once about being pregnant.  When the waiter arrived and asked for our drink order, my first reaction was to order something with a lot of liquor. Serena quickly reminded me I couldn't. After dinner, we returned to the hotel. Without a word to anyone, I walked into my bedroom and locked the door.

It took almost three full days before I spoke to Christopher again. He'd tried numerous times to call and see me, but I always kept him at bay. I needed the time to really think everything through without persuasion.

Thankfully, we had a tight schedule that kept us busy.  We got some rehearsal time in a local studio, interviews – both morning and afternoon radio shows, and we also got to do a Meet the Artists type of promotion.  Sitting at a table, we were able to autograph CDs, shirts, pictures, and stand for photos with fans.  Even with The Forgotten being at a table near ours, I was still able to keep myself distanced from Christopher during the day.  At night, alone, I had time to think.

My career was just beginning and there was no time for a baby. I had no clue how to be someone's mother. Hell, I was still immature and irresponsible. But, no matter how rational my arguments were against having the baby, it came down to one simple question. Could I abort this baby and live the rest of my life without feeling guilty...could I live with myself? The answer had been as clear as the day I found out I was pregnant.

With the morning came the typical morning sickness. It had really started to take effect, and I wanted to call this whole pregnancy off. It was completely barbaric that there was a pill to give a guy a hard on, but not one to stop me from heaving my guts out in the morning, or afternoon, or whenever the fuck my body wanted. One positive was that sleep comes easier for me, and no matter how much I slept, it was never enough. It was about eight in the evening when he showed up in my room. I was half-asleep when I heard the door shut loudly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to shut the door so hard." His brow was furrowed and the bags under his eyes were dark purple. "Mia –"

"Chris, please don't start yelling at me or ordering me around tonight. I'm –"

"I promise, I won't yell. I won't even speak if you don't want me to. Just let me hold you, please?"

My fuzzy vision cleared to the sadness in his face.

"Christopher –"

"Just let me."

It was no longer a request.

The bed shifted as he crawled toward me and curled his body around mine. He pulled my face to his chest, hugging me tightly. His hand found my stomach and rested there. My body relaxed into his, and I knew I needed to tell him.

"I've decided –"

"Not tonight."

"Will you let me finish?" I pushed away from his chest. "I promise, I will not get rid of our baby."

A large breath of relief left him. Then his lips collided with mine. He began moving over my jaw and down my neck. The smile on his lips and the viper bites pressed into my skin. The hand on my stomach was now gripping my hip. His lips returned to mine and our tongues sparred.

My hands found his hair, gripping tightly as he moved his hand to my breast and lightly squeezed. He tweaked my nipple. The shot of desire that fled to my clit caused me to writhe. I moaned into his mouth. His actions became more urgent. He pushed my shirt up and slid the cups of my bra down, exposing my nipples. He placed slow kisses along my collarbone and dipped his tongue in the valley of my breasts.

Moving his lips over the mound of my breast, I couldn't control the feral moan escaping me when the metal tongue ball rolled over my nipple. He flicked the ball against my nipple causing me to moan even louder before taking the hard peak into his mouth. Releasing my over sensitized nipple, he spoke into the room.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked, sliding the ball over me again.

His hard cock pressed between my thighs, grinding against my clit. I gasped loudly, wanting to feel him deep inside of me. Abruptly, he stopped all ministrations. I groaned in annoyance.

"Did I hurt you?" he demanded, worry all over his face.

I smiled and tugged his hair teasingly.

"No," I replied, smirking and pulling away, figuring the moment was lost. Christopher pinned me.

"Where do you think you are going?" he growled, sucking my breast between his lips once again. I shivered in pleasure.

Now that he knew the power his tongue ring held over me, he started working it to his advantage. My hands fisted his damp, black locks while pressing my hips forward for friction. Before I knew it, my shirt was off and my sweatpants were at the bottom of the bed. He pulled his shirt off and lay back down over my body. Hooking my feet into the top of the pajama bottoms, I pushed them down. Feeling my thigh slide against his bare cock, my wetness grew. He was so big, so beautiful, so fucking glorious, my stomach muscles tensed with the anticipation of feeling him inside of me.

Nothing was between us. My bare skin felt like it was smoldering against his. Every touch, every movement made my skin flame with desire. Wiggling my hips beneath us, a surge of craving ran through my body. His hardness grazed my wet heat and rocked against my folds. Attacking my mouth ferociously, he positioned himself and slammed into me, all control lost. I ground my hips into his, taking his deeper.

"Oh yes, yes, yes," I moaned.

"Fuck," he grunted. "Ungh".

Our breathing labored, we pulled away from each other's lips. My mouth found his pebbled nipples, and my hands held onto his shoulder as his thrusting increased. The smoldering collected in my stomach and started to build a larger flame. Christopher shifted his position.

"Mia," he moaned into my shoulder.

Pulling his head back, he took my face in his hands and stared into my eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered, "for having my baby."

Sitting upright, he wrapped hands around the backs of my knees and pushed my legs up toward my chest. He thrust in deeper than before, hitting the perfect spot. I bit down on his arm to muffle my scream. The salty taste of his skin caressed my taste buds. He didn't even flinch. He released my legs and leaned forward, resting his forehead on my shoulder. Raising my hips to meet his thrusts, he came undone inside me. Slowly riding out his orgasm, his breathing remained heavy against my chest.

When his arms could no longer support him, he rolled off me and pulled my back against his chest. He moved away for a minute, but came right back, covering our bodies with a blanket.

"Mia?"

"Hmm?"

I didn't know if I wanted him to say anything at this moment. We didn't really do the talking thing. We just slept, and now apparently had sex and a baby. Mentally, I groaned. What a great start for this relationship.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into my hair.

"For?"

"I mean you obviously don't want to be pregnant, and I'm sorry that I, well, that I –"

"Knocked me up," I laughed.

He didn't.

"It's okay, Christopher. I'm sorry this happened to you, too."

He rolled me over quickly and looked directly into my face. It stunned me for a moment.

"W-what?" I stuttered.

"Don't apologize to me for this. You have nothing to apologize for, ever," he assured, cupping my cheek and kissing my forehead before letting me roll back to my side.

"Um, Christopher?"

"Yeah," he settled back into position behind me.

"What is your favorite color?"

He chuckled.

"What's my favorite color?" he continued to laugh.

"Shut up. I don't know anything about you –"

"You know more about me than anyone else," he laughed again.

"You know what I mean, jerk," I said, nudging him. "So, besides being an arrogant, groupie-fucking, asshole with super sperm, who crashes in my bed, what else can you tell me?"

He was silent for a moment.

"Is that what you really think?"

I sighed.

"Yes. No. A little, but you have to admit we don't know much about each other."

"Like?" he pressed.

"Okay…here's an example: What's my middle name?"

He was silent.

"What is my favorite color?"

Silence.

"Exactly," I whispered. "Don't you think –?"

"Red," he answered.

"Green," I said with a smile.

"What's your middle name?" he asked.

"Marie," I groaned.

"Mia Marie?" he asked, trying to hide his laughter, but his shaking chest gave him away.

"It's Amelia Marie."

"You don't like it?" he asked.

"It's alright, I guess. Serena got the better name."

"I disagree," he said. "Hey, I have a question."

"Which is?"

His finger ran from the top of my spine to the crack of my ass. "What's this?"

"Music notes," I drawled, sarcasm lacing my words.

He tickled my side.

"Stop," I screamed.

"I mean what song is it, smart ass. I know they're notes, but I'm not familiar with this song." His finger ran down my tattoo again.

"My mother used to sing us the song “Baby Mine” when we were younger." For a brief moment, I closed my eyes and remembered the last time I heard her sing it. "God, her voice was amazing."

"Like yours," he said, squeezing me.

"Better. She was fantastic." I sighed. "Anyhow, I decided I wanted a tribute to my mother, so I got ahold of the sheet music and had my favorite part tattooed on me."

"These are the musical notes to the song?"

I nodded.

"I don't think I know this song."

Turning onto my back, I looked at his face. He was trying to think hard.

"You've never seen Dumbo?"

He shook his head.

"If I did, I don't remember it or this song. Wanna sing it for me?" he asked with a grin.

"No," I chuckled and turned back onto my side.

"Come on," he cajoled, kissing my shoulder.

I closed my eyes and sang the verse on my back. As I sang, his hand ran up and down my tattoo.

"It's pretty."

Content, I nodded.

"Are you going to sing it to our baby?" he asked, his hand flattened on my stomach.

"Maybe," I said quietly.

We spent the next hour lying there, asking questions about each other and our family. Christopher was a little concerned about John being a police chief, trained and licensed to shoot a gun.

"Of course, I would get the fucking cop's daughter pregnant," he groaned.

Laughing at his whining, we actually continued to talk to each other. Sometime after the question and answer session, we fell asleep.

Christopher

Relief and excitement fought for domination when she told me she was going to have the baby. However, nervousness won when I found out that a police chief's daughter was pregnant with my child. I cannot wait until that fucking meeting.

"Hello, sir, I'm the guy that fucked your daughter without a rubber when we were both slightly intoxicated. Oh, and by the way, I knocked her up on the first try. Boom. Dead. RIP Christopher Mason."

The morning came quickly, a little too quickly for Mia. I jerked from a very sound sleep when she staggered from the bed to the bathroom. Getting up, I pulled on my sweatpants. Halfway to the bathroom, I could hear her heaving and rushed to her side.

"Are you okay?" I questioned, kneeling next to her.

She nodded and then heaved into the toilet again. Grabbing the robe from the door, I threw it around her.

"Get out," she groaned, leaning her head against the wall.

I furrowed my brow. "What can I get you?"

She weakly shoved me away.

"Get out," she groaned.

When I didn't move, she huffed.

"You don't need to see –" she heaved again. Her hair fell around her like a curtain. I pulled it away and held it back.

As she started to stand up, I caught her around the waist and helped her walk back to the bed. She curled into a ball. Breathing in and out through her nose in a heavy rhythm.

I stepped out of the room to find Serena sitting with Ryan on the couch watching cartoons. Their heads turned to me.

"Cwis," Ryan smiled.

"Hey, little man," I answered quickly, moving toward the refrigerator for bottled water. On the way back to the bedroom, I turned.

"Serena? What can I get for her?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking up, her brow wrinkled.

"She's sick," I explained, rubbing the back of my neck.

She smiled.

"Ahhh…morning sickness."

I looked at her impatiently.

"It comes with being pregnant. She was feeling this way at night last month. I'll order some food for her."

"Okay, thanks."

I went back into Mia's room and she wasn't in bed. Rushing to the bathroom, I barged in.

She screeched.

"Shit! Christopher!"

I turned around quickly.

"Sorry. I thought you were getting sick again."

She started laughing.

"What?"

"Did you seriously just turn around because I'm in the shower?" she asked, laughing louder.

"Yeah, I guess I did," I said, laughing, too.

"Uh-huh, so what happened to Mister ‘It's nothing I haven't seen before'?"

Turning back around, I was about to tease back, but the outline of her body against the steamed up glass was too much for my inner pervert. I couldn't speak, and before my brain could catch up with my body, I was standing with my hand on the shower door, sliding it open.

Without removing my clothes, I stepped inside. Wrapping my arms around her, I pulled her to me. As I pressed my lips to hers, I could smell her scent intensified by the steam. Her skin, wet, was so amazing. My hands slid over her curves.

"Uh, your clothes are getting soaked," Mia said, a look of amusement on her face.

My sweatpants started to stick uncomfortably to my skin. That's when my brain finally caught up. Leaning back, I looked at her. We both started laughing at my drenched clothing.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"You say that a lot," she quipped and then turned back around to finish.

I stood captivated by her smell and the sight. My pants tightened from arousal as visions of pressing her against the cool tile and fucking her senseless entered my head. However, just as I had the thought, she squeezed past me and got out of the shower.

She left the water on. I stripped out of my soaked clothes and showered. When I realized my problem wasn't going anywhere, I switched the water to cold before I climbed out to dry off.

Many hours later, I sat backstage at our final concert. Waiting for the girls to finish their set, I realized how much I hated being away from her. I got up to head to the side stage.

"Where you going?" Jack questioned.

"Going to watch them finish," I said with a shrug.

Halfway down the hall, Jackson appeared.

"So, what are you going to do, man?"

"About what?"

"Well let's see…about Mia, the baby…don't fucking play stupid," he retorted, rolling his eyes.

"She's going to have the baby," I answered.

"I know that, asshole. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know, Jackson. It's not like I've had a lot of fucking time to think everything over." Sighing, I stopped walking. "I still have to find out what her plans are, if she's going to stay in Seattle or go back to Whidbey Island, all that shit. I just don't know yet."

He patted my back.

"I'm sure you'll work it out, though you guys are going to be swarmed by the paps now."

He raised his eyebrow. I let that sink in. I hadn't even thought about the way they are going to attack her. We started walking again. We got to the side stage, and there they were. The same carefree, upbeat performance, but Mia wasn't her normal self. Something was off. I couldn't figure out if she wasn't feeling good again or if she was just worried. They started their last song and we rushed off to get ready.

After the show wrapped up and we got back to the hotel, I packed up some clothes and went to the girls' room. Laney smiled when she let me in. I headed to Mia's room.

"I think she's already asleep," Laney said, walking by me toward her room.

Opening the door, she lay curled up against a bunch of pillows. I climbed onto the bed and hovered over her sleeping body for a few moments just staring. Pulling myself out of the trance, I slid the pillows away from her and replaced them with my body.

"Christopher."

I froze, thinking I woke her, but her breathing stayed even and she curled up to my chest. I settled in. "Christopher," she said again. I brushed stray hairs away from her face.

She sighed, "I love you."

I stopped breathing, my heart feeling like it was constricting in the best fucking way.

Did she just say…she was sleeping, Christopher. Don't take it as much more than a dream.

Smiling wider than I had in forever, not caring if she meant it, I fell asleep. She said it, and that was all I needed right now.

Mia

During our whole performance, I couldn't get my mind to settle. It was distracting. I knew I cared about Christopher, that was obvious, but he's in love with me. Did I love him?

A part of me screamed yes, while the more logical side was beating the hell out of the yes side. It was the worst time to have an internal struggle, but I couldn't shake the thoughts running through my head.

We couldn't have gotten back to the hotel fast enough. Taking a hot shower, I threw my exhausted ass into bed. Even though I'm exhausted it was so hard to sleep with…well, without him. Bunching up my pillows, I draped myself over them to get comfortable. I don't remember anything after that.

I woke up to another intense knot in my stomach and bolted for the bathroom. This was getting really freaking old. When does the amazing glow and radiating beauty that is so often spoke of start? Right now, I'm glowing green and look a hot mess. I swung the door shut behind me on the way to kneel before the porcelain god. Christopher stopped it and was right next to me in matter of seconds.

I groaned. Morning sickness sucked.

"What can I do?" he asked with concern.

"Get out," I heaved.

"Not likely," he responded.

I waited until I knew I wasn't going to throw up again.

"It's gross. Get out of here," I gasped, shoving him. He didn't budge. After my stomach settled, I stood up, and Christopher held my sides. Pushing him out of the bathroom, I closed the door behind him, and hopped in the shower.

Once I dried off and wrapped up in a robe, I walked out to my room.

Christopher sat on the bed with the TV remote in his hand and a food cart next to him. I raised an eyebrow to him.

"I ordered some breakfast," he said, smiling unsurely. "I'm hoping none of it makes you sick." He went to lift the lids.

"Wait!" I protested.

He stopped and looked at me.

"Tell me what it is before you unleash the smell."

"Ummm…scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and orange juice?"

I bit my lip thinking it over.

"Okay."

He lifted the lid, and the smell of the food filled the room. I thanked my lucky stars when the only feeling in my stomach was famine. My mouth started to water and my stomach growled.

Christopher patted the bed and I smiled. Sitting down, he handed me a plate. We ate side by side on the bed and watched TV. It was a comfortable silence.

"So," he broke the silence. I turned my head to him, taking a bite of toast. "What's the plan?"

He kept his eyes on his plate in front of him. His nerves were noticeable.

"The plan?" I spoke around a mouthful of toast.

"Yeah, you know. I mean…the tour is over and well," he said, motioning to my stomach. "Are you going back to Whidbey Island?"

"Well, that's where I live," I answered quietly. Now I was catching on to what he wanted to discuss.

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Listen, I'll keep you in the loop on things. I mean, I won't keep you out of anything. Of course, depending on what you want to be included in."

I let my voice drift off, feeling as if I was rambling.

He didn't speak for a few minutes.

"I don't like being away from you," he confessed, his eyes still on his plate. This time it looked like he was pained.

"Oh," was my brilliant response. "I…uh…hmph…I don't know what to say." I took a deep breath. "Christopher, my family is in Whidbey Island, and we're leaving tomorrow. I don't expect you to –"

"What if I want to?" he asked, his eyes finding mine and staring intently into them. "I mean, would you care?"

"You can't seriously want –"

"I do."

He grabbed my hand and laced our fingers together. "Although," I waited for him to finish. He looked nervous again. "There could be complications."

"Complications?"

"Mia, are you prepared for the photographers, the reporters, paparazzi?" he asked and gave me a concerned look. "Your band, alone, is going to draw a lot more attention. Now, with me or the rest of our band near yours, it's going to get insane."

He paused.

"And, of course, once they discover you're pregnant…with my child…they are going to have a fucking field day."

I furrowed my brow.

"Why would they find that out?"

"You don't think they will?" he asked, raising a disbelieving eyebrow at me.

"I hadn't thought about it," I sighed. "I guess I'll have to talk to everyone."

He nodded.

I lay back onto the bed and started thinking everything over. The sound of plates clinking drew my attention. Christopher cleaned things up before he curled up next to me, his head on my chest. I placed my hand on his head, and he lightly hummed.

"I really like when you do that," he said, nestling closer to me.

"This?" I asked, rubbing his head. He nodded and hummed again. I laughed silently.

After laying together for about twenty minutes or so, his cell phone rang. He groaned and rolled over to answer.

"Yeah?" "Alright" "Yeah," "I'm coming!"

He hung up and sighed.

"Nicholas wants us all in our room."

I nodded.

"I'll be back though, okay?" He turned looking for approval.

"Okay," I said and sat up. He leaned over and kissed me before grabbing his shirt and heading out the door.

A very strange butterfly sensation plagued my stomach and I thought maybe I was going to get sick again, but I wasn't nauseous. Trying to sort out the feeling, I realized what it was. I was definitely falling for Christopher…maybe I had already fallen?

Una worked out some security details for our house and families. She'd gotten a gate and security system installed at our house in Whidbey, as well as set John and Linda up with a security system, just in case. The next measure was hiring security guards for us. Along with Bishop and Phillip, we would also have Joe, Marc, and Ben protecting our home. They were three large muscled New Yorkers who were a little rough and scary to look at, but friendly after you talked with them.

Everything was in place when we got home. We invited Andrea to stay with us, since she didn't have her own place nearby. We moved her into the guest room.

Jackson, Elliott, Jimmy, and Christopher all went to their home in Seattle. Two days later, Elliott and Christopher arrived. Elliott took his stuff directly to Serena's room, making himself comfortable. Christopher was hesitant about where to go, which I found amusing.

"You remember where my room is, right?" I asked, making his eyes sparkle even more beautifully than they already did. He nodded. "Well get lugging."

I motioned him up the stairs. I headed to the kitchen, my second favorite room in the house. Having picked up an even bigger appetite than I already had, I was sure I could definitely out eat Elliott. It was borderline disgusting, and Laney wasn't afraid to tell me so. She often referred to me as the garbage disposal. Hence, my baby's nickname Oscar – since, according to Laney, it lived in a garbage can.

Serena, Elliott, and Ryan were becoming a cute little family. Elliott and Ryan were so close now I think it would kill either one of them if they couldn't be together. Ryan was always following Elliott around, asking him questions or generally seeking out his attention. I gave Elliott major credit. He handled Ry like a pro.

Laney was going to Seattle to be with Jackson for a few weeks, before they came back here for the holidays. Kat was an enigma, more so than usual. She didn't immediately come back home with us, saying she was going to hang in Seattle for a while, but would be home in about a week. It was odd, but that was Kat. She was a free spirit who simply lived her life and typically kept to herself.

My second doctor's appointment arrived, and we were given the due date mid-June. I would also be having another ultrasound at my next appointment. I hadn't gained any weight yet, which was not a shocker since I was still getting sick in the mornings, but they still wanted to keep an eye on it. Christopher was practically taking mental notes of everything the doctors and nurses said.

Christopher was adamant on being involved in my appointments and everything he could. Between his schedule and mine, we often ended up separated. I also realized just how much I hated when he wasn't with me. When he was around, he was annoying me about eating, sleeping, and vitamins.

In fact, during Thanksgiving he insisted on supervising my plate.

"Are you insane?"

"What? You need to eat a lot," he defended his double loading of my plate.

"Christopher, I don't need to eat a mountain of food. I've started to put on weight. Quit worrying about it."

I took the plate and started to pick at the turkey.

"Two pounds doesn't—"

"Nine," I corrected with a smirk.

"What?"

"I've gained nine pounds now."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, pouting for a moment before standing me up to look me over. His hand rubbed over my abdomen.

"I haven't gained enough for that," I said, swatting at his hands. I sat back down to my plate. "Besides, girls don't typically brag about gaining weight."

After Thanksgiving, we had to say goodbye again. He had set appearances on radio shows and late-night television shows, as well as studio time to finish recording their new album. Hushed Mentality had to fly out to New York to appear on a couple of morning and radio shows. We performed and discussed our recent success and popularity.

As per usual, questions surrounding the tour with The Forgotten always came up at some point. They continued to question the rumor floating around about animosity between the bands and the ever-loving animosity between Chris and I. If they could only get their pariah teeth into the real story, they would cream their pants.

We gave honest answers, but when it came too close to being personal, we would offer the standard generic responses. These responses were not going to work once my pregnancy was exposed. Regardless of any denial I could attempt.

Once we completed the shows, we flew back to Washington. There were a couple more interviews, but, thankfully, we were able to do most of those over the phone.

Now that Christmas was just around the corner, shopping with Kat and Laney was something that I stupidly agreed to. However, when we got to shop for toys, I had a field day. Laney disappeared for a while, but found me again with a cartful of stuff. Satisfied with our purchases, I declared we were done for the day and demanded food.

Once we arrived home, I was too excited not to share everything I had bought with Serena. She wanted to strangle me for all the stuff I bought for Ryan. Elliott looked as if he couldn't wait to get them out and play with them. He pouted as we hid everything in the basement storage room, declaring that he needed to test everything out for safety purposes.

We were all lounging in the living room, watching A Muppet Christmas Carol with Ryan, when the doorbell rang. Serena got up to answer the door and the loud ho, ho, ho got all of our attention. Turning around, Laney shrieked and ran, jumping into Jackson's arms.

He was wearing a red Santa hat. Christopher followed behind Jackson. He sat down and wrapped his arms around me, planting a kiss on my head.

Once he settled in, we filled each other in on our appearances and interviews. He'd gotten some of the same questions I got. I teased him about the host on one of the shows flirting with him.

Ryan fell asleep before the end of the movie. Elliott and Serena took him to bed and then went to her room. Jackson pulled Laney to the stairs a few minutes later. Kat had gone up hours before claiming to have a headache.

After cleaning up the popcorn and folding all the blankets in the living room, Christopher and I headed up to bed. Passing Kat's room, I couldn't help but overhear her conversation.

"No" "We talked about this when I was," "It's not possible" "I'm sorry" "No" "Don't" "It would create so many issues" "You know I'm right" "No" "Please don't, it's already hard as it is."

I felt horrible for eavesdropping, so I pulled myself away and went to my room. Christopher was already in bed leaned back on the headboard. He raised an eyebrow when I walked closer with concern on my face.

"Is everything okay?"

I nodded.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded again.

He groaned and pulled me closer to him.

"Please talk to me," he begged, pressing his lips to my temple.

"It's nothing."

He nudged me lightly.

"I just overheard Kat on her phone, and well, I just hope she's okay. She sounded sad and distressed."

"Why don't you talk to her about it?"

"That's not how Kat works," I said, shaking my head and slouching down into my pillows. Christopher curled up next to me and we drifted off to sleep.

"Please, Kat don't do this. Please!"

I stretched and sat up. What the...?

"What the hell is that?" Christopher groaned and sat up.

"The voice sounds familiar, but –"

"Will you be quiet? You're going to wake everyone up! Now stop and get out of here...hurry!"

Kat was trying not to shout, but was still loud.

"I can't, not till you agree." There was a pause. Christopher and I went to the hallway only to meet everyone else in the house. "I'm not leaving until you do! I know you love me! I know it!"

We looked around, shrugged, and headed downstairs. When we reached the bottom, I think we gasped in unison.

Kat was standing just inside the front with a man on his knees. His hands firmly holding onto her hips as he looked up to her with pleading eyes.

It was Richard.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mia

"Oh, Christ," Kat groaned loudly.

"Get the hell up," she yelled down at Richard, who was still kneeling before her.

We stood with mouths gaped open as Richard cleared his throat and stood up.

"What the fuck is this?" Leave it to Elliott.

"It's nothing," Kat grumbled and grabbed Richard's hand pulling him out the door. "He was just leaving."

"No, I'm not," he argued.

"Yes, you are," she seethed through clenched teeth.

"You know what you mean to me. Why can't –?"

"It was just a thing. Why is that so hard for you to understand?" Kat asked, looking thoroughly annoyed. Then she turned on us.

"Do you think we could get a fucking moment?" she shouted. We quickly dispersed.

While my bed sounded like the best idea, my bladder had another, so I went to my bathroom. I couldn't believe Kat had something going on with Richard. “That hussy,” I said under my breath, chuckling. It was so nice to think about somebody else's drama instead of my own. Once I stepped out, I found Christopher sitting on my bed staring into nothing.

"Hey…what's wrong?"

I was on the other side of my room pulling clothes out of my dresser.

"Nothing," he lied.

I tossed some clothes onto the bed and walked around standing in front of him with my arms crossed over my chest.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace."

"I was just thinking."

"About?" I coaxed.

"Should we…get married?" he whispered the last two words without looking at me.

My eyes widened. I blurted out my first thought.

"Fuck no!"

His eyes, filled with hurt, snapped to my face quickly. All too quickly the hurt morphed into anger. I leaned toward him to wrap my arms around him, but he caught my arms and pushed me away.

"Chris, wait, I didn't–"

Before I could complete my sentence, he stood and walked out of my room.

I froze in place with my mouth slightly open as the shock of what just happened crawled over my body. Lying down, I felt tears start to slide over my cheeks.

"Damn hormones," I mumbled into my damp pillow.

Eventually, my grumbling stomach demanded I get up, so I got dressed. Deciding on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, my plan was to get out of this house. I didn't want to be inside, and I didn't want to see Christopher right now either. I couldn't handle his dramatic ass right now, I had enough going on.

Stupid temper tantrums! God, what is he? Twelve? Hot tears burned the corners of my eyes again.

Slipping on my shoes, I grabbed my coat and headed downstairs. On my way out the door, my eyes locked on our car. I said a silent prayer that the keys were inside. The sound of the house door opened behind me. I picked up my pace to the car. Closing the car door, I heard him yell for me. I pretended not to hear him and drove off, catching a glimpse of his approach in the rearview mirror as I pulled away.

When the small diner in town came into view, I went in to get breakfast. My stomach was churning, and if I didn't eat soon, I would definitely be kneeling in front of the toilet. I ordered the largest breakfast they had to offer. Lucky for me, they weren't too busy, and my food came quickly - eggs, toast, bacon, pancakes, and orange juice. Greedily, I ate everything and fought the urge to lick my plate clean.

Climbing back into the car, I couldn't bring myself to go home. I started driving around town reminiscing. Passing the police station, I noticed John's cruiser. I pulled an illegal U-turn and went back.

The station looked the same. Nothing seemed to change. The mahogany desk near the entrance sat as empty as it usually had. Gina, the receptionist, only worked part time and wouldn't be in until later.

"Hey, Dad," I called out.

His head popped up from the familiar office in the back.

"Hey, baby," he said, approaching and wrapping me up in a large bear hug.

"Careful. I just ate the super-sized breakfast at the diner," I said with a laugh, rubbing my belly. Then I caught myself and froze. He didn't know. Panic coursed through my veins.

"Mia? Mia, are you alright?" he demanded, leading us to a nearby chair and sitting me down. I snapped out of it.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Sorry about that," I apologized, trying to smile.

He furrowed his brow at me.

"What's going on?" he asked with his arms crossed.

Shit! How could I forget that he was a fucking cop? Trained to interrogate, he knew when someone was lying. I'd grown up with it all my life, and no matter what Serena or I tried, he usually called us on it. Smooth move deciding to come here.

"Nothing, honest."

Crap! First mistake…I said honest...that's the dead giveaway.

"Honest, huh?" he asked, sitting next to me with a sigh. "What's going on?"

He'd taken on the fatherly tone.

"Um…I think we should talk about it later. You know, after you're home and don't have your gun," I said sheepishly and batted my eyes.

"Something's got you out running around, eating by yourself, and visiting me. So I think we should talk now," he said, sitting up straighter.

"I'm telling you, later is better," I mumbled.

"Mia?"

"Fine," I grunted and slouched back. "I'm pregnant."

"You – You're what?"

He looked like he was the one with morning sickness. I snorted at the thought.

"Mia? Who? When? How?"

Uh oh, maybe he was having a stroke.

"Well, I'm pretty sure we're both up to date with the how,” I said, giving him a cocky smile.

"Don't get smart, little lady," he admonished, the sternness in his voice quickly melting my smile and humor.

"You'll meet him tonight, and it was just recent." Shame started to swallow me up.

"Why weren't you at least…you know, safe?" His disappointment was loud and clear.

"I thought I was."

"How do you think...?" he started to snap back.

"I think because I've been on birth control pills since Serena came home knocked up," I shouted back and then started crying. He sighed and pulled me into a hug.

"Is he going to help you?"

I nodded, rubbing my tears into his work shirt.

"I think so, he says he is…he's the one that begged me not to…"

"Not to what?" My dad pulled me back and looked into my face.

"To get rid of the baby," my words were barely a whisper.

"Oh," was his response. I could see the discomfort all over his face. He'd opened the can of worms and he was now regretting it.

"Is that what you wanted?" he asked, looking at me skeptically. "You have to do what is right for you."

The tears welled up again.

"I don't know what I want for sure," I sobbed. "I'm so confused."

I began to sniffle. My dad reached for a box of tissues on a nearby desk.

"I keep trying to think about it all, but it just gets worse in my head," I choked out and took a tissue from him.

"I know, baby, I know," he said, rubbing my back and trying to calm me. He took a deep breath. "Maybe you should stop thinking about it and just let the answer come to you, you know?"

Swallowing my next sob, I looked at my dad in surprise. It was probably the most profound statement he'd ever verbalized to me.

"I love you, Dad." He returned the hug I unleashed on him.

"So, when is the little guy, or girl, coming?" he asked with forced enthusiasm.

"Mid-June," I sighed.

He patted my back and stood up. We said good-bye and I left knowing my dad had had his fill of emotional outbursts and talks. It wasn't within his comfort zone.

Driving a little longer, I came across the sign for Sunlight Beach. Still not wanting to return to the reality waiting for me at the house, I drove down to the empty parking lot, got out of the car, and walked down the wet, cold beach. Typically, I hated the beach when it was cold, but I needed the walk. The sound of the waves was soothing.

Spotting a large washed up tree trunk, I pulled my coat further over my butt and sat down beside it. Leaning back, I looked out over the water. The sound of the waves crashing and the rocks rubbing together lulled me into an almost meditative state. All I could hear was the water and the splashes. It was a welcome change from all the craziness that had been going on for the last week. I got lost in my own thoughts.

A mother. I was going to be someone's mother. Never in a million years had I expected something like this to happen. I had never considered having kids, never felt like it was something I wanted. I love kids, especially Ry, but being responsible for one at all times? I'm totally going to fuck this kid up. And, what about Christopher? He is dealing with his own demons, would he be able to handle a kid? Would I be able to handle him? With his mood swings and tantrums, I feel like I'll be taking on two kids. Was he serious about getting married and doing the whole family thing?

"Mia?

I hoped I was imagining it.

"MIA?"

My eyes snapped open when hands picked me up.

"What the hell?" I shouted. When my eyes focused on Christopher, I relaxed. "Shit! What are you doing?"

"I-I found your car but couldn't find you. Then when I saw you…you didn't answer me," he said, his hands on each side of my face. He was staring intently at me. "Are you okay?"

I nodded and tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let me. He pulled me into his chest. "I'm sorry about this morning, I just…it…it hurt ..."

I pushed away.

"I came here to be alone for a while. I needed some personal space," I mumbled, heading toward my truck.

"Mia, wait," he pleaded. I stopped and exhaled noisily.

"What?"

Keeping my back to him, I closed my eyes.

"I'm sorry."

His arms wrapped around me. One around my waist, the other around my shoulders, he pressed my back against him.

"I realize things are hard for you, Chris, but you don't just get to be an asshole and me be okay about it. Your temper is too much sometimes." I took a deep breath.

"I know," he said calmly, too calmly. I turned around to look at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I mumbled and headed toward my truck again.

I was trying to avoid arguing or being bitchy, but it was getting more and more difficult to control my emotions. Personal space seemed to work best. It didn't work for Christopher, who was at my side quickly with his hands in his pockets and his head down.

"You're still mad at me?" he asked quietly.

"Yep," I said shortly.

"What can I –?"

"There is nothing you can do, Chris. You've done enough. Just because you completely caught me off guard by your ridiculous proposal of marriage, you decide to storm off like a five year old, and I'm still pissed about it. Leave it alone and I'll just get over it by myself." Pausing, I saw the same hurt and angry expression on his face.

"Go ahead, run away," I spat, reaching for the handle of my truck door.

As I pulled it open, he pushed it shut and leaned against it so I couldn't open the door again.

"Damn it, Christopher…" his lips cut me off. He kissed me firmly and then pulled back.

"I love you and I'm sorry," he declared, looking deeply into my eyes. "I'm not the only one who runs away."

He walked to his rental car. Growling under my breath, I threw myself into the car. I crossed my arms over my chest and pouted.

"Stupid guy…stupid, hot guy…jerk…asshole with super sperm…pathetic cry baby…jerk…"

After my pouting, I started the car and drove home with Christopher closely following me. Marc waved at me when I passed the security gate.

Richard's car was gone. Before I could open my door, Christopher had it open. I pointed at him and narrowed my eyes.

"Stop being nice to me!"

He smirked.

"Stop it. I want to be mad at you right now!" I yelled, stomping away, but could hear him chuckling from behind me. "And quit smirking. I hate that damn smirk!"

Entering the house, I saw Jackson, Elliott, and Ryan in front of the television together playing Mario Kart. All three of them tilting with the turns and leaning forward when they would speed up.

"Where is everyone?" I asked and stepped toward the three 'kids' on the floor.

"Upstairs with Kat," Elliott chuckled.

I turned around, and Christopher was right behind me. I narrowed my eyes at his smirk and pushed past him.

Kat's voice was the first thing I heard when I got to the top of the steps. Slowly, I made my way toward her room.

"Jesus Christ! It's nothing…just drop it," Kat was yelling.

"Nothing? Are you kidding me?" Laney almost laughed. "You've been fucking Richard? Seriously?" She was stifling laughter now.

"Shut up, Laney!" Kat glared.

"But isn't he like sixty or something?" Laney laughed louder. "Can he still get it up on his own or does he need –?"

"Laney," Kat shouted and glared at her.

Serena stood quietly, leaning against the wall. I nudged her when I entered and mouthed "what the hell?". She smirked.

"It seems that our Katherine here, has been seeing the owner of our record label and sleeping with him," Serena sneered, clearly unhappy about it.

"What?" I gasped and looked at Kat.

"Don't give me that look," Kat warned.

"So, how and when did this happen?" I asked lying down on her bed.

"It's no one's business, and I'm not talking about it," she huffed and threw herself back on her bed.

"Alright, alright…" I put my hands up. "I think we should just leave it alone."

Laney and Serena shrugged heading out the door.

"Don't fuck things up for us, Kat," Serena snapped before walking out.

Kat flipped her off. I chuckled.

"You okay?" I asked. She nodded. "If you need to talk, just let me know."

I patted her back and started to stand.

"He said he's in love with me," she whispered.

I sat back down.

"Oh…and you don't want that?" I asked, biting my lip.

She shrugged.

"It's complicated."

I knew that would be all I would get out of Kat. All I could do was hug her and leave her alone.

Suddenly a wave of exhaustion hit me. I dragged myself to my room. Kicking off my shoes, I slid off my jeans, and pulled my sweatshirt off before I climbed into bed. It didn't take long for me to fall into a deep sleep.

'Mia. Mia dear.'

'Mom!' I sat up quickly and saw my mother looking down at me from the side of my bed.

I looked around. It was my room.

'Mom…you're….'

'Shhh baby,' she soothed, rubbing my head. Her hands went to my stomach 'You will do wonderfully.' She smiled and I closed my eyes as she leaned forward and kissed my forehead.

'Baby mine...' she began to sing.

When I opened my eyes back up she was gone.

I jumped from my bed and started to look around. I dropped to my knees in tears.

"Mia? Mia, please wake up?"

I could hear his voice, but didn't understand.

My eyes fluttered open, my body tensed, and a shudder ripped through me.

"Are you okay?" Christopher asked, voice full of worry.

Nodding, I rolled into my pillow.

"I'm so sorry…please. I don't think I can…"

Rolling over, I looked at him. I took one look into his eyes, reached my hand to the back of his head, and pulled his face to mine.

I pressed my lips to his. My tongue grazed his lip piercing as I sought entrance. His mouth opened and he started to consume me. A deep moan escaped my mouth when he pressed his body against me. His appreciation was prominent against my thigh.

His hands slid down my body. I could feel the smile spread across his lips when he realized I wasn't wearing pants. Rubbing my thigh, softly massaging, he locked onto my hip and squeezed.

One hand slid over my stomach until he reached my breast. I moaned into his mouth and my body squirmed with need. Quickly, my shirt was over my head and my bra was on the floor. I worked to get his pants off him.

Settling between my legs – with only our underwear between us – I pressed my hips forward, rubbing against him. He moaned my name, causing vibrations on my tender skin.

"Oh God, Chris," I moved faster against him.

He kissed up over my breast and back to my neck. He lightly bit my collarbone, and I pressed my hips up harder, needing more. He moaned.

"If you keep doing that," he rasped "I'm going to fucking lose it, baby."

I did it again, and he grabbed my hips firmly.

"Mia," he warned looking up at the grin on my face.

Christopher

The grin on her face so beautiful, even while we weren't being serious, and I had a raging hard on. My heart skipped a beat at her grin. I realized the timing was off, but the compelling need to express myself to her took over. I slid my hand under her chin, ensuring she kept her eyes on mine.

"I'm completely in love with you, Mia. I want this."

I held her tighter, willing her to understand, to make her believe.

"I want this," I said again, moving my hand from her face to her stomach, "But you have to want it, too. If this isn't what you truly want, then I will…I'll try to understand."

I shut my eyes. Sighing again, I pressed my lips to her shoulder. Her skin was warm and soft. She rolled back and slid her hand over the side of my face. Turning my face toward her palm, I kissed it. She took a deep breath before she spoke.

"I'm just…so confused, scared, worried, unsure…" she sighed. "It's just a lot to take in.

She started to turn away from me again, but I stopped her. Instead, I rolled to my back, taking her with me. I held her against me, and she laid her head in the crook of my shoulder. Grabbing her hand, I placed it on my chest, covering it with mine. I needed to make her understand, make her believe, and for her to feel all I was feeling.

"Do you feel it?" I wasn't sure if she would hear me.

"Feel what?"

"It," I said and squeezed her hand. "The pulse, the feeling flowing between us. Do you feel it too, or is it just me?"

She tensed up and then nodded. I released a breath in relief.

"I've never felt this way, this connected before," I admitted, rolling to my side. I slid down so we were face to face. "I don't know what it's like for you, but for me it's healing. I realize it was all…unexpected, but I don't want it any other way. You mean more to me than you realize."

She tried to roll away again, but I held tight. I wasn't ready for her to pull away. She needed to understand what she meant to me.

"Don't pull away from me, please," I begged. "I need you to understand you aren't just some person in my life. You aren't a groupie, a quick fuck that I'm going to throw away. You are the person in my life. You are my rock, my fucking savior; the only person I could imagine ever spending my forever with is you. It's you."

Watching a range of emotions pass in her eyes, I waited with baited breath for her to say something, anything. When her lips pressed against mine once again, my brain said to stop and finish talking to her, but my heart told me to show her.

I rolled onto her and slowly moved my lips to her cheek and jaw. Lightly, I kissed the flesh of her neck and planted loving kisses on her collarbone. Sliding my right hand down the side of her body, I lifted her left leg and positioned myself between her legs.

To keep from devouring her body, I moved with slow, loving movements, reveling in each inch of her. Her head tilted back as I moved my kisses between the valley of her breasts, and a small gasp escaped her lips as my hand lightly rubbed over her taut nipple.

I continued my path, trailing kisses over her body, going over her stomach and on each hipbone before I slid my nose over the skin of her inner thigh. Her scent was almost too much. The voice in my head kept yelling for me to take her, claim her, make her mine and ravage her beautiful body. I fought an inner battle to keep the slow pace.

Stopping at the inside of her knee, I kissed lightly and moved back up until I reached her center. Mia's breathing was heavy and she was squirming under my mouth, making it more difficult for me to control myself. I placed a featherweight kiss on her lower lips before slipping my tongue inside.

"Oh, God," she growled and pressed her hips forward. "Hughh…ohhh…"

"Oh, God…please," she begged and thrust her hips forward. Grabbing a pillow, she covered her face to muffle the volume of her cries.

My touch stayed constant between her thighs as I crawled back up her body, leaving kisses and nibbles on her skin. With one stop at her breast, eliciting a deep moan, the work of my tongue ring, I continued up her body.

Once face to face, she knotted her hands in my hair and attacked me with a deep kiss. Her body trembled and she whimpered into my mouth. When she'd come down from her release, I pulled away her underwear and removed my boxers, positioning myself at her core to make us one. I've never done this before, made love. But, if this is what she needed to understand that I am fucking serious, I would make sweet, sweet lovin' every night for the rest of my life.

As soon as my tip pressed against her swollen lips, she raised her hips and started to slide herself onto me. I met her action and sheathed myself in her tightness in one long, deep stroke. I rested for moment to gain control. Skimming across her skin lightly, I ran my hand over her breast and down to her thigh. I grasped her thigh easily and pulled it upward as we slowly moved in unison. Moaning incoherently, I had to still myself once again until I could find the strength to continue.

"Ah…Christopher," she pleaded and pushed her hips forward to get me moving.

Slowly, I began to move in and out of her, over and over, building an amazing tension. Mia writhed beneath me and as hot as she looked while doing it, I kept my motions easy and loving. I needed her to feel everything I couldn't find the words to say.

Releasing her thigh from my grasp, I ghosted my hand over her body, cupping her face. Her eyes opened to meet mine, and I met her gaze, hoping to convey all of my feelings.

Her head snapped back. With a loud gasp, her body tensed around me. I claimed her neck as the wave of my explosion took me under. Lying side-by-side, just touching and lightly kissing for almost an hour, she cupped my face with a worried look on her face.

"What's wrong?" I probed, running my hand smoothly over the roundness of her hip.

"Um," she muttered, furrowing her brow furrowed and biting her lip.

That damn lip biting was so erotic without her knowing. I had to lean forward and suck on that lip for a second. When I release her lip, she still looked worried.

"Tell me," I grinned.

"My father wants to meet you tonight," she said quickly and covered her face with her hands. "He knows about the baby."

That was the last thing I heard before I visualized a shotgun-wielding cop chasing me down the driveway and out of the fucking state.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Christopher

In the shower, I had hoped the hot water would ease my stress. Her father wanted to meet me and he knew about the baby. I hadn't even told Nicholas and Gwen. I wasn't sure what Mia wanted. After showering and shaving, I pulled on some jeans and a long-sleeved black t-shirt. Hiding the tattoos covering my arms was the least I could do. My appearance was the last thing I needed working against me. And, let's face it, I wasn't exactly the nine-to-five boy next door that fathers preferred.

When I got downstairs, Mia's voice mingled with Serena's and Laney's in the kitchen. Ryan was watching cartoons. I sat down next to him, nervously bouncing my leg, making Ry glare at me. There was a quick knock on the door. I froze. Mia appeared from the kitchen and walked up to the woman who'd let herself in.

"Hey," Mia greeted with a hug and kiss to Linda's cheek.

"So, a baby, huh?" Linda asked, smiling brightly. Mia reluctantly nodded. "Yeah!" She reached for Mia and squeezed her tightly, saying, "I'm excited! Are you?"

"Uhm…"

A tall, dark-haired man with a thick beard stepped into the house. My mind conjured up Grizzly Adams with a hint of Brawny Man.

"Hey, baby," he greeted, leaning down and kissing the top of Mia's head.

Quickly, I stood from the couch. My t-shirt suddenly felt stifling.

"Ganpah!" Ryan yelled, jumping from the couch.

"There's my little deputy," he chuckled and lifted Ryan to his chest. "So, have you been keeping the house safe?" Ryan nodded. "Good job. It's important to keep our girls safe."

"I do," Ry exclaimed proudly.

"Hey, dad," Serena said, kissing his cheek and hugging him tightly.

Once he was in full view, I scanned for his gun. My ass was not trying to get fucking shot tonight. My shoulders relaxed a little and I breathed easier when I didn't see a weapon.

"Hey, princess," he said, squeezing Serena around her shoulders.

"Dinner is almost ready," Laney announced as she entered the room.

"Fast Lane," Mia's father exclaimed with a large smile. He walked forward to meet her in the middle. They hugged.

"Hey, Jonathan," Laney giggled.

"Laney…what did I tell you about that name?" he used a joking tone.

"I know, I know….Dad," she laughed. Then Laney stepped over to Linda.

A large lump formed in my throat when Mia appeared next to me. Her father's narrowed eyes locked on me.

"It's good to see you again."

My attention was drawn to Linda who'd come to stand in front of me. She rubbed my shoulder and smiled.

"Good to see you, too," I replied, sounding like a fucking idiot. Linda smiled.

Mia walked over to her father, put her hand on his shoulder and leaned in to the side of his head. I couldn't hear what she said to him, but his grunt didn't sound promising. Linda disappeared into the kitchen with Serena, Ryan, and Laney.

Mia cleared her throat.

"Dad, this is Christopher. Christopher, this is my dad, John."

"It's good to meet you, Mr. Ryder."

I put my hand out to him, and he eyed it before applying his firm grip.

"Nice to meet you, Christopher," he said, his tone was flat. "Mia, why don't you let Christopher and I have a moment to talk…man to man."

Fuck! Commence double check for guns.

"Uhm…" she started, looking at me from the corner of my eye. I forced a reassuring smile. "Okay."

She rubbed my arm and stepped to the kitchen. My eyes followed her until she disappeared through the doorway.

"Ahem," he deliberately cleared his throat. "Let's have a seat."

He motioned to the couch as he sat in a chair. He didn't sit back, but leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

"So, Christopher, you were on tour with Mia?"

I nodded. "Yes, sir."

"I guess at some point during that time you realized you loved my daughter?" he asked, looking skeptical.

"Umm…yes."

As the answer left my lips, my mind flashed back to all of the "Mia moments” during our time together. I tried to pinpoint that exact moment I fell; the moment I missed the first time. The moment I didn't realize until my fucking therapist had to drag it out of the depths of my messed up head.

"You don't sound so sure, Christopher. Are you sure you even love my daughter?"

One thick, bushy brow rose. This man was really fucking hairy.

"Dad!" Mia scolded from the doorway.

"Eavesdropping isn't something I taught you," he smirked.

"Look –"

"Mia, please, it's fine," I said. She was about to argue with me, but my deep sigh stopped her. "He just cares about you."

I looked back to John. He looked back at me. I made sure to hold his eyes.

"Mr. Ryder, I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

His eyes stayed on mine, reading my face.

"Very well then," he replied, sitting back into the chair. "So, tell me why my baby is having a baby? Are condoms an inconvenience to you, son?"

There went the caterpillar brow again.

"No, sir," I cleared my throat quietly. "It wasn't something that was planned. To be honest, I wasn't thinking clearly. Though the baby wasn't something either of us expected, I wouldn't want to ever take it back."

"So, if you could go back and change it, you wouldn't? You would still be unsafe and allow her to get pregnant?"

I took a deep breath, sure he was going to hate my answer, but I figured it was better than lying.

"No, I wouldn't change it. I wouldn't want it any other way, not now that I know and feel what I do."

"Hmmm…." He was analyzing my every move, my every twitch. "Have you thought about marriage?"

I was quicker with this response.

"She won't marry me," I grinned.

"That's my girl," he smiled, proud. With that, he stood up and I stood with him.

"Pleasure to meet you, Christopher," he said, holding his hand out to me this time. I shook it firmly. Then he leaned in close to me.

"Just remember to treat her good because as the Chief of Police, I have connections and a legal right to carry and use firearms."

I blinked a couple of times. He chuckled on his way to the kitchen.

"You okay?" Mia asked, pulling me out of my hunter versus prey visions.

"Yeah," I said. I smiled and cupped her concerned face. "He was fine."

"Yeah, well just ignore his threats. Every boyfriend I've ever had is still alive," she giggled, walking away.

Her comment about boyfriends ripped a hole in my chest, the green eyed monster reeling it's head. I grabbed her arm and she turned her head back to me with a questioning expression.

"How many boyfriends are we talking about?"

Mia laughed and shook her head, pulling away from me. She hadn't answered me, assuming I was kidding. I wasn't.

Many horrid visions were going through my head. The little girl with mahogany hair in the photo on the wall with her first crush, junior high Mia when boys started to notice her maturity, high school Mia when guys would be drooling and all over each other to get at her. I had to shake my head and swallow the large lump now in my throat. Just thinking that someone else had been with her, loved her and held her, was making me nauseous. I fucking hated them. I didn't know how many there were, but I fucking hated them. She was mine, only mine.

We sat around the dining room table, laughing while John and Linda told stories about Mia and the girls. He had a nickname for just about everyone at the table. Mia was Baby, Serena was Princess, Ryan was Deputy Ryder, Laney was Fast Lane, Kat was Kit Kat, and Linda was Woman. He used them frequently throughout the evening. I wanted to ask the meaning behind some of them, but was pretty sure John and I weren't on that level yet.

John met Elliott the same night and also pulled him aside for the talk. When Elliott came back in the room, he sat next to me with a stunned expression on his face. He blew out a large breath. I leaned toward him.

"Try being the one that got his daughter pregnant," I said with a grin and straightened back up.

Elliott smirked, "No thanks, dude."

Once the table was clear, we went to the living room where Ryan was showing John his new video game. John kept rubbing his head and looking to Mia or Serena for help. Elliott came to his rescue with a pat on the back. He sat down and started to play with Ryan. John gave him a look of gratitude.

Mia was sitting away from me and I hated it. I wanted her close. However, I controlled my urges and stayed in my seat. The conversations changed over to the holidays. The fact they were only a couple of weeks away reminded me to talk to Mia about taking a trip to see Nicholas and Gwen.

After John and Linda left, I pulled Mia away to her room. As soon as we were through the door, I picked her up bridal style, which she yelled at me for. I lay her down and climbed over her body.

"Would you object to going to see Gwen and Nicholas?" I asked. She couldn't hide the nervousness and fear creasing her face. "Mia, you have nothing to worry about. Nicholas doesn't own any fucking guns.” She laughed and hit me in the arm. Leaning forward, I kissed her forehead.

"I just…I don't know. I mean you dealt with John, so I should probably do the same for you," she conceded, smiling a little and biting her lip with a shrug. She was just too damn cute. I pressed my lips to hers. "Are you trying to bribe me?"

"I may have to since I want to leave this weekend to see them. This way you can be back with your family for Christmas."

"Oh," was her response. "Did you already make the arrangements?"

"No." I pushed stray hairs from her face. "I wanted to talk to you first."

She smiled and kissed me back.

After leaving her room, I called Nicholas to let him know we would arrive on Saturday. Gwen called me a half hour later, over-the-moon about our visit, wanting to know what she should make for dinner, breakfast, lunches, snacks. This woman was ridiculous. She also wanted to have an early Christmas with us. I knew Gwen would adore Mia. Hell, she was already infatuated with Mia. To Gwen, she is the girl that had drawn my attention and changed me. Mia is an angel.

The drive was mostly quiet, with a few questions from Mia about Nicholas and Gwen. When we pulled down the long driveway, I looked over at her. Her eyes enlarged at the size of the house. This was Gwen's pride and joy. She had restored the old three-story Victorian home and decorated it.

Before I could get around to the passenger side of the car, Mia had gotten out and stood holding onto the metal frame of the open door.

"You ready?" I asked and grabbed her hand. She took a deep breath before nodding. The door opened before we took one-step onto the large wraparound porch.

"Christopher," Gwen cried.

She hurried to me with open arms. I held tightly to Mia's hand and used my other arm to squeeze Gwen. She kissed my cheek and hugged me tighter.

"I missed you too, Gwen," I said with a smile and kissed her forehead. "Gwen this is Mia, Mia this is Gwen."

"It's nice to meet you," Mia said, putting her hand out toward her. I chuckled under my breath knowing Gwen wouldn't stand for that. Gwen grabbed Mia into her trademark mamma bear hug.

"Oh, it is such a pleasure to meet you, Mia," she gushed, leaning back and looking into Mia's face. "Thank you so much."

Gwen pulled her close again for another hug. I refused to let go of Mia's hand, so they had to work around that.

"Gwendolyn, let them in before they freeze," Nicholas chuckled from the doorway. Gwen pulled us into the house.

"I'll be right back. I'm gonna grab our bags."

I kissed Mia on the temple and went back to the car. When I returned, I placed the bags at the bottom of the stairs and followed Gwen's voice. They were in the sitting room. Nicholas and Gwen were across from Mia on the other couch. I took my place next to Mia.

"So, Christopher, I was surprised to get your call. We usually don't hear from you much." I shrugged and Mia looked a little confused.

"Well, I guess the impromptu visit would be because of something that I…we wanted to tell you."

Nicholas sat up straighter and Gwen's face lit up.

"Are you getting married?" Gwen beamed. I could see the place cards, guest list, and seating charts in her eyes.

I shook my head and chuckled, "No."

Out of the corner of my eye, Mia seemed as pale as a ghost.

"Are you okay?" I asked, cupping her face and pulling her to look at me. She just nodded and half smiled.

"Then…please continue, Christopher," Nicholas encouraged, trying to mask his nerves.

"Umm…" I rubbed the back of my head. "Well, we're having a baby."

I looked at Mia, who put her face in her hands. Nicholas looked angry, and Gwen looked like she would faint from excitement.

"Oh, Christopher!" Gwen said and hurried over to pull me into a hug. "Mia."

Gwen had tears in her eyes as she sat next to Mia and tried to calm her. "Mia, don't be upset. I'm so happy for –"

"Christopher," Nicholas said, his voice stern.

There was no fighting the scowl forming on my face. This tone was too familiar, his disappointment evident.

"Are you sure this is…I mean, can you…are you going to be able to handle this?" he queried, fear lacing his words.

"Nicholas," Gwen hissed, joining me in the scowling. "We can talk about that later."

"There's no need to talk about it at all," I said sharply. "I can and will handle everything."

"I'm sorry," Nicholas said quickly. "I didn't mean to sound so…I didn't mean to offend. Congratulations."

Regret had moved in.

Gwen continued to talk with Mia about her due date, if she knew what she was having, names, nursery, breast or bottle... Mia looked a little uncomfortable at first, but soon loosened up with Gwen. However, she didn't have many answers to the questions Gwen asked. I was just happy to have her here with me. To be honest, the more I thought about having her in my old bedroom, the happier I was to have brought her here.

We talked to Nicholas and Gwen for most of the evening in the sitting room. Over dinner, Nicholas couldn't control his killjoy attitude any longer.

"So, how have your sessions been?"

"Fine," I lied, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Really? Because I spoke with your doctor and –"

"What are you trying to get at?" I snapped, the sharpness in my voice caused Gwen to flinch.

"Christopher, you can't just stop your sessions. You need to keep at it."

"Wait," Mia's broke into the discussion. "You stopped your sessions?"

"I've just taken some time away so I could focus on more important things," I said, glaring at Nicholas.

"Whoa there, are you talking about me?"

She pushed back from the table roughly, looking intent. I grabbed her hand.

"I'll go back, but I just wanted some time for us, uninterrupted by our schedules." My explanation wasn't hacking it, anger formed in her eyes.

"No, Chris, you need to keep seeing Doctor J. It's important," she said, looking like she was going to burst into tears.

Growling low, I shot Nicholas one last glare.

"I'll go back after the holidays."

Mia put her hands on my face.

"You'll call him tomorrow," she insisted, the look on her face daring me to argue.

"Okay," I conceded. I couldn't argue with her, or be the one to make her cry.

"Damn, I love this girl." Gwen laughed and tossed her napkin on her plate.

"I think it's time to retire for the evening," Nicholas said, standing and taking his plate to the kitchen.

After saying goodnight, we headed up to bed. Showing Mia to my old room, she walked around and examined everything. I never had much stuff, just CDs, DVDs, books, and some pictures. Mia stopped when she came to the one picture hanging over my desk. She turned to me, her finger extended toward the picture.

"Is this…?"

"Yes," I whispered.

"She's beautiful, Christopher." Moving to her side in three quick strides, I wrapped my arms around her waist. We looked at the picture of my mother.

"And that's you?" I nodded. "You were cute."

"Were?" I asked, turning her around to look at me.

She laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, I don't know what happened," she giggled and tried to walk away. I wasn't having that.

"Where do you think you are going?"

"To get my pajamas," she said, as if it should be obvious.

"You won't need them," I said with a smirk and pressed my lips to hers.

"Christopher," she said against my lips. "You're," she paused "Gwen and Nicholas."

"Are on the second floor, at the other end of the house," I reassured and claimed her lips passionately.

She opened her mouth to me, and our tongues began their lustful dance. Mia's pants and shirt were off within the four steps it took to get her on my bed. Her bra and underwear, quickly removed. Having her in my bed, bare and open to me, was incredible.

Mia

Christopher showed me where his room was. My curiosity took over, examining everything. There wasn't much. He was definitely a minimalist.

I paused when I saw the picture of him and his mother on the wall. I almost cried. My heart ached, taking in his happy childhood face as he held hands with his mother. She looked down to him lovingly, proud. Christopher's arms brought me out of my thoughts. His lips and body brought me to his bed where he took his agonizingly slow time sending me over the edge multiple times until we fell asleep wrapped in each other's sweaty limbs.

I woke up early with my stomach churning in an all too familiar way, and hurried toward a door in his room, praying it was the bathroom. I lucked out. After getting sick twice, I climbed into the shower and got dressed. Walking out of the bathroom, I noticed Christopher wasn't in the room. I headed down the first flight of steps to the second floor and heard raised voices. I tried not to listen, but I just couldn't help it.

"Damn it, Christopher, you aren't thinking clearly at all," Nicholas shouted. "You have JUST started to make progress, and now you've thrown another thing into the mix you aren't ready for! Have you even thought of that?"

"Of course I thought of it! Jesus, Nicholas, why can't you just be happy for me? Why is it that when it comes to me, it has to be about the bad or how much fucking worse shit can get?" Christopher was shouting back.

"I don't want to think that way, but I've seen so many things push you off track so many times. What if this ends up being one of those times?" Nicholas asked, quieter.

"It's not," Christopher growled. "I love her, and there is nothing that can mess this up for me, not even ME. This baby wasn't planned, but it's a part of her and a part of me. There isn't anything I could want more. Can't you understand?"

I didn't want to hear anymore. I felt guilty for listening. Entering the kitchen, I ran into Gwen standing at the stove. She heard me enter and turned.

"Good morning, dear," she greeted, her face looking stressed.

"Good morning," I replied, forcing a smile.

"Don't let it worry you," she said, turning back to the skillet on the stove. "I've never seen Christopher this way, and I'm sure you are the world to him. So is your baby."

I swallowed hard and fought back tears. Damn hormones.

Gwen placed a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of me.

"Thank you," I sniffed, still fighting the tears.

"Oh, dear, what's the matter?" Gwen asked, dropping the spatula and coming to my side.

I shook my head. "Hormones," I sniffed again.

She laughed.

"When I was pregnant with Jackson, I cried over all the milk being gone," she giggled at her memory.

I smiled and inhaled a deep breath. That's when Christopher entered the kitchen. He locked his eyes on me and rushed over.

"What's wrong?" he asked, eyes scanning my face and body.

"Nothing, just hormonal," I assured, shrugging.

"Are you sure?" he demanded, holding my chin in his fingertips. I nodded. He kissed my nose and then looked worried when he saw my untouched food. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Yeah, I am. Gwen just put them there before you came in."

"Oh, sorry. Eat, please."

He moved, taking a seat next to me. Gwen put a plate in front of him. I picked up my fork just as he traded me plates.

"What are you doing?"

"Mine will be warmer," he explained, turning to what used to be my plate and started eating.

I looked away from him, but caught Gwen's small smile.

We spent a week at Gwen and Nicholas' house. He showed me the music room where Gwen had gotten him to start talking and playing piano.

"It was here I spoke for the first time after my mother's death," he whispered, sitting side by side on the piano bench.

"Because of Gwen?" I asked, tapping a few keys. The sound carried around the silence.

"Yeah. She seemed to be in here playing a lot when I first arrived. Drawn out of my room by the music, I would sit over there," he said, pointing to a window seat in the far corner of the room, "and listen."

"Then, one day when she finished a particular song," he continued, beginning to play the song I assumed Gwen had played for him, "I said, ‘again'."

He chuckled lightly. "I still remember the look on her face when I spoke." He chuckled again and stopped playing. "After that, she coaxed me closer and closer to the piano, until she got me to play."

I leaned my head on his shoulder as he started playing again. One deep breath filled my senses with him. Listening to him play confirmed the truth. He could relate or connect to me in some way he never had with anyone else. The only thing that had the same effect was music. I grasped that fact as reassurance we could make this work.

We tried to do things around Seattle, but the paparazzi had gotten wind that we were around and together. They first appeared when we exited a restaurant one afternoon. It was expected, but when the questions and flashes started to go off it was as if I forgot how to deal with all of it.

"Is it true that you're living together?" "Are you getting married?" "Mia, are you aware of the other girls Chris is associated with?" "Mia, are you pregnant?"

It took everything in me to keep myself composed after the pregnancy question. Chris wrapped me up in his arms and hurried us through the crowd. One cameraman was a little too forward. He jumped in front of us and I stumbled. Chris caught me before I fell, but I couldn't stop him from reacting.

"You idiot," he growled. "You almost knocked her down."

"Give us a picture, man," the guy requested, ignoring Chris' anger.

"It's okay, Chris," I urged, grabbing his shoulder. "Just calm down."

He shrugged off my hand, grabbed the camera from in front of the guy's face, and smashed it to the ground.

"Chris!" I yelled, and grabbed his arm. The cameraman backed away quickly.

"You are going to pay for that, man," the guy threatened. "You all saw what he just did."

A couple of reporters mumbled in agreement, but there were a few telling the guy he'd caused the whole thing. Chris quickly shoved me into his car and drove off. We were silent on the ride back. When we entered the house, Nicholas called out for Chris.

"What?" he snapped, his tone still clipped.

"Would you care to explain to me why I am getting calls about you damaging someone's personal property?"

"He almost knocked Mia over. What did you expect me to do?" Chris argued.

"Calm down," I spoke in a hushed tone.

"No, I won't fucking calm down," he snapped at me before turning back to Nicholas. "I was trying to fucking protect her."

"You didn't have to destroy his camera, Christopher. Now we have a lawsuit to deal with. Not to mention what the press will do with this."

Nicholas was undoubtedly frustrated, but he was controlling his anger. Christopher, on the other hand, was explosive.

"Just pay for the fucking camera and he’ll get over it."

"It's not that simple, and you know it," Nicholas shot back, standing from his desk. "The bigger issue is your temper. You need to get it under control."

Nicholas rubbed his neck.

"Have you called Dr. J yet?"

"Yes," he growled. "I talked with him over the phone this morning."

"Did you schedule a session?"

Chris scowled.

"Why the fuck are you starting this again?"

"Because you need to see your therapist and deal with your anger issues."

"I'm fucking dealing with it. I called, we talked. My anger issues aren't the fucking problem in this case," Chris snapped and pulled me from the room.

We stayed two more days, returning to Whidbey Island at the end of the week. The drive back was as quiet as the drive there. I slept most of the way. When I wasn't sleeping, I was thinking about Christopher's actions with the photographer. It had started to throw up new red flags. When we got back to my house, I decided to speak to him about it.

"Chris?"

"Yeah," he mumbled into my side. We were lying in bed.

"I think that you should go back to Seattle."

His head popped up from my side. He looked at me with confusion and fear. He opened his mouth to argue.

"Let me finish," I stopped him. "I think you should go back and set up some time to see Dr. J."

His face hardened.

"You want me to leave?"

"Come on. You know you were out of line with the photographer," I reasoned, placing my hand on the side of his face. "And it's pretty damn obvious you have trouble controlling your temper."

"I'm fine," he growled.

"No, you’re not –"

"I'm. Fine. I wasn't out of line. He could've knocked you over, hurt you, hurt the baby. I was not out of fucking line." He settled back in to my side. That was the end of the discussion, there was nothing more to say.

Christmas came quickly. There was four feet of snow outside, and it was downright frigid. Two days before Christmas Eve, we went to watch Ryan in his preschool production of the manger scene. Then, we spent Christmas Eve at John and Linda's house where Serena and I grew up. Christopher examined so many photos and went through my bedroom thoroughly, making sure to tease me about my boy band posters I had from that phase in my youth. Christmas morning, Ryan's screaming woke us all up before seven in the morning.

"Santa was here!! Santa Claus came!!!" he screeched, running up and down the halls and the steps until we all dragged ourselves into the living room so he could open gifts. Elliott seemed to be having as much fun as Ryan.

"Oh, check this out," Elliott would ohh and ahh with Ryan.

"Do we have batteries for this?" Elliott asked, looking to Serena with real worry.

"Yes, we have batteries," Serena confirmed, pulling out a shoebox full of them. Both Elliott and Ryan's faces lit up like it was another present.

Ry had gotten so much stuff I thought we were going to have to put an addition on the house just for toys.

Laney got Jackson a leather jacket and another gift he wouldn't take out of the box. His smile indicated that it was for a more private time. Jackson got Laney a million gift cards to go shopping, and he also got her a membership for a spa in Seattle.

Elliott got Serena a diamond necklace that she thought was too much. Serena got Elliott the complete Rock Band video game and accessories, along with a whisper of another gift later. Elliott smiled so wide, I thought his cheeks would split to his ears. He scooped her up and put her in his lap as he helped Ryan get the remote control robot out of its box and filled with batteries.

Christopher slipped a small box onto my lap as I sat between his legs, my back against his chest.

"Christopher, we agreed not to buy each other anything," I grumbled.

"I didn't," he said, shrugging. "I already had it."

I bit my lip and opened the small package. After the paper was off, I saw the small leather square ring box. I was about to scowl at him again, but he spoke first.

"It's not what you're thinking so don't panic."

He kissed behind my ear and ran his nose down the back of my neck. Opening the box, I saw a small silver ring with a green stone. It was simple and beautiful.

"It's beautiful, Christopher, but –"

"It was my mother's," he said and held onto me tighter. "I want you to have it."

I chewed on my lip for a moment before turning my head and kissing his cheek.

"Thank you," I said, closing the box. He grabbed the box quickly before I could set it down and took the ring out, placing it on my right ring finger.

"I want you to wear it." He almost sounded childlike. I turned my body from my waist up and kissed him. I turned back around, and he handed me another square package.

"Christopher…"

"It's for the...baby," he said quickly.

Feeling my heart rate increase, I opened the package and found a CD. The cover read "A Lullaby". I turned sideways and looked at him.

"I...um…wrote the song for the baby," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head. "It's just on the piano and it's just an instrumental."

He shrugged it off, but I didn't think my heart could handle what he had done.

"Don't shrug it off," I ordered. He looked worried for a moment. "It's the most beautiful thing I have ever been given." I took a breath to calm myself from attacking him on the couch. I put my hand on the side of his face. "Honestly, the most beautiful."

"No. That would be you and…" he placed his hand on my stomach. Tears slipped from my lids. He wiped them away and kissed me gently.

By New Year's, photographers had finally found our house and stalked the outside on a regular basis. We knew it was coming, but, still, you can't help but hope it won't.

Leaving in our own cars was no longer an option, unless we wanted to be followed. Now we had two black cars with dark tinted windows that we shared. They were similar looking so we could use one as a decoy when necessary.

The group separated for New Year's. Laney and Jackson flew to New York to appear on the MTV countdown in Times Square. Kat disappeared without too much detail about her plans. Jimmy, apparently, met a girl and was spending a lot of time with her.

Serena, Elliott, Ryan, Chris, and I stayed home for a quiet and relaxing New Year. Ry fell asleep before eleven. After they put him to bed, Chris and I decided to let them have some alone time. Serena and Elliott rang in the New Year with pizza and beer, while my New Year rang in with an orgasmic explosion.

The Sunday after New Year's, we received an unexpected knock on our door. Serena answered and screamed at the top of her lungs. I stood up and watched our old neighborhood friends enter the house.

"Oh, my God!"

Christopher stiffened next to me. He quickly stood and wrapped his arms around me. I turned to him.

"We all grew up together," I said with a smile. I patted Christopher's chest excitedly, pushing away to greet our guests. "He's been in Afghanistan for almost a year."

"Mia," Jace, Sean's best friend, said and opened his arms. It had been so long since I'd seen him.

"Jace," I hugged him tightly. "I can't believe it!"

Laney ran into the room and jumped on him. Kat soon followed.

"Holy shit! Look what the dog dragged in!" Kat laughed loudly as she ran to hug him as well.

Jace was surrounded by us and laughing. I reached up to hug him one more time. This time when I did, Jace leaned down and kissed me on the side of my mouth. It wasn't romantic.

Chris didn't know that. The next thing I knew, Christopher roared.

"Don't touch her!"

Everything seemed to go in slow motion when Christopher's fist hit Jace's face. Jace fell back and then regrouped enough to attack Christopher.

"Christopher! Jace! Stop!" My shouts were ignored.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Christopher

"Christopher! Jace! Stop!"

She screamed, but I couldn't stop. The fury raging within me pushed me into the red zone. All I wanted was to kill him for touching her.

My jaw clicked when his fist connected. The minute I got my balance back, I threw my body weight onto him, sending him onto his back. Straddling him, his arms crossed over his face, I let my fists fly repeatedly into his face making a connection to his nose.

"Get the fuck off me!" he yelled, trying to push me off, but there was no way the red haze would allow that.

"Get off of him!" a familiar voice screamed, and then hands tugged on my upper arms. Shrugging the hands off, I continued my assault.

"Stop! Christopher, Stop!" The hands returned with the scream and pulled harder. Then bigger, stronger hands grabbed me and yanked me off him. I tried to lunge again.

"Don't ever touch her!"

My hands couldn't reach him, but my warning could. Sean and another guy grabbed him before he could lunge in my direction. Elliott and Jackson held tightly to my arms and shoulders. Then, there was Mia.

"Stop! Both of you! Stop!" she screamed, tears streaming down her flushed face. Immediately, I stopped struggling against Elliott and moved to her.

"Mia…" I couldn't finish when I saw the look on her face. I froze at the pain and anger on her face and in her beautiful eyes.

"Mia…" Jace's voice pulled me out of my frozen state.

I pulled Mia behind me, taking a protective stance. As I eyed Jace with a silent threat and challenge, Mia tried to move around me but I kept her blocked.

"Christopher, move!" She hit my back, but I wasn't moving. "Damn it, move!"

"Who the fuck is this?" he sneered at me and took a step closer.

"Jace, I am so sorry. I don't know how to apolo –"

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "This asshole on the other hand –"

"Here, use this," Laney said, appearing with a rag for his nose. Laney turned her eyes to me with a furious glare. Mia shoved me harder and moved around me, toward him.

"I'm sorry, Jace. It's just that…well…Christopher is kind of…protective," she said, sounding disgusted when she said my name. I flinched. Then she fucking hugged him. I moved, trying to grab her arm to pull her away. She yanked her arm out of mine and turned on me.

"Let go of me!"

I dropped my hand and she turned back to him. What the fuck?

"I'm gonna go. I'll visit some other time, okay?" he suggested and turned toward the door.

"Jace, Sean, don't go. Please."

He shrugged at Mia and waved on his way out the door.

"Come on–" her shoulders hunched forward and her head dropped. Then she turned toward the stairs. I followed.

"Mia, I—"

"Leave me alone," she said, her tone sad and defeated. I tried to speak again, but again she cut me off. "Go away!"

I put my arms around her. She shoved me away and turned on me. Her eyes filled with heated, angry fire.

"How could you do that? What the hell is wrong with you?" she demanded, hitting me in the chest. "I cannot believe you attacked him! What the fuck did –"

My possessive, angry, red haze started to return. She was angry for me hurting him? Who the fuck was he?

"Me! He kissed you and had his hands all over you! You fucking let him."

I was seething and holding her by her upper arms. She tried to yank away from my touch again.

"He's an old friend, Sean's best friend, and you completely overreacted. I can't believe –"

"What kind of friend? ‘Cause his lips and hands were –"

"Don't you dare!" she snapped, poking me in my chest. "I want you to leave!"

"Fine," I spat. "At least now I get why you don't want to marry me."

Her eyes widened. "You're an asshole!"

"Don't worry, I get it. I'm just the guy who fucked up and knocked you up. I fucking get it now!"

The venomous words spilled forward before I could stop them. Regret filled me as soon as they'd fallen from my lips. I released her arms. Her eyes filled to the brim until she blinked and the large tears rolled over her round cheeks. She fled up the stairs.

"I suggest you go, asshole."

My head flew forward from the hard smack to the back of my head.

"What the fuck?"

I spun around. Serena stood there glaring at me.

"You need to get your woman, Elliott!"

In my peripheral vision, Elliott stood. "Baby…"

"Sit down and shut up!" she commanded, her glare now on him, but she turned back to me as soon as Elliott froze.

"You son of a bitch! How dare you treat her like that?" she snapped. She brought her hand up again, but I grabbed her wrist.

"You better watch what the fuck you say to me," I warned.

"Or what?" she snorted. "You'll treat me like you just treated Mia? You're such a bastard!"

Serena shoved me. I stumbled. She made her way up the stairs after Mia. I turned toward Elliott who was standing there with wide eyes.

"Don't look at me. You've really fucked up this time." He crossed his arms over his chest.

Anger coursed through my veins. Grabbing my coat and keys, I stalked out to my car. Jackson and Elliott yelled for me. I slammed the rental car door shut, revving the engine and spun the tires.

How could she….she is just so….his hands were all over her! He fucking kissed her!

"Fuck!" I exploded, slamming my fist onto the steering wheel and speeding out of fucking Whidbey Island.

Ten days later, I rolled over in my bed, alone, to pounding on my door. I reached onto my nightstand and heard bottles crash to the floor. I tried to locate my cell phone. Finally finding it, I forced my eyes open. Eleven in the morning. Fuck my head. The room was too bright. I needed a few more pills and vodka – definitely more fucking vodka.

"Christopher," the muffled yell was followed by more pounding on the door.

"Go away!" I answered, burying my head under a pillow.

Some clicks and slams alerted me to their entrance. Then the voices got closer. I sighed heavily into my bed.

"Christopher?" Nicholas was in stern mode. I'm sure he was looking over all the bottles I'd gone through in the past ten days.

"Christopher?" he said louder, angrier.

"Get out," I grumbled.

"No," he responded firmly. "We aren't going anywhere."

We? Did Mia...? I turned over. My eyes focused on Nicholas and then Dr. J. I sighed.

"Christopher, I think we should talk," Dr. J said, lifting up two of the empty vodka bottles off my floor with one hand and an empty pill bottle in the other.

"Nothing to fucking talk about," I growled and threw myself back onto my bed.

"Oh, I think there is –" Nicholas started, but Dr. J interjected.

"We know what happened in Whidbey Island," he said grimly.

"Fuck you," I growled, putting my arm over my face.

Their retreating footsteps made me relax. I breathed out, relieved they were gone. When I heard my bedroom door shut, I looked up, greeted by the sight of Dr. J standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Get up," he said like a drill sergeant.

"Fuck you! Get out!"

"Fuck you! Get up!" he responded. My head snapped in his direction. I wasn't used to him speaking that way. He smirked. "I'm not above forcing you out of bed."

I sat up and put my feet to the floor, leaning my elbows to knees.

"Get your ass in the shower and then meet me in the living room. We have some talking to do."

Something smacked me in the arm. I looked over to see a bottle of Tylenol on the bed. Then my door closed. I sighed and headed for the shower.

In the bathroom, I tossed the Tylenol into the trash, showered, and dug through my medicine cabinet. Oxycontin would numb the pain better. Walking back out to my bedroom, I scanned different clear bottles on my floor. Finally, my eyes located one tilted bottle with a quarter inch of clear liquid. I popped two pills in my mouth and chased them with the last of my Vodka binge.

Once dressed, I entered the living room and found Dr. J sitting on a chair with two full coffee cups sitting on the table in front of him. I slouched down into the couch and put my head back. The numb feeling was setting in. I welcomed it with open arms.

"So, we're all the way back to the beginning, huh?" Dr. J broke the silence. I shrugged.

"Christopher," he sighed. "I think it's time to get you some rehabilitation."

I snapped my head up.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I think we need some more intense work, Christopher. Just you…no outside interference," he said, looking me straight in the face.

"I'm getting better…I can't…I'm not the way that I was," I snapped.

"You bruised her arms," he snapped back.

A heavy breath left my body. No pill or drink could numb this feeling.

"I…what...?" I coughed out.

"She's fine. But, not only did you attack a friend of their family, but you grabbed her arms hard enough in your rage to leave marks on her. We need to work on your anger more," he sighed, motioning toward me. "Not to mention this relapse."

"I-I need to apologize to her," I rasped, panicked.

I never meant to mark her, to hurt her, I would never…but I did. I was no better than he was.

"I think you need to get help…"

I couldn't hear him any longer. My mind filled with Mia. I left the room for my cell. I dialed her number, but got no answer. I called Elliott, no answer. Jackson, no answer. Serena, no answer. Collapsing to my floor on my knees, I screamed. My phone was blinking and my heart fluttered with hope, but when I looked at my phone, the flutter turned into claws ripping through my chest.

It was a message from Serena. It was a picture message of an arm with perfect blue fingerprints.

Stay away, asshole! was her accompanying text.

When his hand rested on my shoulder, I launched at him with all my force. All the sadness, fear, and self-hate poured out. Dr. J caught my arm and pushed me over until he could pin me to the floor. I sobbed.

This would be it. I fucking lost her. Lost my baby. There was no forgiveness for this. I'd become the man I hated most.

I was him.

Mia

After he was gone, Serena lay with me for hours until I calmed down and stopped sobbing. When she gasped, I turned my head. Following her gaze, my eyes took in the bruises on my arm where Christopher had held onto me.

"He didn't mean it and he didn't realize –"

"Are you fucking crazy? Don't make excuses for that asshole!" she yelled, spitting fire.

Sighing, I lay my head back down on the pillow. I heard a clicking noise, but ignored it. Serena left my room soon after, stating she was going to get me something to eat.

Serena called Una and told her about what happened. When I found out what she had done and said, we argued.

It'd been ten days when Christopher called. I didn't answer. I couldn't. Nicholas had already called and told me Christopher had relapsed. Dr. J and he were going to be taking care of him and it was best if I, and everyone else for that matter, didn't respond to him. When the phone rang, my hand twitched to answer the call. Serena grabbed my phone and shut it off.

Three days later, Nicholas called.

Apparently Nicholas, with the help of Dr. J, set Christopher up in an exclusive rehab that most people thought was a spa. Admitted under medical orders, he couldn't just leave, and it cut him off from the outside world during the detox phase. I understood what he was saying, but my heart didn't. All my heart knew was that everything hurt with him gone.

February arrived and I hadn't heard from Christopher or heard anything else about him. I was sitting at the piano in the basement of our house when a small flutter tickled my stomach. I froze. My hands went down and felt the fluttering again. It was like bubbles rolling through my abdomen. I couldn't contain the giggle that spilled up from my lips.

I finally felt happiness. I was happy to be here and I was happy to be pregnant. The warm tears spilled over my cheeks and I began to play. The chords seemed to flow freely from my fingers. With such a small movement, I felt alive again.

The paparazzi hadn't found out about the pregnancy, yet. However, I was still nervous to leave the house today. My stomach was more prominent, almost unmistakable. I stepped out of the house, ushered by security into a black car with heavily tinted windows. Slouching into the seat, I closed my eyes. I kept thinking about Christopher, about the baby, about everything. He was missing things, and I was missing him, but what if he came out of everything unable to handle this? Would he be around to see the baby? I cradled my belly and swallowed my tears.

The car stopped in the back of the recognizable, large, brick building. My security guard helped me into the rear entrance where I'm escorted into the familiar room. He stayed in the hallway. I changed into the thin cotton gown and waited. When I heard the knock on the door, I assumed it was the doctor.

"Come in," I called out.

"Hey."

I looked up and almost leapt from the table.

"Oh, my God!" I yelped, wrapping my arms around Kat. "When did you get here?"

"I tried to be here before you, but as you can see…I wasn't," she laughed and shrugged.

Kat stayed with me during my doctor's appointment. She got teary-eyed with me when the heartbeat filled the room. Kat held my hand as the ultrasound technician did my final scan, and stood by me when the tech told us the sex of the baby. I was so happy not to do this day alone. Going forward, Kat had deemed herself my pregnancy companion. I owed her big time.

Security successfully got us in and out without so much as a flash or second glance from anyone. Back at the house, we ate dinner, played some songs together, and then settled for a movie.

March arrived before we knew it and my stomach was obvious, so leaving the house had become even less frequent. The only times I left were for the doctor's appointments. Other than that, one of the girls did most of the necessary errands. It was during one of my doctor's appointments I was finally discovered.

I was climbing out of the car to enter the medical building when I heard the shutter of a camera and a male voice calling out. I groaned and hunched over, hoping my coat would camouflage my expanding waistline.

"Mia, are you pregnant?" "Is it Christopher Mason's baby?"

I didn't respond. I hurried inside with Kat close at my side and a bodyguard as protective as ever. At the end of the appointment, we tried to use a different tactic, sure that more cameramen would be waiting in the alley. My guard called for another car and escorted us through the parking garage exit.

As soon as we stepped from the elevator, flashes and questions swarmed around me. I'd never had so many cameras shoved in my face, or so many people talking to me at one time. It was terrifying. Instinctively, I cradled my stomach. Kat wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"Damn leeches," she growled.

"Get back!" she yelled at a couple of forward photographers. My guard extended an arm and knocked the two guys back into the crowd.

"Keep your distance," he commanded, his deep voice booming against the cement walls of the parking garage.

"When is the baby due?" "How do you feel about being a single mother?" "What was your reaction to Chris leaving you for another woman while carrying his child?"

I couldn't fight the tears I started to shed. Kat held me tighter.

"Don't listen to them," she whispered into my ear. How could I not listen? They were yelling it.

We made it halfway to the car when the crowd had acquired more photographers and passerbys. My guard was doing his best to get them to back off, but it was just too much. Fear coursed through me as the crowd pressed closer.

I squealed when my security guard lifted me up bridal style and carried me toward the car. The group was still relentless with the questions, but they weren't going to stand in the way of his large body forging forward. We finally got to the car and pulled away. I cried the entire way back home.

The next day the photographer's words crept back into my head. "What was your reaction to Chris leaving you for another woman while you are carrying his child?" I knew it was stupid, but I was desperate and scared. I got online and started my search.

At first, the only image I saw was a picture taken when security carried me through the garage, but next to the photo of me were the photos I hoped wouldn't be there. Chris was sitting closely with a red-haired woman. I choked on a sob and clicked on the picture. It brought up an entire gallery of shots: Chris and this woman sitting on a porch at sunset, them leaning in toward each other like they were about to kiss, both of them laughing with their heads tossed back, and finally came a picture of them embracing. My body began to shake with silent sobs. I shoved my laptop from the table. The noise of it crashing to the floor got Kat's attention. She rushed in and found me in hysterics.

It took three hours for Serena and Kat to calm me down enough to cry myself to sleep. They tried to reassure me he wouldn't do that. They were sure it was something blown out of proportion, but there was a small tone to Serena's voice that told me she was trying to convince herself, too. Kat slept with me for the next two nights while I suffered nightmares.

A couple of days after my breakdown, Kat, Laney, and I were sitting together on the couch while I picked at Chinese food and watched yet another horror movie. Laney had her hand on my stomach waiting to feel the baby kick again when there was a loud scuffle outside.

"You need to wait out here," security ordered loudly.

I glanced at Kat and then to Laney. We both looked toward the door when Laney got up to check it out.

"I don't have to wait!" another muffled voice argued back.

"Yes, you do!"

The door slammed and then security stormed into the living room.

"Mia, there's someone here to see you…" he said, hesitating. "I'm not sure if you want to see him."

I stood from the couch with a furrowed brow and headed toward the door.

"Mia," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder "I can get rid of him."

I smiled and placed my hand on his.

"It's okay."

I took a deep breath and headed toward the door. My heart ached for Christopher to be standing on the other side of the door. I hadn't seen or heard from him in over a month. I knew he was getting help, but I also thought he would be his typical rebellious self and find a way. Then the reporter's words came back to haunt me. "What was your reaction to Chris leaving you for another woman while you are carrying his child?" I wanted him to be there just so I could spit on him and slam the door in his pretty, cheating face.

Placing my hand on the doorknob, I twisted and pulled. The urge to sob caught in my throat.

"Xander," I breathed out. He grabbed me into a hug.

"It's good to see you," he chuckled. I wiped away the tear I didn't want him to see.

With each passing day, anger was starting to replace the heartache I held for Christopher. I sighed quietly and put on my smile.

"How are you?" I inquired with a smile.

"I'm great, actually," he replied. "I've brought some things from Nobil."

He moved out of the doorway and a couple large men carried a boxed up cradle and some other baby gifts.

"Thank you," I said, smiling widely and wiping another tear away. "And thank Una for me, too."

Xander stayed for a couple of hours chatting.  It was through him that I discovered Christopher would be out of rehab soon.

After he left, Kat, Lane, and I went to bed. That night I fell asleep dreaming once again of Christopher and wondering if he would show up here.  Did I want to see him?

The next morning, I placed a call to Una.  I needed another place to stay – somewhere secluded and secure.

Chris

I fought for two weeks against the fucking rehab Nicholas and Dr. J forced me into, but I eventually caved a little. In rehab, I'd been introduced to Doctor Sebastian. She was a specialist in anger management and had experience with troubled children. She and Dr. J. became my routine. One day was therapy with Dr. J, and the next was group therapy where I refused to participate. Then, there was a day of "group activity," and I would be damned if I was going to go hiking or whatever the fuck they did together. The end of my week was a rotation of Dr. S and Dr. J. They also assigned me a mentor for my stay.

Shay, my mentor, had turned out to be decent. She reminded me a little of Kat at times. Shay had come to rehab eight years ago, an aspiring model who had developed a drug and alcohol problem. It took three rounds and her finally stepping away from the pressures of fame in her prior life to get completely clean. Then, she decided to go back to school and work to help others get clean and healthy.

Four more weeks passed by, and I was finally able to sign myself out without Nicholas giving me hell. The therapy had been intense. Both Dr. J and Dr. S dug deeper into my past and forced me to face my anger problems. Even though I was now free, I still felt like shit and hated myself. I knew what I needed.

"I'm going to Whidbey Island," I said, sitting across from Nicholas in the car.

"She's not there," he answered quietly.

"What do you mean?" I fired back, panicked.

"I mean that she's not in Whidbey Island anymore," he answered, shrugging and starting to mess with his blackberry.

I smacked the blackberry out of his hand.

"Where the hell is she, Nicholas?" I growled.

"I don't know," he gave me a stern look, "And you are making me reconsider agreeing to your release from rehab."

"I'm not allowed to get angry at all now?"

"I don't know where she is. I just know she isn't at her house anymore."

He scowled and bent forward to pick his phone up from the car floor.

"Why don't I believe you?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I honestly don't know," he sighed heavily. "I know that she left not too long ago, perhaps a week."

I sighed and put my hand through my hair.

"Fuck!"

When we got to my house, I threw my things on my bed and sat down. I looked around my room. It was cold, empty, and didn't feel like home anymore. Grabbing my duffle bag, I pulled out my cell on the way to my car.

"Christopher, where—?" Nicholas' question cut off when I shut the door behind me.

First, I tried Mia, no answer. Serena, no answer. Laney, nothing. Then I called Jackson.

"Hey, man," he answered. "How are you, stranger?"

"Hey, Jackson, I'm okay. I'll be a lot better if you can tell me where—"

"I can't," he said quietly.

"What the fuck do you mean you can't?" I screamed into the phone.

"Honestly, I don't know where she is, Christopher. No one talks about where she went. They talk to her on the phone and when anyone visits her, none of us are invited," he answered.

"So, she's all alone?" How the fuck could they let her be alone?

"No, Kat's with her."

"Fuck," I groaned. "Who knows where to find her?"

"No one that would tell you, I'm sorry."

We quickly said goodbye and hung up. I was desperate, so I called Una. Surprisingly, she answered.

"Christopher?"

"Where is she?"

"You know I can't—"

"Please, Una. Please."

"I'll tell her you want to see her, Chris, but I can't guarantee she'll want that," she answered, very businesslike.

"Fine," I sighed. Knowing I wouldn’t get anytbing else from her, I took what she was willing to give. For now.

I drove around for hours trying to figure out what to do. When I was close to the studio, I got an idea. I parked quickly and headed into the lobby. There she was. Her face lit up as I walked toward her.

"Hey, Chrissie," Tonya beamed.

"Hey, Ton," I replied and leaned onto the front desk.

"I haven't seen you for a while," she purred. I forced a smile. "Can I help you with something?"

She leaned forward and squeezed her arms under her breasts, pushing them up and giving me an easy access view down her shirt. I fought not to roll my eyes.

"I think you can," I said, smirking down at her.

After thirty minutes of coaxing her, I finally got into Una's office. Once Tonya was out of my way, I hurried through Una's things. There were a couple of files with papers about leased properties.  I jotted down the information and left her office.

Before leaving the studio, I used Tonya's computer to do some research. First, I searched for Mia. Once the bright pink website was in my face, I saw her going into a restaurant located about an hour or so from Seattle. It looked like she was with Kat. At least she wasn't in another state.

After a few more searches, I found the restaurant and decided I was heading in that direction. As I closed the multiple search windows, I stopped on one of the sites. My heart lurched when read the words underneath the photo.

'Mia Ryder collapses at the news of her cheating baby daddy'

My stomach knotted. I didn't want to read on, but I couldn't stop myself. Underneath the photo of Mia cradled in a security guy's arms was more information about her departure from a medical building.

'When asked what her comments were about Christopher Mason leaving her alone and pregnant to run around with a hot, little red-head, she collapsed. Her muscle man was there to catch her and whisk her away from the crowd.'

Then, there was a second photo. It was fuzzy and blurred from blowing up the size, but I knew who was in the picture. It was me, sitting on the deck with Shay. Those fucking douchebags had completely blown the whole scene out of proportion. I could only hope Mia hadn't seen this crap. And, if she had, that she didn't believe any of it.

Halfway through my drive, I received a text message from Una.

"I'm sorry, Christopher. She said she'll let you know about the baby when she's ready."

"Fuck that," I shouted to the empty car and tossed my phone into the passenger seat.

Finding a hotel near the restaurant, I forced myself to sleep for the night. It was a rough night filled with bad dreams.

The next morning, I went to the restaurant and then started doing some research around the town. It was difficult, since I didn't want to draw attention to myself. Once I got my hands on a laptop, I did a lot from my hotel room.

Spending about a week in the hotel, I found my lead when one of the leased properties in Una's file was only an hour away. The home was a very private, gated house leased out to celebrities and those looking for privacy.

"Ah hah," I shouted into my room. "I've got you now, baby!"

I packed up my things and quickly raced out of the hotel to my car. She didn't know it yet, but I was coming. I was going to do whatever I fucking could to get her back. First, I would apologize, once again, for the fucked up asshole I was. After that, I would bare my fucking soul to her. She is mine, my one and only, she and the baby completed me. I would walk on miles of broken glass if that were what it took. No matter what, I wasn't going down without a fight. I would fucking prove to her that I was better. I would go through hell or high water to show her how much better I would make everything for us.

After driving for hours, I was still trying to figure out how I was going to get to her. I was just moving on pure emotion. I didn't have a fucking plan, hopefully some shit would pop into my head when I got there. When I pulled up to the driveway, there were a couple of cars parked along the street. It was those fucking leeches. Their cameras were ready and aimed.

"Hey," one of them yelled and a car door slammed. "That's Mason!"

I pulled up to the gate and all I could do was press the button. Think fast, Chris.

"Yes?" a crackled voice answered.

"I'm here to see Mia Ryder," I informed.

"There is no one here by that name," crackled back.

I rolled my eyes. Way to fuck it up already.

"Okay, then let me talk to Amy White," I persisted.

"One moment," was the response. A minute passed. "Your name, sir?"

I opened my mouth and froze after almost saying my own name. That would have been fucking smooth. Note to self, figure out a fucking plan before you go balls to the wall.

"Nicholas Shaw" I blurted, quickly recovering. "Could you hurry? There are cameramen on my ass!"

I sat there, silently praying it worked. The gate started to retract.

"Yes!" I gave the ceiling of the car a victory punch.

As I drove down the long driveway, the sun disappeared behind the thick trees lining it. After a minute or two, there was a break in the darkness and the trees ended. Sunlight infiltrated the shadows, and in the middle was a large house. I hadn't expected the house to be so big, so nice.

Once parked, I jumped out of the car and ran toward the door. I knocked eagerly, met by the large and burly, also familiar, security guard. Shit!

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Christopher?" he said in a warning tone.

"Phillip."

"You aren't Nicholas," he stated the obvious, scowling at me.

"No shit," I replied sarcastically.

"Gerald warned me about you. You need to go," he said, starting to push the door shut.

"I'll leave only if Mia tells me to," I spat out and put my hand on the door, holding it open.

"I speak for Mia, so go!"

"No!" I shouted back.

"What the hell is goin –?"

My eyes snapped to Kat, who didn't finish once her eyes met mine.

"Kat, please," I begged.

She shook her head and stomped to the door.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she growled low.

"You know why I'm here!" I growled back. "Now let me in!"

I pushed forward, but Phillip put a hand on my chest, keeping me out of the door.

"Fine," I said, putting my hands up in surrender.

Then I smirked and yelled, "Mia! Please, let me talk to you!"

"Shhh! You asshole, she's asleep," Kat hissed at me.

"Then let me in and I won't shout again," I hissed back.

"Kat?" Her sweet voice carried into my ears. My stomach did a flip and my heart raced. "What's going –?"

And there she was, looking confused and afraid.

"What are you doing here?"

"Please, Mia. I just want to talk…please, baby?"

I shifted forward. She furrowed her brow.

"Christopher," the guard warned.

Kat rushed to Mia, putting an arm on her shoulder. Mia turned into her embrace and I could see the perfect round bump. My baby. My Mia.

I hadn't realized I was crying until Mia appeared in front of me and placed a hand on my cheek. Once I finally realized she was so close, I pulled her to my chest and kissed her head.

"Oh God, Mia, I've missed you so much." I pulled back and kissed her.

“I love you so much,” I spoke the words between kisses.

When she pulled away silently, I became worried.

"You shouldn't be here," she breathed out and walked away. I followed her into the house and grabbed her arm lightly, turning her to me.

"Mia –" she placed her finger on my lips. I kissed her finger before she could pull the finger away.

"Please, you should go. I'll let you know about the baby and keep you in the loop. I'll call you, okay?" she said. Her eyes were so sad.

"No. It's not okay," I replied, furrowing my brow. Anger filled her eyes.

"You'll go, now." She pulled herself away from my touch.

"I'm not going anywhere."

If she thought I was leaving her after just finding her, she was crazy.

"I just need –"

"I need you." Dropping to my knees, I placed my head against her stomach and wrapped my arms around her.

"I want to be with you, baby. I need to be with you, and should be here for you and the baby," I whispered, nuzzling into her.

I grabbed her limp hands and placed them on my head. When she let her hands fall away, I knew things were bad, really bad. I'd really fucked up.

"I love you, Mia, and I'm more than sorry for what I did. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you and showing you that I'll never do it again."

I looked up to her face. Her eyes closed, tears streaming down her cheeks. Standing, I cupped her face in my hands, pressing my lips to hers gently. She pulled away.

"Chris, I can't deal with this right now."

"Mia, I'll never hurt you again. I swear."

"Please, just go. I just found out about her and need to process everything."

"Her?" I questioned. Shit, the pictures. She had seen them. "Mia, no. No, no, I'm not with her."

"But, you were," she said, shaking her head lightly and looking away from me.

"No, I wasn't. She was my mentor in rehab." Her eyes found my face again. I smiled. "There is and never will be anyone else."

"I don't –"

"They completely blew it out of proportion. Her name is Shay, and she was my therapy mentor. In fact, I still have her number in my cell if I need someone to talk to during rough moments. I'll call her now if you want. Hell, I'll invite her here to meet you. Lord knows she would love to finally meet the infamous Mia."

She turned her head away from me, eyes closed. "I can't do this, Chris. Just go."

"No, I won't."

Grabbing my phone, I immediately dialed Shay.

"Chris, don't. Please, just —"

"Hey, Chris, everything alright?" Shay had answered quickly.

"No, Shay, it's not."

Tears streamed down Mia's face.

"Do you need a session set up with Dr. J? Or do you just need to talk?"

"I need you to explain to Mia what you are to me."

"You need me to wha…Oh.  Oh my, put her on the phone and I'll —"

"You're on speaker."

"Oh…okay. Mia, I'm a mentor from the rehab.  I know it's probably hard to believe but —"

"I'm sorry he's put you through this embarrassment." Mia reached out and ended the call. "I can't believe you did that to her and to me.  Do you know how embarrassing that was?"

"I need you to believe me."

Mia took my phone and pushed a couple of buttons.

"No, it's Mia."  "Yes, he found me." "It's okay. Listen, I need to know who the redhead in the photos is."

After a few long minutes on the phone, it wasn't until she thanked Nicholas that I knew who she'd called.  She studied my face for a long time, but said nothing.

"Mia—"

"I love you," she whispered and pressed her lips to my mouth. The smile that spread across my face couldn't have gotten any bigger.

"Thank you," I said, grabbing her face with both of my hands and kissing her – less gently than she'd kissed me.

She pulled away with a confused look on her face.

"For still loving me," I answered her silent question. "For not hating me."

Placing my hands on her stomach, I looked down at her expanded belly. With a smile, I looked back up to her face. Then I felt the nudge.

Filled with shock and amazement, I pulled my hand away. Mia giggled. I placed it back on her stomach and felt it again.

"Was that the –?" Before I finished, she was nodding her head with a nervous look on her face. I kissed her fervently.

"You should sit down."

I walked her over to the couch.

"I'm fine," she sighed, but let me move her anyway.

As soon as she sat, I dropped onto my knees between her legs. Placing my hands on her stomach, I just waited quietly. There was movement. It wasn't a quick bump. It was a slow rolling under her skin. Lost in amazement, I placed my head in her lap. Her fingers ran through my hair.

"Christopher?" she spoke softly.

"Hmm...?" I responded from my peaceful trance.

"Do you want to know the sex of our baby?"

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mia

"Do you want to know the sex of our baby?"

"Y-you know?" he gasped and looked up at me in amazement and sadness.

I nodded.

"I found out at my last doctor's appointment," I said, biting my lip.

"Oh," he sat back on his heels, his hands resting on my knees.

"If you don't want –"

"I just wish I would've been there," his said, his brow furrowed. "I'm an idiot."

He put his head down on one of my knees and my hand instinctively went to his head.

"I'm so sorry about the way I acted, and that I haven't been here for you."

"Shh…it's okay. Kat's been a great help and –" his head snapped up.

"It should've been me, not Kat. I keep fucking up. I hurt you and then disappeared on you."

His eyes were a mixture of anger and sadness. I cupped his face with my hands.

"You'll be there for your daughter, though, and you know it."

"I'll try…did you say my daughter?"

A smile started to spread across his face. I nodded. Before the squeal left my lips, he'd lifted me up bridal style and started toward the stairs.

"Which door?" he asked with determination.

"Christopher, put me down," I growled.

"Which door? I'll kick them all open," he warned.

"End of hall, on the right," I growled back.

Once inside, he laid me on the bed and climbed next to me. Leaning on his hand, his face lined up with my stomach.

"My daughter," he whispered and sucked in his bottom lip. It was strange, but the click of his teeth against his lip piercings warmed me. It was a sound I knew too well and had missed so much.

He reached for the hem of my shirt and pushed it up. I grabbed it and pushed it down. He smacked my hand and pushed it back up.

"Stop," I groaned, pushing it down again.

"No, you stop," he chuckled pushing the shirt back up. "I can do this all night," he warned. I gave up, crossing my arms over my chest.

His nose slid across my skin while his hand glided around my stomach. The fingertip calluses of a guitarist gave me goose bumps.

"When will she move again?" he asked, his face buried in the flesh of my abdomen.

"When she feels like it," I lightly laughed.

"Well, when does it usually happen?" he queried, looking up from my stomach.

"When I want to sleep," I said flatly.

"Go to sleep," he laughed. I smacked his head.

"Hey!" he whined, feigning hurt.

"Kat has tried everything to get her to move on command, but that just isn't her style. It's on her terms."

"Just like her mother," he said, winking at me.

I stuck my tongue out.

"Now, see, you shouldn't have done that."

He climbed up my body and attacked my mouth. I pulled away to catch my breath as he placed kisses over my collarbone and into the crook of my neck. My fingers laced in his hair. He cupped my left breast with his hand and began to massage.

"Well, these have grown," he observed, smiling against my lips.

"You are such a –"

He ran his thumb over my sensitive nipple, and I moaned. He attacked my mouth again.

"Mia?" Kat called through the door.

Christopher groaned and rolled back to his position next to my stomach.

"Yeah," I called out breathlessly.

She walked into the room and grinned at Christopher.

"What's up?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Not really, why?"

"Well I was thinking –" Then she gave me a look.

"Mama Casa's?"

Kat giggled and nodded.

"Oh God, I love you!"

I rolled off the bed. Turning back to Christopher, who looked amused by my reaction, I asked, "You hungry?"

He chuckled. "Sure."

"Want me to place the usual order?"

I nodded. Christopher pulled me back down next to him.

"Don't leave me yet. Kat can order it," he said, snuggling back up to my side.

"Can we talk for a second?" I asked when Kat left the room.

"Of course," he said hesitantly.

"Are you still seeing Doctor J?" I asked, chewing on my lip.

"Um…I haven't since I left rehab, why?"

"I think you should continue to see him," I suggested.

"I'm good, Mia, I swear…now that I'm with you, I'll be even better," he tried to reassure.

"Christopher, you attacked him. I mean like animalistic attack," I reminded him, placing my hand on the side of his furrowed face.

"I'm glad you got more help, but you need to make sure you still see or at least talk to him over the phone."

"Okay, fine," he mumbled.

"No, Christopher, promise me you'll still see him. Please?" I begged, bringing my other hand up to the other side of his face. "Please?"

He covered my hands with his.

"Of course I will. How can I say no to you?"

He smiled and pressed his lips to mine.

Over the next few weeks, Christopher was with me every day. I worked on the song, and he started to work on it with me. Kat even sat in to play guitar a couple of times so we could work out the lyrics together. It was really coming together, even if we had to stop and argue every fifteen minutes.

Living together in a domestic situation was a revelation for us both. I learned a lot about Christopher. First, he was a slob, which was driving me crazy. I was a bit obsessive about having order and being clean, but he would leave his socks in the living room, clothes on the floor, wet towel on the bed, food wrappers and cups everywhere.

"You're an adult. Clean up after yourself!"

"It's just a cup. Why don't you have a maid around here to take care of the house?" he argued.

"Seriously? You're going to justify being a slob with the fact that you don't have a maid? Unbelievable! You are fucking unbelievable!" I snapped, stomping up the stairs.

Second, Christopher hated the smell of fingernail polish and remover. Hell, he hated the smell of everything. He would growl when I would paint my toenails.

"That shit smells horrible. I don't think you should inhale it while you're pregnant," he growled.

"Oh, shut up. It's just fingernail polish. I'm just thankful I can still reach my damn feet at this point."

He climbed out of bed with his pillow.

"I'll be on the couch," he snarled and headed toward the door. "Let me know when you're done poisoning my baby."

"Yeah, sure, that's what I'll do."

I rolled my eyes. When I was done, I left him on the couch.

Third, he couldn't stand the toothpaste tube squeezed from the middle. I made sure we got the kind in the plastic bottle going forward, because I wasn't going to listen to it.

Fourth, he was a sneaky bastard. It took an entire day for me to realize he'd hired a cleaning person. On top of that, he scheduled her hours so I would be less likely to run into her.

"Are you really that lazy?" I criticized.

"No, I'm that practical. I've had one for years. It's what I'm used to."

"How about you tell me about shit like this next time, so I don't just happen upon some random woman in the house?" I lectured before leaving him in the living room by himself. This had to be the hormones.

There were so many things to learn about each other and get used to. At one point, he couldn't handle having sex with me because he thought it would hurt the baby. Get the fuck over yourself.  I was about to snap. I was beyond sexually frustrated and he wouldn't do anything to help me.

Deep down, I knew I was over reacting, but part of me couldn't help but assume he wasn't attracted to me now that I was the size of a blimp. Every time he rejected my physical attempts, because of his fear, I would roll over and silently cry until it just got to be too much.

After one night where I practically begged him to touch me and he still couldn't do it, I got up and left. I ended up spending most of the night in the studio of the house playing the guitar and working on lyrics. I hadn't heard him enter, so when his hand touched my shoulder, I jumped.

"Don't do that!" I growled. "Do you want to send me into early labor?"

I was frustrated and snapping.

"What's going on?" he asked, kneeling beside me.

"Nothing," I answered curtly.

"Mia?"

"I couldn't sleep," I mumbled, shrugging. I continued to strum my guitar.

He grabbed the guitar and pulled it off my lap.

"What do you want from me, Christopher?" I huffed.

"I want you to tell me what the fuck your problem is," he insisted. "I get that you're emotional right now, but what is going on?"

"Nothing is going on. Nothing at all."

"What the hell does that mean? I don't do cryptic fucking messages, Mia, spell that shit out," he snapped, his tone laced with acid.

"You don't do forward advances either!" I snapped. "Look, just leave me to my guitar so I can work out my frustrations without taking them out on you."

I reached for my guitar and he grabbed my arm.

"What are you frustrated about?" he asked, his tone changed to worried and confused.

"A lot of things," I mumbled, still trying to get the guitar from him.

"Me?" he asked, his nervousness choking the question out of him.

"Christopher…please, just let me be. I really don't feel like arguing."

I slipped my arm out of his grip, picked up the guitar, and moved over to another seat to play. He sat there for a while staring at me, but I ignored him while strumming and writing.

"Mia?"

"Hmmm?"

"I can't make it fucking better if you don't talk to me," he snapped.

"There's nothing you can do to make it better, so don't worry about it," I said nonchalantly.

"Damn it! Talk to me!" he erupted, his hands hitting the floor. I turned around and looked at him.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "I'm just completely…you're so damn frustrating."

He ran his hand through his bed head.

"Go back to bed, I'll be up in a little while," I said flatly and turned back to my lyrics.

After a few moments, he stood and left. Once he was gone, I cried. I knew I was being bitchy, but I just couldn't help it. Hours later, I couldn't think of anything but sleep, so I trudged to bed and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, Christopher rolled over, wrapped his arms around me, and pressed the front of his body to mine. Not only was his hard body against my side, but so was the steel rod between his legs. I groaned internally and shifted away from him. He tensed.

"Okay, that's it. What the fuck is wrong?" he growled at the back of my head.

"It's too early," I groaned.

"Answer me. I can't take you cringing away from me."

The hurt in his voice was hard to hear. I sighed.

"I didn't cringe away."

"Okay. What the fuck would you call it then?" he demanded, rolling to his back, making the bed shake.

Rolling over, I propped myself up on some pillows while yawning.

"Shifting."

"Give me a fucking break!"

"Look, I could feel your dick against my side and you sure as hell aren't going to use it, so I needed to not feel that! Okay? Feel better now?" I yelled and got out of the bed. I'd stunned him into silence because he didn't say one word as I headed to the bathroom.

Standing in the shower, I let the hot water and my own fingers assist in easing my frustration. It'd started to become routine in order to get any release from the frustration. It still wasn't what I wanted. After showering, I went back out to the bedroom for clothes. Christopher was still lying on the bed. He looked over when I entered.

"What?"

"Nothing," he mumbled.

I grabbed some clothes and went back to the bathroom to get dressed. I slid on my clothes, but not before looking in the mirror at the completely unfamiliar and misshapen body. I wiped a tear away, pulled my hair up in a ponytail and decided to bury my feelings in food.

"Mia?"

"Yeah?" I turned at the door.

"I love you," he said in a hurt tone.

"Love you, too," I said flatly and went down to the kitchen.

I was sitting at the breakfast bar eating my second full plate when Christopher appeared next to me.

"There are still some pancakes over there," I offered, nodding toward the counter. I chewed on a bite, keeping my eyes on the open book next to my plate.

Before I could take another bite, Christopher swiveled me around in my chair, lifted my chin, and crashed his lips to mine. His tongue danced against my lips and I allowed him to continue his dance behind my lips. I almost moaned into his mouth, but he pulled away panting and smiling at me.

"W-what was that for?" I panted. He shrugged.

"Just because I love you," he replied, walking over and grabbing some food.

I finished eating and went to the living room couch, getting comfortable with my book. Kat appeared fully dressed with her bag.

"What's up?" I looked over her and the bag.

"I need to make a small trip," she smiled. "I'll be back in a couple of days, okay?"

I nodded. She kissed the top of my head and headed toward the front door. I went back to my book.

"Did Kat just leave?"

My eyes snapped up quickly to Christopher, who was freshly damp from the shower and leaning against a doorframe with a crooked smile. I could feel myself get hot just by looking at him.

"Yeah, she'll be back in a couple of days," I answered, smiling and turning back to my book.

I was about to finish a chapter about breast feeding when the book was pulled out of my hands, and Christopher placed himself between my knees.

"What are you doing?" I laughed.

"Nothing," he said and grinned, tossing the book. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to my jaw.

"Christopher?"

He ran his hand to the back of my neck and firmly fisted my hair.

"Hmm?" The vibration against my jaw was almost too much.

"You need to stop," I groaned at my words and at his actions.

"Seriously, I can't take it," I panted.

"I want you," he growled. I pushed him back and looked into his face.

"What?"

"You heard me."

He smiled. I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not going to guilt you into something you are uncomfortable with. It's okay, I took care of it."

Patting his arm, I tried to stand up, but he gently pulled me back to the couch.

"You took care of it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

I raised my right hand and wiggled my fingers at him. His eyes widened a little.

"When?" he probed, voice full of curiosity and, I swear, excitement. Typical guy. I rolled my eyes.

"This morning."

He was about to open his mouth again, but I answered what I knew was his next question.

"Shower."

"When I was just out there lying in bed?"

I nodded and shrugged.

"I want you," he groaned, kissing me roughly before pulling back to look into my eyes. "I always want you."

He kissed me deeply and then pulled back again. "I was letting my stupid nerves prevent me from doing what I've been dying to do for weeks."

And, with that, he stripped us of our clothes and took me on the couch in the living room. My fingers had not done nearly close to what he could do to me. Our sweaty bodies were sticking together and to the couch when he pulled his head up from my bare chest.

"Can I watch next time?" he asked, raising a brow and grinning.

"You are such a perv," I laughed, shaking my head.

A week went by, and Kat returned to the house. She never said where she disappeared to, but I suspected she was giving Christopher and me some alone time. The weekend after her return, I began having those fake contractions I read about. They were worse at night, not painful, but annoying and uncomfortable. This was the reason the three of us were awake at one in the morning watching the Sci-Fi channel. When Chris' phone rang, we all looked at it in surprise. He looked at the screen and rolled his eyes.

"What the hell are you calling so late for?" he growled. There was a long pause.

"You did what?" he exclaimed. "Are you fucking insane?"

Now both Kat and I were intrigued.

"Jim, you realize you hardly –" Chris shook his head. "Okay, okay, if this is what you want. I just hope it's not a mistake." Another pause, "Sure, we'll see you then."

Kat and I were looking intently at Chris.

"What?" he asked, tossing his phone back onto the table.

"What?" I looked at him in disbelief. "What was that about?"

"It was Jimmy." He shrugged.

"Really?" I asked sarcastically. "I got that, why is he calling at one in the morning. What did he do?"

"Apparently, he's a married man."

"What?" I asked, my eyes snapped to Kat.

"It's not me," she quickly cleared that up.

"It's that girl he met around New Year's, Natalia. They went to Vegas and got hitched."

"Is he crazy?" Kat jibed.

"Obviously," I responded.

A few days after the late night phone call, the newlyweds visited. Natalia had long, platinum blonde hair, blue eyes, fake breasts, fake tan, and was an aspiring bikini model. Based on her appearance, I wasn't surprised by her career choice. What stunned me was how damn smart she was. While we were talking one evening, I found out she'd graduated from UW with a double major - engineering and mathematics. She was crazy smart, and I felt like a judgmental asshole. Jimmy and Natalia visited for four days and spent three nights testing the endurance of the guest room bed. We could all rest assured that it, in fact, could handle heavy use.

May arrived. Christopher and I had finally gotten used to each other, and my sexual frustration was a thing of the past. We'd started to discuss names for our daughter, and Christopher's sessions were regular and going well– in person and over the phone. We discussed how we would manage our careers with a new baby, and introducing our families. The end of May brought with it an ease and relaxation, but it felt like something was lingering and waiting to happen.

Turns out, my natural instincts were the shit. Kat and I were going shopping for baby stuff, and I was on my way to meet her downstairs. A sharp pain sliced at my side. I took a deep breath and continued down the steps when it subsided. Another pain shot around my stomach, and once the wetness spread in my crotch, I knew I was in labor.

"Kat! Christopher!"

I tried to walk back up the steps. All the books said it was painful, but I could barely walk. They needed to be a little more realistic about this shit. I wanted to kill someone.

"Yeah?" Kat yelled, coming around to the bottom of the stairs.

Christopher appeared at the top of the steps. When he saw me sitting halfway down them, holding my stomach, he rushed to me.

"What's wrong?"

"Time…for…hospital," I panted, gripping the banister when another, stronger pain hit.

"Can you walk?" Kat asked. I shook my head, trying to breathe through the pain. Kat disappeared upstairs.

"What do I do?" Christopher asked me, but Kat answered.

"Sit there and stay with her. I'll get everything else."

Kat reappeared a few minutes later with my bag and a change of clothes.

"Christopher, help her down the stairs to the living room," she ordered.

Christopher carried me down the steps. I cried out in pain and a tear escaped my eye.

"I'm so sorry," he said in panic. I panted and tried to breathe. The pain was a part of this, but something felt off, wrong.

Kat slid my pants off and slid one of my dresses over my head. They helped me out to the car and Phillip rushed us to the hospital.

"Oh shit!" I balled up my fists.

"What can I do?" Christopher pleaded.

"Shut the hell up!"

I heard Kat giggle.

"I'm so fucking sorry, Mia…I'm so –" he was so not helping me.

"Shut up!" I screamed and grabbed his arm, squeezing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

The pain subsided for a second. I tried to reclaim as much oxygen as I could before pain returned.

"Why did I let myself get in this situation?" I groaned. I inhaled and exhaled.

"'Cause you're a slut," Kat laughed.

"Fuck you," I laughed back.

"Hmmm…that would be how you got into this situation. Maybe you shouldn't go around –" I cut her off when I screamed. "Mia, is something wrong?"

Kat's face was full of worry.

Christopher

Finding her on the stairs sent a wave of alarm through me. Seeing her in that much pain, because of me, I wanted to fucking die. I couldn't imagine what she was going through, and, by the sounds of it, I never wanted to.

In the car, she seemed to be okay, joking with Kat through the inconsistent pain. All of a sudden, she screamed. It was blood curdling and Kat's face immediately turned to concern. I was now in fucking ultra-panic mode.

"Mia, is something wrong?" Kat asked.

Mia couldn't even respond.

"Drive faster!" I yelled, smacking the back of the front seat like that would make the car grow wings and fucking fly us there.

Phillip accelerated way past the limit at my command.

Arriving at the hospital, Kat ran in and came back with a nurse and a wheelchair. I helped Mia into the chair and we headed inside. There were photographers waiting for our arrival and I wanted to punch every single one of them in the goddamn face when I heard the camera shutters.

They situated her into a bed and attached her to some machines, assuring us, mainly me, that everything was okay. I needed to be strong for her, wanted to be strong for her, but I was a fucking wreck.

"I'm going to go make some calls," Kat said with a half-smile and walked out of the room.

Mia gripped my hand and squeezed when the pain hit. From the looks of the small monitor, she was feeling it full tilt. I cringed. I think my balls even shriveled a little.

"I'll never get you pregnant again," I said in a hushed tone to the side of her head before I kissed her temple.

"You're damn right you woohhnn'tttt….." she squeezed my hand tightly until the pain passed. "I may have to cut your balls off…I'm just saying."

I kissed her temple again.

Nurses came in and out of the room, friends and family started to arrive. I only left Mia's side when she forced me to get out for a few minutes. Nicholas and Jackson were keeping a close eye on me as I paced around nervously. John chuckled at my behavior and then reminisced about when Serena and Mia were born. Gwen and Serena kept trying to reassure me everything was fine, but something felt wrong. It was looming in the air around her. Fear was swimming inside of me. The doctor pulled me aside out of the room when I was about to walk back in.

"She is barely making progress and her contractions are very strong, so we may have to help this along soon." She smiled reassuringly. "Everything is fine, this happens."

I took a deep breath, trying to get my shit together, and nodded.

"What about the pain?"

"We're going to get the anesthesiologist down here to get her taken care of," she said. She smiled and walked away.

I took a deep breath, once again, trying to ease the worry from my face before I headed into the room. Mia was trying to rest. The lights were out, and she was on her side gripping the bed railing.

"Hey," I whispered.

"Hey," she whispered raggedly.

"I love you, Mia." She smiled at me and gripped the railing hard, but no noise left her mouth.

"Mia?"

She didn't respond and her arm fell slack onto the bed.

"Mia!" I screamed, grabbing her face. Tears filled my eyes and I blinked them away.

"Mia! Baby!"

A group of nurses rushed into the room and surrounded the bed.

"Sir," a nurse yelled, trying to move me out of the way. "Sir, you need to move, please."

"Mia, please, baby…" I cried and shook her.

"Sir!"

The doctor entered in swift motions. The nurse muttered words I didn't want to hear.

"Both her and the baby's stats have dropped."

"Get the OR ready," she ordered.

Two or three sets of hands pulled me away, prying my fingers from her, before I could snap out of it.

"Mia!" I pushed forward.

"Christopher," Jackson yelled. "Come on, let them work."

"Come on, man," Elliott coaxed. Then Jimmy was in front of me helping to get me out of the room. I fought against them.

"No! Let go! Mia!"

They pinned me against the wall. I struggled to get free, but then tried using the breathing techniques I'd learned in rehab to calm myself.

When they rushed Mia out of her room on a gurney, the breathing didn't work. I lost all control. The red haze filled everything. I started shoving at the arms restraining me. I had to get to her.

"Christopher, let them fucking help her, man!" Jackson grabbed at me. "They can't do shit with you on top of her. They'll come get you, just –"

I couldn't hear anything else because the haze now accompanied with a humming in my ears. Fury had won.

"Mia! Let me go!"

I broke free and started down the hallway, but felt a large mass against my back. Then I felt the cold wall against my cheek. I snapped my head toward Laney whose tears stained her face with black mascara. The arms around me tightened, but not hurtfully.  It was an embrace.

"Let them help her." Nicholas' voice sounded rough.

"Mia," I broke into sobs. Gwen appeared next to me.

"Let him go," she ordered.

She pulled me into her embrace and sank against the wall with me. Rocking me like a child as I sobbed into her shoulder.

"Mia," I cried. "Mia."

"It will all be okay, darling. Hush now," Gwen said, trying to soothe me. "They'll take care of her."

"Son."

Nicholas knelt down and placed his arm on my shoulder. I tossed it off me.

"Mia!"

I moved to get up. Nicholas wrapped his arms around my chest again and pulled me to him, my back to his chest.

"Son, it will be okay," he said, holding me as I fought him, but I grew tired and defeated. I was losing her. I was going to lose them both. My life was crashing down around me and everyone was watching.

The wretched sob that ripped through my chest halted everyone in that hallway. I fucking collapsed, knowing, deep down, that I did this somehow.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Mia

Christopher had just spoken before the sharp pain shot from my back to my groin, and down my legs. Then I didn't feel anything. Darkness surrounded me and I felt at ease. I thought I heard Christopher's voice and I tried to tell him it was okay, but I couldn't. Nothing worked anymore.

I was aware of people around me. My body twitched and I shifted, but I couldn't feel it or see anything. Dread set in, but then a wave of calm took over again. I slipped further into darkness and calm.

Coldness crept over my body, starting at my toes. Slowly the cold moved over my ankles, up my legs, though my abdomen and chest. The chill crawled through my arms from my fingertips. As the coldness took over, my body started to twitch back to life. My jaw chattered my teeth together. I couldn't control the movements of my body. It was unsettling and panic consumed me.

Beeps caught my attention, and I started to count them, which helped bring me out of the panic. The twitching intensified to an uncontrollable shake, my arms hitting the bed railings. Then a thought occurred in the midst of my frustration. My baby. Where was the baby? Was she okay? Was she with Christopher?

During my silent questioning, spots of white started to appear. Slowly, my eyes began to crack open, flinching from the harshness of the bright light. I turned my head to the side and saw a woman in blue scrubs standing next to me.

"Hey there," she said with a smile. "Finally awake, I see."

Lifting my hand a little to shield my eyes, I felt a tug on my arm. The IV line attached to my arm was hooked on the bed railing. I tried to speak, but only coughed.

"Give yourself a minute, honey." She lightly rubbed my arm. "Let me grab you a little water."

She left my bedside, but returned quickly with a small white paper cup. She raised my head and held out the cup. I tried to reach for it, but my hands were still shaking too much.

"Here, let me help." She held the cup to my lips. I sipped.

"W-what happened?"

She smiled down at me. "There was a small complication, but everything is okay. I'm going –"

"What about the baby? Where is she? Is she okay? Where's Christopher?"

The beeping of the monitor increased.

"Calm down. Everything is fine. I'm going to call for your doctor and let her know you're awake. I also want to get approval to give you something for your withdrawal." She rubbed my arm as she spoke.

"Withdrawal? Why –?"

"You're coming down from the anesthesia. It's common and completely normal for your body to react this way." She smiled. "I'll be right back."

The nurse left, and my mind wandered to Christopher and our daughter. Why wouldn't she tell me what happened? She said everything was all right, but, hell, that's what they always say just to keep you calm.

The nurse returned and put a syringe into my IV line.

"This will help with the shaking." Then she threw a blue blanket over me and I instantly felt the warmth. "The warmed blanket will help with the chills." She smiled before she walked away.

I suddenly felt exhausted. Even though I had so many unanswered questions, I couldn't keep my eyes open. I fell back into darkness and dream of a small baby wrapped in pink.

Not knowing how long I'd been asleep, I woke to the sound of voices around me. I blinked my eyes open slowly, trying to adjust to the bright light again. A white coat and blue scrubs stood next to the bed. The nurse's familiar voice sounded around me. My gaze shifted and there was my doctor.

"Well, I was wondering if you would wake while I was still here." She smiled and walked to the right side of my bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Groggy, confused," I groaned.

"All reasonable," she chuckled.

"What happened? Where is my daughter? Where's Christopher?" The doctor cut me off in the middle of my question marathon.

"Calm down. I'm going to try and start from the beginning." I nodded eagerly. "Your contractions were strong, very strong. However, you weren't making any progress. During your heavy contractions the cord wrapped around the baby twice, which caused distress on the baby and you. You passed out during a strong contraction, so we had to rush you into the operating room so we could perform a cesarean section. We wanted to get the baby out as quickly as possible for both of your well beings."

She took a deep breath and sighed loudly.

"During our attempts to get you moved to the operation room, your boyfriend panicked and had a small issue." She stopped when she saw my eyes widen.

"Did he breakdown? Did he hurt anyone?" I grasped the bed railing tightly waiting for his answer.

"Yes he had a...a breakdown in the hallway. Family had to pull him from the room and keep him subdued." She hesitated again.

"Where is he?" I swallowed, hard.

"His doctor was called in and he was placed on another floor. I really cannot discuss anything else." I nodded, understanding.

"Where is my daughter?" Tears formed at the corners of my lids about to spill over.

"You need to understand that there was a lot of stress due to the situation –" The tears spilled onto my skin before she finished.

Christopher

I groaned and blinked, blinked and groaned. The bright white light caused a sharp pain in my head.

"Shit."

"Christopher?" I blinked a few more times until I focused on Gwen's face. "Christopher?" she asked again.

"Where...what...?" Everything came crashing back on me all at once. "Mia?"

I sat up quickly, but a wave of dizziness consumed me.

"Shh...Calm down...it's okay. She's fine." Gwen stood next to me now, holding me against her.

"Wh-what –?"

"Sweetheart, you had a small –"

"I know what happened. Where's Mia?"

"She's in her room. She came out of recovery yesterday and is waiting on you." I sat up again and yanked the blanket back.

"Christopher! Get back in bed."

I stood next to the bed and started to look for my clothes.

"Yesterday, how long have I been here? I need to go to her," I said sharply.

"No, you can't." I turned around to see her face.

"You have to wait until the doctor's release you." She saw my confusion. "Christopher you were sedated for over 24 hours. We had a doctor admit you into the hospital."

"Admitted? But –"

"You lost control." I saw a tear spill over her cheek.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean –"

"I know, honey. We all know what caused it, but you have to wait. Doctor J will be here soon, and then the doctor on duty will come around. If all goes well, you'll be discharged by this afternoon."

She moved around the bed to where I was standing and helped me sit back down onto the bed.

"What happened?" I put my head into my hands. "Are they okay?"

Gwen sighed.

"Mia's in her room now and she's fine. Sore and a little tired, but fine. She had to have a cesarean section." She saw my perplexed expression. "They had to cut the baby from her."

I flinched in horror of the image in my head. Gwen patted my knee.

"It's okay, it's a frequent procedure, dear." She took a deep breath and was about to speak when Doctor J entered the room.

"It's good to see you awake," he said with a bright smile.

"Hey," I took the hand he held out and shook it.

"How are you feeling?" He stood against the wall in front of me.

"Okay, slightly confused."

"Those are all typical responses." He smiled.

Gwen excused herself from the room, kissing my cheek before she left.

"So, you think you're still ‘better'?" he smirked.

"Okay, so I'm not as 'better' as I thought, but you have to admit I've made progress. At least give me that...come on." I grinned.

"Of course you've made progress, but you still need some help with resolving these anger issues. Stress brings it on, and we still need to work on that, agreed?"

He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Agreed," I answered and lay back onto the bed.

"Well, we're going to set up a new schedule for getting together as well as some other therapies. You agree to this, and I'll sign off on your release." He didn't move one millimeter.

"Okay. Mia was going to make me –" Shit, Mia.

"Can I go now? I need to see her."

"I'll go see where the doctor is in his rotation. Stay," he ordered, knowing I was not above sneaking out of this room. I put my hands up in surrender. Moments later, Doctor J arrived with the attending.

"Let me run a few quick tests." He smiled and checked my temperature, blood pressure, reflexes, and my eye dilation. He held small talk with me while he performed his check up and looked over my chart.

"Well, Christopher, you seem to be in working order." He smiled at me. "I hear you have someone waiting for you on another floor. Let's get you out of here."

He placed the chart back at the foot of my bed. "The nurse will be in shortly with your discharge orders."

"Thank you," I breathed in relief. I shook his hand and sat eagerly, waiting for the nurse to come back.

"Have you seen her?"

"Yes," Doctor J answered. "She's fine and waiting for you to come down."

"No one will talk about the baby," I said, anxiety pooling in my stomach, "Is she okay?"

"Mia has asked for me bring you to her." I could tell that that was all the response I would get. That had to mean something bad happened. "She also said to tell you, that you can only come see her if you promise to make your appointments with me."

I hadn't lost Mia, but had we lost our daughter? I was suddenly full of panic and distress at the thought. Tears started to flow.

"Christopher?" Doctor J sounded concerned. "Christopher talk to me, talk through it."

I heard what he was saying, but it was just too fucking hard. The thought of our daughter being gone, never being able to see her face or hold her, never being able to hear Mia sing to her, made my heart wretch. The haze formed over my eyes and the humming started in my ears.

"Christopher, come on, you can do this." My bed shifted. I took fistfuls of blanket. "Tell me about it, let it out. Let it out...do it for her."

And that was all it took. I sobbed.

"What if I lost her? What if we lost our daughter? What...?" I sobbed and grabbed a fist full of his shirt. "I-I don't know what to do...what if –"

"Christopher, calm down." he grabbed my wrists. "You haven't even talked to Mia yet. It's normal to feel all of these things. Let them out." He scooted a little closer. "Remember the calming exercises you learned at the center? Let's try one. Count with me."

We sat on my bed breathing and counting; eyes closed, eyes open. The haze dissipated slowly and my chest didn't feel like I was about to fucking implode anymore. As I was calming down, the nurse arrived. My emotions shifted to anxiousness.

"Well, Mr. Mason, it looks like we're kicking you out of here today." She smiled and winked at me. "You have someone waiting on you, I believe."

I smiled at the mention of Mia.

"Yes, yes I do." My smile broadened.

"I need you to sign these papers for me." She handed me a clipboard and showed me the different places to sign. "Alright, you can change back into your things and then you are free to go."

"Thank fuck!" I practically jumped up in the air and clicked my damn heels.

Grabbing my clothes, I tossed them onto the bed. I turned around and saw Doctor J still sitting there with an amused expression on his face.

"You going to watch me take my clothes off?" I raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. "I mean, I know I'm quite the specimen..."

"No more please," Doctor J chuckled. "I swear to God, you are so full of yourself." He laughed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Once I was dressed, I practically ran out the door. Stopping me in my tracks was Nicholas, Jackson, and Doctor J.

"Son," Nicholas nodded and put his hand out to me. I took his hand and shook it.

"I'm sorry that –" I rubbed the back of my head. He stopped me before I finished my sentence.

"I think your attendance has been requested." Nicholas smiled.

"Mia?" I questioned with eagerness.

"Yeah, Bro, she's waiting for you." Jackson put his arm around me. We walked toward the elevators. "We told her we would come and spring you from the psych ward." He laughed.

"Jackson," Nicholas hissed.

"Thanks for performing the psycho heist," I chuckled. “Next time I need a jail break, I know who to call.”

"No problem." Jackson smiled large. We walked onto the elevator, even though we were joking, I felt that I needed to say something to Jackson

"Jackson, thanks for –"

"No, no. I don't need a thank you." He patted my back.

The elevator doors opened and I pushed past Jackson and Nicholas to get out.

"Slow down," Nicholas laughed softly as I rushed down the hall.

I saw Laney standing with a large smile outside of a door and that's where I went.

"She's been waiting for you." Laney hugged me tightly and kissed my cheek. I kissed her on her forehead before letting her go. Placing my hands on the doorframe of the closed door in front of me, I took a deep breath. This was it. The moment of truth about our daughter, that no one would talk about.

"Go on, boy, she's waiting." Nicholas chuckled. I pushed the door open and entered the room.

The room was dim. I slowly walked toward the bed. The foot of the bed was the first thing I saw. As I got closer, I saw the small bump of Mia's feet and then the long length of her legs covered in a blanket. When I reached her head, I could see she was lying with her eyes closed and possibly sleeping.

It took everything in me not to rush to her and pull her into my arms. Instead, I stood there just watching her sleep. I leaned to the side thinking the wall was there. I missed by about two inches and ended up bumping into a table with wheels like an asshole. There was a loud clang and a gasp. I looked up and saw Mia giggling quietly.

"What are you laughing at?" I grinned.

"You," she smiled. It was the best sight I could ask for.

"Are you okay?" I asked, walking toward her.

She nodded.

"What about the baby? No one will tell me anything and –"

"I wanted to be the one to tell you." She bit her lip. Moisture built in my eyes and I dropped my head. "Christopher, would you like to meet your daughter?"

I snapped my head up. Mia slipped her hands under a large bundle of white blanket and then cradled it in her arms. When the bundle moved and Mia shifted the blankets, I could see the soft pink skin.

Walking closer, I could see the top of her head and then the curve of her cheek. Tears of joy replaced my tears of fear. More joy than I could ever imagine.

"Get over here!" Mia laughed.

I moved quicker and sat on the bed next to her. She held the bundle out to me.

"I don't think I –"

"Oh, bullshit, put your arms out," Mia ordered, and I did as she said. She placed the tiny warm bundle in my arms, and my daughter made small grunting noises.

"Did I hurt her?" I panicked.

"No, she makes noises." She laughed. Looking over my arm, Mia stared down at her rosy cheeks and dark hair sticking out in all directions. "Tell daddy hi, Maggie."

I looked over at Mia, who looked at me nervously.

"W-what did you call her?"

She swallowed hard.

"Umm...meet Margaret Ann Mason, your daughter."

I couldn't believe she'd given her my mother's name. I was so thrilled I didn't know what to say or do.

"Y-you aren't upset, are you?" She bit her lip nervously. Leaning over, I kissed her hard. Pulling away from the kiss and pressing my forehead to hers, I whispered.

"I couldn't be fucking happier if I tried. Thank you." She exhaled in relief and smiled.

The nurse came in at one point to take Margaret, my daughter—I couldn't stop saying it, even in my own head—back to the nursery for her check up with the doctor. I rolled over and wrapped my arm around Mia.

"Owww!"

I jerked back when she gasped in pain. Her hands were clutching her stomach.

"What? What did I do?" I shot up and panicked.

"Watch my stomach." Then she unclenched her eyes and looked at my face. She patted the bed next to her. "You have to avoid my stomach area for a while."

"Oh shit! I completely forgot. I'm sorry."

"It's fine, just be careful."

Lying back down, I took her hand in mine. Bringing it to my chest and holding it there. We lay there together for a while in comfortable silence when another nurse appeared.

"Time for your check up."

"Do we have to?" Mia groaned. The nurse laughed.

"You need to move, mister." She smiled at me. I got up.

"You may want to leave," Mia said in a warning tone.

"I've been away long enough. I'm not going anywhere."

"I warned you," she said as she lay back.

The nurse pulled down the blanket and lifted up the hospital gown. There was a large white bandage over her stomach, until the nurse moved it away. My eyes widened when I saw the swollen red line of skin. It was puffy and there were tiny, clear strips about every half inch. Mia clearly caught my expression.

"I told you," she laughed.

"Shut up, I'm fine. I just didn't...expect that." I motioned toward her exposed stomach. She laughed again, flinching from discomfort.

After all the nurses and doctors had done their thing, we were back in bed together. With our daughter in Mia's arms, she nursed her. I lay on my side with my head in the palm of my left hand. The fingers of my right hand rubbed the side of Maggie's head while she fed.

I couldn't believe how amazing it was to watch Mia breastfeed our daughter. It was beautiful, unreal, and sexy as hell. I didn't know when I could or when Mia would even let me touch her again, but my body was aching.

The next afternoon, I arrived back in Mia's room after showering and changing my clothes. I also had asked Jackson to stop and pick up some food on the way over. The hospital food was fucking killing me. Aren't they supposed to be all about health and shit?

"Oh, my God, are those French fries?" Mia squealed in delight when I came in carrying the familiar food bags.

"Yes, they are, but you aren't supposed to eat them," I scolded.

"You can't bring those in here and not let me eat them," she pouted.

"What about Maggie, huh? Do you want her to eat French fries?" I laughed.

"AhhGhh! Why did I let you sit in while the nutritionist went over the restrictions for breastfeeding?" She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at me. "It's not fair that I have to carry the child, give birth, have the scars and the stretch marks, and now I can't even eat a French fry, while you do nothing."

I laughed and shook my head.

"Okay, I'll share my fries." I climbed on the bed next to her and handed over some fries.

"Damn, those are good!" she exclaimed with a mouthful of fries.

"Hey, watch your mouth. Our daughter can hear you." I nodded to the little bassinet Maggie was laying in next to Mia's bed. She smacked my arm. Then, she cleared her throat.

"We need to figure out what we are going to do."

"About what?"

"Well, I'll be in Whidbey Island and you are obviously more than welcome there. But, that would be hard with the lack of space. Maggie needs her own room, too, eventually."

"What about my place?"

"Uh, your place is a bachelor pad."

"Yeah, true." I shrugged and realized what she was saying.

"I would like to stay close to my family, so I'm thinking about just trying to find another house in Whidbey Island." She shrugged and stole another fry.

"Uh...we work mostly in Seattle, why wouldn't we go there?"

"Christopher, I don't expect you to live there or to live with me on a permanent–"

"Are you fucking serious?" I looked at her in shock. "Do you think I would spend one day away from you and Maggie if I can help it?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything...It's just we never talked about the after part." She put her head back.

"I know," I said quietly. "I didn't mean to snap at you." I kissed the back of her hand. "I just need you to know that I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

I watched a single tear fall over her cheek. I wiped it away and kissed her. "Thank you," I whispered against her lips.

"No, thank you," she whispered back and then pressed her lips to mine.

Mia fell asleep not too long after we talked. We hadn't resolved anything, and she was leaving the hospital in two days. Climbing off the bed, I walked over to the bassinet. Cradling Maggie in my arms, I sat down in a chair with her.

As I sat taking in every curve of her face, the way her mouth puckered when she slept, and how her breathing felt against my arms, I found solace and inspiration. When the idea popped into my head, I kissed my little muse before placing her back in her mobile bed.

It took everything I had in me to leave, but I did it. I kissed Mia's forehead before I headed out the door. There were people to call, arrangements to make, and things to get done.

I made sure I was back before she woke up the next morning, but I told her I had some errands to run in the afternoon. Arriving back before dinner, I spent the rest of the evening with her and Maggie. Gwen wasn't happy, but I completely monopolized my daughter.

The following morning we woke up and prepared for Mia and Maggie's discharge from the hospital. Mia was antsy to get out of the hospital. She was trying to dress quickly, but couldn't do it without a little help. Watching the pain on Mia's face with each step she took crushed me. I hated to see her hurting, and I especially hated that I was the cause.

The nurse helped her into a wheelchair after she dressed Maggie in a bright pink Onesie with the picture of a guitar and "Let's Rock" printed underneath. Then, there were the little black and white striped pants and bright pink shoes, all courtesy of Aunt Laney.

When Maggie started to grunt in protest of the shoes, Mia informed her that Aunt Laney had gone through a great deal of trouble to find her the perfect outfit for a rock princess. Maggie grunted again. I bit back a laugh.

Once my little girl was in her full rock princess gear, Mia strapped her into a car seat. I picked up Maggie's seat while Jackson, Kat, Serena, and Elliott grabbed the bags, the flowers, and the gifts. We headed to the awaiting car.

To avoid the reporters and photographers camped out at the hospital exits, we arranged to use a private parking floor of the hospital garage typically reserved for doctors only. Mia was relieved Maggie wouldn't be subjected to all of the photographers just yet.

I helped Mia into the car and then helped her strap Maggie in beside her. I climbed in on the opposite side of Maggie. Mia and I stared at Maggie while holding hands during the car ride.

I figured it would take at least an hour before Mia got curious, but she'd been distracted by Maggie and she dosed off for a bit. So, it ended up being an hour and a half before she started looking around out the windows and turned to me with a confused expression.

"Christopher?" She narrowed her eyes at me.

"Yes, dear?" I fought a grin.

"Where are we going?" She looked a little worried.

"It's a surprise." I winked and put my head back on the seat.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Mia

We pulled up to the familiar scenery and my curiosity reached its peak.

"Why are we going here?" He didn't respond. "Christopher?"

"What is it about surprise don't you understand?" He grabbed my hand lying on the side of Maggie's car seat.

"I already know where we are going. I asked why?" I pursed my lips and raised my eyebrow at him.

Sounds of voices yelling for us took my attention away from the conversation.

"Is it a girl or boy?" "What did you name the baby?" Even with the tinted windows, I got nervous and draped a blanket over Maggie's seat.

The driver passed by the photographers quickly through the opening gate. Phillip smiled widely when we pulled up to the house.

"We're here." Christopher smiled and got out of the car before I could say another word.

Christopher opened my door and helped me get out. My abdomen was still sore as all hell, and it was clear I needed another painkiller. I swear I was going to track down those baby book authors and pull their teeth out. This shit wasn't in any of the chapters I read. Neither was the grossness of the incision area.

"You okay?"

I nodded, holding onto the open door while Christopher got Maggie from the car.

"Christopher...?" I whined. He kissed the side of my head and walked us toward the house. "Are we staying here longer?"

I wasn't objecting, but we would need to get the baby stuff sent to this house. Christopher walked us to the front door and held up a large silver key chain that read HOME. I furrowed my brow.

"Here's your key." He smiled widely.

"My key?" Maybe it was the drugs or the recent childbirth, but I wasn't catching on. "Christopher, I –" His lips pressed to mine.

"Welcome home, Mia," he whispered and pulled back.

"You bought the house?"

He nodded with excitement, though there was a touch of nervousness.

"You bought the house." This time I whispered a statement, not a question.

"I bought us the house. Maggie, you, and I, our family, this is our home."

His eyes moved to Maggie. The love that filled them made tingling warmth spread through my chest. He was so in love with his daughter.

"Christopher...I don't know what to say." My heart swelled. Wrapping my arms around him, I pressed my lips to his cheek. I immediately cringed from pain in my abdomen. He wrapped his arm around me to keep me up.

"Easy now," he said with a smile. "Let's get my girls inside."

I leaned my head on his shoulder and he guided us into the house. Our house.

"Oh..." I stopped short just after we entered.

"What, what's wrong?" Holding tighter onto my waist, he looked me over.

"We need to call Serena so she can have the baby stuff brought here, and I'll definitely need the bassinet, at least, for tonight."

He started to chuckle and nudged me to keep walking.

"What's so funny?" We stepped around the corner of the entry.

"Welcome Home!"

Maggie started to fuss. I looked around the room and saw Laney, Nicholas, Gwen, John, Linda, Amy, and Ryan standing in the living room, smiling at us. I smiled back, brightly.

Maggie's fussing became worse, so Christopher sat her on the table. I took her from the carrier and cradled her. Placing her against my chest, I rubbed her back. Christopher kissed the top of her head.

"Welcome home, princess," he whispered against her head.

Gwen and Linda descended upon us quickly.

"Oh my, she's so tiny, isn't she?" Gwen whispered, running her fingers over one of Maggie's cheeks.

"She's beautiful," Linda said, rubbing Maggie's fuzzy head.

"Just like her mother." Christopher kissed the top of my head.

"I dunno. That's not my hair."

He laughed. Grinning, I brushed over the spiked pieces of dark hair on her head.

"Mia," Laney danced up to me. "There's so much to show you, but, first, you have to see one special room." She was bouncing uncontrollably.

"Calm down, Laney," Christopher chuckled. "We'll get to that."

"I'm just so excited," Laney cheered.

"Should I be worried?" I raised my brow at Christopher.

He rubbed the back of his head.

"Umm...I kind of recruited Laney to help out with Maggie's room."

He looked at me through his lashes. My eyes widened, because all I could think of was that Laney had probably created an entire room that looked like someone had puked Barbie pink all over.

"Oh," was all I said.

"Come on, you'll love it." Laney beamed. Grabbing my arm, she started pulling me. "I know you better than you think."

"Easy. Laney, she's sore." Chris took Laney's hand from my arm, a scowl on his face.

"Oh crap! I'm sorry," Laney apologized, cringing.

"It's okay, let's just take it slow." I smiled small and walked toward the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, Laney stopped in front of the bedroom door next to the master bedroom. I took a deep breath before she opened the door. I gasped, entering the room.

"Oh, Laney," I breathed.

"You like it?" I couldn't speak. "If you don't, we can change –"

"Laney, it's gorgeous." I reached my free arm around her and hugged her to my side.

"Really?" A tear started to roll over Laney's cheek.

"Of course," I assured with a smile.

"Great," she exclaimed. "I'm so glad you like it. It's called Guinevere."

What I had assumed about Laney's nursery vision was completely wrong. The walls were painted a light cream color with a light sage trim. The floor was carpeted in light beige. The crib looked as if it was straight out of the renaissance. A solid headboard and foot board with beautiful moldings at the top and bottom, with a painting of pink roses in the middle. It was an antique cream color with the same sage green trim. The bedding was cream, coral, and light copper. A dresser and changing table that matched the crib sat on the opposite end of the room. The canopy over the crib was cream colored and draped beautifully down the four, sage green posts. It was perfect. Feminine, but not pink. It was perfect for my princess.

"It really is perfect. Thank you." I kissed her cheek.

By the time we'd gotten downstairs, Kat, Elliott, Jackson, and Serena had arrived. I went into an empty room to feed Maggie before handing her over to Gwen, who'd been twitching to hold her since we got home. Then I excused myself to shower.

Taking off my clothes, I looked into the large mirror. My body had definitely changed. Sighing, I climbed into the shower and let the warm water cascade over me. Reaching for my body wash, the familiar surroundings felt good. I let myself process everything that had happened over the past few days. I hadn't even realized I was crying, all the emotions pouring into the steamy water.

"Mia?" Christopher knocked repeatedly. I quickly rinsed off my face, rubbing easily.

"Yeah."

"You okay?" The door closed behind him.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I turned off the water and stuck my hand out, keeping the rest of my body hidden. "Can you hand me a towel?"

I heard his movements, but jumped when he pulled the shower door back.

"Why are you hiding?" He grinned.

"Give me the damn towel!" I grabbed for it, but stretched a little too far. A sharp pain tore through my incision area.

"Fuck," I growled through clenched teeth.

"Be careful." He wrapped the towel around me. "Seriously, why are you hiding from me?"

He helped me out of the shower. I groaned.

"Like it isn't obvious that my body is destroyed," I said, rolling my eyes.

He huffed and moved in front of me, lifting my chin so I looked into his face.

"Amelia Ryder, you're fucking beautiful."

I snorted.

"You don't believe me?"

"Oh, yeah I believe that my flabby, puffy stomach is so freaking hot, especially with the large incision mark and stitches. Playboy, here I come!" I said, trying to mask my angry insecurities with humor.

"First of all, you just had a baby, my baby. I'm the reason for all of the changes in your body and the fucking incision," he argued.

I was about to speak when he placed his hand on my mouth.

"I don't want to hear you talk about this again. I think you're even more beautiful than ever. In fact, the moment you placed our daughter to your breast, I was enamored by how beautiful you were and got a raging hard on. It was a really confusing moment for me,” he smiled before turning serious again. "I know I can't touch you yet, that I can't show you how fucking gorgeous you are and how you make my body feel, just know that I want you, baby. And, as for Playboy...that will never fucking happen, if I have any say about it."

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"So, Playboy is out for me?" I grinned.

"Mia..." he used a warning tone. "No one is going to see your body, but me."

"Trust me, no one would want to," I snorted.

Walking into the bedroom, I could feel Christopher close behind me. I went into the walk-in closet and changed into something comfortable. Chris walked me downstairs to our family.

At the bottom of the steps, I could smell food and my stomach growled. Christopher chuckled from beside me. Walking into the kitchen, I saw containers of Chinese food sitting on the counter. Grabbing a plate, I piled on some steamed vegetables, rice, and a little soy sauce. I knew it wasn't on the Nutritionist's list of approved foods, but, damn it, one plate wasn't going to hurt anyone.

Christopher appeared with his own plate and sat on the floor between my legs. I looked across the room and saw Elliott holding Maggie. He sat stiffly like he was afraid he would to hurt her.

"Give her to me. She misses her aunt."

Serena reached over and took her from him. Elliott looked happier to sit Serena on his lap while she held Maggie. Ryan climbed up and sat staring at the baby in Serena's arms.

"Mommy, can we have a baby?" Ryan's face was full of curiosity.

"W-what?" Serena stuttered.

"I want a baby." He looked at her excitedly. Elliott coughed loudly, and the rest of us started to laugh.

"Uh...Ry, I think we could just play with Maggie for a while, okay?" Serena suggested, smiling at the pouting boy.

"No. I want one at our house!" He plopped down into the couch. Serena rolled her eyes and shook her head.

"Good luck with that, Elliott!" Jimmy snorted before busting into laughter.

"Is Elliott going to have a baby?" Ryan looked confused, but excited. We laughed harder. Elliott's face reddened. Serena tried to change the subject with the idea of swimming.

After a few hours, everyone left except for Nicholas and Gwen. They were staying with us for a couple of days. John, Linda, Serena, Elliott, and Ryan left for Whidbey Island together. Laney, Jackson, Jimmy, and Natalia headed to Seattle. It was hard to watch my family leave; hard to see us all going separate ways, but one glance at Christopher cradling our baby made it easier.

I took Maggie into our room, with Christopher close behind me. I wasn't ready for her to sleep in her own room yet, and planned to use the bassinet. Christopher took a shower while I fed Maggie. While Maggie suckled, I placed my head back against the headboard and closed my eyes. Not hearing Christopher come out of the bathroom, I was startled when his body weight caused the bed to shift.

"Sorry," he apologized.

I shrugged, careful not to disturb Maggie.

Christopher ran his fingers over Maggie's head and cheek as her suck slowed. Then, his fingers trailed over my breast and up around my neck. Cupping my neck, he leaned up and kissed me passionately. His tongue entered my mouth, but then he pulled himself away. I smiled at him and cupped his face.

"Christopher, we need to talk." I watched his face turn from joy to worry. A twinge of guilt passed through me. "It's not bad. At least I don't think it is. I just want to talk about what happened in the hospital."

"Mia, I thought I'd lost you and our daughter, or even just one of you. I lost control," he sighed.

"I understand, but what are you going to do about it?" I swallowed hard, not wanting to start a fight by choosing the wrong word.

"Doctor J made a convincing argument. I start my sessions more frequently for a while, and perhaps try out some other forms of therapy as well." He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

"This is important. I know you're trying, but you act so casual about it sometimes. It's hard for me to think you're really working on this." I furrowed my brow at him. "I need to know, for sure, that you're serious about your therapy, or this," I motioned between the three of us, "will never work."

Moisture pooled in my eyes. He cupped my face quickly.

"Nothing is more important to me than you and Maggie. I promise, I'm serious about continuing with Dr. J. I'm just so sick of always being so serious about it; it just helps to not think of it as the giant fucking elephant in the room. I know I still have work to do, baby, I've already gotten my therapy sessions scheduled with Dr. J's assistant. If you want to see my session schedule, I'll gladly show it to you. If that's what it takes to make you feel better, I'll do it." I shook my head.

"No, I believe you. Just please, don't stop going," I pleaded. He kissed me tenderly.

Laying Maggie into her bassinet, I turned and climbed into Christopher's welcoming arms.

Christopher

Sleeping next to Mia had always put my mind and body at ease. Feeling like I has lost them both, nearly fucking killed me. They were my whole universe. Nothing would ever take them away from me and I would never do anything to lose them.

Maggie started to stir after only a few hours. Sliding out of bed, I picked her up, hoping I wouldn't have to wake Mia to feed her. In the morning, we were going to have to find a way for me to help with night feedings.

I cradled my miraculous little bundle in my arms and rocked her back and forth. She was still slightly fussy, so I started to sing one of my songs. Thankfully, she was way too young to understand the lyrics, but the slow beat was like a lullaby. It seemed to work, because she fell back to sleep. Not wanting to put her down yet, I savored each small breath she made.

Finally, kissing her head, I put her back down before sliding back into bed next to Mia.

"That was beautiful," Mia murmured, shifting closer to me.

"I thought you were asleep." Her side pressed against mine.

"Mmm...I heard Maggie," she mumbled.

"Get some rest," I whispered, rolling onto my side and taking her hand.

About an hour later, Maggie was awake, and when I say awake, I mean she was fucking awake and screaming it to the world. I picked her up while Mia gingerly moved to sit up. I hated seeing her in pain. I rocked and cradled, but Maggie wanted nothing to do with me.

"I'll take her," Mia said, sitting up with her arms out. I handed Maggie over and she immediately calmed.

"Can you hand me that bag over there?" Mia pointed to the large green diaper bag.

"What do you need?" I asked pulling the bag open.

"A diaper, wipes, and that white tube, please? Oh, and the white mat under the bag."

I brought everything over and Mia set it up. White mat on the bed in front of her, Maggie on the mat, old diaper off, wipes used, clean diaper on, Mia pulled the little nightgown down. It amazed me she knew instinctively what to do. It was like she'd been born with this information. I was in awe.

"Can you hold her while I go to the bathroom?"

I hesitantly nodded, afraid Maggie would get mad again. I was right. Mia was only gone for two minutes and Maggie started to cry. I cradled, patted, and walked. Nothing worked. Mia appeared and took Maggie, she was almost instantly better.

"How do you do that?" I exclaimed. "She hates me."

I pouted and sat next to Mia and Maggie on the bed.

"She doesn't hate you." Mia chuckled and shrugged. "She just knows I'm her mother."

"It's your touch," I said with a grin.

"Huh?" Mia furrowed her brow as she moved her shirt over for Maggie.

I fell into a trance. I found it unbelievably hot when Mia breastfed. It was the most naturally beautiful thing I'd ever witnessed, though I'm pretty sure it had more to do with it being my Mia. I shook myself out of my trance so I could answer.

"You know...your touch. It's calming. Like father, like daughter." I chuckled quietly.

Mia shook a little in silent laughter. I spent the next half hour lying next to her, simply watching her with our daughter.

Epilogue

Christopher

"So, how are things?" Dr. J sat across from me in the studio.

"Good," I say, giving a small shrug and playing with one of the knobs on the sound table.

"Just good?" he pressed, like always.

"Yeah, just good," I growled.  Being up at five in the morning to make this face-to-face session happen after being up until three with Maggie, I'm pretty much on the verge of murdering someone.

"Christopher, it's too early and I have some serious jetlag. How about we cut to the chase and you tell me how things have really been?  Maggie has been home for a couple of weeks, right? That has got to be taking some toll on your sleep and emotional being."

Dropping my head back onto the chair, I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"It's been…different."

Lifting my head from the chair, I meet Dr. J's scrutinizing expression.

"I don't get more than four hours of sleep at night. Which, by the way, I was a pro at before, but I also didn’t have a screaming baby, dirty diapers, and a woman who could possibly burst into tears just because I breathe the wrong way." Groaning, I sit forward, elbows to knees. I rubbed my face with my hands. Dropping them down to dangle between my knees, I look back at Dr. J. "This shit is fucking insanity."

Dr. J nods. "It can all be overwhelming. How is Mia handling things?"

"Christ, she's like a different person sometimes." Shaking my head, I still keep contact with his eyes. "Don't get me wrong.  There is nothing that could make me love her any less, not even when she’s hiding the fact that she's crying or when she is giving me a look that could fucking kill a lesser man."

"I have no doubt of your love for her or each other." Dr. J straightens a bit in the chair. "But, how are you two doing together? Are you discussing any issues or concerns, your stresses and worries?"

"Do you want me to keep my balls, man?" Pressing my palms to my thighs, I straighten, giving him a questioning look.

He chuckles.

"I'm not promoting an argument, just that you discuss things.  Ask her how she feels or how you can help her. Go from there. It's good to stay open and keep clear communication."

I nod in agreement.  He's right, of course. Fuck, I need to keep us on track. It's my turn to be the strong one for her.

"Mia will have a tour coming soon, right?  Hushed Mentality is headlining?"

"Yeah, they will be gone for a six month tour. It’s still a while off. The label is being very cooperative with Mia over the baby.  The fans are a bit anxious, but also really understanding."

"How are you feeling about the extended separation?"

"It won't be that fucking extended of a separation. I already have the label and the personal assistant prepared to work around the tour schedule.  We may have, at most, a week apart. There may be one or two scheduled dates that leave us with a little more separation, but I won't miss out on Maggie or being there to support my girl."

"Okay, but what about the time you will spend apart?"

"I'll fucking hate every second of it. I'm not gonna off myself, if that's what you are getting at."

"No, Chris," he snorts, "that is not what I am getting at. I'm just curious about how you’ll handle your interrupted nights."

"My nights are fine."

"So, other than late nights with the baby, how are you sleeping?"

"When I get to sleep, it's okay."

"Just okay?"

"Yeah." I shrug. "I had a rough dream a week ago, but it wasn't anything like before."

"Tell me about it." He relaxes back into the chair, waiting.

"I walked around the house and couldn't find anyone. Not Maggie, Mia, Giana, no one. I panicked and started going through every room.  When I got to Maggie's room, it was empty.  There was nothing."

"An empty room?"

"No, it was just nothing. Like a black hole of space." Swallowing down the emotions brought back from this retelling, I continue. "I started yelling for them, for anyone, but nothing.  That's when I realized that I knew I was yelling, but I couldn't even hear myself."

"Hmmm." Dr. J took a deep breath.

"Hmmm? That's it, really?"

"How did you feel when you woke up?"

"Panicked. When I realized that Mia wasn't in bed, I ran for Maggie's room. They were there, both asleep in the rocker."

"Did you sleep after that?"

Dropping my gaze, I focused on a spot on the carpet. "Not right away. I stood in the doorway for a while watching them.  I felt like if I walked away, the room would turn to nothingness."

"Everyone gets the 'It's too good to be true' feeling and the fears that come with that." He paused and I looked to him again. "It's a natural response, Christopher.  Actually, I'm glad you're feeling these things."

"Thanks, Doc. I feel like a bundle of fucking rainbows and sunshine knowing that my nightmares make you happy." Rolling my eyes, he laughs.

"Let me explain."

"Can't wait to hear this one." Placing my right elbow onto the sound table, I lean onto it.

"The fact that you are experiencing panic and fear, without a meltdown or in the extreme measures you have in the past, is a big breakthrough. It's a positive sign, Chris."

I nodded.  It made sense.

"So, how is recording going?  I see the studio is being broken in nicely." He gestured to a poster on the wall with the latest of Elliott's targets to throw darts.  This one a currently popular sixteen-year-old boy whose hooks were the same word sang repeatedly.  For lack of vocabulary alone, Elliott deemed him target material.

I smiled.

"Yeah, we're doing well. The Forgotten picked up a new artist to produce. Mia gets her time in down here to work as well. I'm hoping we can start to get her down here more over the next few weeks.  I think it would help her."

"Wow, Christopher Mason is thinking of someone else's wellbeing. Who would've thought?" Dr. J winked.

"I know," I snorted. "Fucking scary, ain't it?"

"We have a little more time, is there anything else—"

"Actually, I've been thinking of talking to Mia about each of the sessions.  I know she is worried I'll decide I'm better or some shit like that, like anything could ever fix my kind of crazy. What are your thoughts?"

By the look on his face, Dr. J had not been ready for my question.

"You think it's a bad idea?" I sat up straighter.

"No, no, I just can't believe you're asking permission." He grinned.

"Oh, I'm not." I smiled wide. "I'll still do it, regardless."

"There, that's more like it." Dr. J chuckled. "If you are comfortable with discussing our sessions with Mia, by all means, do it.  However, I can't discuss the sessions unless you give permission for me to do so. Just keep that in mind."

"Are you fucking serious?" I paused. "I have a family and I owe it all to that beautiful woman who silenced the nightmare. The same beautiful woman who is selfless enough to help me fight my inner demons. It's not doctors and therapists like you, no offense, that helped me. It's Mia. Without her, I would still be a hollow shell, never thriving. She gives me meaning, brought me back to life, and pieced together a soul I swore I'd lost long ago. Mia made me want to live again, for her, Maggie, and for myself. If she asks you a question about our sessions, then you better fucking release anything and everything she goddamn wants to know."

Dr. J grinned and nodded. He then stood.

"Until we meet again, Christopher." He extended his hand to me. "As always, it's been a pleasure."

"You're still staying for breakfast and shit, right?"  I stood and took his hand with a firm grip.

"Of course."

"How was the session? Or shouldn't I ask?" Mia asked Dr. J, glancing over the table full of delivered breakfast food.

"You have full permission to ask anything you desire. Or, should I say 'anything and everything she goddamn wants'."  He smiles, Mia blushes. "The session was good, he's come a long way."

She nods, putting a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

"I said to tell her anything, not to fucking talk like I'm not in the goddamn room." With a huff, I grab my orange juice and gulp.

"Sorry," Dr. J lifts his hands in a surrender motion.

"Jesus, Chris, could you calm the hell down? He was giving you a compliment."

"No, he's right.  He's in the room. I'm not sure how I could forget that with his big head filling it."

Mia burst into laughter.

"Hey, Doc, keep your eyes above the table.  My cock is Mia’s property."  Proud of myself, I relax back into my seat.

A napkin hits my face just as Mia groans.

"Mia," she turns to Dr. J at the sound of her name. "In my professional opinion, you are the strongest woman I know. Just being willing to put up with his cocksure nature is enough for that to be true."

"There you go, talking about my junk again." I shrug.

"But," Dr J's voice rises over mine, "he loves you more than his own life. I'm pretty sure you are the reason he breathes and Maggie makes his heart skip a beat or two."

Mia looks at me, tears in her eyes. Way to fucking go, Doc. Didn't I just tell him what an emotional crazy she's been?

"I love you, Christopher Tobias Mason. You know that right?" Her eyes shift back and forth between mine. I grab her hand, pulling it to my mouth and kissing her knuckles.

"Of course, baby.  How could you not?" I wink from over her hand.  She smiles.

"I'm serious, Chris."

"I know, baby. I know." Placing one more kiss to her hand, I sit back in my chair, keeping my eyes on hers and holding her hand. "And you have me forever.  That's both a promise and a threat, just so you know."

Mia leans forward, imitating my gesture by kissing my hand.

"I know, baby. I know."

Stellar Evolution

One (and a Half Years later)

Chris

Sitting at the sound table with Jackson, listening to Monica lay down her latest single, I couldn't keep focus.

"Jesus, Christopher, you're shaking the whole table."  Jackson nodded toward my bouncing leg.

"Sorry."  I stilled my leg.

"I get it. They've been gone for a couple weeks. What time do they return from New York?" he asked as his long, pale fingers played with some dials on the board.

Hush had gone back on tour as headliners when Maggie was five months old.  Between the separation periods when I couldn't come to them and the press playing every angle in the media, it was a rough time.

Sick of his womanizing ways, Mia Ryder leans on Tyre Sampson.

Jealous of Mia's New Boy Toy – Tyre – Christopher Mason seen taking his revenge with a leggy blonde.

It was such bullshit.  Tyre, an upcoming alternative pop cross over artist on the Nobil label, is a big fan of Hushed Mentality. He went to a show and when Mia found out he was there, she invited him onstage. After that, he asked her to be featured on his upcoming album.  Because of this, both Mia and Tyre will be crossing into each other's fan base and Richard loves the collaboration.

"Stop messing with the bass, this isn't a hip hop single." Shoving his hand away, I placed the knob to where it was originally.  "They should pull in around six. Between the tour and this collaboration, I can't wait to get them home for more than a week."

The tour had ended almost a month ago and I'd gotten a week with them before Mia left for New York, where Tyre is recording his album.

"I'm sure," Jackson nodded, keeping his eyes on the panel.

Realizing how fresh Jackson's pain still is, guilt assaulted me. He's been different, angrier, since Laney fucked him over.

"Look, Jack, I didn't think about Lane–"

"Chris," Jackson turned a hard glare on me, "the last thing I want to talk about is her. And, you sure as fuck don't need to apologize for talking about the tour.  The tour didn't fuck some other guy, she did."

"Do you think she's going to be at the wedding?" Turning my eyes down to the sound board, I played with the treble dial. I still couldn't believe the wedding would be in Vegas.

"Probably, I mean it's her girl's wedding, isn't it?" He shrugged. "Look, I don't want to talk about this. What she does is her business. She's no longer my concern."

The chair protested with a groan as Jackson forced himself to stand.  I raised my head, looking up at him.

"Hey, man, I won't bring it up. It's all good. Fuck that bitch."

Jackson grimaced. "You can handle the rest. I'm going to take off."

"You sure?"

The studio door opened and our attention fell to Monica.  Her newly cropped hair looked black in the dim lighting instead of purple.

"How was that?  Did I get the third chorus right?"

"Yeah, it was great," Jackson quickly answered.  "Chris and I will play with some ideas later."

"You're leaving?" Her brow furrowed. "I thought we were going to work on the song Mia wrote."

"We'll do it another time." He shrugged and waved. "I'm taking off."

"Is he okay?" Monica asked after the door closed behind Jackson.

Turning back to the table, I shrugged. "Sure."

"Oh." Monica began to fidget.  "So, does that mean I can take off?"

"Yeah, Jack or I will give you a call to work out more studio time."

"Great," she practically screamed, "I have a date with the hottest guy."  Grabbing her pink plaid coat, she practically ran from the studio.

No matter what Mia says, keeping my mouth shut around Laney will be the act of a saint.  With Jackson going through hell because of her, sainthood doesn’t look likely in my future.

Mia

"Ready to see daddy? Huh?" Pressing the release button on her car seat, I removed the straps holding her.

"Daddy." Maggie smiled, revealing her little white teeth.

"Yep, daddy is in the house waiting for you." Placing kisses all over her cheeks, causing her to giggle, I started to climb out the back of the car.  "Let's go see —"

Coming face to chest with shirtless Chris stopped my words.  Looking up, he greeted me with the sexiest smile.

"My girls," he crooned.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to Maggie's forehead.

"Daddy." Maggie stretched her arms toward his neck, the weight of her disappearing from my arms as he took her.

"Were you a good girl for mommy?"  He held her tightly to his chest. "Of course you were. You're an angel, aren't you?"

"She was great, as usual." Looking at our daughter wrapped in his inked arms warmed me.

His right hand cupped my neck and I looked into his eyes.  His fingers slipped into the hair at the back of my head, pulling my face to his.

"I fucking missed the hell out of you."

Before I could scold him for swearing, his lips claimed my mouth. The metal from his viper piercings pressed against my bottom lip and chin in contrast to his tongue piercing smooth against my tongue. He pulled away and I groaned.

"You taste like Red Fish," he whispered, forehead pressed to mine.

"Mmm-hmm." I nodded. He licked his bottom lip and I shivered.

A throat cleared. Giana, Maggie's nanny.

"We should get inside." We needed space and air, or Maggie would get an early lesson in making out.

"Don't worry, baby, you will be fully welcomed home tonight — after my rock princess is fast asleep." He winked, and then turned with Maggie in his arms. "Won't she, baby girl?" He tickled her stomach. "Yes, she will."

Giana laughed quietly, reaching to take the diaper bag from the back seat.

The moment going on tour again was mentioned, I had started interviewing nannies.  Giana had been my fourth interview.  When I realized she was the one I began comparing all of the others to, I came to my senses and hired her.

Giana currently lived in the house with us while her two children, a twelve year old boy and sixteen year old daughter, lived twenty minutes away with her sister. It amazed me how she could travel on tour with me and live separate from her children.

While on tour, after the completion of the Chris's basement studio, he hired the crew to begin construction on the space above the garage. His plan was to create an apartment large enough for Giana and her two children. Giana was more than a nanny. Aside from being more than helpful with Maggie, she went out of her way to cook and clean, among other tasks that were never asked of her.  Most of all, she and her children had become family.

"Well, you were missed, yes?" she asked, her heavy Spanish accent making her words sound so much prettier than if I were to say them.

"It seems that way." I smiled.

"Seems?  I say he’s quite clear," she giggled, walking into the house.

* * * * *

In the house, everything looked well in order. The maid must have come early, there is no way Chris kept the house this clean.

"I see that look on your face." Chris sat on the couch with Maggie playing between his feet on the floor. "I had Julie come yesterday to get ready for your return."  He looked away from me as Maggie grabbed onto his knees and leaned into his lap.

"Thank you."

He nodded, placing Maggie against his chest.  Her hands came up to his cheeks and then she began smacking.

"What the…" He grabbed her arms to stop her.  "When did she start that shi…er…stuff?"

"Blame your buddy Elliott." Sitting next to them on the couch, Maggie crawled across Chris to get to my lap.

"Screw blame, I'm going to kick his—" My sharp glare stopped him. "Sorry."

"You're going to be sorry when she starts repeating those words."

"Juice." Maggie slipped from my lap and scampered toward the kitchen.

"You should be hungry." I got up from the couch, following her. "Do you want a snack?"

* * * * *

In the kitchen, Maggie sat in her chair drinking juice and eating one of the toddler meals we took when traveling.

"Mags, you still eat that crap?"  Chris cringed as he walked by her chair.  He hated the look of it, the smell. The one time she had gotten some in his mouth, he almost threw up.  "I don't know how she eats it."

"Leave her alone.  It's good for her."

His arms circled my waist. Resting my head against his chest, the heat of him warmed my back.

"Did your suit arrive for the wedding?"

"Yes," he sighed.

"What's wrong?" Turning in his arms, I put my hands on his bare chest.

One hand slid to my hip, the other rubbed the back of his head. "Is that whore going to be there?"

"Chris," I hissed. "Stop it. We agreed not to get involved and to keep the name calling out of our conversations."

"How can you still defend her?"

"I'm not." My voice rose a bit, but I got it under control. "What Laney did was wrong, is wrong, and I was really ticked off about it, but she is one of my best friends."  Before he could speak, I continued, "She made a mistake, a huge mistake, but she's human, Chris.  We make those occasionally. She's apologized and apologized, to everyone."

"Well, I can't let it go that easily." He dropped his hand from my waist.  Stepping back, he crossed his arms over his chest. "You didn't see Jackson today.  He's fucked up over it. Jack used to be a laid back, happy go lucky guy.  She ruined him and I hate her for that."

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. "I understand."

"That's all you can say?"

Opening my eyes, I silently pleaded with him. "If it were the other way around, how would you act?"

His jaw flexed and lips thinned. He relaxed his features. "But, Jackson is my brother," he stated, dropping his defensive stance.

Stepping toward him, I wrapped my arms around his waist. "Laney is like a sister to me. We've been through so much together, including this."

His arms embraced me, chin resting on my head.

"Can we agree to be there for our brother and sister?"

Tension stiffened his body. "I can't be there for her."

"I know, but I'll be there for Jackson as well as Laney. Please, let's not argue about this anymore."

He relaxed against me. "No more arguing about them."

"Thank you."  I pressed my lips next to his left nipple.

"Baby, you keep doing that and we are going to need Giana to get her ass in here to take care of our baby girl."  He palmed my ass.

"Giana is already here." She knocked on the counter behind us.

"Thank you, Jesus!" Though, Chris pronounced it Hey-Seuss.

Bending, he lifted me onto his shoulder, taking long strides toward the staircase.

"Christopher," I yelled, turning red from embarrassment and the rush of blood to my head.

He took the stairs two at a time, made it to our bedroom, and tossed me onto our bed. I bounced once before he began to climb over my body.

"Chris! Now Giana knows exactly what's going on up here."

"Yep, and that means she'll leave us the hell alone," he stated very matter of factly while his fingers deftly worked at the buttons of my jeans.

"You aren't embarrassed at all that she's taking care of our daughter so we can have sex?" My body jerked from the force in which he pulled my pants and underwear off.

"No." Pushing my thighs open, he bowed until his mouth lined up with me. "And, I am about to do so much more than just have sex with you."

The warmth of his breath washed over me intimately, chilling when he stopped speaking.

"Look at me," he commanded.

Looking down my body, his piercing blue eyes stared back from over my naked flesh.

"Take off your shirt." His warm command caused a throb between my legs, my inner thighs to tensing.

Grabbing the hem of my shirt, I leaned up, pulling it over my head.  His hands grabbed my waist. I froze.

"Stay up, but lose the bra." His fingers trailed over my hips, lightly. The throb between my legs intensified.

With the bra removed, he leaned in, touching the tip of his tongue and piercing to the fold covering my clit. With a moan, I leaned back onto my hands. My breath quickened, getting heavier, my nipples stiffened with need.

"Good girl," he whispered. "Grab my head and show me what you want, Mia."

I didn't need any further encouragement. Slipping my fingers into his spikey black hair, I fisted and pulled back his head, causing him to rise up a few inches. I took his mouth with mine.

When his tongue dove into my mouth, I finally claimed the damn tongue piercing that taunted me by the car. He moaned. Releasing his tongue, I sat back, pressing his head back between my thighs.

"I want your piercing on my clit, Christopher.  Make me come on your tongue." Holding his head between my legs, I rolled my hips in a circular motion. He slipped his tongue between my lips — lapping, sucking, and pushing into intimate depths. He slid two fingers inside, making me scream his name.

I lay back on the rumpled bed, panting. Rolling my head, I looked down as he slipped off the bed.

"Fuck, I love when you get all demanding and descriptive." He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

The sound of a zipper and then denim slipping against skin filled the room.  He climbed over me, skin against skin. Using his knees, he pushed my thighs wide open. He looked down, his hands holding my knees apart.

"Look at how wet you are," he groaned.

Inching forward, my legs spread further and his cock slipped against my wet lips. We groaned in unison. Back and forth, he moved against me. His tip slipped against my clit, causing my body to react to him once more.

"Tell me you're current with your shot, Mia." He licked his lips, keeping his eyes on where our bodies touched.

"Yes," I gasped when he brushed harder over my clit.

"You're sure?" He slowed.

Need and want quickly changed to aggravation.

"Yes, Christopher! Now fuck me or I'm getting the vibrator out to finish the job!" My hands slapped the mattress.

He thrust inside.

"God, yes!" I fisted the comforter covering the bed beneath our joined bodies.

Keeping his hands on my knees and a straight back, he worked in and out of me bringing me close to the precipice twice before releasing me to ecstasy.  He followed, grunting with each hard thrust into my body.

Releasing my knees, he fell over me. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed his collarbone. His face came to mine, needing breath, but not willing to stop kissing each other. We eventually pulled away, panting and sated, lying with each other until both our bodies calmed.

* * * * *

I slipped my underwear and jeans over my legs, doing a couple hops to get them up my sweaty legs.

"You know, you really need to get over the birth control thing." Chris lay on the bed with his jeans on, but not buttoned.  "It almost kills the mood."

He shrugged. "You know I love having Maggie, but I won't lose you."

"I know how you feel about more babies, I do. But, you can't live in fear." Slipping back onto the bed, fully dressed, I lay next to him.

"It's not the more babies thing that bothers me and you know it." He circled me with his arms, turning on his side to face me. "I won't, no, I can't, lose you in childbirth. Not again."

"Chris, you didn't lose me. The C-section was fine and happens to a lot of women.  You just weren't in a good place and reacted—"

"I won't risk it." His hard eyes matched the seriousness of his voice.

"We aren't having any more kids." I placed my hand on his cheek. "Just please stop living in fear."

"I can't." He pulled me closer, so tight I almost couldn't breathe.

"Then get a vasectomy," I stated, keeping a straight face. I waited for horror to wash over his face, instead, he looked contemplative. "Chris, I was just trying to lighten the conversation."

"Maybe I should. I would probably feel better." His eyes searched mine for answers. I was about to start this serious discussion with him, but he spoke again. "But, don't you dare tell any of those fuckers about it. Not the girls, not the guys, you understand?"

Laughter bubbled out of me.

"I'm serious, Mia. I'll do this, but I don't want to hear the shit they would say."

"Aww, you don't want people to know I got you neutered?"

My giggling grew into screaming pleas for him to stop the tickle torture.

Chris

"Mia and Maggie are home now, yes?" Dr. J sat across from me in the leather chair in my den.

"Yes, thank fucking God."

With a small smile, he nodded. "Good."

Clearing his throat, he started right into our session.

"So, Christopher, have you had any recent nightmares or incidents?"

"No, not really." Shrugging, I sipped from my water bottle.

"What do you mean by not really?" he pressed.

"I mean, I dreamt of my mother the other night, but it wasn't as intense as the one from two weeks ago," I answered, rolling my head on my shoulders. These weekly sessions still made me a little tense; talking about my feelings still didn't come easily.

"I see."  Dr. J examined me.

"I know that look.  I'm not hiding anything.  The dream was unnerving, but it wasn't like the nightmares I used to experience and it wasn't as unpleasant as the one two weeks ago," I stated firmly, leveling my eyes on him. He finally dropped the curious look on his face.

"Tell me about it."

"We were in the kitchen of the old house.  She was showing me how to scoop cookie dough…"  Thoughts of the many times we made cookies together in the small, pale blue kitchen flooded me. She was such a great mother. The darkness sat at the edge of my memories.

"Christopher?"

Leaving my thoughts, I looked at Dr. J.  He leaned forward.

"Are you okay?" His eyes dropped to my chest.

Looking down, I saw I'd been rubbing my chest and I dropped my hand.

"Yeah," I shook my head, "just distracted for a minute."

"With…?"

"Just the times she made cookies.  It kind of all came back." Rolling my head again, I continued, "Anyhow, um, he called out her name from the living room.  She went to him and never came back. I continued to fill up the tray and when I was done, I went to find her.  But, the house was empty and then it dissolved around me."

"Is that all?"

"No," I shook my head.  "Mia appeared out of nothingness.  She walked up to me and said everything was okay." I smiled. "Then, I woke up."

"And how did you feel when you woke up?"

"I felt awake."

"Christopher," he chuckled, "you always have to be difficult, don't you?"

I grinned.

"What was the main feeling?"

"Sad," I mumbled.

"Because?"

"Mia wasn't there when I woke up."

Dr. J's brow rose in question.

"She was still in New York."

"Did anything else happen?"

"No," I replied, shaking my head again. "I called Mia and —"

"You called Mia?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You said nothing else happened."

"It was just a phone call."

"I know it was.  I'm just making sure I have the whole picture."

Groaning, I stood and started pacing.  This analyzing bullshit still grated my nerves. I took deep breaths, reeling in my temper.

"Chris?" I stopped pacing when Dr. J addressed me. "You have to understand,  when you woke up, you called Mia.  We've talked about this before.  She's who you trust, who you confide in. You center most of your life on her."

"What the fuck is wrong with that?" Standing straight, feet apart, and arms over my chest, I put up my defenses.

"It's a lot to ask of someone, don't you think?"

The tension in my body eased a little. "Maybe."

"Look, I'm simply saying to be careful.  You aren't married and you’re both still young."

"What do you mean by that?" I narrowed my eyes, the tension coming back.

"Don't get defensive."

"Don't get defensive? How can I not get defensive? You're implying she'll leave me or I'll leave her."

He took a deep breath. "People split up all the time. I'm not saying you two will, I just want to make sure you aren't devastated – again – if she wasn't with you."

"She will always be with me." Dropping my arms to my sides, I clenched my fists.  Controlling my temper was starting to become more difficult.

"I'm not here to debate the longevity of your relationship, only to make sure you are capable of handling outcomes that occur in life."

"That won’t be one I'll have to deal with."

He put his hands up. "Okay, fine. Let's move on."

I sat back down on the couch. Anger still ebbed but I fought it.

"Have you given any more thought to the program I talked to you about?"

"Yeah, some." I nodded.

Dr. J had mentioned a program for children who suffered physically and emotionally tragic experiences.  He thought, because of my similar experiences, maybe I would consider volunteering.

"Before you decide, why don't you visit the place?  See if you are comfortable being around the kids,” Dr. J offered, reading the hesitancy in my expression.

What the hell did I know about troubled kids? Aside from being one? I didn't know what to do with them. Hell, I barely knew what to do with myself.

I shrugged.

"I really believe being a part of the healing process for kids with similar backgrounds could help you work through some of your unresolved emotions.  But, it isn't something to take lightly, Chris."

"I know that," I barked. "Why do you think I'm hesitant?"

He nodded. "Well, I'm glad you realize that this would be a serious undertaking. But, I think in order to better understand, you should make a visit."

"I'll think about it."

When our time finished, he left the information about the volunteer program. I picked up the brochures and glanced over them.

Mia

Maggie sat in the middle of our bed playing while I stood in front of my large closet.  The bridesmaid dress would be delivered to the hotel in Vegas, so I didn't have to pack that item.  It's still hard to believe that Las Vegas is the chosen location. I thought back to the time we had spent there while on tour. It had felt like ages since both bands were in the same place. Though, with the situation between Laney and Jackson, it definitely wouldn't be the same.

Laney and Jackson had seemed so right together.  He doted on her and she worshipped him. While on tour, they had developed a connection that appeared impenetrable. But, once they were apart, Laney on the Hush tour and Jackson back home working with Chris, they dissolved into clipped phone conversations and arguments. It wasn't immediate, but it wasn't gradual either. After a particularly loud phone argument, Laney went out with Kat to blow off steam which resulted in the final chapter in their love story.

With a sigh, I began pulling out clothes to pack for the weekend.

"Aren't you done yet?" Chris asked, leaning against the bedroom doorframe.

"Daddy!" Maggie squealed.

We both turned to her while she bounced on the bed and clapped.

"Hey, baby girl," Chris crooned and walked over to her. Lying on the bed next to her, she climbed on him.

"When are you going to pack?"

He snorted, "Please. All I need to do is throw some stuff in a duffle bag."

His eyes stayed on Maggie as he rolled her and tickled her stomach.  She giggled with delight.

Seeing them together, so close, made my heart swell.  She looked so much like him. The color of his skin, lips, nose, and his blue eyes reflected in hers.

"How was your session?" I turned back to the closet.

"Alright."

"Just alright?"

"Yeah. Dr. J thinks you're going to leave me."

His statement shocked me.  I spun around, wide eyed.

"Why would he think or say anything like that?"

Chris narrowed his eyes. "Is it true?"

My shock melted into anger. How could he think I wanted to leave him?

"How can you ask me that?"

He smiled. "Just checking."

"Oh, you…" I started, then threw a t-shirt at him.

Laughing, he pulled the shirt from his face.

"Pee-Boo." Maggie giggled.  She began covering her face with the shirt and pulling it away.  She repeated "pee-boo" over and over while Chris played along.

"Chris, why would Dr. J say I was going to leave you?"

"He didn't really say that exactly," he sighed. "His argument is that we are young, unmarried, and things happen – especially to famous couples."

"Oh." Kneeling down to the suitcases, I began to zip up my clothes and shoes.

"We could get married, ya know?"

My head snapped back up.  No longer playing peek-a-boo, he stared at me. Intensity hardened his face but his eyes reflected his nervousness.

"Chris…"

"There's no reason why we can't, Mia." Sliding to the edge of the bed, he sat up and Maggie went back to her toys. "We live together with our daughter. Is getting married such a big deal?"

Walking on my knees, I situated myself between Chris's legs.

"We have done so much, so quickly.  Why rush into marriage?"

His hands came up to hold the sides of my face.

"Because I love you and never want to be without you."

Grabbing his wrists, I leaned my face into his right hand. "You won't be without me."

He grinned.

"But," his grin fell as I continued, "let's settle into our relationship without tours taking us away from each other, before we decide to get married."

"Why?" he pleaded.

"Marriage is a big deal, regardless of us already living together and having a daughter."

His eyes revealed the emotions he fought.

"Chris, I love you," I stated firmly. Pushing up from the floor, I kissed him.

His hands slid to the back of my head, pulling my face closer.

"Love," Maggie sang from behind him.

Breaking our kiss, we looked to our daughter, her smile lightening the atmosphere of the bedroom.

"You will marry me, Mia." Looking back at him, his eyes fixed on me intently. "Maybe not today, tomorrow, or next week, but you will be mine."

"I'm yours." Standing onto my feet, still between his legs, I cupped his cheek. "You have me, Chris, but marriage can wait."

"For now." He grinned.

The flight to Vegas was smooth, but Maggie did not enjoy take off at all. Burying her head into my chest, her little hands dug into my arms. Landing had been better, but still made her nervous. She had napped for a couple hours, before I fed her and got her dressed for the wedding. Once Linda and dad arrived to take her with them, I was able to start dressing.

"Are you ready?" Chris yelled for the fourth time from the living room of the Vegas hotel suite.

"You could've gone with Elliott," I yelled back, slipping into the vintage, red and black polka dot, rockabilly inspired halter dress.

He grumbled again, but I couldn't make out what he said.  After slipping on my last black heel, I grabbed my small clutch from the bed.

Stepping out of the bedroom, Chris sat on the couch, his head down and elbows on his knees. After Maggie had left, he became bored and even more impatient. I cleared my throat and he looked up.

"I'm ready." I stuck my tongue out.

"And you think I'd let you walk through Vegas dressed like that, so I can wait with Elliott?"

He stood, looking me up and down. With the grace of a large cat, he prowled toward me, his lithe body fitted into a vintage gray suit. The silver chain hanging from his hip, hidden under the suit jacket, swung against his left leg. His tattoos peeked over the collar. The contrast of vintage meets bad boy rocker made my knees wobble a little.  Okay, they wobbled a lot.

"I know that look." I put one arm out in from of me but he didn't stop. "Chris, we have to get going." I backed up, scooting over to put the couch between us.

"What?" He feigned an innocent expression.

"You know what." He kept coming. I continued evasive maneuvers. "They're going to be waiting on us."

He shrugged.  "It's not my wedding." His tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip before sucking it back into his mouth. "I'd rather push that way too tight dress up around your waist and bend you over the couch."

Fuck, that sounded like a good time. A shiver rolled through my body.

"Christopher Tobias, he's one of your best friends! And she's—"

He put his arms up in surrender. "Fine," he growled.

Keeping an eye on him, I walked toward the door. As soon as I cleared the couch, he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling my back against his chest.

"Damn it, Chris!" I tried to be mad, but the amusement in my voice gave me away.

"I can't help it. You look amazing." His mouth pressed an open mouth kiss to my bare shoulder.

"We have to go," I replied. My words came out breathy as my body heated from his touch.  His hands slid up my sides until he cupped my breasts. "Chris." His name, half groan-half moan, rolled off my lips.

"You're right," he dropped his hands from my body and stepped away, "we have to go."

He walked toward the door.

My mouth dropped open.  He was playing with me!

Looking over his shoulder, he grinned.  "You coming?" He grabbed the door knob, pulling the door open.

"That was mean," I pouted, crossing my arms over my chest. I walked by him and out the door.

A shriek left me when his hand connected with my ass. Before I could turn on him, he pressed against my back.  Hands on my hips, we continued toward the elevators. His lips moved close to my ear.

"I promise to lift that skirt later and do everything I've been thinking about since we've been alone in the hotel room," he whispered. His hands slid to my ass and squeezed.

"Promises, promises," I sighed, earning me another ass slap.

* * * * *

We pulled up to the chapel, not at all surprised to see the paparazzi already swarming. Stepping out of the heavily tinted car, Chris pulled me out behind him, wrapping a protective arm around me.

"Chris! Mia! How are you this evening?" one photographer asked, trying to be polite.

"Are you looking forward to the event? How are the bride and the groom?" another called.

"Give us a smile guys." A flash invaded, blinding me. It wasn't even dusk yet, why did he need the flash?

Even after planning three different ceremonies, the news got out. Elliott let Ryan choose the hotel for the after wedding dinner and the rooms we would stay in. Ryan choice was based on the dancing fountains. Since Elliott could reserve one of the private Villas for them to stay in, he hadn't argued.

Inside the chapel lobby, two body guards blocked the doors from onlookers.

"I'll see you inside." Kissing Chris quickly, I slipped out from under his arm and headed toward the back room.

"I'll be the one waiting at the altar," he yelled in response. I looked over my shoulder. "You know, the one who won't be getting married," he finished. With a wink, he walked through the large white doors that lead to the chapel.

I wish he would understand how much I want to marry him. It's just too soon, too quick. We still need time.

* * * * *

Serena stood in her knee length, empire waist white dress staring at the reflection in the floor length mirror.

"You look Fan-Fucking-Tabulous."

She spun around, smiling.  "Thanks. I feel huge." Her smile fell.

Rolling my eyes, I stepped all the way into the room. I wrapped my arms around her, kissing her cheek before pulling away.

"You are gorgeous and hardly showing." Patting her small, hidden baby bump, she swiped at my hand.

"Stop." She tried to sound tough, but her nerves caused her voice to waiver.

"You look very Marilyn." Taking her hand, she looked into my eyes.

"What if this is a mistake?" Her eyes widened in panic. "I mean, we've known each other less than two years." Releasing my hand, she began to pace in her white, strappy heels. "Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean we have to get married, right?" She looked at me again. "You and Chris have been fine living together with Maggie, right? I have to think of Ryan. What if he is jealous of the baby? What if Elliott loves the baby, his baby, more? Ry would be devastated, Mia."

"Serena," I grabbed her shoulders, "stop."

Her chest rose and fell quickly, tears filling her eyes. I found it hard to watch my sister, my maternal figure, confidant, and best friend, break down. She's the strong one.

A knock on the door pulled our attention away from each other. Serena tensed.

"We're ready." An older woman with dyed red hair and bright red lips leaned into the room. "Is everything okay?"

"We need a minute." I smiled.  The woman nodded and quickly closed the door.

Turning back to Serena, I cupped her face, locking eyes with her. "Elliott loves you, loves Ryan, and would never—"

"You don't know that," she interrupted. "There is a difference between loving a son and another man's son." Tears began slipping from her eyes as she revealed her insecurities.

"This is just the hormones talking," I firmly stated. "They make pregnant women a little more emotional, remember?"

She wiped the wetness from her cheeks and nodded.

"That's all this is. You know Elliott loves you and Ry.  He would never hurt him, or you."

Her shoulders began to relax, but her eyes still looked wary.

"Maybe not on purpose, but, Mia—"

Another knock on the door and the lady leaned back into the room. Her mouth opened but my nerves were raw.

"We still need a minute." I was harsh, but Serena needed my attention.

"I need more than a minute," Serena sobbed.

The door closed quickly and I could hear the woman speaking with someone on the other side of the door.

"Look at me." Serena pulled her eyes from the door to my face. "He loves you. Do you feel like he doesn't?"

She shook her head.

"Is there something else going on?"

She shook her head again.

"Do you want to get out of here?  ‘Cause if you do, I will take you away this second." Serena licked her lips, but didn't answer. I continued, "Just know, if you do this, if we leave now, Elliott may not understand."

"I…I love him," she spoke.

I nodded. "I know."

"He won't hurt Ry." It sounded like a question more than a statement.

I nodded, again.

"Never," the baritone of his voice caused us both to turn.

Elliott stood in a black pinstripe suit tailored to fit his large frame perfectly.

"I love you, Serena." He stepped forward and I moved away. "I love Ryan."

Their eyes locked intently. Feeling like an intruder, I looked away from their moment.

"I don't give a fuck what you or anyone else says, Ryan is my son. Do you understand me?"

She nodded, tears spilling again.

"After this ceremony," he paused for a long moment, "well, after the wedding night," he grinned, pulling a smile from my sister too, "I'm going to adopt Ryan."

Serena hiccupped, dropping her head. Elliott gently pushed up her chin.

"You're mine, he is mine, and this little one," his large hand spread over her stomach, "is mine. You got that?"

She nodded.

Arms wrapped around my waist. Without looking, I knew it was Chris.

Elliott's mouth pressed to Serena's. Her arms wound around his neck, his around her waist.

"Uh, doesn't the kiss come after the 'I do'?" Chris whispered in my ear.

I silently laughed.

Elliott pulled away, grabbing Serena's arms and pulling them from his shoulders.

"Now, beautiful, let's get this show on the road. I've got plans for my wife tonight." He wiggled his brow.

"Okay," Serena gave a nod. "Give me a minute to clean up the mess I’ve made of myself."

"You're gorgeous, baby." Placing a kiss to her forehead, he backed out of the room. Chris quietly followed.

"Is mommy okay?" Ryan's voice carried from the hall.

"Your mommy is perfect, buddy," Elliott responded as the door clicked shut.

"I'm an idiot," Serena mumbled, working to fix her make-up.

"No you aren't." I stepped beside her.

"Yes, I am." She patted under her eyes. "I overreacted. Why didn't I just talk to him about these feelings before today?" She straightened from the mirror and turned.

"Because you're an idiot." I shrugged.

She threw the make-up puff at me and laughed.

* * * * *

Entering the white chapel, my eyes first caught on Chris. His eyes on my every move heated my body.

"Mommy!" Maggie's squeal pulled my attention to the front row. With a small wave, I walked and stood next to the ivy-decorated arch.

Serena entered and the thirty-person crowd stood. She walked toward Elliott, confident and happy, our father by her side.

As everyone took their seats, I caught sight of Laney and Kat sitting in the front row next to Dad and Linda, Maggie in her lap. They both smiled warmly as Elliott and Serena exchanged vows of devotion. Una sat one row behind with Xavier on her left. My eyes then rested on Jackson at the back of the room.

In the farthest corner of the chapel, he sat with a blonde on his lap. He wasn't doing anything inappropriate, but the look on his face scared me. Anguish and pain radiated from him. Following the direction of his stare, my eyes were back on Laney. Jesus! Christopher was right. He was completely messed up over Laney.

The room cheered, ending my distraction.

Elliott kissed Serena, dipping her back, and the room erupted with cat calls.

After straightening, Elliott wrapped an arm around Serena's shoulders before sweeping his other arm behind her knees and lifting. Serena's arms wrapped around his neck, an expression of love on her face, and he began walking her down the aisle.

Longing crept through me. Chris's arm wrapped around mine, drawing my attention to him. I leaned my head onto his arm.

"Soon enough, baby, that will be us," he whispered.

"Maybe," I whispered back.

He stopped, turning me toward him.

"That's not a no," he stated, his eyes searching mine.

Nodding, I placed my hand on his chest. "Let's give ourselves a year, okay?"

"A year it is." Draping his arm over my shoulders, he led us toward the exit. "You'll need at least a year to plan the wedding anyhow."

Before I could say anything else, we entered a lobby full of guests. Congratulations and best wishes to Serena and a beaming Elliott are received before we climbed into the awaiting cars.

Chris

In the privately reserved dining room, everyone congregated around large tables for dinner.  Serena, Elliott, and Ryan sat together in the middle of a table, allowing her parents to sit on Serena's right. Mia, Maggie, and I sat on Elliott's left. Laney and Kat sat across from the newlyweds and I scanned the room for Jackson.

The way he had watched Laney at the wedding worried me. As much as the bitch deserved everything she got, this was Elliott and Serena's night.

My eyes met his the moment he entered with the blonde. A halfcocked smile graced his mouth before he approached the table. The tension was palpable, everyone except Laney looked toward Jack and his date.

"Congratulations, man," Jack said as he and Elliot shook hands.

"Thanks, Jackson. We're glad you could make it."

"I wouldn't miss it," his eyes dropped to Laney, "no matter what or who tried to stop me. Some of us are faithful…to those we care about."

Laney audibly whimpered. Next to me, Mia stiffened.

Placing my hand on her thigh, she looked at me with pleading eyes. I shrugged. What the hell did she think I would do? Laney had made her bed, she could fucking lay in it.

"Well, we're happy to have you here." Serena smiled.

Jackson's eyes moved to Serena. The worry in her eyes melted the anger from his.

"You look beautiful, Serena. I'm happy for the three of you." With a nod, he walked away to the farthest table.

My anger flared.

"He should be sitting with us."

Mia grabbed my arm.

"Chris," Kat hissed.

"You know I'm right."

"He could've sat here. He chose to sit over there," Elliott stated.

"No, he couldn't," I argued. "Not with —"

"He chose to sit there, Chris." Elliott's hard look matched his stern words.

I nodded, knowing if Laney's cheating ass wasn't sitting at this table Jackson would be here with us – where he belonged. Laney should be shunned to the corner, not my brother.

* * * * *

After the main course was complete, Elliott decided to break the current silence in true Elliott fashion.

"So, where is Richard this evening?" Elliott grinned at Kat.

Rolling her eyes, she sat back into her chair. "Ask his daughter."

Una shifted uncomfortably when we looked at her.

"Kat, this really isn't the place."

"No?" Kat shrugged.

"No," Una confirmed.

"I'm pretty sure it will be public knowledge soon enough."

"Kat, I don't want to play a game with you. Not tonight." Una stood from the table glaring at Kat. Kat's eyes never faltered or gave under the glare.

"It's not a game, Una. And, you should probably learn to how to answer these questions now, before the Paps get ahold of it like rabid dogs." Picking up her champagne flute, she tipped the glass back.

"Is that a threat?" Una stiffened.

Kat shook her head. "God no! Why the hell would I want to spread it around?"

Una shrugged. "I don't know what you want Kat. I thought it was my father, but apparently he's just another notch for you."

Kat stood, anger contorting her face. "Listen, my notches are none of your business."

"That's where you are wrong. Who do you think has to deal with the press regarding your prowess? That would be me." She pointed to herself.

"This is getting good," I whispered into Mia's ear. Her elbow nudged my arm roughly. "What? It is."

Kat snorted. "Perhaps you should worry about your father. So, I have a reputation for flings and good times? Big fucking deal! I'm not screwing nineteen year old girls."

Una shook her head. "You broke his heart."

"I never promised him anything. I never lied about who I was or what was going on between us," Kat countered. "He got the wrong idea thinking that I'm the kind of girl you can sweep off her feet and make fall in love."

Una sat back at the table. "He loved you. Do you know how hard it was for him to love like that after my mother?"

"He seems to be doing just fine with all of the young girls he's been fucking." Kat pushed her chair back from the table.  If the conversation hadn't already pulled people's attention, the screech of the chair did.

Una's eyes widened, her mouth hanging open. She quickly regained her composure. Before she could defend her daddy, I couldn't help but help Una out.

"Jealous, Kat?" Grabbing my beer bottle after asking, I drank deeply.

"Fuck you, Chris!" Kat stormed away.

Laney followed.

Elliott and I both laughed, earning glares from Mia and Serena.

"I apologize," Una sat stone still.

"Don't," Elliott chuckled. "That was highly entertaining."

Serena smacked his chest.

"What?" he admonished.

"That's what I said, too." I put my arm on the back of Mia's chair.

Mia sighed, heavily.

"Okay, let's move on." She stood, putting her ass right in front of my face. "Today is about Elliott and Serena, their love, and their future…"

Mia continued with her speech, but her ass transfixed me. Fighting the urge to lean forward and bite, champagne glasses began clinking against each other. A throat clearing brought my eyes up to Mia's. She cocked one eyebrow, holding her glass toward me. Unashamed of being caught staring, I shrugged.

After Mia's toast, Elliott stood up at the table.

"We want to thank everyone for joining us today as we start our family." Elliott held out a hand to Serena, pulling her to stand. "My vow to this woman was made today, but my fate was sealed the moment I saw her stick her tongue out while playing her drums."

The room was a mixture of laughter and awes.

"By some amazing force, Serena agreed to be with me forever. But," stepping away from Serena, Elliott walked over to Ryan, "we have one more thing to let her know." Lifting Ryan to stand on his chair, "Ry and I had a conversation a couple days ago, and I think today is the perfect time to share what Ryan told me." Elliott motioned for Ryan to take over.

"Mommy," Ryan's voice cracked from nerves. Elliott placed a large hand on his shoulder and he straightened immediately, confident with Elliott by his side. "Today you marry Elliott. I am happy you got marry."

Serena moved quickly to Ryan, taking him in her arms. "Oh baby, I love you so much," she cooed.

Ryan scrunched up his face with each kiss she placed over his face.  His eyes rolled to Elliott. "I told you she would get kissy."

The guests clapped and laughed.

Elliott rescued Ryan, pulling Serena into his arms. There was a whispered exchange between them before they kissed.

"Don't smoosh the baby!" Ryan pushed them apart from each other.

Laughter roared.

Remembering when Ry thought I was smooshing Mia in her bed, I reached out, pulling Mia back against my chest. With Maggie on her lap, she leaned into me.

"The baby is fine," Serena calmed Ryan.

"That's right, buddy. Our little rocker is perfectly safe in there." Elliott ruffled Ry's hair.

"Oh…kay," Ryan still looked apprehensive, but he sat back down in his chair.

As Elliott and Serena moved to sit down at the table, Elliott made one more announcement.

"If you didn't already know, we're expecting in about four and a half months."  Elliott beamed. The guests raised their glasses in the air with congratulations.

"He slipped one past a goalie!" Ryan cheered.

The beer I just sipped came out through my nose. Mia was choking on her water. Serena turned from Ryan to Elliott, smacking him on the chest, mortification painting her face red.

"Did you teach him that?"

Elliott shrugged with a mischievous grin.

Chris

"Did Gwen invite you to dinner next weekend?" I asked, trying to get Jackson talking.

With the wedding behind us, I'd hoped to get things back to normal with him. But, it was two weeks ago and he's gotten worse. Jack's new M.O. consisted of slutty women, drinking all the time, and always being hung over when he arrived at the studio.

"Yeah," his answer was clipped and short as usual.

I can't take it anymore!

"You need to straighten the fuck up!" I demanded, pushing away from the sound table.

Jackson's head shot up and his eyes narrowed. "Well, isn't this a twist in the story?" he snorted. "Mister Fucked Up is actually telling me to straighten up?"

Brushing off his comment was hard, but I did. Dr. J better fucking appreciate the effort this is taking!

"You can't let one fucking bitch ruin you!"

He pushed out of his chair.

"Fuck you, Chris! You have no idea what this is like! You've always left the girls heartbroken. Not a single one of them has ripped your heart, your soul, out!"

Taking a deep breath and rubbing my face, I searched for the best way to talk him out of this mood.

"Jack, I know she hurt you. I may not know how you feel, but I know pain. If you keep this shit up you are going to hurt yourself and others."

"She said she would marry me, Chris."

The shock straightened my spine. "W-what? I didn't know you asked her to marry you."

"It wasn't really a proposal." He plopped back down into his chair. "But, fuck, Chris, we talked about it and she said she would love to be married to me," he sighed.

"I even got the ring. I was just waiting for when she got back from the tour." Jackson raised his head, tears filling his eyes. "My heart was completely open to her." He shook his head, dropping it again. "Yeah, we bickered, but I thought it was just the distance, the time apart from each other." His long fingers swiped over his eyes. "Fuck, dude, I was delusional."

"Jack, unfortunately shit happens. Maybe it was the distance, too much time apart. It still doesn't excuse what she did."

"She called me after Elliott's wedding." Jackson sat back roughly in his chair. "Like a fucking pussy, I answered the call. Her sobs tore me apart. She actually made me feel sorry for her." Suddenly, his arm cleared the desk beside him, papers, pens, and a cup clattered to the floor. "That bitch called crying and apologizing, making me feel bad for her! Telling me she still cares about me, loves me, and she’s sorry for causing me so much pain. It fucking kills me that she knows how much this is crushing me."

"Jack, is she worth fucking yourself up for?" Leaning forward, elbows to knees, I approached this the only way I know how.

He shrugged.

"Answer me! Her fucking someone else, is that enough for you to let it ruin you?"

"No," he growled.

"Exactly, but you're letting it happen." Sitting back in my chair, I cross my arms over my chest. "Don't let her screw you over any more than she already has."

Mia

"What do you mean, you called him?" I put Maggie in the playpen at Serena and Elliott's house.

"I…I felt like…I just needed to apologize again. You saw him at the wedding!" Tears streamed down Laney's face. "I am responsible for that hurt in his eyes."

"Lane…" Serena pulled her into an embrace.

"I still care about him!" Laney argued. "Knowing one drunken night has changed him so much is killing me inside. He's just so—"

"You need to just leave him alone." Kat sat in Elliott's newly acquired lounge chair. It was strange to see the changes in the house, now that it was just Serena, Elliott, and Ry. Kat had moved to Seattle and Laney was currently staying with her.

"I know," Laney hiccupped, "but I couldn't stop myself."

"If you could've stopped yourself from fucking that —"

"Kat!" I hissed.

"What?" She shrugged. "I'm right."

"She is," Laney sobbed.

"Christ," Kat sighed and got up.  Sitting on the other side of Laney, she pulled her from Serena's arms. "Look at me."

Laney didn't respond to Kat's command.

"Laney, look at me!"

To this demand, Laney responded.

"You fucked up. We all know you fucked up. What's done is done. You need to move on."

Laney tried to speak, but Kat covered her mouth with a hand.

"Leave Jackson alone, you're causing more hurt by calling him – for the both of you.  The last thing he needs, or wants, is to talk to you, listen to you cry and apologize. He wants to hate you.  He needs that right now."

Laney shook her head, pulling at Kat's hand.

"You are going to feel guilty and you should.  But, you don't get to self-destruct. Accept what you've done and learn to live with the guilt, day by day, until it starts to lessen. Learn from this." Kat removed her hand and kissed Laney on the side of her mouth.

Laney nodded. "It's so hard."

"Yes, it is." Kat held Laney, letting her cry.

"I still love him," Laney hiccupped.

"I know," Kat sighed.

Laney cried herself into a trance like silence. Sitting up and out of Kat's embrace, she leaned against the back of the couch with her arms wrapped around her body. She looked like she was trying to keep herself together.

"How have you been feeling?" Kat inquired with a nod to Serena's stomach.

"Better. I don't feel sick all the time anymore." Serena forced a smile, clearly still affected by Laney's sadness.

"I bet Elliott's happy about that." Kat winked.

"He's definitely making up for lost time." Serena giggled.

"So, when are we going to plan this baby a party?" I asked, handing Maggie back the toy she just threw out of the playpen. She threw it out again.

Serena shrugged. "Are you supposed to have a baby shower for a second baby?"

"Don't look at me," Kat blurted, "I don't know this crap."

Serena looked at me.

"Who cares," I shrugged, "we're having a party."

"A party for what?" Elliott and Ryan entered, the door shutting behind them.

"For the baby." Serena rubbed her small bump.

"Can I get him a present?" Ryan walked over, leaning down to kiss her belly.

"Of course you can, little man." Elliott sat beside Serena, Ryan climbing into his lap.

"Thanks, dad." Regardless that the adoption paperwork was far from complete or finalized, he called Elliott dad every chance he got.

"We should get together this weekend for dinner and talk about the party plans," Laney rejoined the conversation.

"We have dinner with Gwen and Nicholas Saturday.  Can we do Sunday lunch at my house?" I offered.

"Sure," Laney gave me a weary smile.

"I'll make sure Chris is on his best behavior, Lane."

She forced a smile.

"Is it just me, or does Nicholas get hotter as he gets older?" Kat leaned back with a wistful sigh.

"It's not just you," Serena answered.

"Hey," Elliott interjected. "You're my woman.  Don't go fantasizing about Nic."

"Ell, his ass is too perfect to ignore," Kat defended. "I can only imagine what he would look like—"

"Okay, that's enough for me." Elliott grabbed onto Ryan, standing with him in his arms.

Our laughter followed his retreat from the room.

"Look how big you've gotten," Gwen cooed, taking Maggie from Chris's arms.

"Yeah, hi there, nice to see you, too, Gwen," Chris chuckled.

"Oh, hush." She leaned forward kissing his cheek. "You know I'm happy to see you."

"He's needy." I shrugged.

Gwen giggled, pulling me into a hug.

"I'm not getting loved enough." He stuck his bottom lip out, the base of his viper piercing visible.

"Chris, Mia," Nicholas greeted with an overly large smile. "It's good to see you."

Looking to Chris, his furrowed brow confirmed that he too felt like something was off.

Chris opened his mouth, but Jackson's car pulled into the driveway attracting all of the attention.  Gwen stepped by us to stand on the porch with Maggie.

Jackson slipped from his car, grinning at his mom and Maggie. Well that was an improvement.

"Hey, it's my favorite ladies." Taking the porch steps two at a time, he reached Gwen.  Pulling her and Maggie into his arms, he hugged tight.

"I think I'm a bit insulted," I teased him, grinning.

"Mia," Jackson walked over with his arms out, "you know how much I love you." Taking me in his arms, he slid his hands down to my ass. "And, I so love your —"

"Hey!" Chris slapped Jackson's hands away. "That is not okay."

I laughed.

Jackson winked before turning to Chris. "What? I was going to say that I so love your presence here today."

"Sure you were." Chris pulled me toward him. "And you," he looked down to me, "did you have to wear tight jeans?"

Nicholas chuckled. "Come on, let's get inside. Dinner should be ready."

* * * * *

Our dinners with Nicholas and Gwen are typically full of music related conversation. This time, however, Gwen talked about when the boys were young, how much Maggie reminded her of when Jackson was that little. Then other travels down memory lane ensued: vacations, sport events, music practice.

I enjoyed the stories, learning things I didn't know about both Chris and Jackson. But, Jackson and Chris looked suspicious and a little uncomfortable.

"Alright, what the hell is going on?" Chris looked between Gwen and Nicholas.

"Yeah," Jackson sat back mimicking Chris. "Did someone die?"

Nicholas choked on his drink and my eyes shot towards him.

"Of course not." Gwen didn't miss a beat. "We're just reminded of things with little Maggie here."

My eyes stayed on Nicholas. He smiled, but it wasn't genuine. He didn't look like his normally calm and collected self.

* * * * *

With dinner finished, we sat in the den having an easy conversation. Gwen played on the floor with Maggie, building block towers.

"Did either of you read the email I sent you about Hidden Talent?" Nicholas swirled the ice in his drink. He had drunk more than a couple of those this evening.

"I saw it." Chris shrugged. "I have some other things planned."

"Like?" Nicholas asked.

"Like, spending time with Mia and Maggie, working on The Forgotten's next album, and there is a kids program I may volunteer for." Chris stared back at Nicholas.

What kids program? And what was Hidden Talent? The fact that he hadn't told me about these things weighed on me.

"Oh, Chris, that sounds wonderful." Gwen smiled over Maggie's head.

"You may get into it?" Nicholas pushed.

"Jesus, Nicholas," Chris's voice rose.

"Watch your language," Gwen warned.

"Sorry," Chris put up his hand. Turning back to Nicholas, he continued, "I want to talk to Mia about it before I make any final decisions." He took my hand and squeezed.

At least he planned on talking to me about it.

"What about you, Jackson? Nicholas turned his attention.

"I don't know." He shrugged.

"It could be a good way to promote The Forgotten's upcoming releases," Nicholas added.

"You may even find some new talent we could work with." Chris settled back into the couch, clearly feeling better about Jackson getting questioned.

"The worthy talent will move through the rounds," Jackson responded.

"Yeah, but you know how the audience, viewers, and judges get shit wrong."

"I'll think about it," Jackson conceded.  "But, do we really want to be associated with a reality show?"

"You have a point." Chris rubbed the back of his head.

"We may be mentoring on the show." I wasn't supposed to release the information, but I wanted Jackson to be aware of Hush being present on the show.

"When did you find this out?" Chris snapped.

"When did you find out about the kids program and the reality show?" I snapped back.

"Touché." Grinning, he moved forward and kissed me.

"Get a room," Jackson teased.

Chris pulled away. "We won't need a room till later."

My face heated.

"Maybe we could get you guys on as mentors?" Nicholas suggested.

"Hell no!" Chris answered.

"So, it's okay for Jackson to be a judge and for Hush to mentor, but The Forgotten is too good?"

"It's not our style, babe." He patted my shoulder. Shoving his hand away, I moved to sit on the floor next to Maggie.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot it's not your style to help others." Before Chris could make any more remarks, I turned to Jackson. "I think it would be cool to be a judge.  If they asked, I'd probably do it."

"Like I said, I'll think about it. When do I have to let them know?"

"You have two weeks." Nicholas sat his glass down on the coffee table.

"I'll let you know by next weekend." Jackson slipped from his chair to the floor. "Now, it's time for me to play with my girl."

"You better be talking about Maggie," Christopher stated, half serious, half teasing.

Jackson crawled to Maggie, pretending to chomp on her shoulder.

"Jack!" Maggie giggled, pushing his head away. "Top it!"

Chris

It's been a week since dinner with Nicholas and Gwen and there was still something odd about their behavior. Gwen visited the studio, which wasn't normal.  Nicholas's mood swings were uncommon and the increase of invites to dinners and get-togethers became more suspicious. Neither Jackson nor I could figure it out, but we both kept our eyes and ears open.

Mia's melodic voice floated down from Maggie's room as I was coming up from my basement studio. Quietly, I made my way to her.

Mia sat on the floor, Indian style, with her acoustic guitar in her lap. She strummed the cords, softly singing. Mia's tattoo teased me from above the waist of her jeans as she hunched over the guitar.

Maggie's eyes drooped low as Mia continued the lullaby her mother sang to her as a child.

Fuck, my angels are beautiful.

Mia finished the song as I reached Maggie's crib. Leaning down, I brushed the fine hair away from her face and whispered my fingers over her cheek. She stirred, but didn't wake.  Kissing my fingers, I pressed them to her head.

Mia slipped in next to me, kissing her fingers and repeating my action. Once her fingers left Maggie's head, I wrapped my arms around her. I pulled her out of Maggie's room, the guitar left on the floor, intending to get her into our bedroom.

Mia's hands slipped around my neck as I claimed her mouth. Christ, she tastes so good.

She moaned, pulling me closer. Gliding my hands down her body, I grabbed behind her thighs, lifting her. Thoughts of the bedroom forgotten, I pressed her against the hallway wall.

"Chris," she breathed.

I kissed over her chin and down her neck, pressing my hips forward between her legs.

"Maggie's door," Mia panted.

Letting her feet drop back to the floor, I closed Maggie's door and turned back to Mia. She was walking toward our room, leaving a trail of clothing behind her.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Catching up just as she slipped her jeans down her legs, I wrapped my arm around her waist and spun her around in my arms. My mouth immediately found hers as I went to remove her bra.

"We can't…in the hallway." Her fingers dug into my shoulders.

My, “okay,” was muffled by the left breast I had sucked into my mouth. I walked her backward into our room.

Once inside, I kicked the door shut and turned her to face me. When her back hit the wall, she gasped from the force. I claimed her tongue in my mouth, her breasts with my hands. Her nipples pebbled under my palms, making my mouth water. Tightly squeezing her breasts upward, I dropped my mouth to her soft flesh, the arousal hardened nipple rubbing against my tongue.

"I need more," Mia growled, grabbing the hem of my T-shirt. She tried to pull it up, but I wasn't finished with her tits.

Taking the left nipple into my mouth, I nibbled. Her hands slid to the button of my jeans, quickly undoing and then unzipping.

"Please," she begged, pushing at the waist of my pants.

Releasing her nipple from my mouth, I watched the light glisten on the moisture I left behind and my cock throbbed.

"What do you want, Mia?" I asked, reaching behind my neck. I fisted the cotton of my shirt and pulled it over my head.

Mia's lips descended onto my chest, kissing, licking, and driving me insane. Bracing my hands against the wall on each side of her body, Mia bunched the denim at my hips and tugged. Starting on my left pectoral, where Maggie's footprint had been added to my ink, Mia pressed open mouth kisses on my body. Pulling my jeans to my calves, she knelt down face to cock. With one lick of her lips, she took me into her mouth.

The ecstasy of her lips wrapped around me jerked my hips forward. Her head bumped the wall.

"Fuck, baby, I'm…" Shit, she is good at this. "I'm sorry."

She giggled, causing a vibration over my cock. I pressed my hips forward, easier this time, and she released me from her mouth.

Groaning, I looked down.

"Fuck my mouth, Chris." Her eyes stared up into mine as she placed me back between her lips.

Grabbing the back of her head, I moved back and forth. The wet heat of her mouth, the grazing of her teeth, and the swirl of her tongue drove me to the edge of madness. Pulling away, she fell forward a bit.

I reached down, standing her before me.

"I want your pussy, Mia." Sliding my fingers into the silk covering what I desired, I yanked them to just above her knees. Her body jerked.

I trailed my fingers up her thighs and slipped one into her in one smooth motion.

"Oh, yes." Mia threw her arms around my neck, pulling my face to her.

Coaxing my tongue into her mouth, she sucked it like she'd just done to my cock.

Removing my finger, I grasped the back of her legs and lifted.  Her underwear protested but didn't rip, remaining just above her knees. Her knees hooked over my arms, squeezing my biceps, as the underside of my cock slid between her wet pussy lips.

She flexed her muscles, wanting more.

I drew my hips back. Positioning my tip, I thrust forward. Her lower back slammed against the wall and a scream fell from her lips. I froze, worried that I hurt her.

She fisted my hair, pulling my face to hers. "Don't fucking stop!" she growled.

Pumping into her, over and over, she pulled at my hair and clawed at my back.

"Fuck me, Christopher.  Fuck me harder, please!"

When her muscles locked around my cock, I thrust harder, riding her orgasm to my own release. Fingers clutching her legs hard, I roared.

Mia

Spasms tingled at every nerve in my body. My breathing started to relax as he softened and slipped from within me. Chris dropped my legs to the floor, holding me until he was sure I could stand.

"You are so fucking amazing." His hands slid up, holding the side of my head as he claimed my mouth.

"Mmm," was the only coherent response I could provide.

Kneeling down, Chris slid his hands over my bare body. He clutched my underwear, pulling them all the way off and tossing them to the side.

On his way back up my body, he stopped and placed a slow lick over the swollen lips between my thighs. A shiver ran up my body.

"Chris," I warned, "I don't think I can —"

With a chaste kiss where he had just licked, he stood. "I'm not finished with you, yet."

Fingers teased the bare skin of my hip as his mouth pressed to mine, preventing any argument.

"But," he spoke against my lips before pulling back, "I'll let you have a minute."

With amusement pulling up the left side of his mouth, he proceeded to carry me to the bed. After lying me down, he gave me fifteen minutes before delving between my thighs with his pierced tongue and dexterous fingers.

Once I was over the edge in orgasmic oblivion, he thrust between my legs.  This time slow and sweet, he loved every inch of my body.

* * * * *

"Tomorrow's your first visit with the children's program, right?" I asked, the fingers of my right hand running through his hair.

We lay in a naked tangle on our bed, Chris covering half of my body, his head on my shoulder and right hand over my left breast.

"Yeah. Jackson is going with me." The warmth of his breath against my skin left goose bumps as it cooled.

"How is he?"

"Not much better," he sighed, shifting so his chin rested on my shoulder. "He's not getting plastered every night, but he's still not the same."

"Hopefully the talent show he agreed to participate in will help," I said as I ran my hand down Christopher's right arm.

His hand moved lightly over my breast, tracing the circle of my areola. My nipple hardened.

"We can only hope," he sighed once more, turning his cheek back to my shoulder. "It's hard seeing him this way."

"Karma?"

"Don't I fucking know it? Hell, it's like standing outside a glass house while the person slowly begins to crack."

Moving my hand from his arm, I caressed the side of his face.

"He was always there for me.  No matter how much I pushed him away. I have to get Jackson back, Mia. This temperamental asshole he's become needs to go." He picked his head up, looking into my eyes. "I've got that area covered."  He grinned.

Lifting my head, I kissed his forehead. "Yes, you sure do."

"Marry me," his words a demand, not a request, caught me off guard.

"What?" I choked on the question.

"Marry me, Mia. I want you bound to me for good." He inched up, until he could slip his arm behind my head and cup my cheek with his right hand.

"People get divorced all the time," I whispered.

With an arrogant gleam in his eye, he grinned, shaking his head. "Once you're mine, there will be no getting rid of me."

I opened my mouth, but no words would come out. What the hell could I say? I knew I would marry Chris. The quick development of our intimate relationship and being parents made me hesitate, but I wasn't sure I wanted to hold back. If I was ever absolutely sure of anything, it was that Chris would be with me forever.

"It is only you, Mia, has only ever been you." His crystalline blue eyes pierced mine. "You resurrected me from the darkness, pulled me from the depths of my own personal hell. No one will ever compare, come close, or take your place."

Tears pooled and slipped from the corners of my eyes. His long finger wiped them away.

"And, for you to bring that little angel into my world." He nodded his head toward the door and I knew he spoke of our daughter, "is more proof to the fact that you're not only my lover, but my savior. Now, I want you to be my wife."

With a kiss to my stilled lips, he moved away. My body felt cool at the loss of his warmth, my mind reeling at his words.  A yes lingered on my lips, only silenced by the sound of the bedside table.

His body returned to mine, settling between my legs. With his elbows holding him up on either side of me, he held out his hand.  In his palm lay a ring. Placing it against my bare skin, over my heart, he leaned down, kissing between my breasts.  The silver colored ring held a large round solitaire diamond encircled in black with more diamonds decorating the band on each side.

"You are the diamond, the bright facet breaking thru my darkness." One of his long fingers ran over the black gems. "I'm the onyx, the darkness you penetrate."

For a moment, I didn't know how to breathe. My words caught in my throat.

"Marry me, Mia. Be my wife." He kissed my lips and pulled back, waiting.

The nod of my head was slow to start, but he saw it.  His eyes lit.

"Yes?" His arms tightened around me. "Is that a yes?  Don't fuck with me, Mia."

Finally able to speak after having the most beautiful declaration made to me, "I'm not fucking with you, Chris." Excitement replaced the awe I had been feeling. "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you."

His mouth crashed to mine. Our teeth clinked together, the kiss rough and amazing.

Sitting up and back on the bed, he pulled my body to straddle him.  The ring fell from my chest, landing between our bodies.

"Shit," he cursed, reaching down to grab it.

He reached out, taking my left hand and pulling it between our faces. Slipping the ring on my finger, he proceeded to kiss each finger and then my palm.

"I'm getting that permanently attached to you." He grinned.

I giggled.

Then we celebrated our future with the ride of my life.

(Extra Scene)

VIDEO SHOOT

Chris

Music reached my ears before I stepped into the large studio where Hush is recording their second music video.  This one based on a song Mia wrote while on tour and away from me. She wouldn't completely fess up to it, but I knew this shit was about me. My girl, my Mia is completely in love with me. Poor fucking girl.

With a stupid smile on my face, I made it around the large backdrop. What the hell?!

Mia stood at the end of a raised platform with an overstuffed mattress.  There was tons of see through and lace material flowing around. She wore a damn white slip, which did wonders on her body and brought mine to attention. But it wasn't the fucking set up that brought the furrow to my brow or the rage boiling from my gut to the top of my head.

Clenching my fists, I stalked over the bright white scene. Someone was going to die and I'd found my target. One of the assistants tried to stop me, but there was no way and no one who would stand in my way.

"Who the fuck is that?" The anger accentuates each word.

The set falls silent, music and all.

"You're in the shot." The director yelled, stepping toward me. It took only one look to make him freeze on his second step.

"Christopher?" Scowl on my face, I turned to her voice. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What am I doing?" One step up onto the raised platform, I glower at the pretty blonde fucker lying across the white bed. Mia had been lip singing to this ass just moments ago. "Who the hell is this?"

Mia closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

"You are standing in front of this fucker in your underwear and —"

"I am not in my underwear, Christopher. I'm wearing a slip dress that—"

"And," I repeat, "singing my song to him!" Extending my arm, I point at the fucker who'd crawled up the bed, away from us.

"He's an actor, Chris. You know, just like the half-naked girls that grace plenty of your videos." She growls, giving me a murderous glare.

"This isn't about my videos, Mia.  I want him out of here." Crossing my arms over my chest, I want my demands seen to. There is no fucking way this bastard would have my girl, my future wife, singing my song to him.

"You're such an asshole!" Mia shoves at my chest and steps down from the platform.

Before I can stop her, she reaches the crowd of onlookers who stand with wide eyes and open mouths. Hopping down, I prepare to follow her.

Suddenly, she spins around and faces me. "This is just a video, Chris. It's not like something is going on.  There are fifty people in this room, yet you act as if I'm alone in a bedroom with another guy!"

"I don't like it." No longer in a rage, now that she is further from him, my anger simmers under my skin.

"And I don't like when you have half dressed women dancing around you or slithering their bodies against you in videos, but I know it's not real." Sighing, she turns and walks away. The crowd parts, not wanting get caught between us.

Stalking after her, a hand grabs my arm. Pulling my arm free, I turn to tell this person where to go, but I've come face to face with a very pregnant Serena. Fuck. Now I'm screwed.

"Give her a minute." She grumbles. "You will get nowhere with her right now."

Her words surprise me. I expected to have my ass handed to me with a side of my ball sack for dessert.

"Don't look so surprised, Chris." She rolls her eyes. "I get why you are uncomfortable."  I open my mouth to thank her, but she speaks first. "That doesn't mean I approve of your little tantrum." Serena points toward the video set.

"How do you expect me to react?" I bark.

"Like an adult, maybe." She snaps back.

Growling loud, I leave Serena to go after Mia.

As I round the corner Mia disappeared, I come face to face with Una.  Her arms are crossed over her chest. One brow rose above her left eye, and pursed lips.

"We need to talk." Her voice is level, not nearly as angry filled as I would've expected.

"There's nothing to talk about." I groan. "Blondie goes or Mia doesn't come back to the set."  I attempt to step around her, but Una has other plans.

"It's just a video.  He's paid to pretend.  It's pretend, Christopher, and you know it."

"I still don't like it and I can't stand by while Mia sings that song to him."

"Would it matter what song it was?" Una keeps blocking my attempts to get by her.

"No, it would still bother me." Narrowing my eyes, I stop the stupid dance she has me doing.

"Then just go until the shoot is over."

"Not going to happen, and you know that." We stand staring at each other for a minute, neither one wanting to back down.

"Fine, you win." Her arms fall to her sides on a heavy sigh.

"Really?" Something tells me to be suspicious.

"Come with me." Una waves a pale white hand for me to follow.

"What about—"

"Come with me, Christopher." A maternal tone I'd never heard Una use before has me trailing where she leads.

Mia

"Of all the stupid, hypocritical, ego maniac things to do," I grumble.

Knowing that Chris isn't too far behind me, I pick up my pace. There's no way he would just leave. His demands had not been met, so he would continue this craziness. I'm shocked he's taking this long to get here.

The knocking at the dressing room door surprises me. He wouldn't knock. He would just barge right in like he owned the place.

"Come in," I call out, taking a seat in one of the leather chairs.

"Mia?" Una steps into the room.  With graceful steps, she takes a seat in front of me.

"Where is he?" Before Una can answer me, a scary thought crosses my mind. "He didn't attack Gunnar, did he?" I could vividly see Chris pounding Gunnar's too pretty face.

"No." Una giggles.

"It's not funny." I argue. "I can totally see Chris beating him to a pulp."

"I assure you Gunnar is fine and Christopher doesn't have to worry about assault charges."

Exhaling in relief, I slouch back into the leather chair.

"However, he isn't making the video easy to finish." A smile curls the left side of her mouth.

I roll my eyes. "What else is new?"  Shaking my head, I lean forward, my elbows to my knees. "Why did I agree to marry him?" A grin spreads across my mouth.

"Probably because you two are amazing together, you love him, and he loves, adores, and worships you." Una smiles large.

Sitting up straight, my grin grows to a larger smile. "Oh, maybe that’s it."

"Anyhow, we need to get you back out to the set." Una stands.

"But what about—?"

"I've taken care of Christopher." Una motions for me to get up.

Standing, I furrow my brow. "What did you do to convince him not to interfere?"

"I told him the truth." Una takes me by the elbow, pulling me out the door.

"What truth?" I follow her lead down the hallway.

"That Gunnar is gay, my dear."

"He is?" My steps slow, just a bit.

"Yes.  His partner also auditioned for the video." Una keeps us at a steady pace, only releasing me once we arrived back to the set.

"Huh." I ponder this news, though it doesn't matter either way.

Taking a look around, I don't see any sign of Chris.  Was that really all it took? The actor is gay and he is completely fine with everything?

Stepping back up to the platform, the director begins calling out orders. Taking his instruction, I get into place just as the music begins. Positioning myself at the end of the bed, I look down where Gunnar was lying earlier.

"Chris?!" I don't know whether to be angry or to laugh.

"I don't give a shit if the dude is gay.  That song belongs to me, baby, just the way you do." Putting his arms behind his head, a slow smile spread across his face.

Laughter wins. I burst into a fit of giggles.

"You kicked out the actor." I snort. "You really are mental."

"Not mental, baby. I'm just not willing to share you." His eyes roam my body as he licks his bottom lip.  The flash of his tongue ring has the same effect as always. My body heats, heart starts racing, and desire tingles under my skin.

"Let's start from the top….Again!" The director's annoyed shout snaps me from my lust filled haze. "Are we finally ready, Miss Ryder?"

Still grinning, I nod.

"Action," the director calls.  The music starts and I sing to the man who inspired the song.

After three takes, we wrap for the evening.

"I can't believe you did that." Shaking my head, I wrap my arm around his waist.

"Why not?" Chris guides me by the waist to the car waiting to take us home.

"It was kind of fun to have you in my video though."

Reaching the car, the driver opens the door.  Chris pushes me forward, to climb in first.

"Especially, since you inspired the song."  Grinning wide, I slip into the back of the car.

"I fucking knew it!" Chris climbs in behind me.

Wrapping me up in his arms, he claims my mouth. After a minute, he pulls back.

"From now on, I'm the only man in your videos." Before I could argue, his mouth devoured my lips.

Slipping his hand to the back of my thigh, then behind my left knee, he pulls me down. With my back to the leather car seat, he rose above my body, separating our mouths.

"And you will be the only hot, half dressed woman slithering against me in my videos." Wiggling his brow, he leaned down to kiss me again.

Turning my head to the side before he could, he growled low, but kissed down my neck instead.

"Half dressed, huh?" I giggle when his mouth pauses against my skin.

He pushes up and looks down at me frowning. "Okay, fully dressed, but you still get to slither against me."

"Maybe I want to slither against someone else." I tease.

"Now you're just trying to get the rest of the band killed." He deadpans, before giving me a mischievous grin.

"What are you—?" His fingers dig into my hips. "Chris, stop!" I wriggle and twist to get away.  Grabbing at the offending appendages, he doesn't relent on my hip bones.

"Who are you going to slither against in my kick ass rock videos?" He taunts and tickles.

"Jack-son!" I call between laughs.  This leads to more intense tickling. "Okay, OKAY."

"Who?" He emphasizes the question with his fingers.

"You, Christopher!"

Beaming, he stops his attack. "That's right, me."

"Shut up and kiss me." I demand, reaching around his head and pulling him down to me.

"I've got more plans than kissing for this back seat." One finger slips into my jeans, sliding toward the button of my jeans.

Hidden in the Stars

(a Falling Stars novel)

Sadie Grubor

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Copyright 2015 Sadie Grubor

Cover Art by VST

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any existing means without written permission from the publisher. Contact Author at sadie@sadiegrubor.com.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. The locations, businesses are also fiction, and those that do exist are utilized in a purely fictitious manner. The music mentioned is owned by the original artist and employed in a purely fictitious method. No infringement or malice/ill will is intended by the author or publisher.

Dedication:

In remembrance of Dahlias, buckwheat pancakes, and Christmas.

-         FOR G-Ma

Acknowledgements:

Mister Grubor – Thank you for kicking my brain into gear when I can't think of the word I'm thinking of.  Nothing but love for you, baby!

Family – Thanks for supporting me and my crazy efforts.

Monica– You totally get where I'm going and trying to say, and that's not easy when half the time I don't know what the heck I'm doing. 

The BETA Babes – If it weren't for you ladies, I wouldn't have the motivation to kick out word counts, chapters, and new ideas for upcoming books. I appreciate your willingness to chat and guide me so much.

Grubor Groupies – You all are amazing supports and great fun! Thank you.

iTunes and YouTube – Again, thank you for the never ending source of music to inspire my moods and ease my soul.

Blurb

When you're Jackson Shaw, guitarist of The Forgotten, and your heart’s been broken, shattered by the deception of a woman you thought was the one. When you can't hide from cameras and millions of fans hanging on every dirty detail printed and posted…

When you swear off love and dull the ache with gorgeous women who look nothing like the girl who tore you apart—a supermodel girlfriend and sexplicit escapades splashed across the tabloids is the ultimate revenge. It's also the perfect way to hide your pain in the media. But when the ache turns to a hollow pit and there isn't enough sex, drugs, or alcohol to fill the emptiness, what do you do?

You cut your losses and head to L.A. to mentor the latest reality talent show. You follow an old friend into a world where the art of the bump and grind was perfected. Where the sound of her voice calls to every primal instinct buried within your body and makes the demand for your attention.

Jackson's an addict and just one taste puts him back in the precarious position of falling in love with a woman who's mastered the art of ensnaring and teasing.

The End of Us

Jackson

It's everywhere. The TV, internet…the fucking tabloids. My fucking girl going into a hotel at three in the fucking morning with a random fucking dude. And just to make it more painful, they plastered fucking GIF images all over the internet. Groping, Kissing, Laney giving just as good as she was getting from the asshole who ended it all.

The fact that she called to confess before the media ran with the story means shit to me. I offered the cheating bitch my heart on a goddamn platinum tray and what did she do? She shit all over it.

All around me, my brothers are getting married, having fucking kids, and starting a new phase in their life. A phase I cannot think about without wanting to vomit. And it's all thanks to a heartless, selfish slut.

She didn't even want to work things out. Just confess and walk away, as if I'm just some guy off the fucking street, not the man she's been practically living with and talked about starting a life together.

Well, fuck her and every douchebag she spreads her legs for. I didn't want some white picket fence fantasy and I sure as fuck don't want to be in love with someone who cares so little.

A jerk of my arm and a flick of my wrist sends my cell crashing into the flat screen TV on the wall. Snorting a humorless laugh, I put the bottle of Captain to my mouth and drain the last of the 1.75 liters.

Slamming the bottle onto the tabloid covered table, I stare at the picture of Laney in dark sunglasses, holding a hand out to cover her face. A blurry male face just over her shoulder makes me wonder if this is her new man—my replacement.

Fuck you, Laney. I can move on from you just as quickly as you have from me.

Chapter One

Jackson Shaw

The Forgotten sitting in a studio working on our next single and upcoming CD feels like fucking déjà vu. Elliott drumming his sticks on the soundboard. Jimmy strumming on his bass in a corner, ignoring the way our lead singer and my step-brother, Christopher, tears into Elliott.

Chris threatens to shove the drumsticks up Elliott's ass, and he responds with a grin, saying, "You know just the way I like it, baby."

Slipping my guitar from my lap, I grab Elliott's sticks out of his hands and set them on the table in front of me.

Pouting, Elliott grabs the iPad from a nearby table and plops down into one of the chairs. Chris rubs his face, releases an annoyance filled sigh, and returns his attention to the soundboard.

It's been fucking months since we've been together like this, which is a goddamn shame. Because the walls surrounding each of us never used to be like this. We used to be together each day and night; working and playing. But life gets in the way and things—people—have a way of destroying the things you once loved most.

"Dude, this guy sucks." Elliott sits with his iPad resting against his legs, his feet now kicked up on the sound table.

"Get your fucking feet down," Chris growls, a scowl marring his face.

"I'm just saying, I could sing better than this douchebag." He brings his feet down, but keeps up the conversation. "Have you listened to these yet?" he asks, looking up from his lap.

I shrug. "Most of them."

"I still can't believe you agreed to this," Jimmy scoffs from his lounged position on the leather couch. "I hate those fucking reality shows."

I shrug again.

"Listen to this one!" Elliott's already chuckling when he turns up the sound.

"Christ, who picked these people?" Chris shakes his head and stands from his chair, walking over to Elliott.

"A board of music professionals chose the hundred online contestants," Elliott says, pointing to the list of names alphabetically displayed.

"Why didn't you get to help choose?" Chris asks, looking over at me for answers.

"I didn't want to."

"Why the hell not?" Chris moves back to his seat.

"I agreed to coach and mentor for ten long ass weeks. I’m sure as fuck not doing anything else with these fame hungry assholes," I answer, wishing this conversation would end. The ring of a cell phone grants my request.

"Hey, baby, what's up?" Elliott grins. "What time?" He nods.

"She can't see you, dipshit," Jimmy says, chuckling.

Elliott scowls and flips his thick middle finger up at him.

"Okay, babe, I'll pick it up on the way home...I love you, too." He ends the call.

"So, back to this contest—”

"No," I growl.

It's bad enough I agreed to do this, hearing about it all the time is beyond annoying. Between my parents, the band, the girls, and the hype this damn show is already getting, I’m over it.

The click of the studio door brings a welcome distraction.

"Mia," Chris croons.

As soon as Mia's within reach, he grabs her hips, pulling her onto his lap.

"Hey, guys," Mia greets, allowing Chris to situate her.

"Hey, guys?" he scoffs. "I'm the important one."

Turning her head, she places her lips on his before pulling back just a bit. Foreheads pressed together, a breath away from each other, she smiles. "Hi."

"That's better." With a large grin on his face and a hand on her thigh, Chris settles back into his chair. "Well, assholes, don't be rude. She said hello."

We all greet Mia in unison, heeding to Chris’ demand. I don't have to look around to know I'm not the only one shaking my head. Hush Mentality toured with us almost two years ago during our Soul Abandonment Tour. Mia, their lead singer, had flipped a switch inside of Christopher. She'd brought him to life after years of living in the darkest hells of his own memories. And I swear, the minute he got the engagement ring on her finger, he became more obsessed…no, arrogant…no... wait, what's the word? Cocky, obsessed, arrogant bastard—that's it.

With talk of the show over, we go back to working on some new tracks. Mia offers her input, Elliott argues with Jimmy about bass, and Chris keeps correcting the knobs when I move them.

In my peripheral, I see everything Chris does to Mia. Palming Mia's breast, slipping a finger into the back of her jeans, kissing the side of her neck, and pulling her down harder onto his lap are just some of the things I wish I hadn't seen. She slaps him away, but he isn't easily deterred.

Maybe ten weeks away from this group wouldn't be so bad. Seeing Mia and Chris only intensifies the hollowness I carry inside. And, hell, seeing Mia makes me think about Laney.

Hushed Mentality hadn't only brought Mia into our fold, but the entire all-girl band. Serena: drummer, older sister to Mia, and now wife to Elliott. Kat, their bassist and all around free spirit in the group. And Laney, Hush's lead rhythm guitarist.

Fucking Laney!

As much as I don't want to admit it, Laney's betrayal still crushes me. The first month after she cheated, I drowned myself in booze. After that, I spent about five months buried balls deep in multiple women, trying to fuck her out of my system. Booze, sex, and the revolving door of female company didn't erase her. Nothing seemed to worked. Whenever I feel like I'm finally over her, the bitch manages to bring me back to my knees.

Like when she started dating the actor used in the last Hush video. It shouldn't have bothered me, but the hurt tore through me like dull razors.

"Hey, Jack, I saw Kristyna's Gucci ad. She looks fantastic." Mia smiles, but she isn't good at hiding how she feels. Her eyes reflect sadness. She always tries to talk to me about my "womanizing and partying" ways, telling me it's not who I am.

"You aren't this guy, Jack. This guy isn't the same one I spent months discussing classic rock and pop songs with," was how Mia ended our last conversation about my life.

It wasn't as bad as she, Chris, and my parents thought. I was just having a good time with fun people.

"On TV or the billboard?" I ask.

"TV." She pulls Chris' hand from between her legs.

"That one is so hot," Elliott purrs. "I just have two questions. How can you stand some other dude having his hands on her tits? And how the fuck do I get that kind of job?"

Mia leans to the side and narrows her eyes on Elliott.

"What?" he shrugs. "I love your sister, but we are talking about a job where you hold boobs."

Mia shakes her head, laughing.

My cell vibrates against my thigh and I lean back, slipping it from my pocket.

"Speaking of Miss Please Hold My Boobs…" Elliott leans over my shoulder as Kristyna's picture flashes on the screen.

When none of my efforts to forget Laney were working, I decided to cut out the multiple women and settle on one who likes to have fun and can handle the crowds. Kristyna Molvic, the fashion world supermodel, is used to publicity, rumors, likes a good party, and welcomes the media attention following our every move. The celebrity bad boy and fashion's sweetheart—our media coverage is frequent and sexplicit. Kristy still has a way of coming across as the sweet girl being corrupted, though. If only they knew the fucking truth.

From the moment Kristyna and I were introduced through a mutual friend, she demanded my attention. Our first night out together, she incorporated other women: bringing other hot girls to grind against me, encouraging sexy socialites to lick different substances from my body…things only she could convince these paparazzi princesses to do. I was a bit put off the first time I watched her snort coke off a girl’s bare tit, but Kristyna is ever the seductress with skills rivaling mythological sirens.

The first time cocaine entered my system was in the back of a limo on the way to an award ceremony. I was in a funk knowing I would run into Hush and Laney.

Always needing to be the center of the universe, Kristyna straddled me in the back of a car—designer evening gown pulled to her waist, sans underwear. When her mouth crashed against mine, bitterness invaded. I pushed her back. The shit tasted horrible. She only grinned.

"Trust me, baby. You will feel as fantastic as I do right now." Taking a vial out of her purse, she sprinkled the white powder into her cleavage and leaned forward. "Don't you want to feel good?"

I hesitated still.

"You won't believe how amazing it is to fuck when you're high." She slipped the straps of her thin dress from her shoulders, the material catching on strapless lace cradling her tits. Cupping her breasts, she pushed closer and ground herself against me.

My cock stirred to life in a rush of heat and need. Grabbing her ass firmly, I pulled her against me harder, leaned forward, and buried my nose in her cleavage.

Kristyna's hand grabbed the back of my head, pulling me away to look into my eyes.

"Give me your tongue." She tightened the grip on my hair and my cock pulsed with the mixture of pleasure and pain.

I offered my tongue as a sacrifice to this goddess. Guiding me by my head, she ran my tongue between her breasts to clean the rest of the powder from her soft skin. When she pulled my mouth away, she crushed her lips to mine and sucked my tongue, giving me a preview of what she would do with my dick.

The moment she released my tongue, my head fell back against the seat. The incredible sensations running through my body made me feel like I could rule the world. Nothing else mattered. Only us. When she undid my pants, pulled my aching cock from its confines, and fucked me till we arrived at the award show, I knew I'd found one fucking hot piece of distraction. A distraction Christopher hated more than anyone else.

Hearing it’s Kristyna calling, Christopher mumbles something. Knowing how he feels about her, I really don't want to start the same old argument again. He could tell me how I only put up with her because she was the complete opposite of Laney and enables my “out of control behavior” some other time. What a fucking hypocrite.

"What's up?" I answer.

"Hey there, sexy," she hums. "Are we still on for tonight?"

"Of course." I settle back into my chair. "Nine o'clock, right?"

"Yep. Pick me up at my townhouse."

"Will do."

"Bye," she says, making a kissing noise through the phone.

"Later."

"I can't believe you're with that—”

"Christopher," Mia warns.

"What? I can't!" Moving Mia from his lap, he leans toward me. "Why are you fucking around with some dimwitted bitch?"

"Fuck you, Chris." Stuffing my cell back into my pocket, I push away from the sound table and stand. "You don't have to like her, I do."

"You mean a nice fuck buddy, who likes to get as wasted as you," Elliott chimes in.

"You, too?" I round on Elliott and then turn to Jimmy. "What about you? You have something to add?"

Jimmy shakes his head. "Fuck no. At least you're dipping your stick in a hot piece of ass."

Mia's groan pulls my attention toward her.

"I know you don't approve either, so don't act like you're interested in my relationship,” I snap, taking out my anger on Mia.

"Hold up, fucker." Chris stands, putting himself between Mia and me. "Don't talk to her like that!"

"Chris." Mia slides a hand over his arm, gently pulling him back toward her.

"Christ!" I push my fingers through my overgrown hair. "Just back the fuck off. I'm having a good time. There's nothing wrong with that, especially after the shit Lane…she put me through."

With quick, heavy steps, I make it to the door, ready to leave. Pausing quickly, I turn back to Mia. Her eyes, sadness swimming in them, meet mine.

"I'm sorry, Mia."

She nods, offering a small smile.

"Kristy, you ready to go?" I ask. She's finally brought her high ass back to our VIP area.

"Why?" she asks, breathless from dancing. She sticks out her bottom lip and slips onto the red couch. "Aren't you having a good time?"

"I'd rather go back to your place and have a better time." Tossing a wink at her, I lift the glass to my mouth.

She makes a purring noise and slides across two of her friend's laps, laying her head on my thighs. Her long, thick, blonde hair fans over my legs as she nuzzles my crotch. I drop my head back onto the couch and close my eyes as arousal heats my thighs. Hands caress my chest and damp lips press against my neck.

At first, I don't think about the fact that Kristy's face is still nuzzling, so it can't be her kissing me. When the lips press against my mouth, my eyes shoot open. Instead of Kristy's dark brown, I'm looking into summer-sky blue.

This wouldn't be the first time a third joined us—hell, a fourth—but my arousal instantly flees. I shove the girl away and she squeaks in protest.

"What's wrong?" Kristy asks, popping out of my lap.

"I'm not in the mood." Bringing my tumbler glass back to my lips, I drain the last of my watered-down drink.

"Not in the mood?" Kristy straightens, eyeing me suspiciously. "Since when, are you not in the mood to be fucked by two women?"

With I shrug, I sniff and set my glass on the low table in front of us. My buzz is wearing off. "Just not."

"Fine," she huffs. Slipping from the couch, she puts a hand out to her friend and pulls her up from the sofa. Her angry eyes shoot back to me. "I'll just find someone who won't turn the two of us down."

"You know I don't share, Kristy." Narrowing my eyes on her, she tosses a haughty look over her shoulder before moving into the crowd. "Kristy?!"

Fuck, she's crazy. Why do I put up with this shit? My head spins. Christ, I need a bump.

Growling, I stand from the couch and blend into the gyrating crowd in search of her.

Bodies grinding, sliding, sweating…the atmosphere once held appeal. The VIP treatment, celebrities, music, girls, drugs and drinks—this place was so locked down, you could get away with almost anything in here. And Kristy was the one who showed me the way. It had been exactly what I thought I needed and wanted. To get lost in numbness. To feel without fear. I used to get that here. But now? Fuck. Now I was dealing with a six-foot blonde woman known for her tantrum throwing tendencies. I swear, holding her breath and stamping her foot was not out of the question.

"Kristy?!" She and her friend are grinding against some young pretty boy who has his hands in all the wrong places. Wrong, because she’s here with me and while we may dabble with other women in our bed, there are no other men involved.

The look she gives me is pure defiance and the hand she slips to his crotch is done to taunt me. "Don't you think it's hot to watch me with another guy?" Extending her tongue from her mouth, she leans forward and licks the kid's neck. His head drops back and his mouth parts, his visible hand high on her bare thigh.

"You know I don't," I growl, and step closer, pulling her off the pretty boy.

"Don't grab at me!" She pulls away from me, her arm quickly slipping free. "You know, I let you have other women and don't say a thing."

"It was your idea for the threesomes and you chose the girls," I argue back.

"If I let you choose the girl, can I choose a boy? We could pick a couple to—”

"No," I growl. Her eyes narrow.

"Fuck you, Jackson! You don't own me. I could find ten other guys who would love to share me." Crossing her arms over her chest, she stands defensively.

"So, this is how it's going to go now." It's not a question. "You want to be treated like a whore, be my guest. But you won't be my whore." Turning, I leave her on the dance floor, still fuming.

"Jackson!" she screeches, her voice actually louder than the thumping music. "Jackson Shaw, do you know what you are giving up?!"

Without turning around, I give a wave over my head. This trip to L.A. couldn't come at a better time. I'll gladly put up with tone-deaf and uncharismatic wannabes if it means getting away from this shit.

Apparently, no woman in my life can be happy with me. Hopefully, Randall can hook me up with a few rails of the good shit. This shit she brought isn't doing a damn thing.

Chapter Two

Jackson

Walking through LAX, I try to stay incognito—black beanie hat, dark glasses, my *NSYNC t-shirt, just for laughs, and jeans. However, at almost seven feet tall, it's virtually impossible not to stand out.

The cameramen move in, fans try to slip next to me for pictures and autographs. Even with the bodyguard assigned to me during this trip, they still push and shove. It doesn't bother me. In fact, it's pretty flattering. But when the paps start with the questions, I want to slam the cameras into their faces.

"Jackson, is it true you are in town to meet up with Laney?" one overweight pap calls out.

"No comment," I growl. Of course, she's fucking here.

"Are you here to stop her from marrying Hollywood's golden boy?"

"No comm—”

She's getting married?

"Were you invited to their secret ceremony?" another pap shouts.

"No, I wasn't." Gritting my teeth, it takes everything in me not to lash out.

"Is there anything you want to say to Laney and Chanse on their special day?" This time, it's an attractive man with a video camera following him. He looks familiar and it only takes a minute to recognize the well-known web-based gossip show host.

"Best wishes," I call out, and slip into my waiting car.

Settling back into the leather seat, the divider window lowers.

"You okay, boss?" The bodyguard-slash-driver, who identified himself as Sam, twists in the front seat to look over.

"Call me Jackson. I'm cool."

With a nod, he turns to the steering wheel, starts the car, and pulls out.

Just as I lay my head back, my phone rings. Fuck.

"What, Chris?" I sigh.

"It's Mia."

"Why are you calling me on Chris' phone?" There's no hiding the annoyance I feel.

"I knew you wouldn't ignore him." She forces a laugh. "No matter what, you guys are always there for each other. It's why he loves you so much."

"Mia, if this is about the argument before I left, you should know it's all good."

"Oh, I know. It's just…well, bloggers work fast."

I growl and drop my chin to my chest, using the pad of my thumb and index finger to rub my eyes. "They got that broadcasted quick enough."

"She's not, you know?"

"Why would I care?"

"Jack, come on. I know you still care. I just want you to know she's not."

"Is she in L.A.?"

Silence. It's the only response I need.

"So, she's here and she's with this Chanse guy." Not a question.

"Jack, she's—”

"Give me my phone!" Chris yells in the background.

"Stop it!" Mia yells back.

"Hey, man," Chris says, gaining control of his phone. "Fuck that whore."

"Christopher…" Mia’s warning is muffled.

"Baby, this is between Jack and me. Listen, don't think or worry about her. L.A. is huge and you won't see each other."

What do I say? What am I supposed to say? That part of me wishes I would see her? Granted, it's the sick, masochistic side, but it still wants the very thing I shouldn't.

"You still there?" Chris barks.

"Yeah, I'm here. Are you done now?"

"Did you get in touch with Xavier?"

"Yeah, before the flight. We’re going to meet up at the hotel. He wants to visit some club Redman's thinking about investing in."

Xavier Stone was the drummer for Corrosive Velocity, which was not only the first band we went on tour with, but the first where we were the opening act. Xavier had taken Chris under his wing early on in the tour. He was only a few years older than us, but had been on the tour circuit five times—he knew the ropes. We learned good things that first year, and some bad—Redman, their road manager, kept us in line and protected from too much trouble with Nicholas, though. The last time we'd all been together was for their lead singer's funeral five years ago.

Ethan Crowne had ignored his headaches and vision problems until it was too late. The best doctors tried chemotherapy and experimental treatments, but nothing worked against the brain tumor. When Ethan opted for surgery, everyone knew the risk was too great. Hell, finding a doctor to perform the surgery took forever. Corbin, Ethan's twin brother and fellow band mate, almost had him talked out of it. One hour into the surgery, Ethan was gone. Corrosive Velocity fell apart and each member went on to do solo projects.

Xavier now co-owns a small studio with his best friend, Randy, who was also the bassist for the band.

"Tell him I may be out that way while you're staying there. We'll have to get together."

"You going to introduce him to Mia?" A small smile creeps up the corner of my mouth.

"Fuck no. Lord knows he will use her to mess with me," Christopher scoffs.

My small smile blows up to a full, tooth-revealing grin. Chris and Xavier always messed with each other's women, until Xavier got married. But even then, Chris messed with his now ex-wife, Maria, just to piss around. Nothing ever happened between them, but Chris would flirt a little too much just to rile him up. Thank God Maria was a good sport.

"True, he would, especially now that he's divorced."

"Exactly. Well, tell Red and Xavier they still owe me a drink."

"Okay, but I need a favor."

"Like?"

"Like keep an eye on my mom and Nic. I'm still not sure what's going on with them."

Their behavior is still causing concern. The worry often lining Nic's eyes, the quiet looks they would share when I last visited, and the way their happiness seemed false. Shit was off and they weren't sharing what the fuck is wrong with them.

"Me either, but I'll keep watch."

"Thanks."

"Just stay away from that bitch." Chris ends the call without a goodbye. Typical.

Sitting back into the seat, I close my eyes and tried not to think about Laney or Kristy. "Are you here for the wedding?" How do I get that out of my mind? And why do I care so much? Kristy was supposed to make all of it go away. Instead, I find myself easily leaving her behind without a second thought. Yet, Laney—fucking Laney—still knows how to rip me back open.

My cell blares from the seat next to me just as Sam announces our arrival to the hotel. Glancing at my phone, I see her number. It takes everything not to hit the decline button and send her ass to voicemail, but I've had enough.

"Quit fucking calling me," I greet.

The catch of her breath tugs at feelings I wish would die already.

"It's over, Laney, your choices are made and I'm not going to be best fucking friends with you."

"I just…" she hiccups.

"I don't care what 'you just'. In fact, I fucking hate hearing your voice, seeing your number show up, and…fuck, if I hear you say you're sorry one more time, I'm going to stab guitar picks in my ears," I say, my rant starting strong, but ending on a desperate plea.

Her sob goes straight to the unwanted feels in my chest. Fisting the material of my shirt just above my heart, I regroup and focus on my anger.

"We aren't going to be friends. Leave me the fuck alone."

"I know you can't forgive me, but I hate to lose the—”

"You know what? I hear a lot of I's from you. You're such a selfish bitch," I bark the last word. "Hate is all we have and loss is all that’s left. Don't call me again, Laney. Just leave me the fuck alone."

I press the end button, not allowing her to make any further attempts.

The back door opens and with a deep breath, I climb out of the car, shoving my cell into my pocket. Why would she call? Did she see the footage the gossip site put up? Fuck, I can't get to my room fast enough.

I'm thankful for my dark sunglasses as I look up at the Bel-Air hotel. The sun has come out in full, eye-burning force and I'm still feeling the effects of partying withdrawal. Sam clears his throat, a noise made to get me moving. The sounds of camera shutters and murmurs of the gossip leeches finally force me into the hotel.

I step into the lobby, the cameras and questions silenced with the shutting of the glass doors. A small crowd turns to watch the commotion of my arrival while others carry an air of being too important to worry about me.

"G-good afternoon, Mr. Shaw." A small, round-faced girl with dark black hair done up like a 1950's pinup appears next to me, her right hand outstretched, her left holding a black leather portfolio. "I-I'm Julia, your personal assistant."

"I don't remember asking for an assistant." I keep my hands at my sides.

Her face drains of color and she drops her hand.

"T-the sh-show provides—”

Jesus, I'm making the girl a nervous wreck.

"Hey, sorry. I'm a dick." Putting my hand out, I wait for her to take it.

"I would never call you—”

"You might not, but you should," I laugh.

A tentative smile forms on her lips. She takes my hand and shakes firmly.

"So, what's the plan?" I slip my arm over her shoulders and walk toward the concierge waiting near the elevators. The nervous look on his face and the way his eyes watch me are the first clues he's waiting for me.

"Well, sir—”

"Listen, Julia, first things first, it's Jackson or Jack, not sir. Got it?" I wink.

"Okay, Jackson." She smiles. "This is William." She motions to the concierge. "He’ll be taking us up to your suite."

"Great." I pull my arm from Julia’s and clap my hands together, rubbing them. "Let's get going."

"Welcome to the Hotel Bel-Air, Mr. Shaw." William nods. "If you would, please follow me." He motions to the open elevator door behind him.

We step into the elevator and my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. The last thing I need is a voicemail from her.

"Julia," I say her name a bit abruptly, causing her to jolt in surprise. "What's on the schedule?"

"Tonight, you have plans to meet with Mr. Stone. I've arranged for a car to retrieve him and be here by eight to pick you up."

The surprise on my face stops her.

"Is there a problem?" Julia chews on her lip.

"How did you know about my plans tonight?" Furrowing my brow, I try to think of how she might have found out.

"It's my job to know." She winks.

I laugh. I like this girl.

Eliza Campbell

"Liza, you should've let me enter you," Sid whines without looking at me. Her eyes stay on the iPad as she goes through the contestants in the latest reality music show sweeping the internet: Hidden Talent. "Some of these people suck. I mean, they must have their whole hillbilly, redneck, mountaintop-wood-mutant family members voting for them." Her head pops up. "Huh, I didn't think you could get the internet in those backwoods areas."

"I've got enough to deal with without the reality show drama." Shaking my head, I continue hanging up today's clean clothes on a fifteen dollar clothing rack between my son and younger brother's rooms.

"You could win, I know it." Sid appears next to me, grabbing my son's clothes from a basket and taking them into his room. "There are so many shitty voices that are going to get to the next level. I swear, I don't know what people are thinking."

"I'm sure you made your feelings known," I laugh.

"Of course I did—on my blog, Twitter, Facebook, their site, and a few other necessary locations." She stands in the bedroom doorway with a look of self-satisfaction before leaning down, grabbing my brother's clothes, and walking into his room.

Sid, my wonderfully outspoken cousin, was visiting me in L.A. when an internet site began taking submissions from singers who wanted a chance at stardom. The catch? You have to sign on for public criticism, fan voting, and six weeks of live taping if you’re chosen into the final twenty, which would be unveiled to the public for the final judging. And all of this while living with a group of competitors and being mentored by people from the music industry.

"Of course you did." I pick up the empty basket and walk down the small hallway, stopping at the bathroom where I find the damp towels left on the floor by the boys this morning. "Looks like it will be one more load today."

The worn couch, which also folds out to become my bed, sags under my weight.

"You need a washer and dryer." Sid sits next to me.

"Where do you suggest I put them?" I laugh, thinking about the size of my small two bedroom apartment. I'm surprised Sid fits when she visits.

"True," she giggles. "Your place is way too small."

Blunt as always, but I still love her.

"You need a new place." She looks at me with narrow eyes. "If you would've let me enter you, you could be on your way to fame and fortune right now."

"Yeah, okay." Kicking my feet up on the second-hand coffee table, I take a look at the small open space doubling as the living room and my bedroom. "It's not that bad." I shrug.

"Liza, why the hell don't you come back to Pittsburgh with me?" Sid turns on the couch, facing me. "Mom would help you out until we found you—”

"Your mom has done enough," I argue, giving her a frown. "She's the only one who cared when I was pregnant. I'll never be able to repay her for everything she did."

"Your poor excuse for parents should've been there for you," Sid grumbles. "But, anyhow, I hate seeing you struggle."

"I'm not struggling." Sighing, I lay my head back on the cushion and roll it to face her. "My apartment may be small, I may not have a washer and dryer, and it may not be glamorous, but I don't struggle."

"You know what I mean," Sid whines. "You have a voice that could open so many opportunities, but you work at a run-down burlesque club in East L.A. instead."

"Hey, you like coming to Lux Hedonica."

"Yes, but I still think you are better than the club," she huffs. "Besides the fact that Miss Jazzmin takes center stage, yet you could out sing her any day of the week."

"She's been the lead for years." Turning my head, I look up at the ceiling. We have this discussion every time she visits.

"And she'll stay that way now that she's married to your boss," Sid growls.

The couch cushions shift as Sid stands up, walking toward the kitchen. Since the only thing separating the rooms is a breakfast bar with seating for two, I see her pull out the last of the cheap wine.

"But you'll still be there tonight and you know it." I walk to the breakfast bar just in time for her to set a half-full glass of wine on the counter in front of me.

"It's my last night here, obviously I'm going to come watch you." She rolls her eyes and sips at the blackberry merlot.

"Then shut up, you hypocrite." Grinning, I take a sip of my own wine.

"I never said I made sense, but I am always right." She gives me her largest smile.

I shake my head and laugh.

"I'm going to miss you," I admit, sobering at the thought of her leaving again.

"Well, you will have to come visit me. You need to come see my new apartment once I move in," she says, forcing a smile. While I know she's excited about the new apartment she found, she, too, hates leaving.

When I found out I was pregnant with Lucas at fifteen, it was her mother, my aunt, who took me in after being kicked out by my parents. A debt I could never, ever pay back, not that Aunt Charlene would expect it.

Sid and I have always been close, but it was during my teenage pregnancy when we grew to be more like sisters more than cousins. She was like a second mother to Lucas, giving up high school dances to babysit while I waitressed at a local restaurant.

"I'll try." It's my standard response. I haven’t been back to Pennsylvania since I was eighteen and old enough to pack Lucas and me on a bus to California.

Being a young mother made me grow up a lot, but I still held onto my youthful dreams of fame—making a name for myself as a singer and becoming a star. Then I'd be able to take care of Lucas and my aunt. Unfortunately, like most young girls in Hollywood, I learned too soon it wasn't like the movies.

I was rejected at most auditions, only landing a couple to find they would cut me later. Having a toddler with me also cost some opportunities, but my son always comes first.

At eighteen, I didn't have a lot of options. Not comfortable with stripping, I ended up waiting tables at a strip club. The hours were late and the crowd crude, but the tips were good. It was also easy to find a high school age girl in my building to sleep at my apartment with Lucas.

After waitressing for a little over a year, a co-worker, Anna, mentioned an opening at Lux Hedonica. Not fully understanding what burlesque and cabaret was at the time, I figured it was another strip club. I tagged along one afternoon when she applied and watched the girls practicing on stage. At that moment, I fell in love with the costumes, songs, and dancing. I inquired about being on stage and was referred to Thom, the owner. After singing and being shown a few dance moves to repeat, I was hired as a backup. So, I would waitress at the strip club and during the afternoons, rehearse with the dancers at Lux. When one of the girls quit, I got to take her spot. For six years, I've been an active entertainer at Lux.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's what you always say." She gives me a knowing smile. "How are things with Kelvin?" She leans forward, placing her elbows on the counter.

"He's eighteen. How do you think they are going?" I snort, and take another drink from my glass.

My brother, Kelvin, came to live with me four years ago after my mother and father were killed in a car accident. Aunt Charlene tried to convince him to stay with her, but after his second attempt to run away to California, she let him have his way.

Lucas and I welcomed Kel with open arms, but I was definitely afraid of having a five-year-old and fourteen-year-old boy under my care. It's not like I made a bunch of money. Thankfully, my social worker found this two bedroom apartment, available to the housing authority, and was also able to help with assistance.

"So, he's still adamant about going to work full-time instead of college?" Sid asks with a sigh.

"Unfortunately. He thinks he needs to 'earn his keep' around here." I shake my head. "I wish he would take the tuition assistance we can get and go to college. He's too smart to get stuck washing dishes and bussing tables." I drain the last of my wine and place the empty glass on the counter.

"Time to finish the laundry?" Sid's lip curls in disgust.

"Yep." I nod.

"I hate the creepy basement laundry room." She shivers, emphasizing her statement.

"It's better than the laundromats around here." I raise my brow.

"Good point." She grabs the basket of clothes and walks toward the door. "Cross your fingers that Mick the Dick isn't down there," she calls over her shoulder, reaching for the doorknob and peeking out.

Laughing at the nickname she's given my creepy, perverted, but harmless neighbor, I exit the apartment with laundry soap and dryer sheets in hand.

"Though, he is the only guy who's hit on me the entire time I've been here," Sid mumbles.

"Stop it," I say, cutting off the conversation before she can even get started.

Sid may be bold and outspoken, but she holds an underlying insecurity: her weight. Being five-foot-four and roughly one hundred and seventy-five pounds—not that she would ever tell me her exact weight—she considered herself short and fat. Fact is, Sid's a curvy girl. But what she fails to see is the way men and women both eye her curves. Her rounded hips and butt draw almost as much attention as her double D chest. At least fifteen pounds alone was due to her cup size. She is a short, old school Hollywood starlet reincarnated as a computer and graphic art nerd.

"What? It's true. Your creepy neighbor is the only one who has hit on me," she snorts. "With you around, I can't get any attention."

"Didn't I tell you to stop?" I shove the laundry soap into the middle of her back.

"Ow, that hurt. I could've fallen down the steps." She sticks her bottom lip out.

"We aren't even to the stairs yet, drama queen," I laugh.

"Close enough." She shrugs, raising her chin.

We reach the stairs and descend to the laundry room level. As if we're on a spying mission, Sid tiptoes into the room, practically pressing her back against the wall.

"It's clear," she shouts, dropping the basket in front of an empty washer.

Stepping forward, I start loading the machine.

"Will tonight's show be the same? Or will it be something different?"

"Tonight will be different since it’s Friday night. We'll go more modern, rather than the old school burlesque route. Next weekend will be old school stuff. It switches back and forth." With the last towel in the wash, I push in the coin tray and turn the washer knob to start the cycle.

Sid starts mumbling something under her breath.

"What now?" I jump up to sit on the washer.

"Oh, nothing. It's just a luck chant an old college roommate taught me." She shrugs.

"A chant?"

"Yeah, a chant. Too bad I don't have a curse for Jizzswallow." Her grin is mischievous and infectious. Soon, I'm smiling with her.

"Leave Jazzmin be, she's not so bad." Shaking my head, I jump off the washer. "Come on." I motion for Sid to follow. "I'll come back down in twenty to throw this stuff in the dryer. Lucas will be home soon."

"Is it that late already?" Sid asks, looking at her bare wrist. "I do need to spend some more time with him before we leave for the club."

"He'll love it."

Chapter Three

Jackson

After going over my schedule for the next week, Julia informs me of a package left by a guy named Randall and motions to a table near the entryway. Quickly, I make an excuse to retreat to the bathroom, snatching up the paper wrapped package along the way. Once in there, alone with my thoughts, I dig through my black carry-on bag until I reach my brown vial. Taking it out, I refill the little bottle and scoop some up before stashing the package back into my black leather bag. Two bumps later, I'm in a steaming shower, feeling remarkable.

When the car arrives at the hotel, just as Julia said it would, my mood is lighter and carefree. Coming face-to-face with Xavier brings back a ton of memories. I can't fight the smile taking over my face.

"My man." Xavier grasps me by the forearm. "Fuck, it's been too long." He pulls me in for the one arm bro-hug.

Flashes of light surround us, causing us both to slip quickly into the car. Damn reporters!

"Well, you let your hair grow, even tried to cover your face, but the beard doesn't hide that you're still ugly as fuck." Laughing, I settle into the backseat of the limo.

"Look here, you overgrown bastard." He flips his middle finger up, the smiley face tattoo complimenting the smile on his face.

"I don't fuck on the first date. Oh, wait, how old are your daughters?" I grin.

He scowls.

"Their only thirteen, you fucking pedophile."

I put my palms up between us. "Okay, so I've got five years."

"More like only if I'm dead, you little fucker."

"Little?" I raise my brow. "Have you seen the size of me?"

I gesture to my crotch.

"Christ, you haven't changed a bit, have you?" His scowl melts into a grin.

"I'm a bit wiser." Shrugging, I see the look on his face. I know exactly where he's going to go and I'm powerless to stop it.

"Listen, man, I'm sorry about that Laney shit. You don't need that bitch. She didn't deserve you." He shakes his head, furrowing his brow.

"No big deal." My voice cracks unintentionally, but I shrug it off.

"Yeah, sure. Besides, you just have to get over that whore, ya know?"

I snort.

"What?" He gives me a curious look.

"Nothin'." With a shake of my head, the conversation changes.

We talk for the next forty minutes about old times on tour and I don't miss the edge of sadness in his voice. He clearly misses the band. Instead of opening up old wounds, I change the subject by asking where the hell Red has us going tonight.

Xavier grasps the subject change like a fucking lifeline. He tells me Redman will meet us at the club and is really serious about taking over the ownership. He also discloses that this is the first time he's asked anyone to come check the place out.

We pull up to a rundown brick building in East L.A. Stepping out of the car, I hear and feel the music coming from inside. Above two black doors, an arched red and purple neon sign flashes the words Lux Hedonica with a neon-lit pinup girl kicking a leg next to the name. Xavier and I look over to each other at the same moment.

"This is really it?" I raise one brow.

"Yep," he sighs, looking back toward the building. "It looks like a rundown strip club."

"I was thinking the same thing."

"The kind with cracked out, flabby strippers?" He catches my eyes again.

"Remember that one in Idaho?" I crack a smile.

"When we had that stripper with the C-section scar give Chris a lap dance?" He starts chuckling.

"That's the one," I laugh.

The poor girl tried to cover the scar with a poorly done tattoo, and it had clearly not been long after she'd received either of the marks. Christ, we'd been some major assholes then.

Walking through the doors, we're greeted by two large men dressed in black. They eye us both before allowing us to walk by. Next, we come to a wisp of a man in a top hat and a sleeveless red tuxedo.

"Welcome to Lux Hedonica. This evening you will be thoroughly entertained by our lovely display." Everything about this man is over the top, but it works.

"We're supposed to meet a friend. Redman." Xavier takes a small step forward.

"Ah, yes. He is expecting you in the VIP booth." With the removal of his hat and a grand bow, he extends an arm out, directing us to continue. As we pass, I notice the intricate dragon tattoo wrapped around his bald head.

"They have a VIP booth?" As I ask the question, my eyes soak up the velvet-lined walls. There are pictures of different dancers—some wearing feathers, others lace, and some with thin straps of material and tassels. The women are attractive, not strung out and withered. I'm getting a better feeling about this place.

"Well, fuck me," Xavier exclaims, pulling my attention forward.

Before us is a large room laid out with lush red, purple, pink, and gold. Red and pink velvet couches, lined with black leather, fill the area five feet from the stage. Black tables and chairs covered in gold lace rest around the stage and just outside the couch area. A large gold and crystal chandelier hangs in the center of the room. Along dark purple velvet-lined walls, are plush red booths with round, black tables at the center of the booth, a gold lantern light hanging from above each one. Large antique, gilded mirrors sit behind each of the booths.

My eyes land on Redman, just as Xavier announces he sees him. We walk toward the largest booth in the room. It has a direct view of the stage and sits on an elevated platform.

As we move closer to the table, the bar comes into view. Shiny black and gold detail wrap around the curved bar. Red velvet stools line it. Two men and one woman, all dressed in black vests with gold chains, tend to the patrons who've arrived.

"Hidden little gem, isn't she?" Redman exclaims once we reach the table.

"Jesus, man, I thought this was going to be some shithole, but…well…fuck. How did you find this place?" Xavier slides into the booth.

"Fucked a girl who tried to get a job here and came to check it out one night." Redman beams. "I couldn't believe this place."

"So, you just asked the owner to sell it to you?" I ask, sliding in on the other side of the booth.

"Jack, how the hell are you, man?" I clasp his offered hand and release. "Actually, I became a regular and got to know the owner. When he mentioned selling, I jumped on that shit."

"You definitely wouldn't know this was inside," I chuckle.

"It needs some work, but mostly it just needs some PR." Redman waves a hand in the air and a girl in tight black pants and a purple satin corset appears.

"You want another, doll?" She smiles, bright white teeth flashing from behind burgundy lips.

"Definitely. What do you guys want?"

"I'll have beer, whatever is on tap," Xavier responds, but his eyes stay on the girl's chest, which is pushed up tight and bulging.

"Same here," I say, finally finding my voice. Fuck she's hot.

"You guys like that, just wait till you see the show. No super skinny, over inflated tits on these girls." He shakes his head and smiles. "These are real women with curves for days. Thom is brilliant in his recruitment."

"When does the show start?" I ask, looking around at the barely filled tables.

"In about twenty." Redman licks his lips. "The place will fill up. It always does on Friday and Saturday nights, but I think it could do better."

Silence lingers for a moment, just before Redman goes straight into the topic I hate most.

"Hey, Jack, heard what the bitch did. She supposed to be with some dude in Hollywood now, right?"

I shrug and furrow my brow. Why is this topic always up for discussion?

"I know it sucks, but trust me, you'll get over it. Hell, you have that hot little model chick, right? And this place will—”

"Laney was the one, Red. How do you replace that? How do you move on? That's right, you don't." Slouching back into the red velvet booth, I toss back the last of my drink. "What you do, is find something or someone bearable enough to focus on. Unfortunately, in my case, I wasn't enough for her either."

"Sorry, man, I didn't mean—”

"Let's just change the fucking subject. I'm okay if we just don't talk about the…about her."

"Yeah, sure."

For the next ten minutes, Redman discusses his ideas and plans for this club and we barely notice the increasing crowd.

When the music changes to an old fashion bump and grind, my eyes land on a small band off to the side of the stage. The lights dim and a hush falls over the patrons. A stocky man approaches our table.

"Thom," Redman motions for the man to sit, "these are two friends of mine. This is Xavier, an old bandmate, and this is Jackson, a longtime friend of ours. Guys, this is Thom, the current owner."

"Good evening, gentlemen. I hope you will enjoy the show. I'm afraid we've had to make a bit of change up tonight."

"A change?" Redman sat up straight. "Why?"

"Well, I'm afraid my wife has become ill and cannot perform. I've asked a couple of the girls to step in for the night." Thom smiles, but the twitch in his cheek gives away his nervousness.

"Your wife?" Xavier asks.

"Thom's wife is Jazzmin, the lead performer. She's pretty amazing." Redman furrows his brow. "Who is going on instead?"

"Well," Thom clears his throat, "we've had to make a change to the format so the girls are more comfortable with the songs. Miz Liz will start off the evening, but I know you also enjoy Bette. She will come on for a solo as well. Since this is the modern weekend, I'm confident they can handle this."

"Miz Liz and Bette, huh?" Redman nods. "Bethany's good, but Liza is amazing! She's probably your best singer. No offense, Thom."

"No offense at all," Thom says, looking more relaxed now that Redman is too.

"Wait till you hear Miz Liz." Redman wears a huge grin. "This girl sounds like she swallowed a Baptist choir," he laughs, taking a drink from his beer.

The music changes and the room goes dark. Heavy beats drum through the air. Gold lights fade in on girls dressed in white corsets and thigh-high outfits strutting onto the stage in exaggerated motions of hips, legs, and arms.

The first raspy words fill the room with the appearance of one stiletto wearing leg from behind a black curtain. She steps into the bright white light like a sexy, dirty porcelain doll with curly white ringlets flowing down her back and over one shoulder. A black, lace corset wraps around her, pressing her tits high and round, and a black garter holds up red, lace thigh-highs.

The backup girls sing and dance around her, running their hands over her body. Miz Liz runs a hand up her tiny corseted waist, over the bulging mounds on her chest and the side of her face, pulling on a lace mask as she sings, "This is what you came for." Tossing the lace away, she gyrates and slides against the other dancers, making her way to the front of the stage.

She continues to sing about what they came for, taking more, thrilling her, and I can only stare at her red-stained lips. The stark color against her paleness is shocking and sexy as fuck.

At the edge of the stage, she sits and spreads her legs. Running her hands over the inside of her thighs, she flips the snap of one garter belt.

This one action causes a tightening in my jeans. Shifting in the booth, I seek relief, but quickly forget all about my efforts when two of the backups set themselves so Miz Liz can lay over them. Her back arches and another dancer pulls down one lace stocking, only removing the stiletto long enough to get the material off.

The removal is so riveting, I don’t notice the dancers untying her corset until Miz Liz starts to sit up while repeating the chorus. Still singing, she holds the piece of clothing to her chest.

Rolling herself, one hand on her chest, one red stocking on, she crawls ever so slowly across the front of the stage. With every arm reaching forward, the audience is given a hint of creamy, plump, white skin.

As the song comes to an end, she is at the edge of stage left. Miz Liz slides flat to her stomach as backups crawl over her and pull away her clothing. In the end, she lies stomach down, in nothing but sheer black panties.

The room goes dark once more and when the lights fade back up, the stage is clear.

The audience explodes in accolades.

"Damn, she's good," Redman says, breaking the silence at our table.

I can only nod in response.

She's captivating. Her stage presence commanding, charisma off the charts, and her heart shaped ass made my whole body rise to attention. Her voice is like a siren's call, a snake charmer's song. By the end of the performance, my chest rises and falls in heavy breaths, sweat dampening my forehead. I'm surprised I didn't blow in my pants like a teenage boy.

When the sounds of another song begin to play, I turn my whole body in anticipation. But this time, it's a brunette with short hair wearing a bunch of balloons. The audience near the stage is prepared and begins popping the balloons as she walks to a slinky beat at the edge of the stage. She playfully scolds them as they do and the crowd eats the shit up.

"This is a small performance, allowing time to set up the next. As I said, we had to do some last minute changes," Thom says in a rush.

"No, this is good for audience interaction." Redman nods to Thom.

Thom relaxes at the positive response.

Glancing to Redman, the smile he wears proves he meant it.

The moment the words, "Come here big boy," purr through the air, I know it's her. A spotlight casts a silvery glow around her. She sits backward in a chair, singing and moving provocatively. Slowly, she removes a military inspired short jacket and gloves. When the stage lights go up, I can't focus on the backups. Her voice is a spell casting over my mind and body.

Suddenly, she shoves the chair to the floor and walks off the stage, into the crowd. A bump and grind plays while she moves around the crowd, flirting with both men and women.

She sashays her gorgeous ass toward us and begins singing again. She removes more items of clothing until she stands in a camo bra-like top and high-waist camo underwear.

At our table, she puts her finger on the edge and drags it over before reaching out and taking my half-filled glass. She tosses it back and slams it on the table, growling about dirty boys. With that, she crawls onto the table, standing center before stepping over Redman's head onto a small black stage I hadn't noticed. Against the large gilded mirror, she slides up and down the surface asking…no, begging, for a spanking. In those damn pants leaving half her ass cheeks on display, my palm burns to comply. But the mirror flips and she disappears.

Swallowing hard, I reach for my glass to ease my dry mouth and cool my rising temperature. Then I remember she drained it. Reaching over, I take Xavier's beer and chug it.

"Hey, fucker! I was drinking that," he complains.

"Get another," I gasp, and close my eyes, trying to mentally will my dick to stand down.

The familiar sound of Jeff Beck's guitar riffs fill the air and the words "I put a spell on you" wrap around my neck, slide down my chest, and stroke my cock to life again.

Opening my eyes, I find her at the mirror behind Redman once more. This time, in a simple, slinky black dress with a hip-high slit and long, white gloves.

Slipping down, she sits on the small stage next to Redman and caresses his head. Turning his face to hers, she runs one satin covered finger across his face.

A fire roars to life inside me, wanting to rip her fucking hands off him. What the fuck?

The shock from the jealousy and possessiveness boiling inside of me replaces the lust. I sit, scowling, when she lies on the little stage and slips off to the floor behind me. Passing by me as if I'm not right here, she stops to kiss Thom on the forehead before moving to the big stage for her finish. The urge to slap the crimson lip stains from Thom's face sends another wave of shock through me.

Jesus, I'm acting like…like a…fuck, I'm acting like Christopher.

Back on stage, she unzips the back of her dress to the top of her ass. Jesus, I want to sink my teeth into her ass. I could spend days with that ass. And that voice. Christ, she hardens my dick and nipples in one note.

As she lets the dress drop, she pulls the corner of a velvet curtain around her body. Singing the final lust inducing note, she drops the curtain with her back to us and twists at the waist, only revealing her ass and a little side boob. Surprisingly, it’s more intoxicating than any full frontal nudity has ever been. This is a woman who holds power, enough to own me—cock, heart, and soul.

The thought clears my lust induced haze. There's no way another fucking woman is going to own my heart and soul. Not again. I'm not some fool who will let the same shit happen to me twice.

Grabbing my refreshed drink, I chug.

"Amazing, right?" Redman practically bounces in excitement. "This place is going to be a fucking gold mine. I'm right, right?" He looks to Xavier for reassurance.

"I wish I'd found the place first." Xavier chugs his replacement beer.

"I'm glad you liked the show." Thom stands from the booth. "Redman, we will talk later, yes?"

"Definitely," Redman puts his hand out and they shake. "I am one hundred percent in on this, my man." Satisfaction pours off him in waves.

"I'm relieved to hear it." Thom sighs in relief.

"Why relieved?" Red scrunches up his face.

"Well, when we had to change everything, I thought maybe you would be turned off—”

"Fuck no. Don't get me wrong, Thom, Jazzmin is great, but I doubt she’ll stay on very long after you sell. It's a relief to see the show will be just as amazing without her." Redman grins. "As a matter of fact, let's just get this worked out now."

"I should get going," Xavier says, sliding from the booth. "My mom is bringing the girls to my place tomorrow for a few days."

"Yeah, and I've got one hell of a day coming up with this singing show bullshit." I stand.

Redman slips out last and gives Xavier a one-armed hug.

"I'll talk to you later. Tell the girls Uncle Red says hello." Releasing Xavier, Redman pulls me in for a hug as well. "Don't be a stranger, man. Give me a call. We can hit this place again while you're in town. The show changes weekly, but I also have some ideas and I'd like to run them by you guys."

"Sure thing." I pat his back.

Stepping back from each other, I catch sight of some of the performers mingling with the crowd. My eyes suddenly have a mind of their own, scanning for her. Then I drop my gaze lower, looking for her ass. My heart and soul are off limits, but she can own my cock for a night.

Redman leaves us to see about his business and Xavier bumps me with his elbow.

"Yeah?" My eyes never stop searching.

"You ready or…what the fuck are you looking for?"

"Nothing." I shrug, but keep looking. "Just checking the place out."

"Yeah, okay. Well, I'm outta here."

I nod and mean to follow him, but I stay in my spot, searching instead. I shake off the weird need to search her out and looking around for Xavier. Realizing he’s nowhere to be found, I send a text to my driver and stop by the bar for one more drink before I head for the exit.

Outside, my car sits at the curb, the driver waiting as I sign some autographs. While taking some pictures with fans, two women walking by catch my attention.

"Did you even realize who was at that table?" The one with long, dark, wavy hair laughs. "I mean, let's just for a minute acknowledge that you just sang to two of the members from Corrosive Velocity and Jackson Shaw! Like, from The Forgotten, Jackson Shaw."

"Sid, keep it down." The other hisses so low, I'm almost unable to hear her.

Realizing this is my snake charmer, I slip into autopilot with the gathering fans: nod, smile, and sign.

"You've got to be more excited. I mean, the man is seven feet of lickable body graffiti. Whew! I'd climb his beanstalk any day."

I cover my laugh with a cough, not wanting to give away my eavesdropping. This Sid girl is fucking hilarious.

"You're awful." My snake charmer laughs.

"No, I'm horny. With the lack of horizontal action in my life, I'm worked up from watching you and the girls. Then for the fates to put rock star hotness just a few feet away and not one of them attainable…it's just not fair," she sighs heavily. "I don’t know how you could slink around their table and not be a big, sloppy, wet mess."

"Eww, gross, Sid." Her voice rises and the musical quality of the laugh following her words stirs my body to life.

Deciding it's time to formally introduce myself, I try to step around the fans. But they cram in tight and a bus rolls to a stop in front of them.

Fuck!

"What I wouldn't give to have your body!" the brunette exclaims, stepping onto the bus.

The comment brings my attention to her figure. Huh, there's nothing wrong with her. She's got amazing curves. Hell, she's Xavier's wet dream. It would be pure testosterone driven desire.

The blonde steps up behind her, scolding her for the comment. I continue weaving through the crowd, but by the time I get close enough, the bus is already down the street.

Sam, my driver, appears, moving in next to me. He herds the crowd and gives me a questioning look before motioning toward the car. Nodding, I let him guide me into the anonymity of the dark backseat.

Tonight, I'd go back to the hotel, but this wasn't the end of things. My snake charmer needs a lesson on how to sing my name while on her back beneath me.

Liza

"I'm serious, Sid, stop being so self-deprecating. There is nothing wrong with your body."

Sid snorts. "Please, tell me another one."

"I'm not spending our last night arguing with you." Sighing, I put my head back against the bus window.

"Okay, okay." Sid raises her hands in surrender.

The apartment is dark when we arrive, as it should be at this time in the morning. While I check on Lucas and Kelvin, Sid gets ready for bed. She’s leaving in the morning for the airport, and all I want is for her stay.

"Goodbye, Aunt Sid!" Lucas calls out as the taxi pulls away from the curb. Kelvin and I stand behind him, waving until the car rounds a bend and out of sight.

"Alright, we need to get a move on the day." Placing my hand on Lucas' shoulder, he turns and looks up at me.

"Do I have to clean my room right now? Brandon and Sean are biking over to the park. Can't I go with them instead?" he pleads as we walk into the apartment building.

I grab yesterday's mail from our box before we climb the stairs to the second floor.

"You can go after you've cleaned up the disaster." I narrow my eyes and purse my lips. "Do you know I found what I think used to be pizza in your dirty laundry bag?"

"Did you leave it there?" he asks over his shoulder, entering our apartment.

"Of course not!" He really thinks I'd leave that nastiness in his room?

"Then it's cleaned up already. Can I go to the park?"

Kelvin laughs from behind me.

Turning toward Kelvin, who’s leaning against the breakfast bar, I glare. "Don't encourage him." Then I twist back to my too-smart-for-his-own-good son. "Lucas, get your butt in your room and clean it."

"Fine," he growls, stomping off.

"I want all the cups and plates out of there and washed," I call after him.

His door slams.

"I’m going to beat his ass." Grumbling, I walk into the small kitchen, toss the mail onto the counter, and begin washing the breakfast dishes.

"You always say that." Kelvin hops up onto the breakfast bar, watching me at the sink.

"I know, but one of these days I am going to let him have it."

"Leave him alone. He's a good kid, acting like a kid."

Sighing, I drop my shoulders and turn to look at my brother.

"I wish you would act like a kid instead of trying to grow up so fast."

"Don't start again." He slides from his seat on the counter. "I already have a couple interviews lined up for better jobs and I'm going to take the test required by the city to try to get a job with them."

"Kel—”

"Liza, that's enough!" He turns to me with hard eyes. "You've taken care of me, of everything, for long enough. I want to take care of myself. I want you to be able to worry less and get a job better than walking around a stage naked."

Though I know he didn't mean it to, that hurt. I don't hate what I do. Performing is something I enjoy—love, even. I hadn't planned to do burlesque or cabaret style performances.

Having seen me flinch from his comment, Kelvin closes the distance between us in two large steps. He wraps me up in his arms, holding me tight, his chin resting on my head. It’s hard to believe he's so much taller than me now that he's an adult.

"I didn't mean it like that, sis. I'm sorry." He rocks us. "You know I didn't mean it like that, don't you?" Pulling out of the embrace, he looks down, worry creasing his forehead.

I pat his side. "I know. I just get a little defensive about it. I don't hate what I do and it's better than a lot of other jobs I could be doing."

"Liza, you're so much better than that club. I wish you would realize it and do something about it." He gives another firm squeeze before ultimately releasing me. "I'm going to go clean up my room before you threaten to beat my ass next."

"Ha-ha." I shake my head.

“If you ever get the chance for more, just promise me you’ll take it.” He grins, retreating to his bedroom.

Shrugging, I go back to the sink, wash the dishes, wipe down counters, and fold the pullout bed back into a couch. Then, the real cleaning begins. I have a lot to get done before this afternoon.

With the apartment in better order and Lucas finally finished scrubbing some sticky brown substance from his bedroom carpet, he’s dressed for soccer practice and slipping on tennis shoes while he waits impatiently by the door.

"If I'm late again, Coach is going to make me run laps." Jesus, he's only nine and I want to slap the teen out of his mouth.

"Hey, you’re the reason you were late last week, not me," I remind him. "When I say go straight to practice, that doesn't mean stop by Sean's house and wait for him so you guys can be late together."

Lucas opens the door, we step into the hallway, and I lock the door behind us.

"We didn't plan on being late," he argues, his voice lowering. "He couldn't find any socks, so I ran back here and got him some of mine."

Before he could push the button for the elevator, I grab him and pull him into a hug. "You're amazing, you know that?"

Lucas’ best friend since Kindergarten, Sean, lives with his disabled grandmother, Mrs. Johnson. She tries her best, but can barely take care of herself. His father is just as MIA as Lucas', but Sean doesn’t have a mom. Well, he does, technically, but she only shows up to collect her monthly check, get Sean's hopes up that she is sticking around this time, and get whatever she can from her ill mother. So, when Lucas says Sean couldn't find clean socks, that probably means the only pairs he has are now lost or beyond dirty.

"I'm going to be late." He pulls away. "And don't hug and kiss me when we get to the field." His scowl would be more convincing if there wasn't a hint of a smile on his lips.

"We should invite Sean to stay over," I say as we step into the elevator.

"Cool." Lucas shrugs, a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

We didn't exactly have a lot, but both Kelvin and I try to help Sean out as much as we can. And since it’s getting closer to the end of the month, I’m sure Mrs. Johnson is struggling. I'd have to make sure Lucas helps him pack most of his clothes—dirty and clean, so I can wash them while he’s distracted with video games.

Cutting it close, we run the final block to the park and make it just in time.

"See," I gasp for air, "just in time."

Before he can reply, I grab his head between both my hands and kiss his forehead. He swats at me.

"Mom," he whines. "What did I say about the kissing?!" Pulling away, he runs across the field, his green duffle bag bouncing against his back.

"Uncle Kelvin will be here by the end of practice," I shout after him.

Turning and jogging backward, he gives me two thumbs up.

His coach catches my attention with a wave, so I wave back. Coach Stan and his wife—the team mom—keep an excellent eye on the kids during practices. Knowing most of them come from this neighborhood of poor parenting and/or families who sometimes have two jobs just to cover expenses, they do their best to keep the boys all accounted for.

With a deep breath, I rush for the bus stop to run my afternoon errands and check in on Mrs. Johnson. When I finally arrive back home, I start dinner.

Chapter Four

Jackson

The ringing phone interrupts my velvety lace dreams of my snake charmer. Then comes voices combined with a knock on the bedroom door. I guess the day is starting whether I want it to or not.

"What?" Groaning, I sit up on the side of the bed.

"Jackson," Julia's voice is muffled by the closed door, "we need to get moving to the arena."

"What?" I mumble from the bed.

She begins talking through the door—again.

"Julia, open the damn door."

Julia enters the room. "Jacks—”

Having stood to stretch, I twist to see why she stopped speaking.

Julia's eyes travel up and down my body twice, her mouth hanging open.

I look down my body to make sure everything is in order. I'm wearing a pair of shorts, sans morning wood, so all is good. Turning back toward Julia, she holds a hand over her face, her cheeks flush.

"Christ, girl, I'm not naked." Chuckling, I shake my head.

"Sorry." She reddens further.

"No reason to be sorry." Scratching at the overgrown hair on my head, I walk toward her. "What's going on today?"

Julia doesn’t speak until I pass by and stand at a breakfast cart.

"Yes, today, the schedule." She finally collects herself. "You need to be at the arena this morning. The Morning Show will be there to interview the judges."

Nodding my acknowledgment, I sit down at the breakfast bar and start in on egg whites, pancakes, and hash browns covered in ketchup.

"Then you have a meeting at the studio to listen through some of the contestants who have qualified for the next stage. From there, you have lunch with the judges, as well as a radio and a local TV show appearance."

"Departure time?" I ask around a mouthful of eggs.

"We need to be downstairs in an hour." Julia moves to my side as she answers.

I shovel in the last of my food and push away from the table to stand, needing to get dressed for the day.

At the bedroom door, I turn back to Julia. Her eyes lock on me, an eager, ready-to-please expression on her face. I smile.

"I need a table at the same burlesque club I was at last night. Can you make that happen?"

She nods and begins typing away on her iPad.

Closing the door behind me, I dig through the closet and pull out my standard attire: dark jeans, white t-shirt, and black leather belt with my favorite oversized buckle with “Cock Fight” in bold silver. Slipping into black boots, I walk into the bathroom and wet my hair to gain some control over the mess.

"Fuck, I need to get my hair cut."

My eyes catch on my black leather bag. Licking my lips, I reach over and take out the brown paper package. Lining up a couple rails, I take care of second breakfast and wash any remnants from my face.

Shaking water out of my hair, I stride back out into the main area of the suite. Julia jumps to attention.

"I made arrangements with a Thom for your table at the club tonight." She grins in satisfaction. "He's pleased you will be joining them again and wants you to let him know if you have any requests before you arrive."

She looks at me expectantly.

"Oh, I have a request alright, but I don't think he can lay her out on the table for me." I grin down at Julia and her eyes widen. "But," I continue, "if he can arrange for the snake charmer spread out, I'll take it."

"Umm…" Julia stands completely still, even as I make my way to the door of the hotel suite.

"Julia?"

She looks up when I call her.

"Don't worry about it, sweetheart. I'm just being an ass." Smirking, I pull open the door to the room. "Come on, doll, we gotta get moving."

With a deep breath and a nod, she moves into gear.

And when Julia kicks into gear, she talks a mile a minute. From the itinerary for each meeting, interview, and meal, to assuring me she made the subject the interviewers weren't allowed to address clear. She's definitely thorough.

Inside the L.A. Memorial Sports Arena, an assistant shows us to a large waiting room. There is only one co-judge I know personally.

"Gemma," I exclaim.

Her bright, neon red head turns toward me, a large grin spread across her porcelain face.

"Jackson Shaw." Gemma excuses herself from the group, approaching me with open arms.

She wraps her arms around me and I lift her off of her high-heel clad feet, spinning her in a circle.

"Put me down, you beast," she laughs. "I think I'm getting a fucking nosebleed."

Smiling, I put her back on her heels. She grabs my arm and pulls me over to a couch.

To look at tiny little Gemma, with her neon red hair, black pin-up girl eyeliner, and bright red lips, you would think she’s a member of Hush. But hidden beneath the wild hair, elaborate make-up, and a multitude of tattoos currently hidden by her clothes, is the latest operatic sensation. The voice of this girl is unbelievable. Her range is out of this world.

"How you been, gorgeous?" I sit on the couch next to her.

"Good." She shrugs. "Still can't believe I'm doing this type of show."

"How did you end up doing this?" I settle into the plush leather, Julia flittering around the room with production assistants catching my attention briefly before I turn back to Gem.

"I'm about to star in a rock opera." She leans back into the cushion beside me, laying her head on it. "This is supposed to help bring it to the attention of the masses." Always one to talk with her hands, her arms stretch out at the end of her sentence.

"Well, I guess it will be pretty good publicity." I nod.

"What about you? How'd you get roped into this?" Her head, still resting on the cushion, rolls in my direction.

"Unanimous vote by band and management sentencing me to weeks of ear piercing headaches."

"Maybe it won't be that bad."

We stare at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

"Okay, so maybe at first it will be…"

"Excruciating?" I finish for her.

Laughing louder, we draw the attention of the other judges. As they begin gathering around, Gem and I stand from the couch, and introductions are finally made.

I know of these judges, but this is my first time meeting them in person. Melody Waymen: a tall, curvy, young, golden-blonde, who can't be mistaken for anything but a country girl. She has dominated the country music charts for the past four years and recently found some pop chart success. Gideon Thorne: an average-sized man with a broadnose and dark hair, who's produced some of the greatest artists at Bel Suono Studios—the sponsor of the show. Kamden "Big Kam" Miller hit the rap scene nine years ago, built an empire around his name, and has discovered at least five major rap artists. And Cheyenne Post: the most hard ass music critic around. To this day, I think even Chris gets nervous about her reviews in HITS magazine. Hell, the whole band’s balls shrivel up when she’s involved.

After the last introduction, I do a count.

"Someone missing?" I ask anyone who has the answer.

"Zar—”

Just as Cheyenne is about to answer, a tall, wide-shouldered man enters. He stands a foot shorter than me, his dark hair just brushing his shoulders.

"Cheyenne, you talking about me already?" With a broad grin, he winks at her.

She blushes. Holy shit, he just made the hard ass blush! I may love him, too.

"Hey, man." He steps toward me first, his hand out.

We clamp hands tightly and shake. The sleeve of his shirt pulls back, revealing some nice ink around his wrist disappearing beneath the fabric.

"Hey." I give a nod. "Jackson Sh—”

"No need to introduce." He releases my hand. "I'm honored to be in the room with you." His grin grows larger. "I'm Zarek Sisko, singer for Vehicle of Destruction."

"Fuck, man. I'm sorry." I'm such an ass. "Best New Artists 2013." I smile. Finally recognizing him, I feel like an ass cheek.

"No apologies necessary." Zarek turns to the rest of the group, greeting them. When he comes to Gemma, he pauses for a second and scowls.

"You," she growls from beside me.

"That's right, sweetheart. Me." A smirk tips the corner of his mouth.

"Are you stalking me now? And don't call me sweetheart!"

They step toward each other, facing off. The rest of us take a step back—a step way back.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart." Zarek's nostrils flare. "You aren't worth the effort to stalk." He crosses his arms over his chest.

"You self-absorbed, arrogant jackass!" Gemma closes the distance, clenching her fists at her sides.

Zarek leans close to her face. His lips move, but no one could hear. Except Gemma—she hears him. Her face reddens and she starts shaking. Her hand snaps back and across his face so fast, if you blinked, you missed it.

He grabs her wrist and yanks her against his chest. I step toward them.

"Okay, you guys don't like each other. We get it." Putting my arm around Gemma, Zarek's eyes go to my hand before they meet my face, anger flashing. "Let go, man."

For the briefest second, I think he might attack me. I don't know what the hell went on with these two, but I don't want any part of it.

"Calm down and let go. Don't do something stupid." I keep my voice calm and level.

He takes a deep breath, exhales, and turns to Gemma with a smirk. "This isn't over." Abruptly, he releases her and walks to the other side of the room.

"What the hell was that?" I look down at a flustered Gem.

"Nothing," she mumbles, pulling herself free of my arm.

"It didn't look, or sound, like nothing."

"It's nothing, okay?" she snaps.

Putting my hands up in surrender, I walk away. As I said, I don’t want any part of it.

"Jackson, I'm sorry," she calls after me.

I just lift my hand in a loose wave. I don't need this shit. Women are fucking crazy.

Sitting down next to Julia, I bury my head in my hands.

"When can I get the fuck out of here?"

"Good morning, everyone. Thank you for joining us today." I look up from my hands at the sound of a man's voice. "If you will all follow me, I will get you set up with your microphones."

He waits as we file out the door. I motion for Julia to exit before me and scowl at the man as he checks out her ass. When he sees he's busted, his eyes drop to the floor. Yeah, fucker, how do you know she ain't with me? You don't.

In a large, open space with multiple cameras and crew members, our interviewer, Meriwether Shay, sits, flipping through oversized index cards. We sit to the left of Meriwether in assigned director chairs. Crew members flit about, wiring us up and having each of us test the small mics. The gleam in Meriwether's eyes when they land on me tell me she's not going to hold back. So much for topics not to be discussed. This bitch is going to bleed me for everything she can get. With shaking hands, I feel around my pockets for the little brown vial of numbness and think of a reason to escape to the bathroom.

Liza

My bag for work is packed and the chicken macaroni bake is in the oven. Sitting at the breakfast bar, which is already set for three, I'm finally sorting through mail.

Junk mail, cable bill, phone bill, a manila envelope undoubtedly containing documents my case worker told me to expect, and a thick, white envelope. The junk mail goes unopened into the trash. Last time I checked, I am not old enough for AARP and I don’t need a preapproved credit card. Groaning, I open each bill and mark the due dates in my Dollar Store purchased monthly planner. Slipping from the stool, I put the bills in the wall organizer near the phone.

Already knowing the manila envelope contains papers I have to complete every year and return to our social worker, I pick up the white envelope.

I tear open the side and slide the papers halfway out as the oven timer goes off. Placing the papers on the counter, I silence the timer and retrieve dinner before it burns.

I burn my finger through the worn potholder and curse just in time for Luke to hear me.

"Ah, you kiss your baby boy with that mouth?" He chuckles.

Kel's laughter follows.

"Ha-ha, smart-butt." I set the hot dish onto the counter and grab a serving spoon.

"You’ve got to admit, it was pretty good." Kelvin slides onto the stool next to Luke, both of them facing the small kitchen.

"No, I don't." I dish out chicken macaroni onto each plate, trying not to laugh while Kelvin serves the salad.

"What's this?" Kel picks up the papers I have yet to look over.

Pushing the dish off to the side, I shrug. "I haven't been able to read them yet."

He unfolds the papers, then folds them back up quickly. The look he shares with Luke doesn't go unnoticed.

"Hand them over," I speak around a mouthful of food, my arm stretched over the spread before us.

"They can wait." He shrugs, pushing the papers off to the side.

Standing, I walk around the breakfast bar, grab the papers from the far corner Kel shoved them to, and move back to my seat. Before I can sit, I freeze, reading the words on the paper.

CONGRATULATIONS!

You have progressed to the next round in Hidden Talent! Enclosed are necessary documents needing your review and signature.

"What the hell did she do?" Falling back onto my stool, I keep flipping through the papers, not actually seeing anything but a blur of congratulatory remarks, signature lines, dates, times, addresses, and that damn logo.

"Who?" Luke chokes out, just as Kel asks, "What's wrong?"

I look up at them, my eyes still wide with shock.

"Sid! She entered me into that Hidden Talent competition somehow!" Standing quickly, I move straight to my bag by the door, dig around, and pull out my cell phone.

"What are you doing?" Luke jumps down from his seat, hurrying to my side.

"I'm going to give your Aunt Sid the biggest earful!" Scrolling to her name, I touch the screen to initiate the call.

"Mom, wait!" Luke protests, reaching for my phone.

"Go finish eating. I'm going to go cuss her out in Kel's room." I step to walk away, but Kelvin stands in front of me.

"Miss me already?" Sid's voice chirps.

"What are you doing?" I ask Kelvin.

"Um, working on designing the website I told you about," Sid answers in confusion.

"Not you," I speak to Sid, then angle the phone away from my mouth. "Move."

"No." Kel shakes his head. "We have something to tell you."

"We?" I ask.

Kel reaches out and pulls Luke to his side.

"What the hell is going on?" Sid asks, my phone still to my ear.

"I wish I knew. Sid, I'll call you back."

"No way, sister. Put me on speaker!"

"Well, what is it?" I look between the both of them expectantly.

Kel nudges Luke and he drops his head.

"Remember when we went to the carnival fundraiser?" He peeks from under his lashes. I nod. Clearing his throat, he continues, "And how they had those booths to record yourself singing?"

"You didn't," I gasp.

His head pops up, determination on his face.

"Mom, you are sooooooo good! All my friends thought so, too, when they heard you sing at the carnival. You deserve to be famous, to be a star."

"Holy shit, did he do what I think he did?" Sid whispers through the phone.

"Yes, he did." I take a deep breath and exhale.

"YES!" Sid's scream makes me pull the phone from my ear. "I love that boy, I tell you! He is just like me. I might cry." She fakes a sniff.

"Sid, I'll call you back." Before she can protest again, I end the call. Turning my attention to Kel, I ask, "You knew?"

He gives a nod. "He needed help filling out the forms."

I shove the phone into my back pocket. "Back to the table and finish dinner."

I ignore the vibration from my phone; Sid apparently trying to call me back.

My words are weak. I'm still attempting to process what my son and brother have done. It's not a bad thing. He did it with all the best intentions possible, but he also illegally forged my application.

Neither of them argues with me. We sit silently, none of us touching our food.

"Luke…"

"I know I shouldn't have filled the application out without telling you. But, Mom…" he pauses, and I focus on his face, "you deserve better than working all night at that club."

My heart aches. Lucas isn’t stupid and I don’t hide my job from him, but I've never provided details either. However, by the time he was old enough to visit friend’s houses, he was also old enough to overhear parental gossip. I knew there had been gossip about me when the news spread around. It was never a big issue, nor did anyone approach me about it—mostly because no one wanted to admit how they knew I worked at the club.

"I'm sorry I…I do what I do. I know it can be embarrassing for a boy—”

"You think I'm embarrassed by you?" he cuts me off with a hard worded question, matching the scowl on his boyish face.

"I'm sure it can be—"

"You’re totally not understanding me," he cut me off, again. "I'm not embarrassed. I'm proud you are my mom. Look at Sean, Mom. His mother runs off with all the money and lets him go without food or clothes. I've never lived like that, and it's because of you."

Unexpected tears fall from my eyes.

"I didn't mean to make you cry." Luke drops his head.

"I don't think she's sad, buddy." Kel wraps an arm around his shoulders.

"No, I'm not sad." I wipe the wet streaks from my cheeks. "I love you, Lucas, and you just made your mother cry happy mommy tears."

He smiles. "Then you won’t be mad about the papers?"

His hopeful expression tugs at my heart.

"You know that forging information is not something you should do, right?"

He nods. "Yes. I just knew you wouldn't do it. I had to do it."

"Finish your dinner before it gets cold." I start reading over the papers again.

"So, you'll do it?" Kel asks.

I look up from the papers. "After I read through this and see what's involved."

By the time we finish eating, we’re having a new debate.

"But Aunt Char would stay with us!" Luke argues as I slip on my jacket to leave for the club.

"Your great-aunt doesn't need to fly across the country to take care of my responsibilities. She's done enough for us."

"What about Sid? She'd come, too." Luke tries another tactic.

"She was just here for a week. I'm not going to ask her to take time out of her life to spend weeks here with you two so I can go lose a reality show." Sliding my bag strap over my head and into place on my shoulder, I palm both sides of Luke's face and plant a big kiss on his forehead. "Don't give Uncle Kel a hard time when he tells you to go to bed, okay?"

"Uncle Kel could take care of us while you go on the show." His eyes light up.

"You both have school and he has work. Listen, baby, it just doesn't seem like it's going to work out. Thank you for believing in me, though." I kiss him again and turn to the door.

"Night, Kel," I call over my shoulder, leaving for a crazy night at Lux.

Jackson

"Jesus, man, you look like shit."

It's only been a day, but Xavier looks like someone chewed him up and shit him out. Sitting, once again, at Lux Hedonica, we wait for Red to show up. He was more than happy to accommodate my request to visit again tonight as well as receive a proper introduction to the staff. Most importantly, one particular snake charmer.

"Yeah. I feel it, too." He rubs at the back of his neck.

"What's going on? You sick?" Leaning my forearms on the table, I shift most of my upper body weight forward, allowing the table to support me.

"No, I'm not." He chokes up a bit, something I wasn't prepared to come from the cocky bastard. "Maria's sick." His hands run through his hair.

"Sick how?"

His bloodshot eyes meet my blue ones. "She has heart problems."

"How serious?" I press.

"Serious enough she’s being hospitalized for surgery, but apparently not severe enough to fucking tell me about these issues until a week before the surgery," he growls.

They may have split up, but they worked hard at being close. At first, it was for the twins, but over time, you could tell while a marriage didn't work, their friendship was intact.

"Her husband called me because he didn't think it was right for me not to know!" He snorts. "Her new husband told me, but she hasn't. You believe that shit?"

I shook my head. Honestly, I wasn't sure what I would do in that situation.

"They haven't told the girls about the operation or anything. They know she's been sick sometimes, but Maria hides the seriousness. She's just going to send them for their week with me and slip into the hospital." Shaking his head, he tosses back the last of his drink.

"Why don't we get out of here?" I slide to the end of the booth and tilt my head toward the exit.

He shakes his head. "No, you stay. I thought this would get me out of my mood, but I don't think it's going to work."

I go to stand with him, but he motions for me to stay seated.

"Why don't you just call and talk to her? You guys are still close. Just yell at each other and then talk it out."

"Oh, I'll yell alright." He gives a mean laugh.

"Hey, man, just remember, she’s probably scared out of her mind and though this may not be the best way to handle everything, she's more than likely having a really, really hard time processing all of this, too."

Xavier's shoulders relax just a bit and he nods.

"You're right, but she should've told me."

I nod. "Yeah, I know."

"Tell Red I'm sorry." Then, Xavier is gone, lost in the sea of bodies that filled the club during our conversation.

The waitress stops by the table two more times before Red finally shows. He's wearing the same shitty grin he was yesterday.

"Where's Xavier?" Red asks, sliding into the booth.

"He just took off. Got some shit to take care of," I say, keeping it short. That story ain't mine to tell.

"His loss." Red motions to a waitress, who eagerly comes at his call. As the curvy, dark haired girl scurries off to the bar, Red settles into the leather. "So, it's all set. The transfer of the club should happen next month."

"Congrats, man."

"Thom's letting them know about the official ownership change before the show. Afterward, we'll head back so I can formally introduce myself."

"You haven't met the girls yet?" I raise one brow.

"As a customer, not as the new owner. I want them to be assured their jobs are safe. I mean, I have a few ideas for this place, but I'm not going to do an overhaul. Mostly, I want to get some better PR and curb appeal. I'm also going to see about some celebrity guests and shit." He shrugs.

"Sounds like a good start." I nod.

The waitress returns with drinks and takes my empty glasses.

"You think Mia or Hush would be interested?"

My eyes shoot to Red's face to make sure he's serious. I can't hold back my laughter.

"What?" he asks around his beer bottle.

"You think Chris is going to let Mia on that stage in lingerie?" I laugh, slapping the table.

"Who says I'm asking Chris?" Red lifts one shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Taking deep breathes, I calm my laughter.

"Just be prepared for him to charge the stage and carry her off. That's all I'm saying." I take a pull from the long neck bottle.

"Could be worth the publicity," Red states just before the lights dim and music fills the air.

"This is new," Red says to my back, but I'm already captivated.

Her voice already has me by the balls.

"I know you want me," she half sings, half purrs at center stage.

She's naked, except for black, silk, bandage-like straps around her chest and black, silk panties. Sheer panels sway around the platform she stands on. Backups sing "erotic" repetitiously from large, silk-covered platforms around the stage.

Wrapping her body in a sheer panel, the bandage-like strips fall away, giving a barely visible view of her body. She moans and I press my palm to my crotch to ease the pressure.

Again, she sings, "I know you want me."

Fuck yes, I want her. This show can't end quickly enough.

Chapter Five

Liza

"Jesus, girl, you were on fire tonight!" Bethany, or Miz Bette to the audience, sits at the cluttered dressing table next to mine.

Still catching my breath from the last performance, I only nod.

Bethany, Jazzmin, and I share the dressing room. It's the largest of the four private backstage rooms. We all do quick touch ups and changes in the common area, but for the most part, we each have our own dressing table. But with the news from Thom this evening, Jazzmin’s table would probably be empty soon.

"Do you think this guy is really going to be good for the club like Thom says?" Bethany asks, stripping the layers of stage makeup from her face.

"I don't know."

With a shrug, I sit up, take out a makeup removal wipe, and follow Bethany's lead.

"Ladies, can I please have you out in the main area?" Thom calls from outside our door.

In all the years I've worked in the club, not once has Thom walked in without knocking and waiting for a response.

Dropping the wipe, I stand, tying my robe tighter.

"How do I look?" Bethany asks, her hand grabbing my arm and pulling.

Turning to her, I see where she started removing her eyelash and tried to get it back on.

"Lean forward." I wave her toward me.

She does as I ask and I use my fingernails to put her lash back into proper place. Reaching over to my table, I grab a tissue and wipe around her eyes to even out the leftover makeup.

"There, all good." I smile to reassure.

She tightens her robe and we exit to the common area.

The rest of the girls and stage crew have already formed a circle in the common area. Bethany pushes her way through to the front, pulling me along behind. When she stops short, I bump into her.

"Beth," I hiss.

Stepping to the left and pulling me to her right side, I see why she stopped.

Center of the circle is Thom, Jazzmin at his side. And with them is the new owner of Lux.

"Thank you, everyone, for gathering so quickly. I know you all want to get out of here, but I feel it's important for you to formally meet the new owner." Thom motions to the wide-shouldered, tattoo-covered man with a shaved head, but it's the giant, lickable body art next to him capturing my attention. Jackson Shaw. And Jackson Shaw is looking right at me. Our eyes meet and a small twitch of his lip sends my heart into erratic palpitation. Thom speaks again and it's a physical effort to look away from Jackson.

"This is Steven Redman. Mr. Redman will officially own the club next month. However, you will see him for the next few weeks backstage, in the offices, behind the bar, so forth. Please be sure to treat him as you would me…well, perhaps a bit more boss-like." Thom smiles. "Mr. Redman, do you have anything you would like to add?"

The wide, thick wall of man takes one step forward. I fight to keep my attention on my new boss, instead of the man I can still feel looking at me.

"First of all, call me Red. No, mister or other shit. Second, I don't want any of you worrying about jobs. I'm not here to overhaul. I have some ideas, but none of them involve getting rid of staff. If you do your job and do it well, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You got me?" He looks around the room. "I said, you got me?"

Yesses come from all around the group.

"Christ, people, relax. No one's going to bite." His eyes shift toward where Beth and I stand. "Unless you want me to." He winks.

I blink at the comment. Beth giggles and I can't help but smile.

Subconsciously, my eyes move to Jackson. He's scowling at Red.

"Okay, with that out of the way, as Thom here mentioned, I'll be around, so don't be surprised if I ask you some questions. You guys are the experts back here, so I'm looking to learn from you. By the way, great show, everyone." Red turns and stops halfway.

"Oh, I forgot. This tall fucker is Jackson Shaw." Red throws a thumb in his direction. "Don't be surprised if you see him or other singers and bands around. I've been in the industry for a while, so I know some people." He winks, giving another smile.

Red turns to Thom and begins talking privately. The group takes this as the time to break up and go about our close up routines.

"If this place is going to fill up with celebrities, I'm going to fall off the stage," Beth whines. "I'll be a hot mess."

"You'll be fine." I loop my arm in hers.

"Beth, Liza," Thom calls.

We turn as he approaches with Red and—God help me—Jackson Shaw. I force my eyes to stay on Thom and not the tall, lean, billboard of naughty sin.

"Ladies, great job tonight." He smiles.

"Thank you," we reply in unison.

"This is Bethany and Liza, or Miz Bette and Miz Liz." Thom motions to each of us.

"It's a pleasure to meet you." Red extends his hand toward us.

Bethany takes it first, squeaking when he pulls her forward to kiss her hand.

Thom frowns for a second, but clears the look before stepping between Red and Beth, and reaching for a clipboard I know he doesn't really need.

"You both did fantastic tonight," Red praises.

"I'm glad you enjoyed the performance," I respond.

"Girl, you have a voice many singers would kill for." He smiles.

"Thanks." The heat climbing into my cheeks makes me uncomfortable.

"She was on fire tonight," Beth adds, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"It did get pretty hot." The drawl of Jackson's words sets off a flurry of butterflies in my stomach. Our eyes meet and the room fades away around us.

"Thom, we have a problem with the control board for the mirror stages." A crew member appears, breaking the moment.

Jesus, Liza. I shake my head. Quit acting like a twit who's never seen a boy before.

"Okay, I'll be right there." Thom nods.

"No, let's go now," Red insists, then turns to Jackson. "You good for a minute?"

As hard as I try not to, I look right at Jackson.

"Yep," he answers, keeping his eyes on me.

How can one word, one simple everyday slang word, melt my insides?

"Oh my," Beth whispers next to me.

At least I'm not the only one acting like a star-struck teenage girl.

Thom and Red walk away to examine the control board and Jackson Shaw takes one step…then two. I unknowingly back up, pressing myself against the wall beside the dressing room door.

His body is flush against mine, blue eyes boring into mine, trapping me in a lusty trance.

"Tell me, Liza, where do you go after you've seduced every person in the audience?"

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. My throat is so dry, I pant like an idiot.

From the corner of my eye, his long, inked fingers capture my hair, twirling it until it’s wound tight and pulling. For a moment, I fear the extension will fall out into his hand.

"Home," I blurt, grabbing the strand of hair from his fingers.

"Home," he repeats.

Finally, his eyes release mine and search my face. While he does this, I inspect the intricate lines and swirls of ink on his neck, until his art-covered limbs raise and trap me against the wall. His forearms on both sides of my head bring his face closer to mine. I press back, trying to create more space. My lips are so dry, but I resist the urge to lick them.

"What about breakfast?" His warm breath wafts across my lips, a touch of beer scenting his question.

Unable to fight my chapping lips any longer, I wet them. His eyes drop to my mouth and I quickly pull my tongue back inside.

"What about it?" The question comes out as a whisper of sound.

One side of his mouth lifts and I bite my tongue, fighting the urge to lick his half-grin.

"Have breakfast with me." It's not a question.

The slight pull tells me he's playing with my real hair, the carefully created curls slipping through his fingers. When his fingertips touch my scalp, I swallow a whimper. The act is so simple, but affectionate. And intended or not, it's been so long since I've received an affectionate gesture from a man.

"I really need—”

One of his fingers touches my cheek, tracing an invisible line to my bottom lip, surprising me.

"It's just breakfast," he says, watching his finger move over my chin and down my neck.

I grab his wrist.

"I really need to go home."

He looks from my hold on his wrist to my eyes and grins. Dropping his other arm from the wall, he places a hand on my waist. I tense.

"I'll have you home after breakfast." His body moves closer. "I promise."

"Th-th-thanks," I stutter, "but I can't—”

"Have breakfast with me, Liza."

The way he says my name makes my insides melt to goo. This is Jackson fucking Shaw and he wants to take me out for breakfast…or eat me for breakfast. I'm not sure which is the real offer, but I'm pretty sure I'm hoping for the latter.

The fingers of his right hand are back, twirling my extensions again.

"You know I don't look like this outside of the club, right?" I keep my eyes on his fingers, mesmerized by the way they move through the hair.

"I would hope you don't go out dressed in a robe," he chuckles.

"No, I mean, the costumes, the makeup, the hair."

His fingers untangle from the extensions and grip my chin. Bringing my face to his, he leans in closer.

"It's not the costume I want…" my breath catches, "to eat breakfast with," he finishes, a sly smile on his lips.

Suddenly, I feel like Little Red Riding Hood being seduced by the Big Bad Wolf. A seduction I'm falling into head first. A seduction I should turn from and never look back.

He licks his bottom lip and the heat of his tongue radiates against my bottom lip.

I nod. "Okay."

He leans forward, his body pressing against mine, his lips a breath from mine.

"How long do you need?"

I want to gulp down the words passing over my skin.

"Thirty—”

He pushes away before I even finish. My body arches, following his retreat, causing him to smile wide. Walking backward, his eyes never leave mine.

"I'll meet you out front in thirty minutes."

"You know I won't be wearing the corset, right?"

"This time," he responds, sucking on his lip ring before disappearing.

Closing my eyes, I lean back against the wall. Every part of my body pulses, some more so than others.

I just sold my soul…well, my body, all because his tongue almost touched my lip.

"Oh. My. God." Jennifer's voice causes me to open my eyes.

Groaning, I realize the audience we've had the whole time.

"I don't know how you held out as long as you did," Beth sighs from the door of our dressing room.

"I thought he would just fuck you against the wall." Nikki stands, wide-eyed and fanning herself.

I groan again and slip past Beth into our dressing room.

What am I doing? This is so stupid.

"Girl, what are you going to wear?" Beth is right on my heels. I can hear the smile in her voice.

"I don't know." I throw myself into my chair and look into the mirror. "What the hell am I thinking?" I ask the painted reflection.

"You’re thinking he's Jackson Shaw and you have been thoroughly seduced." Jennifer, or Madame J, as she's known on stage, appears to the left of my mirror.

"I can't do this." I shake my head.

"He's waiting right outside for you," Beth states, pointing toward the door.

"There's no way he's letting you get away." Nikki, also known as Lady Nikle, adds, entering the room with clothes over her arm. "We all saw the determination in that man."

"What are those for?" I furrow my brow at the clothes.

"You can't meet him in the leggings and tunic you wore to work today."

"She's right,” Beth agrees with a nod.

"I'll just sneak out the back and find a cab tonight." I turn in my chair, looking at the three of them.

"What will you do when he comes back to the club looking for you?" Beth asks.

"And, the most important question, why would you pass this up?" Jennifer looks at me as if I'm crazy.

"I have to get home to Lucas and Kel," I state matter-of-factly. "I don't have time to be a one night stand."

"They're in bed," Jennifer says.

"Kel's eighteen," Nikki adds.

"How long has it been since you've acted your age?" Beth sits in her seat next to me.

"Have you been talking to Sid?" I narrow my eyes.

"No, but maybe I should." Her response is sharp. "Go out to breakfast. You don't have to sleep with him."

They all start laughing, full on belly laughs. I roll my eyes.

"You so have to sleep with him," Jennifer snorts. "And I want details."

"Look," Beth gets my full attention by placing her hand on my arm, "go have breakfast. If you don't want anything more than breakfast, then don't do anything else. You get up from the table, say thank you, and leave the restaurant." She shrugs. "Though, you would be crazy not to. I mean, he's probably only in town for a short time. You do him, then lose him. It's perfect."

"Do him and lose him?" I ask, trying not to laugh.

She grins, grabbing a makeup wipe and bringing it to my face.

"We're running out of time."

The three of them swoop in to clean away the stage makeup and put everyday makeup in its place. They swiftly remove the extensions and let my real hair fall, touching up the curls with a wand.

When they finish, I’m wearing a pair of dark blue skinny jeans, light blue tank top, and a dark navy military style jacket. Slipping my feet into some nude wedges, I grab my messenger bag, slip it over my head, and reach for my work bag.

"I'll drop it off at your place." Beth grabs the bag and pulls it away.

"No, you'll wake up the boys." I reach around to snatch the bag back.

Lifting the strap to my shoulder, I reach out with my other hand and grab a hair tie, slipping it on my wrist.

"You look like a beautiful homeless woman," Jennifer sneers.

"Leave the bag," Beth whines.

I shake my head. "I need this bag and you know it."

"We don't work tomorrow," Beth adds. "I'll bring it to you tomorrow."

I'm prepared to argue, but she cuts me off before I can start.

"We can say you forgot the bag in my car since we are going out for breakfast together this morning. See, I just gave you an alibi." She smiles, proud of her quick thinking.

"Fine." I sigh and drop the bag to the floor.

Pulling out my cell, I send Kel a quick message with my alibi. Dear God, I need a damn excuse. This is a bad idea. I'm just going to go out there and tell him I changed my mind.

With a deep breath, I take one last look in the mirror, glance at the girls, who give me a thumbs up, and exit the dressing room. Eyes of the other backups who witnessed the-great-Jackson-seduction follow me all the way to the door. I pause for a moment, taking one more breath before pushing the door open.

Jackson

The whiskey isn't doing anything to ease my anxiety. After thirty-five minutes, I'm ready to go back and drag her out the door. Christ. I've never been so aggressive in my pursuit, but I can't let her just walk away.

Tossing back the last of my drink, I stand straight and turn. A petite, curly blonde exits the stage door and turns toward me. She stops. Her hair is shorter—just past her shoulders, but the same color and curled. She takes a visible breath and begins walking in my direction.

Pushing off the bar, I let her come to me. As much as I want to carry her out the front door to my waiting car, I need her to make this choice.

She stops about four feet away from me, trying to keep distance between us.

"Hey." She grabs the strap of her bag with both hands, nervously moving from her left to right foot.

Closing the distance, I step into her personal space. She stiffens when I brush the curls off her left shoulder and cup the side of her neck, my thumb rubbing her jaw. I can feel her body start to melt into mine.

"Ready?"

"Yeah," she breathes.

I want to make her completely melt. I want to devour her on the spot, but I show restraint.

"Come on, snake charmer," I say, grabbing one hand away from the bag and pulling her behind me toward the exit.

"What?" She stumbles at first, but quickly matches my stride.

"Hmm?" I pull her through the door and toward the waiting car, trying to be quick. I don't want fans or cameras getting involved.

"What did you call me?" She pulls her hand from mine as we reach the car.

Sam stands with the door open. I turn, motioning for her to climb in.

"It's just a nickname." Grabbing her arm, I urge her to get into the car.

"But, why did you—”

"If you don't want to be on the front of a gossip rag or website, I suggest you get in the car."

She glances around, eyes wide, and then hurries inside the back of the car. I follow, my eyes on her perfect ass.

Liza sits, looking out the window as the car pulls away from the curb. While she's distracted, I take in the off-stage version of my snake charmer. Instead of sky-high stilettos, she wears a thick-soled shoe in a skin color. In place of lingerie is skin tight cotton and denim. Where she's usually clad in only satin, silk, and lace, there's now cotton covering her skin. It's surprisingly enticing.

Knowing the curves lying beneath these everyday materials, I'm eager to unwrap the gift of her heart-shaped ass and plump tits. I wonder if she's cotton underneath her ordinary girl clothes or if hints of the naughty snake charmer hide close to her skin.

"Where are we going?" Her voice draws my attention from the curve where her ass meets her thigh.

"To have breakfast." I shift closer.

"But where?" Her brow slightly wrinkles.

"I'm surprised it took you so long to ask." I deter from answering, not wanting to give her the opportunity to back out.

Slipping my arm over the back of the seat, I settle into the leather. My legs, as long as they are, relax to the side. Our thighs touch. She shifts, a fruitless attempt for space. I've made sure there isn't any.

"Where are we going, Jackson?"

The stern sound of my name coming out of her mouth sends a shot through my chest. Closing my eyes, I drop my head back, hoping she'll say it again if I ignore her.

"Jackson?" she presses.

I start to harden. Her voice is like a fucking spell on my dick.

Rolling my head in her direction, I open my eyes.

"I'm just guessing, but I think you would prefer not having cameras and reporters following our every move, right?"

She nods.

"Okay." Closing my eyes, I roll my head back. "I'm taking us to a place where I can control the exposure."

"Oh," she whispers.

Five minutes pass and she relaxes. Her thigh is no longer tense. Her head rests back in the seat.

My fingers move of their own accord, wrapping curls around them. The action is soothing for some reason and when I caress Liza's scalp, she shivers. Lifting my head, I turn and watch, testing the action again. She tries to fight it, but a small shudder gives her away. Before I can further explore this reaction, the car goes completely dark.

We're here.

Chapter Six

Liza

The minute I realize we're in a parking garage of a hotel, I tense. By the time the adrenaline kicks in, Jackson has my hand in a vice-like grip, pulling me onto an elevator. The way we move through back hallways, staff entrances, and elevators, feels like we're criminals. We reach a hotel room door. He swipes the key card and opens it with practiced movements.

Inside, he releases my hand when we reach the sitting area of the hotel suite. The room is muted colors with dark wooden accents, large windows with gauzy sheers draping from decorative wrought iron bars, and plush, oversized furniture. Finally catching my breath, I focus on Jackson.

"Well, that was…interesting." I flex my numb fingers, speaking to his back, which is turned toward me.

Jackson stays silent, slipping his t-shirt over his head and tossing it onto one of the beige chairs. In a white tank top thin enough to see the designs covering his skin, he turns, locking his eyes with mine.

Is he going to take everything off? Does he expect me to strip down and get to business? I'm such a slut. I making this way too easy.

Keeping his eyes on mine, he fists the white cotton at his stomach and pulls it free from the waist of his jeans.

I wonder if his tattoos go all the way down to…

With quick movements, he grabs his belt, undoes the buckle, and slides it through the denim loops.

Inhaling sharply, I watch as he drops the belt to the floor, the thud of the thick silver buckle startling me.

"Breathe, Liza." There's a velvety edge to the way he says my name.

I exhale at the sound of a knock.

Jackson strides by to answer the door, certain to brush his bare arm against me.

A young man in a hotel uniform pushes a black cart into the room. Keeping his head down, he delivers the cart and exits without a word or even hesitating for a tip.

"Breakfast, as promised." Jackson lifts silver lids from dishes, throwing me a grin over his toned shoulder.

With his head, he motions me over.

Pushing aside my lusty urges, I make my way to him.

"Here." Jackson shoves a tray of scrambled egg whites and bacon into my hands. "Can you get this, too?" He holds out a second plate with five pancakes stacked.

The food smells amazing and my stomach rumbles.

Oh my God, please let me just die right now.

Redistributing the weight of the eggs, I take the pancakes. Jackson hooks something on one long finger, lifts a tray of muffins and bagels on one arm, and wraps his free arm around a covered basket.

"Come on." With a nod of his head, he leads the way back to where we started.

Heat prickles under my skin thinking of the way he provided me my own personal striptease.

Using his foot, he clears items off the coffee table. I can't hold back the giggle escaping me.

"Just put them here." He starts putting his items down, so I do the same.

He toes off his black boots and kicks them to the side before sitting on the couch. Patting the couch cushion next to him, he looks expectant.

"Relax. Take off your jacket and stay a while."

There's a mischievous twitch to his lip.

I know he’s proud of himself for getting me back to his hotel room, the arrogant, cocky, sexy, gorgeous man, but I'm not making this any easier than I already have. In fact, I should just say thanks and take my leave right now.

"Liza, you've got to be a woman once in a while…" I hear Sid's voice in my head, "not just a mother and provider. Let loose."

Slipping my jacket off, I lay it on the arm of one chair across the table from him. The same chair I choose to sit in.

Grinning, he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

"Is that how you're gonna play it?"

"I didn't realize we were playing something?" I raise one brow.

He grins and points to the spread between us.

"Help yourself."

Grabbing a piece of bacon, he sits back onto the couch cushions. Wrapping his lips around the bacon, he bites and chews slowly.

I sit forward and pick up a bagel. Grabbing a container of peanut butter and a knife, I sit back. His eyes feel like invisible hands running over my skin—touching, undressing.

Avoiding his gaze, I nervously slather half the bagel in peanut butter, getting it all over the fingers of my right hand. I put a finger in my mouth and suck, placing the bagel onto the table.

His groan draws my attention away from my hand. He unfolds his long, lean body from the couch, stepping over the coffee table between us.

I drop my finger from my mouth and press back into the chair. Mouth open, I stare up his towering form.

"What's—?”

The hot and gripping hold he takes on my knees silences me. We lock eyes as he jerks my legs apart. Licking his lips, he kneels between them.

Clamping his long fingers around my wrist, he holds my right hand between us and leans forward. His tongue snakes out and around the peanut butter covered digits before sucking them into his mouth. His eyes drift closed and he moans. With each sweep of his tongue, my body rises higher, pressing closer until my nipples tingle with every breath he takes.

Releasing my wrist, his hands slide to my hips, gripping hard. I moan and pull my fingers from between his lips, replacing them with my mouth. His lip ring digs into my flesh enticingly. It's intoxicating. Our tongues twist and slide, urging me on. Pushing my body flush against his, I run my saliva dampened fingers through his hair and grip tightly, sucking his tongue deeper. The sharp bite of his lip ring makes my thighs tingle. Jackson growls low and deep, yanking me to the edge of the chair by my hips.

Forgetting the play-harder-to-get idea, the I-should-really-just-go thoughts, and shoving away the feeling of stupidity for following him tonight, I embrace my one night with hot as fuck rock star Jackson Shaw.

Wrapping my left arm over his shoulder, I bunch the cotton material on his back in my hand.

He grinds a deliciously frustrating rhythm between my legs, but I need more. Tilting my hips, I slip from the chair into his lap.

Jackson's arms move around my back, one hand flattening, the tips of his fingers dipping inside the waistband of my jeans. With the other, he shoves at the unmoving chair. His mouth breaks from mine to release an irritated snarl. Keeping my arms around him, I drop my head back and take a moment to catch my breath.

What am I doing? This is going to end—

The chair flips onto its side and his mouth captures the skin between my neck and shoulder as both his arms wrap around me. Settling me onto the thick carpeted floor, his hips resume their incredible, torturous rhythm.

His hands are everywhere all at once: my hips, waist, pulling my thighs higher, tracing my sides, skirting around my breasts. Arching my back, I want to be closer. I want more. I need everything.

I claw my way down his body, fisting and bunching his shirt until I feel bare skin. At my touch, he rises above me, sitting on his heels and staring down. Keeping eye contact, he pulls the thin, white shirt over his head and tosses it away.

I'm tempted to look away, to take in his heavily inked skin, but he keeps me prisoner in his burning gaze. His long fingers curl into the front of my jeans and work the button and zipper like a professional de-pantser.

Lowering his body, he peels back the front of my pants. Air enters my lungs, but I can't catch my breath. My clit pulses, wanting everything he's silently promising.

His lip ring is cool against my hot skin as his lips touch above the lace band of my panties.

"Lace," he whispers, his breath scorching against my flesh.

"Wh—?"

The heat from his tongue against my skin makes speaking impossible. When he dips his tongue beneath the lace, all thoughts disappear.

The denim pinches my skin as he grips the material at my hips and tugs. With each tug, my pussy throbs. Tug at hips, throb. Tug at thighs, throb. Tingles prickle across my skin when he bows down to touch his lips inside of my thigh. Tug at my knees, throb.

Legs free, I squeak in surprise as he pulls me across the carpet. My lace-covered ass meets his denim-covered knees and long, determined fingers twist into my tank top, yanking the offensive clothing over my head.

He leans forward, his hands in the carpet above my head, and hovers over me. Staring down, he puts one hand around my throat and sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. His fingers on my throat twitch, and I tense.

"Relax." Lightly rubbing his thumb along my jaw, he lowers his face close to mine. "Tell me what you want, Liza."

My brow furrows.

"Tell me you want me," his words heat my lips, "please."

I flatten my hands on his chest, feeling his muscles tighten beneath my touch. He's frozen, unsure of what I'm going to do. His breaths across my face intensify and I open my mouth, inhaling deeply, savoring.

Slipping my hands down over his ribs till I reach his stomach, I grip the front of his jeans and slip the button free. His eyes close tight. Instead of unzipping, I grasp each side and yank. The sound of the protesting zipper fills the room.

Jackson's eyes snap open. Pupils dilated, they gleam like volcanic rock.

"Fuck, Liza," he groans.

I feel bold.

"That's exactly what I want you to do, Jackson."

His hand around my throat flexes, but not painfully. Reclaiming my mouth with punishing force, our teeth clink. My hands move in a flurry of desire and need, shoving the denim down his hips.

The hand on my throat slides over my collarbone and chest, pulling the lacey cup of my bra aside. Long fingers tease and pinch my aching nipple before cupping the mound as an offering to his talented mouth.

"Oh, fuck, Jackson." I bring my hand to his head and fist his hair.

He sucks harder and I arch my back, pushing myself closer.

I lift my knees higher to his sides and hook my big toes into his jeans, pushing them further down.

Releasing my nipple, Jackson pushes up. Kneeling above me, his eyes travel over my body, watching my chest rise and fall. The savage inner fire within them heats the chill he left behind.

He reaches back into the pockets of the jeans hanging off his body. While he's distracted, I take the moment to enjoy the unobstructed view of his art-covered chest. The wings of an Egyptian lion cover each pectoral, the words Strength in Loyalty scrawled across his collar in elegant script, a bird on each shoulder, and holstered black pistols on each rib are the largest of the ink. The rest are small designs, intricate swirls, and what I think is ivy on his hip. Seven feet of lickable graffiti pops into mind and my thoughts randomly jump to the flavored wallpaper in Willy Wonka.

I wonder if he tastes like snozberries.

Closing my eyes, I force myself to stop thinking about snozberries. The crinkle and rip of a wrapper bring my attention back to Jackson.

Eyes raking boldly over me, he spits a piece of the silver foil away from us. The heat from the back of his hands warms the inside of my thighs as he frees himself from his underwear.

My eyes drift down to watch as he puts the condom on, but his words stop me.

"Strip for me, Liza."

He gazes at me expectantly again.

Raising my brow, I slide my hands over my stomach, up to my breasts, and finger the bunched lace beneath them.

"I'm not a stripper, Jackson," I retort in challenge.

I don't know what it is about him that makes me so bold.

He grins wide, beautiful. Warmth aches in my chest. I push it away to revel in the tingles of lust instead.

"No, you’re a snake charmer." His voice is husky, gravely.

Done with his task, he scans my body. I eye his, taking in the latex covered length of him. My clit pulses impatiently, knowing what it wants. I tighten my pussy muscles, seeking something to relieve the ache.

Jackson flattens his hand on my chest, dragging it down between my breasts, over my stomach and hip. Tingles flare into aches. I actually twitch, anxious for him. And he knows it. With a cocky grin, he repeats the act with his other hand. This time, my hips raise from the floor, a final invitation to fuck me.

His hands tighten on my hips, fingers gripping the lace there. The tips dig into my skin as he pulls the lace as far as he can with his body still between my legs.

Releasing the lace, he palms the back of my knees and pushes them high. A moment of self-consciousness causes me to pull away, just a bit. But he notices.

"Don't you dare move," he says, his eyes locking onto mine.

The command stills me.

Keeping eye contact, he slides the panties up and over my feet and tosses them away before pushing himself back between my thighs.

With his bare hips flush against my thighs, I squirm, pressing to get closer.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Liza? Is that what you want?"

Rocking his hips, the long length of his cock brushes against my thigh—hot, hard, and ready.

I close my eyes and bite my lip.

"Tell me, Charmer."

He angles forward, bringing his length against my swollen lips. The shudder of his body gives away the effect his teasing has on him.

"Yes," I growl, raising onto my left elbow. Grabbing his hip with my right hand, I pull him against me.

"Christ," he pants, sliding his hand between my legs. He slips one finger against my clit and I drop my head back. Pressing down harder, he earns a gasp. Sliding through my wetness, his long finger enters me in a smooth invasion before a second joins.

Unable to hold back any longer, I buck my hips and fuck myself against his hand, needing more. He gives it. One more long finger fills me, stretching me.

"You're so fucking hot," he rasps, watching his digit move in and out of me while his hand stays motionless. I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of his palm rubbing my clit with each downward motion of my hips. "There's no going slow, Liza."

His finger disappears and my eyes open, meeting his. The connection between us like summer lightning.

"I won't apologize for wanting you hard and rough," he grounds out, entering me in one long, rigid thrust. "Fuck, Liza!"

"Oh God," I gasp, falling to the flat of my back and digging my nails into the carpet.

"Look at me," he demands.

Not realizing I'd closed them, I open my eyes. The moment my eyes connect with his, a storm engulfs us.

Still above me, he reaches out with his right hand, fists the lace between my breasts, and starts thrusting. Each drive jostles my body. His left arm snakes under my right thigh to find purchase and hold me in place.

Electrical currents zap through my veins. All of it charging between my legs. Each thrust flipping another switch. The pleasure builds, bubbles, arching my back and neck.

"Jackson,” I moan, loudly. "Don't stop."

Clawing at the plush carpet, I wonder for a moment if I'll tear it. It's been so long, too long, since I've had a man-induced orgasm. And this man…fuck, this man knew exactly how to induce.

"Oh yes, yes, yes, Jackson." I sing so much praise, it's practically blasphemy.

"That's it, Charmer, sing for me." His words come with harder pumping hips.

The electrical charge hits a crescendo and I cry out. Jackson rides the waves of my climax hard and nasty. His hand on my thigh digs into my flesh, the lace of my bra protests his grip, and he shouts.

"Fuck."

Jerking forward once, twice, and a final time, he comes just as hard as he rode me.

Jackson releases his grip on my thigh and bra. Collapsing forward, he presses his forehead to my stomach. We lie silent, satisfied, and panting for breath in the middle of his hotel room.

Jackson

Lifting myself off Liza, I look over a body built for sin wearing the evidence of the hottest fuck I can remember. Deep red and purple sucker bites on her breasts, the reddened skin where the lace rubbed, and my sweat on the inside of her thighs. For a moment, the regret of wearing a condom flashes through my mind, wishing it was a mixture of our sweat and cum between her legs.

What the fuck am I thinking?

The shift of her body distracts my crazy thoughts. Looking at her face, her eyes are closed and breathing steady. Asleep. I grin, knowing she sang my name and passed out from my cock. She shivers and goose bumps form on her skin.

I slip from her body and bite back a moan. My legs wobble on the way to toss the used condom in the trash. The wall mirror catches my attention and I stare at myself holding my jeans up, cock tucked back into my underwear.

"You haven't touched that shit tonight, you know that?" I whisper to my reflection.

Liza groans and I return back to my little snake charmer, who's curled onto her side. I slip my hand beneath her body and lift her into my arms. She doesn't wake. Taking her to my bed, I lay her on the mattress. Before covering her, I unhook and slip the bra from her body. She curls onto her side once more.

I shove my jeans down my body, step out of them, and crawl over her sleeping form. Settling in beside her, I wait almost a whole goddamn minute before wrapping her in my arms and bringing her to my chest.

"Ow, shit."

A hushed cry wakes me.

"What are you doing?" I ask, my voice clogged with sleep.

"Sorry," she whispers. "Bathroom?"

"Other way," I mumble and then yawn.

The click of the door lets me know she found it. Rolling to my side, I rub my face and watch the bathroom door with heavy lids.

The door opens, casting a heavenly glow around naked Liza. Her right arm flails out to the side and the room darkens.

"Sorry," she whispers.

I hear the embarrassment in her voice. I wonder if she blushes all the way to her delicious nipples.

When I don't feel movement on the bed, I glance around the darkened room.

"Liza?" I call out.

No answer.

I climb out of bed and walk to the sitting room.

Bent at the waist, Liza picks up clothes from the floor. The light from the large window puts her pale, heart-shaped ass on display.

"What are you doing?"

She startles, straightening and turning to face me. Holding her jeans to cover her body, her eyes dart to the door and then back to me.

Well, that won't fucking do.

"It's really late. I should get—”

I reach out, take the jeans from her, and throw them off to the side. She watches where they fall and even in the dim light, I can see she’s nervous.

"I should get going." Her eyes return to my face.

"Why?" I ask, arms over my chest.

"It's late."

"We still haven't had breakfast."

I drop my arms.

"Um, we, uh…"

Her discomfort is almost funny, but she's standing less than a foot away from me completely naked and I'm hard as fuck for her.

Bending, I lift her over my shoulder.

"Put me down." Her giggle kills the demanding effect she's going for.

"Okay."

I drop her onto my bed and she bounces to the middle, pushing her I've-been-fucked-by-Jackson-Shaw hair from her face.

"What do you plan to do with me now?"

She leans back on her hands, straightening her legs and crossing them at the ankle.

Fuck if I don't love the little challenges she likes to pose.

"My plan," I place my hands onto the mattress, "is very straightforward." I crawl toward her.

Her eyes widen and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth.

At her ankles, I hesitate, grasping one in each hand.

"It's to spread your creamy, smooth, sexy as fuck legs…" I pull her legs apart and she doesn't resist.

"And then what?" she asks, her question breathy.

Crawling between her open legs, I use my palms to push her thighs wide apart and lower my body. The muscles under my hands tighten in anticipation.

"Then," I make sure to speak with heavy, hot breaths over her exposed flesh, "breakfast."

I drop my open mouth to her spread pussy. Her fingers slip through my hair and fist the strands. My dick throbs, wanting release. He remembers how tight she is, how hot and wet she was for us. And at this moment, my dick hates my tongue as I delve deep inside to fuck her with it.

"You taste like heaven," I say, my wet mouth sliding against her lips.

"Less talk," she groans, pressing her hips into my face.

Pushing closer, I use my shoulders to hold her thighs wide and high, leaving my fingers free to explore. I lick up her slit and suck her swollen clit into my mouth, plunging my middle finger deep inside her. The mixture of her arousal, my saliva, and the way she holds my head in place makes me thrust into the mattress, searching for some kind of relief.

I add another finger and the heel of her foot presses between my shoulder blades. It's hot as fuck how she goes from nervous and awkward to teasing, demanding, and greedy. I could fuck this girl for days.

"Yes. Right. There." Her body trembles.

Pulling my fingers out, I kiss her clit one last time and pull away.

"No," she whines, gripping my hair tighter, making the tip of my dick prickle.

Chuckling, I reach up and untangle her fingers. She allows me, but wears an adorable pout on her face.

On hands and knees, I crawl to the edge of the bed. The soft touch of her hands caress my thighs and slide up over my ass. Fuck, I should've taken off my underwear.

At the waistband, she curls her fingers beneath the fabric. The scratch of her nails against my skin sends a shot of pleasure straight to my poor, neglected dick. I don't think he can take much more. She pulls, slowly stripping me. My cock springs forth, hard and ready.

I reach over the edge of the bed, my stomach pressing against her tits. The hard pebbles rub and I clench my teeth against the tug in my balls. Her hands slip up my back, dipping into the valley of my spine, gripping softly.

Unable to find the handle for the bedside drawer, I grab from beneath and pull. It crashes to the floor and her hands still.

"Are you okay?"

Her body shifts, pressing flush against mine as she tries to get up.

"Fine. Don't move," I bite out, my cock throbbing with every shift of her skin.

Putting more of my weight on her, I keep her in place and grab the foil wrappers.

Condoms in hand, I return to hover on hand and knees above her body. Our eyes meet. Damn, I love that naughty glint in her eye.

"Shit," I groan, closing my eyes.

Her hand moves around and over my rigid cock. Instinctively, I press forward and fuck her soft, little palm. When her thumb swipes over the head, she inhales sharply.

I open my eyes and grin down at her, knowing she just found my piercing. I drop to my forearms, still thrusting into her hand, and bring my mouth an inch from hers.

"Don't worry, baby. You loved it last time." Slipping my tongue from between my lips, I lick her mouth. She moans, squirming beneath me.

Liza's free hand slides up my ribs, over my shoulder, and down my arm. Reaching my hand, her fingers work their way into my fist. Keeping eye contact, she frees one foil package, brings the packet between her white teeth, and tears it open.

I lick my lips, our faces so close I can practically taste the latex on my tongue.

She slips the condom over my steel hard cock using both hands. Her thumb swipes once more over the tip, causing a reflexive jerk of my hips.

She leans up slowly and presses her mouth to mine. With one hand against my chest, she pushes. There is no fucking way I'm moving off of her right now.

She pushes again, harder.

"Please," she says against my lips.

Fuck me if I don't push up onto my arms.

Sliding around beneath me, she manages to sit up and manipulate me into sitting on my legs.

Frowning, I move forward, but she puts a hand out. I narrow my eyes, waiting.

She crawls over and straddles my thighs. Instinctively, I palm her ass. Jesus Christ, her ass is made for my hands.

One small arm wraps around my shoulder as the other snakes between us, gripping the base of my cock. I groan and bury my face in her neck, sucking on her skin. She positions me at her entrance and drops down hard, taking all of me in one motion. I press my teeth against her flesh and she moans.

Her arms wrap around my shoulders as she rises and falls in rapid succession. My fingers curl into her bare ass, digging deeply into her porcelain skin and spreading her cheeks. There will be marks. I grip harder, ensuring it, and guide her against me.

The slap of sweaty skin and panting fills the room. The scent of latex, arousal, and pussy surrounds me. Every pint of blood in my body rushes to my dick. Sharp aching tightens my balls.

Releasing one perfect globe, I grip her hip and pull her against me harder.

"Oh, fuck." Her moans grow louder and dirtier. "Fuck. Your dick is amazing."

Sliding my hand inward, I find her clit with my thumb and rub.

"Jesus. Christ. Don't stop," she screams, her thighs tightening on my ribs. Her hips pump faster, seeking orgasmic bliss.

Her dirty mouth makes it nearly impossible to hold back. My dick throbs painfully, the tip aches to release, and my balls may never drop again.

"Jackson." My name sounds like a fucking prayer.

Liza fists the hair at the back of my head with one hand and pulls my face from her neck.

Fuck, if she makes me look in her eyes, see that naughty gleam, I'm gonna explode. I focus on her parted lips and the flush of her damp skin. She pulls on my head again.

Our eyes lock.

"Come with me, Jackson."

I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

"Come with me…now."

Releasing my hair, her head drops back and she screams out for the heavenly father before calling out to me like the charmer she is. My cock pulses hard at the sound of my name and for a moment, my mind goes blank. Then, in a violent combination of clarity and ecstasy, all the energy in my body explodes into hers.

I drop my forehead to her chest, my heavy breaths washing over her tits. I want to cup one and roll the hard tip in my fingers, but I'm completely fucking spent.

She squirms, an attempt to move, and my sensitive cock can't take it. I grip her hips and quickly pull her off. A shudder rolls up my spine and I stare down at my softening cock, removing the condom.

What kind of fucking shit is this? Is it broken?

Liza rolls from her back to her stomach, the movement catching my eye. She's still trying to catch her breath, but inching to the edge of the bed.

"Where are you going?"

She looks back over her shoulder. The picture she creates is one a fucking artist would love to paint or sculpt. Her naked skin a blank porcelain slate: flawless. That ass: something to be worshiped. The curve of her hip: the perfect place to kiss, lick, bite.

"To get my clothes?" It sounds like a question.

Knotting the condom opening, I drop it next to the bed and move to her.

She stiffens, but doesn't try to run. It wouldn't matter. I'd catch her.

I grab her by the knees and pull her back to the middle of the bed. The contrast of my inked skin against her clear perfection causes a pang in my chest.

Ignoring the feeling, I angle my body on the bed so I can lay the back of my head on her thigh, right where it meets her ass.

"Are you hungry?" I slip one hand underneath her knee, holding.

"No," she answers, and then yawns.

"Tired." It's my turn to yawn.

"A bit." She giggles out the response.

"Sorry, if I bore you to sleep."

Turning my head, I rest my cheek against her skin. I'm a sick fuck, 'cause the smell of sex, of us, coming from between her legs is oddly satisfying.

"You'll just have to make it up to me." I can hear the smile in her voice.

I release her knee and roll to my stomach. Leaving my cheek against her thigh, I bring one hand to the right cheek of her ass.

"How long have you worked at the club?"

My question catches her by surprise. The muscles beneath my cheek and hand tense.

"A few years."

I don't like how guarded she sounds.

"Are you from here?"

I brush my thumb over her skin, feeling the muscles relax a little.

"No."

"Where are you from?"

"Pennsylvania."

"You aren't comfortable with questions." It's not a question.

"Why are you in L.A.?" she asks, turning the tables.

I shrug.

"Promotion. Music stuff." It's not a total lie, but part of my contract with the show is keeping my identity as a judge a secret.

"So, you'll be heading back home soon." This isn't a question.

"Tell me about you, Liza." I trace invisible patterns on her skin.

"Not much to tell." I feel her shrug and then she sighs. "I came to L.A. thinking I would be famous. Turns out, a lot of people have the same idea." She laughs quietly.

"How did you find the club? To be honest, I wouldn't have given that fucking place a second glance from how it looks on the outside."

"Waitressed with a girl who told me about auditions. I went to check it out and the rest is history."

The room falls silent, but it's not an uncomfortable silence. It's too fucking comfortable.

"Do you often go back to hotels with people who come to watch the show?"

It's a shitty question and I know it, but being with her is too easy. Time with my snake charmer is up.

Her body stiffens.

"Why would you say that?"

"I didn't say anything. I asked a question."

"You know exactly what you're saying." Her body disappears and my head hits the bed. I immediately miss her presence.

"Don't get pissy. It's just a fucking question." Rolling onto my back, I rub my face. I want to jump up and drag her back to me.

"Fuck you, Jackson. You got what you wanted from me, don't be an asshole about it now."

The bed shifts and I angle my head, watching her walk toward the bedroom door. Without thinking about why I need her to leave, I roll from the bed and catch her around the waist. She squeals as I lift her into my arms.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asks, more confused than mad.

"I didn't say you could leave."

Kneeling on the bed, I lay us both down onto the mattress.

"I don't take orders from you. I'm not a whore or whatever you want to believe I am."

I pull the rumpled blanket over our naked bodies, tucking the white cotton around her.

"What are you doing?" she asks, her voice exasperated. "I was leaving, just like you wanted me to."

Mid-tuck, I freeze. She figured my shit out.

"I'm not stupid," she whispers.

"No." I settle in and wrap my arm around her, making sure she doesn't get up. "You're worse."

She exhales loudly and I know she's going to speak, curse me, and do what I need her to do, but I won't let her leave. I can’t.

I cup her cheek, bring her face to mine, and press my mouth to hers, ending the conversation before it starts. Something inside me shatters. My chest burns and I deepen the kiss.

This kiss is different—sensual, soft, explorative. It's goddamn meaningful. Holding her face, I bring my body flush to her side, but it's not close enough. I wrap one leg around hers, pulling her into me.

Breaking away from each other, I drop back to the pillow and hold her head to my collarbone. We breathe heavily into the silence.

And if I wasn't fucked before, I am now.

Chapter Seven

Liza

A sound wakes me. Disoriented, I look around, remembering where I am and who’s next to me. I lift onto an elbow and look over at the bright white numbers on the bedside clock.

3:12 A.M.

Twisting my body, I peek at Jackson. He's stomach down, facing away from me. The butterflies in my stomach settle a little. With the practiced movements of a one-time mother of an infant, I ninja my way out of the covers and stand by the bed.

Jackson lays with a white sheet low enough, I can see the beginning slope of his ass. Part of me wishes he'd wake and stop me like before, but the smart, common-sense part knows I need to get home.

I close my eyes and inhale the scent of him, sex…us. Saving it to memory, I turn for the door. Every muscle in my body aches deliciously with the memory he left on my body. At the door, I risk one last look at him before quietly pulling it closed and collecting my things.

Slipping from the hotel room—without the bra I couldn't find—I make sure the door closes soundlessly. I look down both sides of the corridor and take a breath when I find it empty. I start toward the elevators and my skin prickles, uneasiness and the feeling of being watched shoving at my back. I glance over my shoulder and find the corridor still empty. Reaching the elevators, I press the call button more times than necessary. The moment the elevator arrives, I dart inside, pressing the close door button repeatedly.

Paranoid much? Jesus, one-night stands with rock stars are horrible for the nerves.

The doors slide open to the lobby and no one gives a second glance as I swiftly step toward the rotating door. Keeping my head down, I exit the hotel and use my peripheral vision to find a cab to drive me away from my one night with hot as fuck, way-too-easy-to-fall-for, Jackson Shaw.

"He should come with a warning label," I mumble into the backseat of the yellow taxi.

"Someone got in late." Kel's voice pulls me from my restless sleep on the couch.

Having gotten in so late, I didn't want to wake them by messing with the squeaky pullout. I groan and rub my eyes.

"What time is it?" I ask in a half-yawn.

"Almost nine-thirty."

I open my eyes to find my brother looking down at me with concern.

"What's wrong?"

Unease lining his face, he sits on the coffee table.

"What happened last night, Liza?"

Pushing up to sit, I face him.

"Nothing. I went out with Beth and—”

"Did you get hurt?" His brow raises.

"What? No." Scrunching my face in confusion, I ask, "Why would you think that?"

"Then what happened to your lip." He points.

Bringing my hand to my mouth, I fight a wince. Shit, shit, shit. I jump to my feet and hurry to the bathroom.

"Mom, where are my—?"

The closing of the bathroom door cuts off Lucas' question. Guilt stabs at my chest, but I focus on my reflection in the mirror.

So caught up in the moment, I didn't even feel how hard our mouths met, but the evidence is staring me right in the face. I explore the swollen red mark on my bottom lip with my tongue. The taste and smell of Jackson assaults my senses. Shaking my head, I flip on the faucet and splash water on my face.

"Liza?" Kel knocks on the door. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I blurt, reaching for the hand towel. Patting my face dry, I pull open the door.

Kel and Lucas stare at me with concern in their eyes.

"Guys."

I tilt my head and toss the towel next to the sink. Stepping forward, I take them both in my arms.

"I'm fine. Bethany kept me out later than I planned. I'm just tired."

"Do you wanna skip my game so you can get some sleep?" Lucas asks.

I lean down and kiss the top of his head.

"I wouldn't miss your game for anything. Now, go finish getting ready." Releasing both of them, I step back. "Your shin guards are hanging in your closet." I ruffle his hair.

"How'd you know what I was looking for?" he asks, but turns into his room before I can respond.

"What's going on?" Kel frowns.

I place my hand on his face and smile.

"Beth accidentally bumped me in the mouth last night while changing. It's nothing," I say, cringing internally at the lie.

"Yeah, okay," he offers, and walks down the hall.

I close the bathroom door again, turn on the shower, and wait for the water to heat. The scent of Jackson wafts off my clothes as I strip and my body reacts, thinking it can still have him. Taking a deep breath, I turn for the shower and catch my reflection in the mirror.

I gasp at the dark purple and red sucker bites peppering my left breast. Clearly, he has a favorite. Lifting my hair, I take in more evidence of my night. Light bruising on my ass confirms his hands had spent time there. Carpet burn mars a spot on my lower back. Angry red marks show where my bra rubbed last night.

"You almost done?" Kel's voice and the knock on the door startles me. Without thinking, my arms shoot out, covering my body like he can see through the door.

"Almost," I respond, jumping into the shower.

After taking the quickest shower ever—part of me mourning the idea of washing Jackson away—I wrap a towel around my body, another over my shoulders for complete coverage, and step into the hallway.

I rummage through the storage drawers beneath my clothing rack and grab a pair of black workout capris, matching sports bra, and a loose yellow t-shirt before hurrying back into the bathroom to dress.

I situate my shirt, making sure the V-neck doesn't expose any of my Jackson reminders, tear a brush through my hair, and apply tinted moisturizer, eyeliner, and mascara. After years of wearing elaborate, sexy pin-up makeup, going out without something makes me feel exposed.

"Mom, the game is in thirty-five minutes," Lucas yells down the hall.

Running some frizz reducing hair serum through my hair, I twist and wrap the length into a loose bun and tie a yellow bird print bandana around my head to complete the look.

"I'm coming," I call, walking down the hall and meeting them at the door.

Lucas stands in his uniform, soccer bag slung over his shoulder.

Kel holds his messenger bag close and opens the door.

Sliding my feet into flip flops, I grab my bag, slip on a thin black jacket, and we're out the door.

"So, what made you decide to go out last night?" Kel asks, holding the stairwell door open.

I shrug. "Celebrating."

We begin descending to the main floor.

"Celebrating what?" he presses.

"Still having a job," I blurt.

Kel and Lucas both stop, looking at me.

"What happened to your job?" Lucas sounds worried.

"Hey, nothing happened." Stepping close, I smooth my hand over his head.

"Then what do you mean, Liza?" Kel asks, his question laced in annoyance.

"Thom sold the club." I look from Lucas' relieved face to Kel's suspicious one. "There had been talk, even from Thom, but last night was the first night we got to meet the new owner. He basically assured us our jobs were safe and he's not overhauling the place, but there will be some changes."

Kel's face relaxes a little.

"Now, let's get moving or we'll be late."

With a gentle shove from me, Lucas starts walking down the last flight of stairs.

"So, do you like the new owner?"

"Kel, please stop worrying so much."

Stepping off the last step, I dig through my bag for sunglasses and slip them on.

"I'm just asking," he grumbles.

I sigh and slip my arm around his, guiding him out of the apartment building.

"I guess. He seems good. He'll definitely bring in new people and the celebrities are going to be—”

"Celebrities?" Kel tugs my arm, stopping us.

"Come on!" Lucas shouts from twenty paces ahead.

"Keep walking," I say, pulling on his arm. "The new owner is Steven Redman. He's from—”

"Corrosive Velocity," Kel finishes. "Holy shit, Liza. They're amazing! He's your new boss?"

The excitement in his voice makes me laugh.

"Yep. He's already brought one of the other group members and a…another guest to the club." Memories of Jackson flash through my mind. His long, skilled fingers curling into my skin and inside me.

"You cold?" Kel's question confuses me.

"No, why?"

"You shivered," he responds with a shrug. "Please tell me you can get me an autograph."

"I can probably do better than that." I squeeze his arm. "I'll see if I can introduce you. Then you can ask for one yourself."

Kel's arm slips out of mine to wrap around my shoulders. I curl my arm around his back.

"You're the best." His lips press against the side of my head.

"This is almost too precious to interrupt."

My heart begins to race, palms sweat, and stomach flutters from the sound of his voice, a mixture of panic and thrill rushing through me.

Kel turns to face Jackson at the same time I do.

"You're—"

"Don't mean to interrupt your moment, but you forgot this."

Jackson's hand disappears behind him only to return with my lace bra in his hand.

"You must not have been able to find it in the dark light of early morning. Thought you might want it back."

With a flick of his wrist, the lace lands against my chest.

Reflexively, I grip the bra to my chest, ball up the material, and shove it in my bag. My eyes burn with tears I fight not to shed.

How in the hell am I going to explain this to Kel?

"What's your problem?" Kel's angry question surprises me.

"Kel—”

"I don't have a problem," Jackson sneers. "She's your problem, my man."

"Mom," Lucas yells, running to my side, “we're going to miss the bus."

"Are you for fucking real, Liza?" Jackson throws an arm out toward Lucas. "Seriously, you're a goddamn mom, too? Wow. I bet he's so proud."

A whimper escapes my throat when he nods to Lucas.

"Don't talk to my mom like that!"

Lucas moves, standing between Jackson and me.

Putting both hands up in surrender, Jackson backs away.

"Don't worry. Your mom gave me all I needed from her."

His words are as sharp as a dagger and he throws a look, confirming his intent to hurt me before turning and walking away.

"Mom?" Lucas looks up at me, his brow furrowed.

"Let's go. We don't want to be any later than we are," I say, putting an arm around his shoulders and leaving the scene behind us.

We arrive at the field at the end of warm-ups. After apologizing to Lucas' coach, I sit next to Kel on a set of bleachers. The silence between us is uncomfortable and the longer I think about what happened, the angrier I get.

"That was Jackson Shaw, right?" Kel asks in a hush.

"Yes."

"You know, after the game I'm gonna take Luke over to check in on Sean."

He slips his arm around my shoulders, pulling me to his side.

"Okay." I nod. "I have some things for you to take to his grandmother."

Kel gives a squeeze.

"You know, by then, it will be about noon in Pennsylvania."

A tear slides over my cheek. My brother knows who I need. My best friend, the closest person I have to a sister, Sid.

Jackson

She's just like the rest of them. Quick to fuck a celebrity and forget all about what she has at home. Fucking whores.

Julia jumps at the sound of the hotel room door smacking the wall.

"Jackson," her voice is a mixture of relief and nerves, "I've been trying to call you—"

Slipping my hand into my coat, I pull out my newly cracked cell and hold it out to her.

"Oh." She takes the phone as I walk by her. "I'll have another sent within the hour."

"Jackson, I need to—" she starts, following behind me.

I shove open my bedroom door, wanting to hear anything but perky Julia.

"Hey, baby." The sickly sweet tone of her voice grates on my nerves.

Another fucking whore. I guess I’m a magnet for them.

Stopping just inside the door, I cross my arms over my chest and take a deep breath. "Why are you here?"

"Is that any way to greet me?" she pouts from her perched position at the edge of the bed.

"Sorry. I was trying to warn you," Julia whispers from behind me.

Uncrossing my arms, I reach back and close the door in her face. I know I'm being a dick and I'll have to apologize to her later, but right now, I have a tall, blonde egomaniac to handle.

"Again, why are you here?"

I walk the edge of the room, avoiding her.

"Don't look at me like that." Kristy stands from the bed wearing nothing but an open hotel robe.

"Desperation doesn't look good on you," I sneer.

"You think I'm desperate?" One perfectly manicured nail presses into her chest. "I came here for you." Her arms cross over her chest, making sure to push her breasts up.

At one time, this did it for me, she did it for me, but now—nothing.

"I didn't ask you to come here." I turn, giving her my back, and walk into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

"You can be a real dick, you know that?" she yells from the other side of the door. "You seem to forget who was there for you after that bitch fucked you over."

Leaning, palms onto the counter, I look at myself in the mirror. Isn't this just typical? She's going to throw Laney into this shit.

"I'm honest about everything with you, I'm open to you, and now you want to condemn me for it?"

The door doesn't muffle her bitching enough.

First Laney pulls her cheating bullshit, now this bitch wants points for allowing me an open relationship—one she pushed and schemed to get—and the nail in my fucking coffin is Liza. Fucking Liza. The seduction and first fuck, I controlled. Then she turned the tables, making me want more from her. More of what, I don't even want to fucking think too much about.

Grunting, I push up from the counter and grab my black leather bag, finding the brown package inside.

You didn't use this shit the other night. You didn't even want it, think about that.

With a shake of my head, I set up enough lines to snort it all away.

My nose and lips tingle, the numbness spreading like a warm blanket.

Reentering the bedroom, Kristy twists away from a window. I run my tongue over my teeth. Fuck, their so smooth. Just like Liza's thighs.

"What are you grinning at?" Kristy’s eyes narrow.

Dropping to my back on the bed, I close my eyes and laugh. Didn't even know I was grinning.

"Did you get high without me, baby?" Kristy's hands travel up my thighs, warming them. Her hands work my belt and jeans with a practiced touch. Before I can say stop, the warmth of her hand surrounds me.

"Are you going to let me make you come, baby? I know how much you love it when you're high."

The warmth of her mouth touches my tip. Sitting up, I push her off me and look down. Not even fucking hard. And what I love is the way I come inside of Liza. That place where clarity meets ecstasy.

"What the hell, Jackson?"

"Not in the mood." Rubbing my hands over my eyes, I force myself to stand and button up my jeans.

"Not in the mood," Kristy repeats. "Not in the mood?" Her question is incredulous.

"Nope." Licking my mouth, I stagger to the door.

"Don't walk away from me, Jackson," she demands, the tone of her voice a threat.

"It's over, Kristy. Go find someone else to play with."

I pull open the door and step back into the sitting area.

"No one leaves me, Jackson Shaw!"

Slamming the door shut behind me, I grin at Julia.

"Sorry about all that."

Her eyes follow my staggered movements.

"Are you okay?" Julia asks.

"Yep." Reaching her, I put my arm around her shoulders for support.

Christ, Randall actually came through. This shit is excellent.

"Where do I need to be, dearest Julia?"

"Umm…" Her brow furrows and she looks down at her iPad. "You have an hour before you need to meet with the judges."

"What for?" I whine, pulling her closer.

"The contestants were notified of moving to the next stage. You're supposed to listen to them and discuss mentoring plans and such."

She slips away from me, staring into my eyes.

"Jackson, are you drunk?"

Laughter bursts from my mouth so hard, my stomach hurts.

"Are you a total idiot?" Kristy's insult doesn't stop my hysterics. "He's as high as the fucking Space Station."

Julia's mouth drops open, causing another round of laughter out of me. Kristy walks by in perfect catwalk fashion before disappearing out of the hotel room.

"You know, I used to think her ass was beyond this world." I sigh, rubbing my bottom lip.

"I'll get you some coffee," Julia mumbles, sounding disappointed. Why, I'm not sure.

"But she's way too skinny," I continue. "Now, Liza, that girl has got an ass you can hold onto." To accentuate my point, I bring my hands up and curl them.

"And food. Hopefully, it will sober you up." Julia leaves me holding the invisible ass of the woman who's turned me from being the guy cheated on to the other guy.

Way to bring me full fucking circle, snake charmer. Bravo.

Liza

"Okay," Sid clears her throat, "just to recap, Thom sold the club to a member of Corrosive Velocity. The one who looks like a shorter, flesh tone, inked hulk. Not the tatted lumbersexual."

Gotta appreciate the way Sid breaks it down.

"You met Hulktoo and Jackson Shaw, agreed to breakfast with the latter, but ended up being the grand slam breakfast to his Denny's."

"Do you really have to call it—?"

"Don't interrupt. I'm not finished," she scolds. "By the way, I am so getting more details than you gave me, but for now, let's continue. Then, Tall, Tatted, and Talented acts like an asshole in front of Kel and Lucas. Right?"

"Yes," I breathe out, heat warming my chest.

"First, you're a dirty, dirty, whore, Eliza Mae Campbell." Sid's laughter takes the sting out of the insult.

"Sid! Focus!"

"Sorry, sorry." She sighs wistfully. "Is he tattooed all over? I gotta know, does his pen have ink, Liza?"

"Really?" Annoyance drips from my question.

"Fine," she grumbles. "Let's be all serious and suck the fun out of me vicariously living through your sex life."

"Great, let's do that." I nod, though she can't see it.

"Okay, what's your biggest concern right now? Kel knowing you were playing hide the celebrity salami or Lucas being there this morning? 'Cause I think he only witnessed some guy being a douchebag to his mother."

"Kel doesn't think he really knows what's going on," I confirm.

"Alright. Well, Kel seems to be acting like a grown up about this and I don't think he really has a say in your sex life."

"I know. I'm so embarrassed for him." I cover half my face with my hand.

"So, what is it then? Is it Jackson's girlfriend or that you don't know why he showed up the next morning?"

I drop my hand, planting it in the worn couch cushion.

"What?" I choke out the question.

"You said you don't know why he—”

"No, not that. The girlfriend thing. I thought he split up with his girlfriend?"

"Hmm, maybe. Is that what he said?" The familiar click of Sid's keyboard comes through the phone.

"He didn't say anything." I raise my voice. "But I saw they split a few months back all over the magazine stands. It was like a national tragedy."

"Oh, that was Laney. They've been broken up for a while."

I relax and breathe deeply.

"I'm talking about the model."

"He has a girlfriend." It's not a question.

"The internet talks about some conflicts, but I don't see anything officially breaking them up."

"Oh my God." Face meet palm once more.

"Hey, listen, that doesn't mean they are together. Shit happens and the media doesn't know. Maybe it just hasn't hit the news yet."

"Oh my God."

"Don't start hyperventilating. I'm not there to smack you out of it."

"I'm an idiot." Groaning, I slouch back into the cushions.

"Well, yeah, but…"

"But?" I press. "But what, Sid?"

"Does his pen have ink?"

Chapter Eight

Jackson

"Jackson." The rattle of the door handle accompanies my name.

Ha-ha, I locked that shit last night. I don't need any more Kristy visits.

"Damn."

Pound.

"It."

Pound.

"Jackson!"

Pound.

Well, Julia's pushy this morning.

"You have forty-five minutes to be at the arena!" she yells through the door.

"Alright!" I yell back, dragging my naked ass out of bed and to the bathroom.

Showered and dressed, I emerge from the bedroom.

"Here." Julia shoves a paper bag into my chest.

"What, no good morning kiss?" I pucker.

Julia's blush is the only thing revealing her embarrassment. Latching her tiny hand onto my arm, she pulls me behind her and through the hotel like a disobedient child. As we step out of the hotel, I'm blinded by the California sun.

"Fuck, I need to get my—”

She shoves black Ray-Bans on my face and my body into a limo. Climbing in after me, Julia collapses back into the seat as the driver closes the door.

"Rough morning?"

My smirk is met by her glare.

"You are a massive pain in the ass," she grumbles, motioning to the paper bag still clenched in my hand. "Eat," she orders. "I'm sure you need it."

Opening the bag, I find hash browns, a breakfast sandwich, and orange juice.

Grinning, I look up from the bag.

"I might have to marry you, Julia." Pulling the sandwich out of the bag, I take a large bite.

"And I might have to break your heart with a big fat no, Jackson." She forces a grin before looking down at her iPad.

I clench my chest with my free hand, feigning hurt.

Shaking her head, she fights a smile.

The girl finally shows some claws.

"I'm glad you could finally join us, Mr. Shaw," Mrs. Pierson, the show’s producer, says, welcoming my late entrance.

I bow before taking a seat next to Gemma.

"As I was saying, the online semi-finalists have been contacted. We have a few still being confirmed, but by next week, we should have new song submissions. You each have a binder with some contestant information—training, current profession, but minimal personal information, and no pictures. They will be identified by contestant numbers for the time being. You'll need to start going through them now to get an idea of each person's tone, style, and sound. Figure out how you want to mentor and critique. And, if you look at the final section, you will see our guest performers and those who will also mentor."

Flipping through the pages, I stop on Hushed Mentality. Mrs. Pierson continues to speak, but all I can think about is my and Laney’s first publicized appearance together.

"Are there any questions?" The producer's voice pulls me from my anxious thoughts.

Without waiting more than thirty seconds, she excuses herself from the room. The production assistant arrives moments later, leading us to a soundproof area to listen through contestants.

"God help me." I rub my eyes.

"You look as if you need Jesus," Gemma comments from my left.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I raise a brow.

"You're pale, eyes bloodshot, and if you sniff one more time in my ear, I'm going to shove a marker up your nose." Gemma's faint smile holds a touch of sadness.

"I must be getting sick." I shrug, relaxing back into the chair.

"Yeah," she says, disbelieving, "that must be it."

Shaking her head, she turns her chair to face me.

"I know you've dealt with a lot of shit lately, Jack. Really, I get it. And I'm the last person to lecture someone for having a good time, but you worry me."

"You don't have anything to worry about," I assure with a smile. "I was out too late last night with some friends and got carried away."

"Oh, really? What friends?" Leaning on the armrest of her chair, she purses her lips.

"Jack D and Captain," I answer.

Gemma shakes her head again.

"Don't get lost, Jackson," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Get lost?" I ask, but she's already facing the table again.

"How many more do we need to get through tonight?" she asks the table.

"As many as it takes, sweetheart." Zarek slips into an empty chair on the other side of her. "You could be stuck with me…I mean, us, all night long." He wiggles his brows.

"I swear to God." Gemma's voice is tight, jaw clenched, and hands balled into fists on the table.

Zarek slides his chair closer, leaning into her side. Whatever he whispers results in Gemma's water bottle being dumped over his head.

"Babe, you don't have to get me all wet to see me strip." Standing, he pulls the soaked T-shirt over his head.

"Will you just shut up?" she yells, her face reddening—though, I'm not sure whether it's from anger or his stripping.

"Okay, you two, let's separate and get this done." Grabbing Gemma's chair, I slide her over and put myself between the two of them.

Christ, this can't end soon enough. Patting my pocket, I find the small brown vial and relax.

Days of half-listening to the initial submissions have me on edge.

Liza

"You submitted the papers on Monday, right?" Sid questions.

"Yes. I took them in when I recorded the next song for submission," I answer, stepping onto the bus and finding a seat.

"Did you stick with the song we picked?"

"Yes, I did," I answer with a giggle.

"Awesome! I love the way you sing I Knew You Were Trouble," Sid sighs dramatically. "It's also entirely fitting."

"Let's not rehash the subject."

"No further word from him, huh?"

"Nope and let's hope it stays that way," I say, but even I'm not convinced.

"Uh huh." Sid isn't convinced either. "How many times have you thought about that night?"

"Not that many." I sound like a little kid.

"Okay," she laughs out the word. "And you don't think about him at all? Not the way he got all up in your face, seducing you and getting you back to his hotel, all so he could have his dirty way with you?"

"Shut up," I grumble.

Heat flushes my skin. The memory of him is still fresh and alive in every cell of my body.

"That's what I thought," she says. "So, how horny are you now that I brought it up?"

"I hate you," I groan.

"You love me so much. I'm like the girl you would totally get with if we weren't related."

"You're sick. And I'm almost to the club, so I gotta go." I end the call, and stand, following two other passengers to the steps.

As soon as I'm inside the club, Red gathers us backstage for an announcement.

Standing between Nikki and Jennifer, I can feel them watch me out of the corner of their eyes. They want details from my breakfast with Jackson. Swallowing down the anxiety, I focus on Red.

"I'd like to try something new. This weekend we will have our first guest performer. She's going to rehearse with Bethany for a couple days before the show. What I would like to do is open up with a small number and then bring out our guest. From there, we will continue on with our show." He scans the room, looking at everyone.

I take the moment to look for Bethany and find her standing behind Red.

"Now, with the recent interest in Dominant and sub relationships, like with Fifty Shades, I'd like to design the show this weekend around the theme. Play on the popular idea. Any ideas? Song suggestions?"

"We could perform Erotica," Bethany suggests. "Most of us know the song and the choreography."

Red nods in agreement.

"What about the guest? What is she performing?" Nikki asks.

"Good question." Red points a finger in her direction. "Kristy will be singing Hanky Panky."

I almost groan out loud. Really? Could you be more literal?

"Got something to say, Liza?" Red eyes me, amusement on his face.

Glancing over his shoulder, I focus on Bethany covering her mouth.

Fuck, I groaned out loud.

"I just think maybe we should do something not so literal. Instead, take some songs and interpret them to the theme. There's a lot we could do." I shrug, shrinking back a bit into the crowd.

"I like it. Let's throw out some songs. Even if you don't know them, we can work on that part." Red starts walking around the open space we’re circling.

"Wicked Game," Jennifer suggests.

"Tainted Love or Evidence," I offer.

"Good." Red claps his hands together, turning to face me. "Liza, pull together some songs and go over them with Nikki, Jennifer, and Bethany. Ladies, I want you guys to put your sets together. Then we will work on staging, choreography, and build this show."

I fully expect a fist pump when he's done. Instead, he claps once and loud. The girls are on me the minute we're dispersed.

"So?" Nikki follows close behind into my dressing room.

"So, what?" I delay answering.

"Don't play stupid, Liza." Jennifer enters with Bethany at her side.

"Well, she definitely made an impression on him." Bethany smiles, sitting down in her chair next to mine.

"Spill it." Nikki plops down on the loveseat in the far side of the room.

"We have a set to put together." I shove my bag under my table. "He isn't giving us much time to pull this off."

"Don't change the subject." Jennifer leans against the faded wallpaper next to my table.

I cover my face with my hands.

"We ate breakfast and I went home."

Flashes of inked fingers on my thighs, soft lips on my neck, and penis jewelry enter my mind.

"Yeah, okay. That's the reason he called Red to get your information the next day?" Bethany purses her lips.

"What?" I snap my head to her.

The teasing look fades from her face.

"He called Red asking where you lived."

"But Red wouldn't know my address unless he was here and those are private employee records. He can't just give—”

Bethany's hands come up, stopping me.

"No, no. I gave him the information." Her eyes widen at the look on my face.

"You what?" I screech.

"He said you forgot something and he wanted to return it. I didn't think—”

"No. You didn't think, Bethany." Angry and needing to get away, I stand and leave the room.

Bethany and Nikki call after me, but I ignore them and don’t stop until I'm up in the control room going through songs.

By Friday, I'm feeling anxious, edgy, and stressed. Kel's informed me how sick Sean's grandmother really is, Hidden Star called and confirmed my information, and I'm not too sure the show is going to go smoothly. My stomach is in a knot when I step off the bus and see photographers. Keeping my head down, I slip by them and into the club.

"What's with the photographers?" I ask, stepping into the dressing room.

"Our guest performer draws attention," Bethany answers flatly.

"I never did ask what she's famous for." Settling into my chair, I start pulling out the sponges and brushes. Bethany stays quiet.

"You okay?" I set down the applicators, twisting to face her.

"Oh, are you speaking to me now?" She presses a hand to her chest.

And the Oscar goes to Bethany Hall for dramatic performance.

"Look, I was pissed, okay? You really have no idea what happened and that's not your fault. I'm sorry for the silent treatment. It really wasn't all about that, either."

Turning back to my table, I start twisting my hair into curlers.

Bethany sighs heavily beside me.

"I'm sorry if you didn't want him to know where you live. I really didn't think it through further than Jackson Shaw wanted your address."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see her smile.

"I'm sorry."

Twisting hair around the pink, bendable curler, I meet her gaze in the mirror.

"It's over now. Let's just forget about it." Giving a smile, I reassure our reconciliation.

But my mind does anything but forget. My hand pulses, remembering the silky hardness of him fucking my hand. Tingles prickle my fingertips recalling the cool steel of his piercing.

"Liza?" Nikki says, her tone telling me this isn't the first time she's said my name.

"Yeah?" I blurt.

"Geez, girl, where were you?" She laughs and shakes her head. "Never mind. Guess who's here to see you tonight?"

Wrapping the last of my hair, I turn away from the mirror to face her.

"I have no—” Oh, yes, I do have an idea.

"You figured it out," she sings the words.

"Excuse me." Annoyance laces the sickly sweet female voice.

Stepping aside, Nikki allows the tall, willowy blonde entrance. Kristyna Molvic: Gucci spokesperson, supermodel, and Jackson Shaw's girlfriend.

I face my mirror, keeping my eyes on my makeup.

Why does karma strike so quick?

"Thanks, sweetie," she coos, obviously insincere.

"Yeah, sure." Nikki turns her nose up, leaving the room.

"Red said I could use this dressing room." She bats her long, fake lashes at Bethany and me.

"Yeah, that table is free. It used to be Jazzmin's." Bethany points to the empty table.

"Oh," Kristyna pouts. "I thought I'd have the entire room to myself."

"Sorry, not in this place," Bethany quips, turning back to her mirror.

A small huff sounds from behind us, but I need to put all my focus on my makeup.

"Is there a makeup artist?" The sound of her voice sends a sharp twinge of guilt through me.

"We do our own, but I can give you a hand if you’d like," Bethany offers, pushing up from her chair.

"Would you?" The chair creaks under the pressure of Kristyna's weight. "I'd really appreciate it."

"Sure." Bethany moves to assist our special guest performer, the real reason Jackson is here to watch the show tonight. After mistaking Kel for something other than my brother, the sick bastard must love this.

Chapter Nine

Jackson

Before Red called to invite me to a "special night" at Lux, I'd resolved not to return. But the moment his name popped up on my phone, I knew I was a fucking liar.

"What the hell?" Leaning toward the tinted window, I take in the crowd of paps surrounding the club entrance. I groan as the car pulls to the curb, preparing to exit.

The flashes, already annoying, intensify from the amount of cocaine surging through my system.

"Hey, Jackson, how are you tonight?" one calls.

"Jackson, give us a shot," another demands.

Keeping my head down, I slip my hands into my pockets so I won’t flip them off or punch someone. Fucking leeches.

A slow, steady beat fills the air of the extremely packed club.

"Jack!" Red's call pulls my attention to the VIP table.

I sit in the booth and one of the busty servers sets a drink on the table.

"Thanks." Grasping the cold glass, I bring it to my lips.

"You feeling okay?" Red examines me through narrow eyes.

I nod, setting the glass down on the table.

"What's with all the commotion tonight?" I ask, lounging into the booth and stretching an arm over the back.

"It's time to publicize this place." He grins. “I have a guest performer tonight that will draw some buzz."

"A guest, already?"

Completely unlike Red, he stays silent, a mischievous smile on his face.

The lights dim and a man's deep voice fills the room.

"Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, let's give tribute to rope, paddles, chains, blindfolds, and handcuffs. Please welcome special guest, Kristyna Molvic, for your viewing pleasure."

My lips part, chest tightens, and anger boils my stomach. What is this bitch up to now?

The flirty music fills the room, curtains part, and Kristy steps forward, asking to be spanked and for hanky-panky. She doesn't really sing, it's more of a rhythmic talking.

She's got nothing on the other girls and sure as fuck, not my snake charmer.

Kristy's eyes lock on to me. Sitting straighter, a flash registers from near the bar.

Damn, paps!

In a silky, pink corset, short shorts, white fishnets, and other accessories, Kristy struts off the stage through the crowd. She reaches our table and hops up, leaning back on the black lacquered surface. Pulling herself up to end the song, she spins and lands into my lap. Her big finish is straddling and kissing me.

Instinctively, my hands clasp her hips, but I feel the urge to toss her off. Another flash from a camera stops me. I don't need any more damn press involved in my life. Going lax, I let her finish the act.

She pulls back, her look telling me she's pissed by my lack of reaction. Another camera flashes and she's quick to put her practiced smile in place. Slipping off my lap, she soaks in the applause and accolades from the audience as she returns to the stage, disappearing stage left.

"You're one lucky fucker," Red boasts.

"You think?" I narrow my eyes at him, my mouth tight.

"What, man? I thought you two were together. She wanted to surprise you," he explains.

"Ah." I nod, now understanding. "She's a psycho, man. I've tried to drop the bitch twice now, but I can't get rid of her."

"Why would you get rid of someone so ready to ride you?" His eyebrow quirks in curiosity.

I close my eyes and rub my face, fighting not to say the three words that will make it perfectly clear. So, instead of "she's not Liza", I say, "She's like single-white-female meets Jigsaw."

Red's brow furrows in confusion.

"She'll do whatever it takes to get where she wants to be and her games are fucking twisted and bloody."

Before he can react to my explanation, every light goes out, including the ones over the tables. The lights flicker in synchronization to the beat of Tainted Love, until her voice deliberately ear fucks everyone with the first verse.

In a black and gray striped corset, lace bottoms, sheer black thigh-highs with fuck-me-now bows, and black stilettos, she slinks to the edge of the stage. A large, black pole in her hand, she stabs it into the stage, singing and grinding. Her blood red lips push the words out to the audience. This version is harder, edgier, like Manson's but slowed to a sexier tempo.

Stepping to the extended runway part of the stage, she struts, dragging the pole behind her. Two backups dressed in red follow. Once she stabs the pole into the stage floor again, they dance around it.

Leaving the dancers with the pole, she enters the crowd. Moving like a panther on the prowl, her body curls around the tightly packed bodies.

I rub my sweaty palms on my jeans, my cock painfully hard. It knows exactly how slick and hot she feels, and he wants more.

Chest rising and falling, I inhale hard as Liza puts a foot on some asshole's chair between his legs. She unclasps one thigh-high before swaying her torso forward, pushing the sheer stocking down.

Gripping the table, I hold myself in place. She fucking transforms on stage, giving the audience a glimpse at the naughty charmer I know intimately.

No one else should see this. It's mine, damn it!

With a small shake of my head, I remove the thought like shaking a fucking Etch-A-Sketch.

It's not mine. She's not mine. She belongs to another fucking guy.

She pushes away from the guy, giving him her back, and shimmies, releasing the clasp on the other leg. The douchebag reaches his hand out.

I start to stand, but Red puts a hand on my arm, and mouths, "You don't want to leave now." Grinning, he points to Liza.

I look back, seeing she's tied the asshole's hands behind his back with a napkin before walking away. Smiling, I start relaxing until she pulls another guy from the crowd onto the stage.

The backups quickly strap the guy to the pole and Liza plucks at the fingertips of her gloves before shoving one in his mouth. The man bites and she pull her hand from the glove.

After repeating the action with the other glove, she kicks away her heels. The backups remove her stockings and then Liza practically crawls up the guy's body. When the dancers start loosening her corset strings, the whooshing sound of my heart ricochets in my ears.

The corset hangs loose, her hand holding it to her chest, and bare back against the dickhead I plan to track down later and kill. She finishes the song almost on a whimper, begging for him to take her tears and lets the corset drop. My heart stops, starting again when the backups move their heads in the way before anyone actually sees anything but black X pasties.

Darkness falls around us again. The roar of applause is deafening. She's brought every man and woman to their knees, or possibly to orgasm.

My fucking snake charmer. One night was supposed to be enough. I'm not supposed to care about you flirting with the audience, revealing the seductress I'm intimately acquainted with, or…fuck, I'm not supposed to care at all, to want you the way I do.

The lights in the booths and on the tables fade back to dim.

"I fucking love that girl," Red boasts, proud and impressed.

I grunt. If I speak, not only will I lose my shit on Red, I'll find those douchebags out in the audience and show them what a spanking with a fist feels like.

"Don't worry. I'm not making a play for her," Red laughs.

My eyes meet his.

"I thought you were just looking for a distraction, but it looks like she may have gotten to you, huh?" He puts his beer bottle to his mouth.

"Nah," I shake my head, "she was just a distraction."

I reach for my glass and toss back the watered down JD. Red's boisterous laugh draws other people's attention.

"Dude, you were ready to go Captain Caveman when she was performing." His big hand slaps the table.

"I was not." I lie my fucking ass off. "In fact, she's just like the rest who have someone at home, but still fuck around."

The server appears with fresh drinks, clears the old, and disappears.

"That girl is good." I point to the retreating server but look at Red.

He nods, taking a pull from his new beer.

"Liza's got an old man?" Red's question annoys and amuses me.

"Old man? Really?" Furrowing my brow, I'm a little surprised by the label he chose.

"Yes, really, fucker," Red responds. "Anyhow, I swear Bethany said she's single. Lives with her sons, or brothers…or something. Fuck, I'm not sure. She was naked and I got sidetracked." He shakes his head.

"Well, that didn't take you long," I taunt, changing the topic to him.

"Actually, she took a couple weeks to break down. Even then, I had to be pretty persuasive since I'm the new boss. She was all worried about fucking her boss and how it would look," he snorts.

"She has a point." Raising my brows, I sip my drink.

"No, she doesn't. I'm not fucking everyone who works for me. And I wanted her long before I bought the place. Though, she doesn't seem to like when I call her my little signing bonus."

The lights dim again while we're laughing. A spotlight pierces the dark stage. Liza stands center in a pair of golden silk underwear, gold mesh belt, and a thin, gold, chain metal top. The top clings to the curve of her breasts, hanging exquisitely from the peaks of her nipples.

I lick my lips, the memory of her taunting my taste buds.

The beat of the song is familiar. One of the first I heard her perform, but tonight, it's darker…dirtier, somehow. She opens her mouth, and sings, "If I let you in, let you deep inside."

I've been inside and somehow you got deep in me. What the fuck did you do to me?

An ache fills my chest, while warning bells resonate in my head. And, just because he doesn't like to be excluded, my cock presses painfully against my zipper.

Without a word, I leave for the bathroom, patting my pocket for the small vial.

Liza

"Jesus, Liza, I haven't seen you go so deep into Miz Liz in a while." Jennifer stands in the open dressing room door, watching as I slip my red robe over my bare torso. The silky material is much more comfortable than the rough mesh top.

"Really?" I play it off, hanging the chain metal top in its place and cleaning up my vanity. The last thing they need to know is seeing Kristyna all over Jackson, in front of the crowd and cameras, hurt.

It shouldn't hurt. I dip two lip brushes into cleaner and scrub with a paper towel. He's not mine. It was one night. Placing the brushes in their case, I move onto the foundation brushes. I'm jealous over something I could never have. Why did I watch Kristyna's performance? You said you'd stay in the dressing room, but no, you just had to see how she would do. I snort.

"Liza?" Bethany asks in a small voice.

"Yeah?" I respond, keeping my attention on the brushes.

"Are you okay?"

Taking a deep breath, I look up at her.

"Yes, I'm fine. Just tired and ready to get out of here." I force a smile.

She nods, but there's a look of pity in her eyes. A look I don't want.

"Tonight was amazing. Thank you so much for all your help." Kristy breezes into the room. "I'll just get my things. Jackson's waiting."

"Jackson?" Bethany asks, spinning around in her chair.

"Yeah," Kristyna's reply is quick, obviously in a hurry.

I look up from under my lashes, catching Kristy's smile reflected in my mirror. Before she catches the scowl I now wear on my face, I drop my gaze.

Damn karma. Damn. Damn. Damn.

Closing my eyes, I breathe deep and fight a shudder.

"Well…" She pauses. "Thanks again."

The click of her heels silences behind the closing of the door.

I dip my chin to chest, my hair falling around me like the stage curtain, and release the breath, swallowing the emotions clogging my throat.

"Liza, I—” Bethany starts.

Putting one hand up, I silence her.

"I just want to go home," I say, my words a broken whisper.

"Sure," she replies, resignation in her tone.

I allow myself one more moment to marinate on things before raising my head. The reflection of the painted face in the mirror stares back with raw hurt glittering in her eyes.

Get over it. You saw trouble written all over him from the start. Grow a vagina and move on.

"Can you help me with the laces?" Bethany's question pulls me away from the mirror.

I straighten from my chair, pushing down my unreasonable feelings.

"Yep." I reach out and slip my fingers through the silky strings, loosening them enough for her to shimmy out of the corset.

"Are you sure you're okay?" She doesn't allow me to answer before continuing. "If this is about…if it's about him, Liza, you didn't know. And even if you did, just forget about it."

I turn my head and open my mouth with the intentions of telling her I’m good, but I burst out laughing instead.

"Beth, can you put the girls away? They're pointing at me," I snort, covering my eyes.

We've obviously all seen each other naked. In our line of work and quick changes, it happens. However, being eye level with her hard nipples and trying to talk is just too much. Her arm comes around her chest.

"Sorry," she apologizes on a laugh.

The dressing room door slams against the wall and Bethany screams, rushing to cover her nudity with a robe. Spinning around in the chair, all air leaves my lungs.

His predatory gaze sends my heart racing. I stand, straightening my shoulders.

The fluid prowl of his body knocks all defiant strength out of me. I retreat. One step, two, bumping into Bethany's chair.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bethany yells, tightening the belt of her robe. "You can't just burst in here because you feel like it," she says, continuing the lecture. The screech of a chair pulls my attention back to him. He's shoved my chair over.

Damn it, Bethany. Your distraction cost me.

He's gaining. Pushing on the chair behind my legs, I put it between the predator and me.

His eyes narrow on mine. The left side of his mouth twitches devilishly. My hands tighten on the chair just before it disappears, slamming to the floor next to Bethany. She shrieks, hurrying out of the room.

Long, too familiar arms wrap around my waist. He lifts, carrying and pressing me against the wall.

"Jac—”

One arm untangles, his hand cupping my chin and thumb pressing against my lips, silencing me.

I grab his wrist.

"I don't care about him." Jackson's voice is thick and unsteady.

"Kristyna," I say the words in a muffle against his thumb.

"I sure as fuck don't care about her," he sneers.

The pad of his thumb presses and swipes my bottom lip before his mouth crushes mine.

Squeezing my eyes shut, my left hand tight on his wrist, I fist my right hand at my side.

Don't give in. Fight against it.

All my senses fill with Jackson—the sound, scent, and feel of him. His lip ring pinches my unresponsive lips.

Christ, I want him.

He pulls back and his fingers slip into the hair at the back of my head, fisting. My head tilts in response and lips open on a gasp. He captures my mouth, plunging his tongue inside. The arm around me loosens enough so his hand can slip over my ass and squeeze—hard.

The sound of my heart beats between my ears. The rapid rise and fall of my chest against his through the silk robe hardens my nipples. I moan, sliding my tongue against his. A salty, chemical taste hits my taste buds.

What the hell?

The flavor isn't Jackson. It's wrong. Slipping my hands between our bodies, I place my palms against him and push. He doesn't move, so I push again, harder, and turn my head away from him. The pull of my hair stings my scalp.

"Stop," I pant.

"Never." His mouth moves against my cheek and over my jaw.

Pushing even harder, I bring a leg up and dig my knee into his thigh, separating us.

"Stop, Jackson," I growl.

Hands fisted at his sides, chest heaving, his eyes grow hard.

"Now you care?" His brows raise in amazement.

"You don't know what you're talking about," I blurt. "But I know Kristyna is here for you, with you, or whatever. Pretty hypocritical, aren't you?" I only hope he doesn't hear the tremor in my voice.

Pressing forward again, he traps me against the wall with an arm on either side of me. He leans in, his face coming to the side of my head.

"I don't give a shit about Kristy." The husky words warm my ear. "And if you gave a shit about him, we never would've happened. Yet, you let my tongue and cock between your legs." A shiver runs down my spine. "So, I don't give a fuck about anything else. I've had you."

I jump when his fingers touch my bare thigh.

"And now, I have a taste for you."

His hand slips under my robe.

I squeeze my eyes shut tight. My body surrenders, but my head spins. His “taste for me” comment hurts, like an insult. His touch moves higher up my thigh, burning my skin. Flames lick their way between my legs, my need for him becoming consuming. But not like this. Something is wrong. Bringing my hands up, I press against his chest again.

"I fucking want you, Liza."

Jackson's head dips, his mouth claiming the skin of my neck.

"What the fuck, man?" The boisterous question snaps me from the lust-filled cocoon Jackson's created. "Get off of her!"

I stiffen and press on his chest.

Jackson sighs against my neck. Without moving away, he looks over his shoulder.

"Christ, Jackson, you can't just barge into the dressing rooms." Red's lecture comes from directly behind Jackson. "Look, man, you gotta go."

His muscles tense against me.

"Don't give me that look. You're the one who created this goddamn problem. Bethany is freaking out and Kristy isn't going to be distracted by those cameras for much longer."

It's my turn to tense. Kristy. He had a taste for her once.

With Jackson focused on Red, I duck under his arm and out of his trap. Red's eyes look me over before meeting mine with unspoken concern. Jackson stands to his full height, watching our exchange before locking eyes with me.

"You should go," I say, my voice low and more composed than I thought possible in this moment. I turn away from them and move toward my dressing table, giving both of them my back.

"Come with me," Jackson states.

"Can't." Sitting, I pull my bags out from under the table.

"Come with me," he says, his voice deeper, harder, demanding.

"Jackson, you—” About to tell him he has the wrong idea about Kel, drama enters the room.

"Baby, I've been waiting for you." Kristy sounds contemptuous. "The car is here to take us back to our hotel. I want to celebrate."

Silence, densely thick, fills the room.

"Kristy?" Jackson's voice slices through like the edge of a sword.

"Yeah, babe?" Her tone perks.

"We. Are. Not. Together." He punctuates each word, his tone ruthless. "And you knew that before you came to L.A."

Onlookers gasp.

He didn't. What a dick move.

Kristy sputters for a moment. I don't care for her, but I can't help but empathize with her.

"I told you that shit before I flew down here. Don't act like it's a big fucking surprise," he says, contempt now in his voice.

"You fucking bastard. I will fucking ruin you." Her threat is calm, almost too calm. Without further prompting, Kristy turns on her heels and walks out.

"Alright, everyone," Red breaks the uncomfortable silence, "let's close up and get out of here. It's been a long fucking night." He sounds exhausted.

"He needs to go," Bethany stresses from the doorway.

"Jack, come on." Red motions for him to follow.

Jackson's eyes stay on me—watching, searching.

He has a taste for you. When the craving goes, you'll be another Kristy.

"You heard him." Bethany steps in the room, pointing to the door.

"I don't give a fuck about him, Liza." Jackson takes three strides to stand over me.

I tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

Leaning down, his hands grip the armrests. His face stops inches from mine.

"When I want something, I can be very persistent."

My eyes drop to his lips. He stands, smiling with satisfaction, a promise in his eyes.

"Jackson," Red says, his irritation evident.

"I'll be outside, snake charmer." Licking his bottom lip, he turns, leaving the room.

Exhaling, I slouch in the chair.

I have to find a way out of here without him seeing me.

"I don't know whether I should be scared for you or jealous." Bethany rights her chair before sitting.

"Scared," I respond. "Definitely scared."

Chapter Ten

Jackson

Over an hour. I've waited for over a fucking hour.

"Hey, we're closed." The flamboyant doorman tries to stop me. One look and he stays back.

Striding into the empty club, I make my way to the hidden door at the side of the stage. It swings open, causing me to jump back.

"Jackson?" Red's brow furrows, a combination of annoyance and confusion on his face.

"He's here?" Bethany squeaks, pushing by him to narrow her eyes at me.

"Where's Liza?"

Red opens his mouth, but Bethany moves in front of him.

"She's gone." She smirks. "She went home, Jackson, where she should be. The last thing she needs is another night with a lying asshole."

She snuck out the fucking back? She avoided me.

"Babe." Red's large hand clasps her shoulder.

"I'm the liar?" I snort in disbelief.

"You're also an asshole," she adds, shaking Red's hand off. "Liza's a good person. Quit fucking with her." Her arms cross over her chest.

"Mind your own fucking business," I growl, turning away.

"Leave her alone. Liza and the boys don't need your kind of shit." She throws the words at my back.

"Boys?" I spin around, anger and hurt stabbing my chest. She fucking snuck out to get away from me, to get to him, leaving me standing on a fucking curb. "Maybe the fact that he's a boy is why she spent the night with me. Ever think of that?"

Her mouth opens, and then closes. Brows furrowed, she looks over her shoulder to Red and back to me.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She drops her arms.

"Nothing," I snap, done with it all. "Tell her she can fucking have him. I get it and I'm nobody's bitch."

Turning, I take quick steps toward the exit.

"What are you talking about?" Bethany asks my back.

I don't stop or look back.

"Red, what's he talking about?"

The heavy metal door slams shut behind me, cutting off her grating voice. I approach the car and Sam stands from the driver's seat. Putting up a hand, I stop him.

"I’ve got it," I say, grabbing the handle and letting myself into the car. "Just get me the fuck out of here."

Reaching a hand into my pocket, I pull out the vial and open it. Empty.

"Fuck!" I toss it at the seat across from me.

Rubbing my face, I fight the urge to shout until the windows shatter. My cell vibrates against my leg, distracting me from the craving—the need.

I lift it up, reading Red's name flashing on the screen.

Yeah, just what I need. His bitch probably has him banning me from the club or some shit.

Ignoring the call, I drop the phone into the seat next to me. It vibrates again—this time, a text.

Red: We need to talk

Swiping the screen, I touch delete and rest my head back for the remainder of the ride.

I push open my hotel room door, my stash in the bathroom the only thing on my mind. Kristy's form in the dark doorway of my bedroom halts my steps.

"Are you fucking serious?" Running my shaky hands through my hair, I lick my dry lips.

"I'm willing to forgive you for tonight, but I won't forget how you embarrassed me." She steps into the light, naked. "You're going to have a lot of making up to do, though."

What did I ever find attractive about her?

She raises a fist and uncurls her fingers, a brown vial laying center palm.

"I know what you want, Jackson."

Her long fingers uncap the vial and sprinkle it over her chest.

"You just have to say you're sorry." Licking her finger, she runs it across the white powder before rubbing it on her gums. "Tell me you’re sorry and I can give you what you need, baby."

She steps forward, the powder trickling between her breasts.

I rub my hands on my jeans, but can't get them dry. I take deep breaths, but can't get enough oxygen.

Charging forward, she flinches back a little, but holds her ground.

I bury my face between her breasts and inhale before licking up to her neck.

"That's it, baby. Take what you need," she coos, her hand in my hair.

Reaching out, I grab the vial from her hand, shove her away, and leave her in the sitting room by herself.

I lock myself inside the bathroom and get three rails into my system.

"You're pathetic!" Kristy bangs on the door. "You fucking junkie!" Something smashes against the door.

One more bump and I slide down to the cool floor tile. Closing my eyes, I revel in the numbness.

Fuck Kristy and her screaming ass. To hell with Liza and her clueless man. Screw. Them. All.

Silence finally fills the air. Leaning against the sink, I reach up to the counter, grasp the vial, and bring it to me. Another hit and the shower stall slants. My face meets the cold tile with a slap. Shifting to my back, I let the numbness take possession.

"Jackson!"

Doesn't she ever go the fuck away?

"Open the door, Jackson!"

"Fuck off," I groan, pulling the blanket to my chest.

"Oh, thank God." She sounds way too relieved. Didn't she want to kill me last night? "Can you please open the door before hotel management gets here?" she pleads.

I bury my face in the blanket and inhale, a musty smell filling my nostrils. Shoving the blanket away, I open my eyes to the sterile, white tile bathroom. Rolling to my back, I rub my hands over my face.

"What the fuck?"

"The manager is going to be here soon," Julia pleads from the other side of the door.

Shifting my jaw, I grab the counter and pull myself up. Every muscle protests and my bones crack.

"Jackson, please—!" Opening the door silences her yell.

"Quit yelling." Yawning, I stumble by her and face plant into the bed. The smell of chemically clean linens assaults my nostrils. Fuck, I shouldn't have let them wash away the scent of her.

"You want me to quit yelling?" she asks, incensed.

"Yeah, that'd be great." The mattress muffles my response.

"How about don't lock yourself in the bathroom with a bag full of…of whatever that is!"

"I'm out now," I mumble. "You can go tell the manager not to bother me. I'm going to take a nap."

I jolt up from a sharp pain in my shoulder blade before a decorative statue thumps to the mattress. My scowl doesn't intimidate Julia.

"You have a schedule to keep and it's my job to make sure you do. Now, get your ass out of bed, in the shower, and meet me in the sitting room for breakfast." She turns and takes three giant steps before spinning back. Pointing a finger at me, she narrows her eyes. "And stay sober." Her voice is low, threatening. "You need to get to the sound studio for meetings, listening sessions, and promo shots."

She slams the door and I wince at the sound. I roll my head to work out the stiffness and make my way to the shower.

Thirty minutes and two hits later, a still angry Julia escorts me to the studio in silence. Even when we arrive and Sam opens the door, she exits without a peep. The silence from her, a usually chatty girl, grates my nerves.

"Are you going to give me the silent treatment for—?"

"We need to go to studio room C." She keeps her eyes on her iPad.

"Julia, look—”

"We're going to be late." She steps from me and into the studio.

My eyes land on Sam, who wears a grim look. Sighing, I follow after the pissed off little pin-up.

She stops at the door and stands aside.

"Do you need anything?" she asks, her voice flat.

I stop before entering the door.

"I'm sorry about this morning."

She gives a nod and I exhale heavily before stepping into the room.

"I don't need anything," I call over my shoulder, not looking back.

Who the fuck is she to judge me? I don't need shit from her too.

"You look like hell," Gemma greets, her nose wrinkled.

"The more you deny your attraction to me, the more I know you want me." I drop into a chair beside her.

She groans. "Please, if I hear one more pathetic flirty comment, I'm going to blow chunks all over this table."

"Zarek?" I raise a brow.

"Of course," she mumbles, her eyes moving to where he sits at the other end of the table.

Not wanting to be part of that shit, I stay quiet.

"You need to take a break from the shit," Gemma whispers, her face closer than before.

"Okay, Mom." My words are a bit more bitchy than intended.

"Jackson, we're friends and you're looking worse for wear." Her hand slips over my bicep, bringing my attention to her.

She's closer than I realized, our heads only a few inches apart. Giving her a smile, I cover her small hand with mine.

"I'm fine. You have nothing to worry about."

"Maybe we should get started." Zarek's voice booms so loud, I jerk my head in his direction.

His eyes burn into Gemma and me—especially where our hands touch.

He's got it bad. Poor fucker. I know all too well how you're feeling.

Gemma and I put space between us and begin today's listening session.

The new submissions are better since they were recorded in a professional studio. We get through a fourth of the contestants—listening, discussing, critiquing, listening again, and putting together comments—before a show executive enters the room. She tells us about the upcoming processes and how we will actually be listening to live recordings next week for contestants who are able to come to this studio and another one across town. For others, we will be patched into some different studios via a live feed. We will need to break up into groups to cover them all, but will all hear the final recorded tracks eventually. This just allows us to offer immediate mentoring and feedback as they record.

Gemma and I team up to take the local studio and live feed from the Seattle Mack Productions Studio. We've both worked with Leo Mackey and his wife, Chloe, in the past. The others team up and get their assignments before we are ushered to promo shots and interviews.

Today's entertainment reporter, Perry Flores, is well known for his attempts to shock and incense his targets.

"Why the hell are they using this guy?" I grumble.

"Because they want publicity," Cheyenne states. "He has a huge following, and if you haven't noticed, this show isn't exactly taking off the way the producers had hoped."

"Really?" I'm not shocked, but surprised I hadn't already heard this news.

"Perhaps you should keep your head up instead of face down on smooth surfaces," she quips, brushing her finger under her nose.

"Excuse me?" I growl, gripping the arms of the director's chair tight.

She only snorts.

"So, who would like to begin?" Perry leans his chin into his palm, scanning us. Before any of us have a chance to respond, he continues, "I know. Gemma, let's start with you." He gives her a sleazy smile.

Fuck, this is going to be bloody.

"Okay." Gemma smooths her black polka-dot skirt.

"So, tell me about your relationship with fellow judge Zarek." He bats his eyes.

Tension pours off Gemma. In my peripheral, I see Zarek stiffen.

"Well…" she clears her throat, "aside from our work together at the music awards and now as co-judges, we really don't know each other."

"Really?" He draws out the one word with disbelief.

She nods. "Yes."

"My sources tell me you two had an altercation backstage at the music awards. Is that true?"

You can actually see the glee in his eye at causing discomfort.

"It was a simple misunderstanding. Not by any means an altercation." Gemma laughs, but it sounds forced.

"So, you didn't hit him?"

"I, uh…" she stutters.

"Like she said, it was a misunderstanding," Zarek chimes in, drawing Perry's attention. "I wasn't exactly kind when we met, which was a misunderstanding on my part. It resulted in me getting something I deserved." He shrugs.

"How sweet. So quick to defend her." Perry's grin widens.

"I'm not defending anyone. I just want to make sure it's clear that—”

"Tell me, Zarek, my sources say you and Ms. Harper were seen entering a hotel room together. Is this true?"

Gemma gasps.

"Look, buddy, I don't know what this shit is, but I thought we were here to talk about the show?" I bark, pulling the slime ball’s attention and instantly regretting it.

"We'll come back to that." His grin widens. "Jackson Shaw. This has been quite a hard year for you." A forced pout forms on his face.

"I've done okay." I narrow my eyes at him, hoping he gets the hint to leave it alone.

"I, for one, am glad to see you looking so well after the whole cheating debacle." He nods, looking positively sincere. "Now, with the medical concerns you're dealing—”

I laugh. "I don't have any medical concerns."

"Oh, I know. I'm referring to your poor mother. All those doctors and tests."

My chest constricts, breathing becoming impossible.

"Can you share with us whether she is doing alright?"

I try to swallow, but choke. Coughing, I see Perry's mouth and pen moving, but can't hear anything.

Mom? Doctors? Tests? What the fuck is…how can he….what if...?

A glass of water appears in my face and I reach for it, but it slips through my fingers, crashing to the floor. Standing from the chair, I rip the mic wire from my chest and toss it to the floor before exiting the room.

"Jackson," Julia's voice is filled with concern, "I didn't know he was going to—”

"I need to leave." I turn on her, grabbing her shoulders. "Get the fucking car, Julia!"

Her eyes widen as she steps back, bringing her phone to her ear.

Seeing her phone makes me reach for my own. Scrolling, I tap Mom with more force than necessary.

Julia grabs my elbow, pulling me down the halls toward the exit.

No answer. I call again.

Outside, Sam stands, holding the door open. I throw myself into the car and disconnect the unanswered call. Julia slips in behind me.

I scroll again, this time calling Christopher.

"Yeah," he answers on the first ring.

"What the fuck is going on with Mom, Chris?" I shout.

His sigh is heavy.

"I don't fucking know, man. Neither of them will answer my calls. I'm on my way over there now."

"So, you knew she was seeing doctors? Why wouldn't you fucking tell me?"

"I didn't fucking know until today," he snaps. "Mia got cornered in the airport by a reporter. She called me right before she got on the plane."

"She won't answer me," I say, my voice breaking.

"I'm on it, Jack," Chris assures. "As soon as I get to them, you are the first person I'm calling. I'll fucking put you on speaker."

I shake my head and take a deep breath.

"I'm taking the first flight out of here."

"Jack, I know you want to, but wait. Let me find out what's going on."

"I can't wait for that. This is my mom." A sob escapes.

"You don't need to travel right now, brother." Christopher's voice is low. "Get a drink and let me do this. I can get answers before you can fly out. Don't be on a plane where I can't reach you. Okay?"

I hate that he makes sense.

"Fine," I snap, "but you better fucking call me as soon as you get there! I'm dead fucking serious, Christopher."

There's a long silence and I'm about to rage at him once more.

"Jackson, you're my brother." He pauses, and I know this shit is hard for Chris. "Gwen is my mother, too. There's nothing I wouldn't do for the two of you."

Tears clog my throat, the fear of the unknown and the rawest response I've ever experienced from Christopher fucking with my emotions.

I nod even though he can't see me.

"Hang in your hotel room. Grab a drink and the book you write your poetry shit."

My eyes widen and mouth pops open.

"Yeah, fucker, I know you still write that shit." Chris' tone is back to normal. "You should probably consider writing some lyrics instead of exhausting my brilliance all the fucking time."

A laugh breaks through the emotional clog in my throat.

"You're an arrogant bastard," I state in a strained laugh.

"You'll do what I ask, yeah?"

"Yeah," I sigh, dropping my head back on the seat.

"Good. Talk soon." He hangs up. Typical Christopher.

The sound of my cell phone shocks me from the Jack Daniels and cocaine stupor. I twist to grab my phone from the side table. The motion knocks an empty bottle onto the floor.

Rubbing my eyes, I try to focus on the screen.

"Fuck!" I growl to the empty room, seeing a text from Red and not the call from Chris I’m expecting.

I do a quick dial to Christopher and it goes straight to voicemail. Sniffing, I drop the phone and rub my face. Wrapping my fingers around the neck of the JD bottle beside me, I lean back against the headboard and uncap the bottle, draining the last drops. I close my eyes, letting the liquid burn in my chest.

Picking the vial up off the bed, I put two bumps into my system before returning to Red's text. Anything to distract me. I swipe the screen.

Red: Since you won't return my messages. Kel's Liza's lil' bro. She doesn't have a man.

Her brother? He's her fucking brother?

"He's her fucking brother." Saying the words out loud somehow makes it humorous. Laughter erupts from my chest.

Chest warm and body numbing, I stagger off the bed. She's let me believe she's with someone. It's time to find out why.

Liza

"So, he didn't show up tonight?" Sid asks, sounding a bit distracted.

"No, thank God," I sigh, readjusting myself in the bus seat. "I was sure he'd confront me for ducking out."

"Not gonna lie, I'm kind of disappointed he didn't show."

"Gee, thanks." I roll my eyes, not that she can see me.

"What can I say? I live vicariously through your romantic interludes," she says, her voice a wistful sigh.

"I don't think I'd call them romantic interludes," I snort.

"True. More like lust-crazed, hard-on directed stalking," she retorts, her voice growly. "Whew, it's enough to get me worked up just talking about it."

"You have problems," I laugh.

"You say this like it's a surprise," she responds. "So, why are you calling me if there aren't any gritty, dirty, rocker tales to spin?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, does my regular life bore you?"

"I wasn't going to say anything, but after all the excitement lately, I don't know if I can go back to the mundane of these late night calls."

"Bitch."

"Flatterer." Sid's voice is sickly sweet.

"I'm calling because we had an employee meeting before the show tonight."

"And?" she presses.

"And Red is implementing compensation packages."

"He's what?" Now I have her full attention.

"Yeah. I'm actually getting a raise, health benefits options, and there are fringe benefits as well."

"What kind of fringe benefits?" Sid perks. "Like access to hot, dirty, tattooed rocker boys?"

"You're such a slut," I giggle. "No, not the rocker boys. However, we will have consultations with a dermatologist, full access to a local spa, and a gym membership benefit."

"Wow." Sid follows the word with a whistle. "This is good, right?"

"Yes and no."

I rub my forehead.

"I think this is going to really mess with the assistance I receive," I admit, dropping my voice. Not because I'm embarrassed, but because not everyone on the late night bus needs to know my business. "Don't get me wrong. I'm all for supporting us on my own."

"But?" she pushes.

"Well, just mentally calculating my finances, this new compensation plan will probably mean I'll lose the HUD funding and have to find a new place to live. It will also cut off medical assistance for Kel and Lucas."

I take a deep breath.

"Sid, this puts me in a bracket that should be great, but what it really does is make me more financially strapped. A new place means moving expenses. And one I'll be able to afford may result in moving away from a neighborhood I feel good having Lucas in. It could put him in a new school district and be crappier than where we live now. And call me crazy, but what about Sean? He's staying with us until his grandma gets out of the hospital. What if she doesn't get better? How am I supposed to walk away from him?"

"Don't get too worked up yet. Let's sit down and go over everything. Get all your budget information out, have your comp plan ready tomorrow, and give me a call. I'll do a quick search for some apartments to get average costs and utilities. We'll work this out. But, Liza, Sean is a different story. I'm not trying to sound like an asshole, but you don't have any legal rights to the kid. There's nothing you can do there."

"You sure you want to deal with all this?" Guilt wrinkles my forehead. I haven't told her about Mrs. Jackson's request to sign over guardianship to me. "It's not really something you have to—”

"Don't finish whatever you're about to say," Sid says, her words laced with anger. "I love you. You're more like a sister than a cousin. I'll always be there for you, so stop being stupid. Hell, maybe I'll just move out there with you. I haven't signed the lease on the apartment here yet."

"I'm not letting you give up your apartment. I know how much you love it. Plus, your work is there." I lean my head on the cool window and close my eyes.

"I'm an online based business, Liza. I can do it anywhere, and I'm pretty sure I could pick up clients in a city like L.A."

"Sid, thank you, but you have your own life. I won't let you change it to accommodate mine." Taking a deep breath, I decide to stop the conversation before she argues with me further. "I'm almost to my stop. I'll get everything together and call you tomorrow. Okay?"

Sid huffs. "Fine, good night."

"Night." I hang up, knowing it's not the last I've heard from Sid.

With a folder full of my financial future and the guardianship information on the counter for tomorrow, I change into a pair of yoga capris and one of Sid's famous t-shirt gifts. This one with the silhouette of two tap dancers on each side of the words I'd Tap That. Sid loves a good t-shirt and wearing it keeps her close. I settle onto the pullout bed, startling at a thud on my door.

Who the hell would be here this late at—?

The next thud is louder, harder.

Hurrying from the bed, I rush to the door and pull till the chain catches.

"Tell me who he is, snake charmer." His words are loud and slurred.

"What are you doing here?" I whisper.

"Tell me," he demands, his voice louder. He presses on the door and the chain creaks in protest.

"Shh!" I scowl through the small opening. "Stop, you'll break the chain."

Jackson's forehead thumps against the wood.

"Tell me." His plea is muffled.

"Kel's my brother,” I say, my voice hushed, not wanting to cause a bigger scene.

"Your brother," he laughs loudly, pushing away from the door. "He's your fucking brother!"

I shut the door and unhook the chain. Pulling it back open, I'm met by Jackson's chest. I blink and step back.

"Why did you let me think he was your man?" There's sorrow in his eyes and I'm not sure why.

"You made the assumption and turned into an asshole." I cross my arms over my chest. "And aside from the fact that you really haven't given me much of a chance to correct you, it's not like you deserve an explanation."

"Let me in." He sways to the left and reaches up, steadying himself with the frame.

"You need to be quiet and go, Jackson. Lucas has a soccer game in the morning and I don't want him woken up."

"Please," he slurs, his body slumping into the doorframe.

Reflexively, I reach out to steady him. My hands grip his biceps.

"Come on," I whisper, guiding him into my apartment.

He wraps his arms around me, pressing our chests together. The warmth of his cheek flattens on the top of my head.

"Is your car downstairs?" I ask, moving him so I can shut my door with a foot.

"No. I took a taxi." His hands skim down my back until he grips my ass with both hands. "Fuck, you feel so good."

A shiver runs along the base of my spine and my pussy throbs. Goddamn him.

I reach around, pull his hands off my ass, and step back from him.

"You took a taxi?" I try to scold the stupidity of his actions, but the grin on his face makes it difficult. "That was dumb."

"Probably." He shrugs and sways once again.

"You're drunk," I sigh. "Come over here."

Taking his wrist, he quickly slides his hand into mine, and I lead him to the pullout couch.

"Sit down. I'll see if I have some instant coffee left."

He sits, but pulls me down on top of him. Long, familiar arms encase me, holding me against his chest.

"Jackson," I warn on a whisper.

One hand slips up my spine to the back of my head. He pulls my face to him, taking my mouth in an all-consuming kiss. His mouth is warm, tongue strong and determined, but the taste is wrong. Pushing on his chest, I free my mouth.

"Let go." I shove a little harder.

"I don't think I can, snake charmer," he sighs before going lax.

I push once more and his arms slip away to the old mattress.

Standing by the bed, I look at his prone form. His overgrown ass will never fit on the pullout bed, even if I try to move him. I grin and pull a throw blanket over him.

Locking the apartment door, I press my head to the wood.

What the hell am I going to do with him?

I lift my head and look over my shoulder.

With everything else, the last thing I need is to be a rockstar's fling. It was supposed to be one night. Only one night.

With a deep breath, I move away from the door toward Lucas' room. I peek in, finding Lucas and Sean still sound asleep. I let out a sigh of relief, go back to the pullout, and climb over Jackson. Finding a spot on the other side, I lay down and try to get some sleep.

I'll just have to make sure I'm up before Lucas, Sean, and Kel. He's got to be out of here before they wake up.

The squeeze of my left breast jolts me awake.

"This is the best fucking way to wake up." Jackson's warm breath fans my cheek.

Relaxing just a bit, I pull his hand out of my shirt and sit up.

"You need to get going." I rub my neck, trying to work out the stiffness.

"Jesus, you don't sugar coat, do you?" Chuckling, he rolls to his back and groans. "Christ, do you sleep on this thing every night?"

"Not all of us live out of five star hotels." The words are sharper than intended, but I'm tired and stressed. "Look, you need to go before Lucas comes out here and finds you."

"Why?" He sits on the edge of the bed, rolling his neck till it cracks.

"Why?" I ask, exasperated.

"Yeah, why?" He stands, stretching his arms over his head. His fucking fingertips touch my ceiling.

"Because he doesn't need to see you waking up here." I step into the bed and walk across it, intending to show him the door.

"Where's your bathroom?" He starts down the hall and finds it on his own.

I groan and step into the small kitchen, filling my kettle with water before setting it on a burner.

Jackson strides back down the hall, hair in disarray, clothes rumpled, and a half-grin on his face. My nipples, heart, and pussy join forces in the great fuck-him-now campaign. I swallow hard, fighting the urges.

His eyes meet mine, holding them while he sits on a stool at the breakfast bar.

"You need to leave." Even I can hear how weak it sounds.

The half-grin on his face widens to a full smile.

"Have breakfast with me." Mischief glints in his eyes.

"Funny," I blurt, still battling the urge to lay across the bar and let him have whatever he wants.

He licks his bottom lip in a slow motion. I hold in a whimper and walk away.

"I need to use the bathroom."

"Uh huh." His chuckle follows.

After relieving myself, I wash my hands and splash cold water on my face before exiting the bathroom.

In the kitchen, Jackson opens and closes cabinets.

"What are you doing?" I keep my voice down, not wanting to wake anyone else.

"Looking for mugs." He opens the right cabinet. "Ha, found them."

Taking two out, he places them on the counter.

"Do you have coffee?" He raises a pierced brow.

"I don't know if there's any left. I have tea bags up there." I point to the small cabinet above the stove. "If you move, I'll get the stool and—”

"Stool? Really?" His look is incredulous.

Raising one arm, he opens the cabinet and pulls down the tea bag box.

"Yeah, well, I have to use the stool," I mumble.

He snorts.

"If you’d like, I can lift you up?" Wiggling his brow, he sticks his tongue out.

"You're such a comedian in the morning."

Taking the box, I move the mugs to the bar and put a teabag in each one. Jackson returns to his stool with the kettle and pours the water. I grab the sugar and a spoon. When we both finish doctoring our tea, he pulls the folder I left out in front of him.

"Hey." I slide it away from him.

"I already looked at it." He puts the mug to his mouth and blows.

Heat flushes my chest and neck.

"It amazes me how you can get on stage the way you do, but blush like this in person. It's intriguing." He sips.

"You didn't have the right to look at my personal things." Head down, I keep my hand pressed on the folder.

"I know," he responds without regret. "So, Red is doing well by his staff, but you're worried."

Surprised by his assessment, I look up and meet his eyes.

"What makes you say—?"

"Your previous budget," he responds, still no regret or shame.

I drop my face again, feeling the heat rise.

Damn it, what am I going to do? If he can eyeball the problems with a short glance, I am right to be so worried.

"Hey," his finger slides under my chin and lifts. Our eyes meet. "You don't have to be embarrassed. My mom and I lived on state—”

"I'm not embarrassed because I get help." I pull my face away from his fingers. "I mean, no, it's not something I bring up in everyday conversation, but I'm not embarrassed. I'm not one of those sit at home and leech money off the government types."

His hands come up, palms out.

"I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. Just saying I didn't always have money." He shrugs. "Sure, I’ve spent more time with money than without, but it wasn't always like that."

"I didn't mean to get defensive. I'm just stressed."

Why the hell am I talking about this with him?

"Anyhow, it's not something we need to talk about." I sip at my tea and look at the wall behind him.

"Where's Lucas' dad?" Jackson puts his forearms onto the bar, leaning forward.

"He's not around."

"But where is he?" he presses. "Why isn't he around?"

Setting my mug on the bar a bit too hard, I place both palms on the countertop.

"It's not any of your business." I narrow my eyes.

"No, but I made a mistake about your brother and that cost me time with you, so I’m going to make damn sure I know what’s up." His eyes don't leave mine. “Plus, I’m curious.”

"It's not an unusual tale. Pregnant at fifteen, he just turned eighteen. I thought he loved me. He didn't. End of story." Straightening, I pick my mug back up.

"I think there's more to it."

"He didn't know how young I was," I say around the mug.

"You told him you were older," he says, but there’s no judgment in his voice.

"I had a fake ID to get into a bar to watch a local band. Met him in the crowd. He drove me and Sid home. From there, I saw him for almost six months. I got pregnant and he confessed about the girlfriend he was planning to propose to." I shrug.

"Sid?" Jackson’s brows raise.

"My cousin."

"He knows about Lucas?"

"He knew I was pregnant. And about four years ago, I paid a lawyer friend to help find him and have him sign away his rights to my son."

Our eyes lock. His hold a little surprise.

"It wasn't cheap, but I don't want him popping up in Lucas' life, or mine."

"How's Lucas with it all?"

"So far, he's okay. I've told him about everything. I don't hide it from him."

"What about your parents?" He sits up, folding his arms over his chest.

"Will there be a blood test to go along with this life history?" I raise a brow.

"I'm just curious about you, Liza. You fascinate me and I want to get this right."

His answer is not what I expected.

"Don't look so surprised." He grins, dropping his arms. "I plan to know everything about you." The smile turns devilish.

"Mom, who are you talking—?" Lucas stops at the end of the hallway.

I straighten and put my mug on the counter before walking around the bar.

"What's that asshole doing here?" Lucas snarls.

"Lucas," I scold.

"It's okay." Jackson stands from the stool.

"No, it's not." I keep my eyes on Lucas. "You aren't allowed to talk like that. Jerk, Butthead, or something is fine. Heck, I might have even been okay with douchebag."

"Gee, thanks," Jackson mumbles.

I ignore him.

"What are you doing here?" Lucas narrows hard, angry eyes on Jackson.

"Your mom was nice enough to give me a place to stay last night.”

Lucas jerks his head in my direction.

"He stayed with you?" A grimace curls his lip. "After the way he treated you?"

"Lucas Campbell, watch your tone." Stepping to him, I put my arms around his shoulders. "He needed a place to sleep, so I let him stay here. Nothing else."

Lucas leans around my body to land a scowl on Jackson, and growls, "You should've told him to buzz off."

"Oh. My. God." Sean’s voice takes my attention. He stands frozen a foot behind Lucas. "You…you're…" He points at Jackson, eyes wide and mouth in a large ‘O’.

"What’s your problem?" Lucas escapes my arms and stares at his star-struck friend.

"My problem?" Sean points to himself. "Don't you know who that is?" His voice hitches higher in excitement.

"What the hell is going on?" Kel stumbles out of his room, rubbing his left eye with his palm, his blond hair in disarray.

I cover my face with my hand.

"That's Jackson Shaw!" Sean shouts. "You have the lead guitarist for The Forgotten in your kitchen, Luke."

Lucas turns his head and examines Jackson through narrow eyes.

"Are you sure?" Lucas asks Sean.

"I can show you my ID," Jackson offers with a chuckle.

"Holy crap!" Sean bolts back into Lucas' room, returning in less than a minute with a CD case, magazine, and a school folder. "You've gotta sign these for me. Please!"

Lucas grabs the magazine from his hand, looking over the cover and back up at Jackson. Recognition slowly dawns on his face.

"You have a pen?" Jackson asks.

Sean pulls a black marker out and holds it up.

"Bring it over here." Jackson sits back down, taking the items from Sean and signing them.

Lucas walks over and tosses the magazine on the counter. Jackson looks up and their eyes meet.

"You say one mean thing to my mom again and you'll regret it."

Jackson stays silent, but gives him a nod and draws an invisible cross over his heart.

"Wow, little Luke is kind of badass, huh?" Kel whispers in my ear.

I fight a giggle and smack his arm.

"Don't worry," I interrupt their staring contest, "Jackson is getting ready to leave."

"Is the rest of the band here?" Sean asks, sitting on the stool next to him.

"Nah, but they’ll be coming to town in a couple weeks." He finishes signing and hands the treasures back to Sean. "Hush will be here too if you're a fan—”

Oh, no. Here we go.

"Hushed Mentality?" It's Lucas' turn to go fanboy.

"Yeah." Jackson nods, sipping from his mug.

"Mia Ryder will be in town?" he asks, a wistful look in my little boy’s eyes.

Jackson laughs. "Yeah, man, she will. But be careful, Chris is a little jealous."

Lucas blushes.

"I'll see if I can set you up to meet with them, okay?"

"Really?"

"If their schedule is flexible enough, I'll see what I can make happen."

"Cool." Lucas grins, but quickly gets serious again. "This doesn't change anything. Be nice to her." He points to me.

"He gets it, Lucas." I grab his finger, pull him to me, and ruffle his hair. "Now, you two need to eat. You have a game today."

"Okay," they reply in unison, moving into the kitchen to gather bowls, cereal, and milk.

Jackson moves so they can sit. I go into the living room and fold the bed back into the couch. It gets stuck, which is not uncommon. Two inked arms appear on each side of me, helping to shove. When it collapses into the couch, Jackson lies over my back, his groin just above my ass.

He straightens, his hands coming to my hips and face dipping to my ear.

"If there weren't impressionable young minds over there, you would still be bent over the couch, but screaming my name." His tongue flicks my ear before he pulls away.

I fight the shiver and focus on putting the cushions back on the couch.

"I don't know how you sleep on that every night." He shakes his head.

I shrug. "Used to it."

Clearing my throat, I move to step around him. His hand grasps my arm, stopping me.

"I want to see you," he says, his voice level.

"Jackson, I know I spent a night with you." I keep my voice low and watch the boys to ensure they aren't listening. "And I gave you that impression, but I'm not that girl."

"No, you're not. And I don't want that girl," he responds. "I want the woman who laid claim to my body and then let me stay in her bed because I'm the man who doesn't want to give you up."

Oh my God.

"I'm not interested," I say, my lie a broken whisper.

"You and I both know that's a lie." The caress of this thumb against my skin sends shots of need through me.

Damn him.

His phone rings and he's quick to answer.

Saved by the cell.

"Yeah." He pauses. "Shit." His eyes come to mine. "The press is all over this place, is there a back way out of this building?"

"The fire escape," Kel suggests, sitting down on the couch.

"Where is it?" He turns to Kel.

"Tell him to park a street over. I'll get you out of here." Kel stands. "Just let me grab my shoes.”

Jackson relays the message into the phone and hangs up.

"Tonight?" he presses.

I shake my head. "I have things to do with the boys and plans this evening."

A flicker of something dark flashes in his eyes.

"You ready?" Kel calls from the door.

"Yeah," Jackson calls over his shoulder, his eyes never leaving mine. "I'm not giving up."

Before I can respond, he cups the back of my head and crushes his mouth to mine.

Releasing me, he turns and follows Kel out the door.

"Dude, Jackson Shaw just kissed your mom. That's so cool," Sean crows.

I cover my mouth with my hand and close my eyes.

What am I supposed to do with that? I don’t have time for this game he wants to play. Not right now.

Chapter Eleven

Jackson

Liza's brother stays silent, leading me down the fire escape, around the back of the building, through an alley, and behind another building. The familiar black car waits at the far end of the next alley. Sam flashes the headlights.

"It's Sam," I confirm, taking the lead toward the car.

A few feet from the car, Sam climbs from behind the driver's seat, his large form more imposing in the shadows of the alley. He rounds the car in practiced movement, opening the back door.

Before coming around to the door to get in the car, I turn to Kel.

"Thanks for helping me out, man."

"Anything to get you away from my sister." His eyes level on me with an unexpected fury.

"Ah, not a fan, huh?" I cross my arms over my chest.

"Of The Forgotten? Sure." He nods with a shrug. "Of you imposing on my sister and using her? No, man. I'm. Not. A. Fan." Mimicking, his arms cross over his chest.

"I'm sorry for the way I treated your sister. I apologized to her and I’m going to make that shit up to her." I straighten to my fullest height, knowing my size intimidates. He doesn't flinch or back down. Impressive. "Let's get one thing straight. I'm not using her."

He snorts. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really." I step closer, insult slowly boiling to anger.

"Look, I get it. You're in town for celebrity stuff." He puts his hands out, palms forward. "You wanna have a good time and see my sister in character on stage. Liza has a lot of shit going on and doesn't need any more baggage than what Lucas, Sean, and I cause her." I furrow my brow at this knowledge. I know about her financial concern, but what else is going on? And how the fuck does the Sean kid play a part?

"She's not Miz Liz, Jackson. She's so much more. Much more than the on-the-side or while-I'm-in-town piece of ass. She's too good for you," he finishes.

Anger flares, swelling my chest and surging into my limbs. Snatching him by the T-shirt, I shove him against the brick building on our right.

"I'm one person you don't have to tell that she's too good for me." Pressing forward, I hold him against the building with my forearm across his chest. "And, Kel, your sister is Miz Liz. You may not want see it, but it's a part of her, of who she is." He tenses, ready to fight back. "And I, for one, fucking love it." His chest muscles relax a little. I release him from the wall, taking a step back. "No, she isn't Miz Liz. Liza is a mixture of many things and each one she shows me is more amazing than next."

Kel rubs his chest. "You barely know her."

"I plan on fixing that shit as soon as she allows me."

"And when you're done here, then what?" One brow raises over his light blue eye.

"I don't know if I'll ever be done." I level him with a look, and he stiffens in response.

"Don't break her, Jackson. Liza is everything to us. I don't care who you are. If you hurt her…" Kel closes his eyes, breathing deeply.

"Huh, and here I am afraid she's going to break me." Turning, I step around Sam and climb into the car.

Kel's hand stops Sam from closing the door. He grabs the boy's shoulder to move him away from the car. "Step back, son," Sam orders.

"It's okay." I half pull myself out of the car. Sam eyes Kel before going to the driver's side and climbing inside.

"You mean that, don't you?" His brow furrows, causing deep lines for such a young face.

"Mean what?" I glance away for a moment, pretending not to know what he's asking.

"You do," he says on a breath. Then, on a laugh, he says, "You really are scared she'll break you."

Rubbing the back of my neck, I ask, "Are we done here?"

Kel nods, finally returning to his more sober self. "There's a park four blocks that way." He points over his shoulder.

Confusion twists my face.

"She'll be there most of the afternoon for Lucas and Sean's soccer game." Shaking his head, he walks backward. "Jackson Shaw has a thing for my sister."

I narrow my eyes, not enjoying the amusement he's getting on my behalf. He grins wide, gives a salute, and runs off in the direction we arrived.

I slide back into the car and pull the door shut. Cocky little fucker. Sitting back into the leather seat, I grin. I think I like that kid. I put my head back on the seat, close my eyes, and pound on the ceiling. Sam backs out of the alley and away from a place I'd much rather stay.

My cell beeps, causing reality to crash down on me.

Mom.

I pull the cell out of my pocket, seeing missed messages from Chris. Tapping the voicemail notification, I realize the beep is because the phone is dying. The screen darkens and I get the damn white apple before it goes black.

"Fuck," I growl, throwing the cell on the floor.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" Sam offers from the driver's seat.

"Yeah, do you have Julia's number on your phone?"

"Of course." Lifting his phone from the seat, he taps the screen. "Call Julia."

"Thanks," I say, taking the phone he offers back to me.

"Sam, if he's giving you a hard time, you have my permission to—”

"Hey, now." I stop her tirade.

"Tell me you're in the car and Sam's okay." The panic in her voice is evident.

"Yes and yes. I need you to call my brother for me."

"He's already called."

"When?" Sitting straight, I grip the cell a bit too tight.

"Last night and this morning. He said, and I quote, ‘didn't I fucking tell your stupid ass to stay at the hotel’, end quote."

"That's all he said?" I rub my face with my free hand and take a deep breath.

"He also said to turn your cell phone up so you can hear his call, along with a few other insults."

"Great." Bastard couldn't leave a message about my mom, but left detailed insults.

"Jackson, tell Sam to bring the car into the garage. You need to come in through the staff entrance." The seriousness in her voice spikes my curiosity.

"Why?"

"The press is all over the place. You're…" she pauses.

"Perry already put that shit out there, didn't he?" I can't keep the disgust out of my voice.

"Yeah, but that's not all, Jackson."

"What else could—?"

"He's teasing an upcoming interview with Kristy about your split." Discomfort changes the pitch of her voice.

"That bitch."

I shove the hotel room door open a bit too hard when I enter. Julia jumps and twists in a chair, focusing her wide eyes on me. Kristy's voice comes from the television and Julia lifts the remote to the screen.

"Don't," I snarl.

Walking by her and grabbing the remote, I sit on the coffee table for a front row view.

"Thank you for joining us, Kristy."

"It's a pleasure." She plays the demure girl so well.

Perry gives the camera a sleazy smile, tilts his head, and addresses the viewers.

"Stay tuned for an exclusive interview with Kristyna Molvic, fashion's leading lady, and until recently, the star in Jackson Shaw's life. What separated the happy couple? You'll find out on Perry Exclusive."

The screen cuts to a commercial.

"What the fuck is she up to now?" I growl, tossing the remote to the couch.

"Una wants you to call her," Julia speaks to my back.

"Yeah, later." Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my dead cell. "Can you charge this for me?" I toss the phone to an unprepared Julia. It hits her leg and bounces to the floor. "Sorry."

"Sure." She purses her lips, picking up the phone.

"I believe Una wants to talk about this Kristy situation. She wasn't aware your relationship had ended." Julia studies me.

"It ended before I came here, so wipe that look off your face."

"I don't have a look," she denies.

"You sure as fuck do have a look. It's the ‘you cheated on your girlfriend’ look. Which, I didn't, so get that shit out of your head. Kristy doesn't know how to take no, go away, or it's over as responses." Crossing my arms over my chest, I match her glare.

"Well, with your current behavior, it wouldn't be so unexpected would it?" She plops back down into her chair.

I open my mouth, but Perry quiets me.

"Welcome back, my lovelies. We have a very Perry Exclusive for you today. And while we are honored to have Kristy with us, we are shocked and devastated to hear of the demise of her relationship with Jackson Shaw."

The camera pans to Kristyna. Her glassy eyes are an act I know too goddamn well.

"Thank you for letting me stop by, Perry. I am such a fan." She bats her lashes.

"The lying bitch!" I exclaim. "She fucking hates this guy." I turn to Julia. "She called him a vial, drama-sucking leech under her breath when we were around him."

Perry starts discussing her Gucci campaign and the upcoming launch of her perfume before getting down to business.

"Kristy. Kristyna. Tell me how you're doing." He wears the most sympathetic expression, but the gleam in his eye gives away his thirst for the dirt. "You can tell your friend Perry." His hand comes to her knee and pats gently.

"Well, it's a private matter, so while I will confirm we have split, I would really appreciate if everyone would allow me the time to heal from the event."

"Allow you to heal? But not him? So, he ended it?" Perry presses.

"Oh, it was just a turn of phrase. I meant, so we can heal." Kristy plays her role well. If I didn't know her, I would believe she's sincere.

"Of course, we'll give the two of you time to heal, but personally, girl, I wouldn't protect a man who's treated you like he has." Perry rolls his head, pursing his lips.

"It's just been a conflict of time apart and going different directions, really," Kristy feigns.

"And what about these pictures that surfaced last night?"

My heart clenches and stomach drops. A picture of me in a club with two women, one's face in my lap and the other's tongue in my mouth. Bottles of liquor, full and empty, fill the table, along with white powder lines.

The audience gasps and groans.

A sob rips from Kristy.

"You don't have to tell us anything. These pictures tell your story for you, honey." Patting her knee with one hand, he pushes tissues toward her with the other.

She grabs two and holds them to her face.

"Those are the girls she picked out!" I cry, standing.

"What do you mean ‘she picked out’?" Julia questions, her tone filled with disgust.

Turning toward her, I narrow my eyes.

"She liked to take people home with us. Men, women, one, two, or three—she didn't care. The more, the merrier."

Julia's mouth forms a small ‘o’, but she stays silent.

Kristy's newest sob gets my attention.

"It's so hard, Perry. I was never enough. He needed the attention and the partying. If he didn't…" She buries her face in tissues.

"Didn't what, my dear?" he asks, his hand resting on her knee.

She is fucking insane.

Kristy shakes her head, hiccupping and sniffling.

"It's okay, sweetheart. We all see what you've been dealing with." He turns to the audience. "Don't we?"

A chorus of “yes!” and “you don't need him, girl!” sounds out from the audience.

"I don't believe this," I groan.

Collapsing back down to the coffee table, I hold my head in my hands. Cell phones ring out behind me.

"He. He just. Needed. Them," she hiccups. "And. Without them. He would get angry," Kristy finishes, touching a tissue to her still perfect makeup. Funny how the tears don't ruin her face.

"You're better off without someone like him. Someone who is so hard on women." Perry pulls Kristy into an embrace.

"This is so ridiculous." I throw my hands out at the screen.

"Jackson, Una's on the phone." Julia holds her bright purple phone out for me to take.

With a heavy sigh, I grab it.

"This is complete bullshit, Una," I answer.

"Jackson, tell me everything now," she demands in typical Una fashion.

"We invited others back to bed with us sometimes. That’s it," I bark.

"That's it? You think that's it, Jackson?" Una doesn't scream; she's perfected the scolding tone of calmness. Like when your parents would just say they were disappointed in you, instead of yelling.

"Jackson, she has pictures of you partying in a VIP area with two half-dressed girls, which I hope to Jesus Christ are of age, surrounded by liquor and drugs. So, what else do I need to know? Because I need to know it all right goddamn now if I'm going to help you."

"Okay, yeah we partied a bit, but that's it," I lie, the craving having taken its hold the moment my phone died in the car. "We invited other women into our bed, which was her idea, by the way, we drank and did some coke. It was nothing more than that," I continue the lie.

Julia snorts from behind me. Twisting around, my glare silences her.

Una sighs, heavily. "Jackson, I pray to God she doesn't have anything else, but something tells me she isn't done. What does she want?"

"Me."

"You? That's it?"

"No. Now she wants revenge, too."

"For what?" Una's voice hitches.

"For dumping her and rejecting her attempts to get back together. There may also have been one occasion where I publicly embarrassed her."

A thump and then three more come from the other end of the phone.

"Una?"

"You're killing me, Jackson. We'll talk later." She hangs up.

I hand Julia her phone and she holds up her iPad for me to look. The online community is already running rampant with the story and picture. Women are coming out of the woodwork claiming to be one of the many. Photoshopped images of me with another woman popping up.

"Christ!" I groan and stride to the bathroom, slamming the door.

Leaning on the counter, my eyes land on the small, black leather bag. Licking my lips, I dig into my stash and line up a couple rails.

Satisfied with the numbness, I climb in the shower and let the hot water slide over my skin.

Fucking Kristy. What the fuck am I going to do? What if Liza sees this shit?

I raise my head and narrow my eyes on the white tile. I'm not sticking around this hotel all day.

Liza

"Sid, slow down, I can't understand what you're—”

"It's all over the place, Liza. Kristy, Jackson's ex, is saying they split because of him cheating and partying," Sid rushes out.

"But…wait, so why would she still be trying to impress him at the club? That doesn't make sense." Slipping off the bleacher seats to get away from the eavesdroppers around me, I point to my bag. Kel nods, understanding it means to keep an eye on it.

"I don't know," Sid sighs. "Maybe she's crazy, but that picture wasn't. Do you want me to send it?" A mischievous tone enters her voice. "It's kind of hot."

I walk the dirt path toward the parking area.

"No, thanks," I say, hoping she doesn't hear the catch in my voice.

Hornets buzz around in my stomach. What do you expect from a rock star surrounded by groupies?

"Hey, you okay?"

"Mmhmm. I'm fine," I hastily mutter.

"Liza, I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything," I say, the words coming out calmer than I feel inside.

"I've told you before, you can't believe everything online. Or TV, for that matter. And from what you told me about this girl, she really may be crazy. I'm sure the longevity of starvation to her body has eaten away at her brain."

The tension breaks and I snort. Soon, we're both laughing.

"I swear, I miss you more every time you leave after visiting," I say between catching breaths.

"Ditto that, babe," she agrees. "So, do you think your caseworker will be able to help with Sean?"

"I'm not sure. She isn't his caseworker, so it's not as easy as her handling paperwork." Shrugging, I stop a few feet from the end of the path and start walking back to the benches. "His grandmother already completed a guardianship form, but they still have to review my living arrangements and situation."

Looking up from the dirt, I realize instead of going back to the benches, I'd turned and walked back to the lot. Great, I'm pacing. Pacing being a nervous habit of mine, this only means my stress levels have hit maximum.

"We should just move in together," Sid states flippantly.

"Um, I'm not moving back to Pennsylvania, and you have a job and life there. I don't see how that's going to work." I glance out to the field, watching the boys run and kick the soccer ball. Guilt sets in. "Listen, I need to get back to Lucas' game."

"Shit, that’s right. Sorry. We're still talking later tonight?"

"Yeah, we are."

A tingling sensation makes me look to the left. A figure approaches in the distance. I can't tear my eyes away.

"Okay, call me when you're settled in tonight. We’ll get things figured out then. At least…as far as we can, alright?"

I nod, even though she can't see me.

"Liza?" Sid presses.

"Huh?" I return, distracted.

"Are you okay?" she asks, worry rushing the question.

Opening my mouth, I prepare to reassure her, but all the breath leaves my body. Heat flushes my chest and neck, climbing into my cheeks. I blink twice and swallow my response.

"Eliza, what the hell is going on?"

The dark beanie and aviator sunglasses don't hide the half-grin on his lips.

"I'll call the police in three…two…"

"I'm fine," I blurt. "But I've gotta go."

"What's going on?"

At his arrival, I tilt my head back and look at him. His driver, large enough to be security, stops a couple feet away.

"Jackson?"

"Jackson?" Sid echoes.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh shit, this is about to get good," Sid says, drawing out the last word. "I want details. Dirty, hot, ink filled pen details, you hear me!" she whispers.

Shaking my head, I pull the phone away and hit end.

"What are you—?"

"My afternoon's free. I'm here to watch some soccer." With a broad grin and a shrug, he steps around me, walking toward the bench seats.

I reach out and grab his arm. He stops, turning halfway back toward me.

"If you think the sunglasses and hat will hide you…" I shake my head, starting to slide my hand away.

His long, inked fingers slip over my hand, stopping my retreat.

"I've been doing this for a while. It'll be fine."

Warmth surrounds my hand as he picks it up from his arm, transferring it into his. Lacing our fingers, he pulls me back to the bleachers.

I scan the crowd of game watchers, finding only a couple people lingering on Jackson a bit longer than necessary. I swallow down the riot of bees wanting an escape from my stomach. Instead of the swarm of fans I expect, they turn back to the kid's game.

Jackson stops next to Kel. His eyes, amused and watchful, stay riveted on Jackson. With a quick nod, Jackson steps one bleacher up, releases my hand, and sits down.

Hesitantly, I lick the nervous dryness on my lips and move to retake my seat by Kel. Large hands grip my hips, twisting and situating me so I’m sitting between Jackson's long, sprawled out legs. When he attempts to pull me back against him, I resist.

Too much, too fast. Too close and I will want to climb up his body.

A small shake of my head clears the naughty thoughts and I focus on the game.

"Where are the boys?" Jackson asks, the fingers of his right-hand twirling in my hair.

"Sean just came out, so he's on the bench," Kel answers, pointing out his position. "Lucas is the left forward."

I change my focus from Sean to Lucas. He’s standing on the side closest to us, his body tense and ready for the game to start. He snaps into action the moment the ball is in play.

My attention is pulled away from the game when I feel Jackson’s closeness. His arms come to rest on his knees, which are on either side of me, at shoulder level. My body tingles and I fight a shiver when he leans against my back. His right thumb grazes my bicep, causing goose bumps to form on my skin.

"You're going to have to help me out." He purposely draws lazy circles with his thumb. "I'm not familiar with soccer."

"Sure," Kel answers, as if we don't have a famous rock star sitting behind us. Like said rock star isn't sending my body into a riot of tingles and pulsing need.

"Hey." His voice is low and close enough to warm my ear.

"Yeah?" My voice cracks.

Jackson sweeps my hair off my neck and over my left shoulder. The brush of his fingertips causes my muscles to tense.

"Stop worrying," he whispers.

"‘Kay." My response is unnaturally high pitched.

He chuckles against my back.

"No one gives a shit about who I am, Liza. It's all good." He buries his face into my neck.

My body melts and I close my eyes, inhaling Jackson.

Cheers from the crowd pull me from the lusty cocoon he so easily wraps around me.

Sitting straighter, I focus on the field.

"What did I miss?"

"Our goalie had a pretty awesome save." Kel's answer is laced with amusement.

Turning my head, I narrow my eyes on him. He ignores me, keeping his attention on the field.

"Excuse me?" someone asks from Kel's side of the benches.

Assuming it's someone being polite about walking in front of another, I watch Lucas.

Lucas gets his feet on the ball, maneuvering toward their opponent’s net. I stand, hands clasped, waiting for the kick. Instead, Lucas passes the ball to the striker and she puts it in the net.

My shout is accompanied by the rest of the crowd on our bleachers. Kel stands, clapping, and I hop on my toes. The movement causes my balance to waiver. Jackson's hands grip my hips, steadying me. Turning at the touch, I grin down at him before looking back to the field.

My baby just assisted with a goal!

"Nice teamwork!" Kel yells over the crowd.

Lucas looks into the stands and smiles.

"Um, excuse me?" This time it's louder, closer.

Looking to my left, two young girls stand, biting on their lips with curiosity in their eyes—which are dead set on Jackson.

"What?" Kel asks, retaking his seat.

They look around Kel.

"Are you Jackson Shaw?" Hope fills the girl's question, matching the excitement in her eyes.

"Yeah," he answers, nonchalant.

I sink back down to my seat and his hands slide up my sides. Ignoring the way my body responds to his touch, my wide eyes watch his reaction to being found out.

"Ohmygod!" she yells. "Isoknewitwasyou. Oh. My. God. You're Jackson Shaw." Her grin is wide and she grips her friend’s arm tightly.

The other girl stands with her mouth open. For a moment, I'm sure she'll cry.

"It's nice to meet you." He smiles, giving them a quick nod.

"Will you sign my shirt, please?" she begs, digging in a bag and pulling out a pen.

"Sure." He shrugs.

Removing his hands from my sides, he takes the pen and leans over so he can reach where she stands.

The girl blurts something I can't make out before pulling her shirt over her head and setting it on the bench.

"This is a kid's game," one parent scolds.

"Calm down, I'm wearing a sports bra. It's just like a tank top," she snottily replies.

I wrinkle my nose at her attitude and realize my brother's eyes are fixated on the half-naked girl.

"Ow," he shouts after I smack his arm.

"Stop staring," I scold in a whisper.

Jackson signs the shirt quickly and hands it back.

"You better get this back on."

"Are you crazy?" she gushes, clutching the shirt to her chest. "I can't wear or wash it ever again."

"Can I get a picture with you?" The star-struck mute girl finally speaks.

"Uh, how about after the game?" Jackson offers. "I don't want to interrupt. Plus, I came here to watch a buddy of mine."

"You know someone on this team?" Snotty, half-dressed girl scrunches her face.

"Yeah," Jackson answers with an is-there-a-problem tone.

"Oh, okay." She perks up once she realizes his annoyance.

"Great. Catch me after the game."

Sitting back up, he pulls me between his legs and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

"This could get out of control," he whispers.

"I won't say I told you so," I mumble.

My chin disappears into his hand. Cupping it, he pulls my head back to look up at him. With a half-grin on his face, he says, "Sassy little mouth you have there."

I try to pull my face away, but he holds it still. Dropping his voice, he whispers, "You're lucky I enjoy the fuck out of your sassy little mouth."

The half-grin grows full and painstakingly beautiful.

The blow of a whistle pulls us away from the moment.

The game is over and the teams are lining up.

"Lucas' team won." Kel leans toward me. "Figured you'd want to know since you were a bit busy."

"Shut up," I growl, crossing my arms over my chest.

Jackson chuckles, loudly.

After three cell phone pictures with the two girls, they are finally on their way.

"I told you it's him." Sean's voice rings out from behind me.

Turning, I take in most of Lucas and Sean’s team.

"You thought we were lying," Sean scoffs, wrapping his arm around Lucas' shoulders. "We told you Jackson is his mom's boyfriend."

My eyes widen and heat burns my cheeks and nose.

"It's really him." Scotty, one of the kids on the team, steps forward. "You're really him, ain't you?"

Jackson walks to the group of boys, pulling the sunglass on the top of his head.

"Sure am," he confirms, causing a murmur of excitement.

"You're really his mom's boyfriend?" Another teammate takes a step forward.

"I never said he was my mom's boyfriend," Lucas growls, pushing to the front of the group. "They're just friends." His eyes narrow on Jackson.

"Friends don't kiss," Sean scoffs.

Lucas turns his narrow eyes to glare at Sean.

"What?" He shrugs. "He kissed your mom. And," Sean continues, "he was hugging her in the stands." He motions to the bleachers.

Dear God, please let this end.

"Alright, what's going on here?" Their coach steps forward.

"Coach, this is Jackson Shaw from The Forgotten. He's famous!" A girl teammate exclaims.

"Famous, huh?" The coach studies Jackson. You can actually see the realization smooth out the curiosity wrinkling his face.

Soon, a crowd of kids, coaches, and parents circle Jackson. He's asked to sign soccer balls, bags, jerseys, hats, and one mother even asked for him to sign her chest. Luckily, it was near her collarbone, not her breast.

"Can we go?" Lucas sighs, impatient and unimpressed.

"Yeah. We'll go."

Standing, I move through the remaining crowd toward Jackson. Our eyes meet and calmness settles into his.

When I'm close, he reaches out and pulls me to him.

"We're going to go. I, um...I want to thank you for coming to his game." Even I hear the discomfort in my words.

"I'll have Sam take us to your place." Jackson releases me, motions for Sam, and turns to the crowd.

"Us?" I furrow my brow.

"Thanks, everyone, for making me feel welcome at the game today. I really appreciate it. Unfortunately, I have a prior engagement." His arm wraps around my waist. "So, I need to get going." He puts his free hand up, waving to the crowd.

A mixture of “thank you”, “you're awesome”, and “I love you” comes from the group.

Sam's presence is felt before his hand comes to my arm. Gently, he guides me away from the crowd. Jackson breaks free from last second autographs and strides to my side. Sam releases my arm, allowing Jackson to take his place.

"I need to get the boys." I dig my feet into the ground, looking back to where I left them.

My heart drops into my stomach. They're gone.

"They are already in the car," Sam informs.

The panic ebbs.

In the car, Kel is lecturing the boys about playing with buttons.

"Guys," I sigh, sliding into the back seat, "behave."

"Okay," they grumble in unison.

"Push whatever you want." Jackson settles in next to me. "Just leave the windows up."

"Why?" Lucas wrinkles his face in confusion.

"Because people will try to get pictures and stuff. Duh," Sean answers.

"That's part of it," Jackson confirms. "People throw stuff at the cars, too. I don't want anyone getting hit with something."

"What kind of stuff?" Lucas studies him.

"Um…" Jackson hesitates. "Clothes, rocks, stuffed animals, flowers…and other stuff."

"Rocks?" Sean asks, disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah, they'll wrap notes around them sometimes." Jackson shrugs.

"Just don't push any buttons." I give both boys the I-have-spoken look.

"Okay," Lucas responds.

"Yes, ma'am," Sean answers.

"Damn," Jackson mutters under his breath.

Arriving at my building, part of me expects him to leave us on the curb. The more irrational girly side of me does backflips when he climbs out and follows us upstairs.

"Lucas, don't drop your bag in the middle of the floor," I order before the door is even closed. "Sean, change and shower."

I flip the lock on the door.

"Are we still doing pizza?" Kel unloads the mini cooler on the counter.

I nod and grab the coupons from the drawer of my small desk. Sorting through them, I begin to feel self-conscious. I've forgotten Jackson. He's currently witnessing the routine of our life.

Looking up from under my lashes, I find him sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar, watching me. He grins. I force a smile through the semi-embarrassment of couponing in front of Jackson Shaw and quickly divert my eyes back to my task.

"Do we still have the one that includes the 2-liter?" Kel asks, bent into the fridge. "If not, I'll run down to the corner." He straightens and shuts the door.

"I don't see it. Didn't we use it when Sid was here?" I wrinkle my brow, walking toward the breakfast bar.

Laying the coupons out, Kel and I go through them again.

Jackson grabs a coupon. Both Kel and I follow the action and study his reaction. He sets it on the bar and pulls out his cell phone.

"What are you doing?" My body instinctively shifts toward him.

"I invited myself, so I'll get the pizza." He touches the screen of his cell.

"You don't have to—”

"Does this place have beer?" Jackson looks to Kel.

Kel's eyes shift to me briefly before he gives Jackson a shake of his head.

"I can run out and get some," he offers.

"No, you can't," I scoff. "You're only eighteen."

Kel shrugs. "I have connections."

"I don't want to know." I shake my head.

"Hey, yeah, man, I need…" Jackson pauses, giving me an expectant look, "a large pepperoni and a 2-liter."

"What about your—”

"We're good," I cut Kel off.

"Sorry, just give me a minute," Jackson speaks on his phone before handing it to Kel. "Order whatever you usually get, but add a large pizza with pepperoni, sausage, mushroom, and olives."

Kel takes the phone and relays the order. This time, he includes my Sicilian style pizza and Caesar salad. After the address is provided, he hands the phone back to Jackson.

Putting my bag on top of the bar, I rummage through and pull out my wallet.

"I don't think so." Jackson grabs the worn leather, shoving it back into my bag.

"Jackson, I can pay for food." A bit of insult and embarrassment sharpen my tongue.

"I know you can." He stands from the stool, reaching into his pocket. "But I said I'd get the pizza since I'm a self-invite."

Sighing, I give a resigned, "Fine."

Leaving my bag on the bar, I take my irrational embarrassment and anger with me to make sure the boys are cleaning up.

Showers complete, Lucas, Sean, and Kel convince Jackson to join them for video gaming. I'm thankful for the moment away from his little touches, seductive looks, and that damn mouth of his. My mind is almost cleared when Sid calls.

Of course, she's more interested in the fact that Jackson is in my apartment. And keeping her on topic regarding my budget is practically impossible.

"You do realize you have Jackson Shaw, guitarist of The Forgotten, playing domestic daddy in your apartment, right?"

"Sid," I use my warning tone, "it's not like that, and stop referring to him by his full name and job description. It's creepy."

"It's not creepy, Liza. It is panty melting, nipple tightening, hot as fucking hot can get. The fact that you don't realize this concerns me. Is your vagina working properly?"

"Stop it," I laugh.

"Perhaps you should have him check under your hood. And when I say hood, I mean clitoral hood," she deadpans.

"Oh my God, stop it!" I cry out in laughter.

"Should I be jealous?" His voice, next to my unoccupied ear, ensures my vagina is working just fine.

"Sweet Lord of penises, his voice is sexy," Sid sighs over the phone.

"Jealous of what?" I pull the phone away from my mouth and tilt my head.

"I only want to hear ‘oh my God’ when it's followed by my name and you coming around my cock." His tongue flicks the lobe of my ear.

I shiver and tighten my crossed legs.

"That's it. I'm ruined," Sid cries dramatically. "No man will ever live up to this."

"Both of you stop." My words are breathy and it takes all my strength to lean away from his mouth.

"Pizza!" Lucas shouts, running toward the buzz of the intercom.

Jackson straightens and steps back from me. Taking a deep breath, I move to stand, but his hand on my shoulder stops me. Instead, he walks over to the door, pulling cash out of his back pocket.

"Damn cock blockers," Sid grumbles.

"Sid!" I scold, but smile.

"Well, damn, the kid just killed the ear porn I was getting," she whines.

"Don't you have enough porn already?"

"You can never have enough," she snorts. "Besides, this was real life rock star ear porn. Girl, I need to freshen up after that."

"Okay, TMI, Sid."

"Like you aren't used to it," she counters.

Pizza boxes slide onto the counter next to me. Kel sets out paper plates and plastic cups. I stare at the old mismatched cups and feel embarrassment creeping back to the forefront of my emotions.

Oh my God! I have nothing to be embarrassed about. They are clean. Just because Jackson is in my home doesn't mean everything is now worth shit.

Suppressing the shame, I redirect Sid to our conversation about my budget. I try to keep my voice low, but Jackson decides to sit next to me instead of with the boys in the living room.

"I think living together is ideal," Sid presses the issue again.

"I'm not moving back to Pennsylvania," I counter. "And you just found an apartment you love. Didn't you sign the lease?"

"Not yet and I don't have to. Plus, I didn't mean you move back here. I told you before I can move out there," she says, her tone serious.

"I'm not asking you to change your life so you can come out here for me."

"I miss you," she mutters.

"I miss you, too," I sigh.

"No final decisions, just think about it. We can find a four bedroom place and share the expenses."

"Sid…"

"It's a thought," she cuts in. "Did you hear anything else about Sean today?"

"No, same as before. His social worker has the guardianship papers from his grandmother, but I haven't heard anything."

"What about his mom? Won't she try to swoop back in?" Sid, knowing Sean's family life, is right to worry about her.

"Apparently, since she lost custody of Sean to her mother, there's really nothing she can do. However, they did reach out to her. I guess she didn't realize her mother's house had a reverse mortgage. So, if Mrs. Jackson doesn't return to the house, it goes to the bank. His mom wasn't happy to find out she wouldn't be getting the house and I guess that's all she cared about."

"What a cunt." Jackson's voice surprises me.

I stare at him.

"I second what he said," Sid chimes in.

"What?" He shrugs. "She is."

"Stop eavesdropping on my call." I give him a flat look, but the grin he returns ruins my attempt at annoyance.

"You know, even when he's saying cunt with a negative connotation, I get hot. That's goddamn talent. Ask if he does 900 number work?"

Laughter bursts out of my mouth and tears pool in my eyes.

"What?" Jackson asks, one brow raising over his eye.

I shake my head. "Nothing," I choke out between laughs.

"It wasn't that funny," Sid states, laughing at my reaction.

She's right. It wasn't that funny, but it was just one of those moments and now I'm stuck in a giggle fit.

Jackson watches, studying me, with amusement in his eyes and that damn half-grin on his face.

Taking a deep breath, I force my eyes back to the financial papers and documents from my social worker.

"So, back to the budget," I redirect, purposely keeping my eyes off Jackson. His presence is enough distraction, causing tingles, pulsating parts, and goose bumps. "You think I'm playing it too safe with the rent budget?"

"Of course you are." Sid exhales dramatically. "You always play it like that, but I understand why. You could probably pad that with a couple hundred, though."

I purse my lips, hesitating to change the number on the paper.

"You're not going to change it," Sid states. "We already know you won't. Just know you could, okay?" Understanding laces her words.

I nod even though she can't see me.

"Okay," I breathe out.

The boys enter the little kitchen, dumping their dishes and garbage.

"You coming?"

I look up at Sean's question. It was for Jackson.

"We're going to play guitar hero. You should be able to dominate." Sean grins.

Jackson chuckles. "There is a big difference between the buttons on the game guitar and Wifey."

"You have a wifey?" Lucas screws up his face.

"Don't throw me out just yet." Jackson leans his elbows on the top of the bar. "It's what I named my guitar."

"You named your guitar Wifey?" It's Kel turn to look confused.

"Yep. We take care of each other, but there are also days we hate the fu—"

"Ahem." I shift my eyes between him and the boys.

"I mean, days we don't like each other much." The hint of a smile plays at the edge of his mouth.

I want to lick it. Suck his lip into my mouth until I capture the ring adorning it. Giving myself a small shake, I focus back on the papers.

"Aw, come on!" Sean begs.

"Okay." Jackson gives in. "I'll meet you in there."

The boys, including Kel, hurry back to Lucas' room.

From the corner of my eye, I watch Jackson twist on the stool and slide his body from the chair until his chest practically touches my arm. I can feel and see his head move close to my head.

"Just so you know, I am going to find out what you were just thinking about."

"Nothing." I lift my right shoulder, trying to play it off.

"I saw the naughty glint in your eye," he whispers.

Reflexively, I turn my head to him. He grins, bringing his face a breath from mine.

"Now, you know how much your naughty little snake charming side gets me turned on."

"I—" His mouth captures the denial I'm about to speak.

"Liza?" Sid asks in my ear.

Jackson slips a hand behind my neck, preventing my attempt to pull away. His tongue slips into my mouth, intruding and laying claim.

My cell phone clacks to the counter after slipping from my fingers. With both hands, I fist his shirt, holding him close. The warmth of his hands settles on my thighs, trying to part them.

"Jack?" Lucas shouts.

I push him back, wipe my mouth with my hand, and turn toward the hall. I release a breath of relief when I don't see any of the boys standing there. Grabbing my phone, I put it back to my ear.

"Sid?" I blurt.

"Well, that was quick. My fantasies totally have him lasting longer than that."

"Shut up," I grumble and look up at Jackson.

He smiles his little half-grin.

"What are you smiling at?" I purse my lips.

"Fucking perfection, that's what I'm smiling at. Fucking perfection." In a flash, both his hands grab my face. He plants a full lip kiss on my mouth, releases my face, and walks away.

"I don't think we can be friends anymore." Sid shatters the shock of his words with her declaration.

"Wh-what?" I shake my head.

"I can't be friends with you," she sighs heavily.

"What are you talking about? We're related. You can't get rid of me," I tease.

"Crap," she groans. "Well, then, you are going to have to just accept that I will be living vicariously through your situation."

"My situation?"

"Yep. You being the object of adoration and lust for a hot as hell rock star."

"Shut up," I giggle.

"Just as long as you are okay with me fantasizing about your man, we should be good."

"He's not my man," I clarify, shoving the documents and papers into my folder. Clearly this conversation will never get back on track.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. Just be careful, I don't wanna go to jail for having to kill someone and I really don't want to be all over TV for killing a celebrity. They always find the most random, jacked up photos. I know they'll go straight to that picture from eleventh grade when I thought blonde would be more fun. Do you remember the rash I had on the side of my face from the bleach? God, they're going to use that photo."

"Sid," my voice is stern, "I appreciate the concern, but I'm pretty sure there won't be any jail time. He'll be gone in a couple weeks and you know how that will go," I snort.

"Why don't you tell me how that’s going to go?" Jackson doesn't sound amused in the slightest.

"On that note, you're on your own. I tried to tell you, but you won't listen. Peace out, baby doll." Sid disconnects.

I'm too frozen by the tone of his voice to respond. Setting the phone on the counter, I slowly turn to face my inked giant.

"Hey," I try to play it off, "I thought you were playing video games."

His arms cross over his chest and brow furrows.

"Why don't you tell me how things are going to go, Liza? You seem to have it all figured out," he presses.

"Jackson," I sigh out his name, "we both…we live…" I pause, searching for the right words. "We live different lives, in different places. You won't be around forever." I shrug.

The deep wrinkle in his brow softens just a touch. He opens his mouth, but the ring of his cell interrupts. Pulling the phone from his back pocket, he looks at the screen, eyes wide. Urgency takes over his movements as he touches the screen and jams the phone to his ear.

"Why the fuck haven't you called me back?" he barks in greeting. "I don't give a shit what you thought was best, Christopher!"

I straighten my spine, realizing he's talking to his brother.

"What?" His voice cracks and sadness draws his features downward.

Instinctively, I move to his side.

"How long has she known?" He chokes on the question.

I place a hand on his arm.

"She didn't think I should—”

Flexing my fingers, I grip his arm, but he pulls away from my touch.

I know I should be more understanding, but rejection swirls through my body. Taking steps away from him, I lean against the counter and stare at the floor.

"That's bullshit and you know it," he shouts. "They've known for months and said nothing. She's my mother for fuck sake!"

My eyes come back to him at the mention of his mother. The pain in his eyes and the tension in his body makes my heart ache.

"I'll be home in the morning," he says, his words clipped, angry.

"NO!" he shouts.

Movement in the hallway catches my eye. Kel, Lucas, and Sean stand in the bedroom doorway, confusion on their faces. Kel's eyes come to mine. I shake my head and he pulls the boys back into the room, closing the door behind them.

"You expect me to just stay in L.A., pretend like she isn't sick, and act like she didn't lie to me all this time? You are out of your goddamn—”

His face goes from angry to sheet white.

"Mom," he chokes on her name, "why wouldn't you—?"

His shoulders sag, head drops, and body looks like it's going to collapse.

Sucking up my hurt feelings, I move back to his side and wrap my arm around his back. I guide him to the couch and he lets me sit him down.

"You should've told me." Sitting next to him, I hear the tears in his voice.

His long fingers grip into the denim at his knees.

"I'm coming home." He sniffs. "No, I'm leaving tonight."

Releasing the denim, he rubs his face.

"Damn it, Mom, I can't stay here when you—”

His shoulders tense.

"Fine," he growls. "I'm sorry for cursing."

I fight not to smile.

"I'll be home before the weekend. You can't stop me from leaving after I take care of things for the show."

Show?

"I'm going to talk to the producers and tell them I have a family emergency."

Producers?

"I don't care about the stupid Hidden Talent sh—crap. They can replace me or make accommodations."

Oh. My. God. He's here for the show, THE show, and I'm a contestant. Shit, shit.

"I'll do what I have to tomorrow, but after that, I'll be on a plane. I love you, but you aren't stopping me." He ends his call, dropping the phone on the floor between his feet.

My body aches from the tension in my muscles. I have to tell him. I glance at him from the corner of my eyes. He's bent, knees to elbows, with his head in his hands. I can't tell him right now.

I open my mouth, but close it.

Suddenly, he stands, stalking down the hallway to the bathroom.

When the door closes, I mimic his previous pose. Holding my head in my hands, I take deep breaths and try to figure out how and when to tell him about the show.

He returns as quickly as he left.

"I'm sorry about—”

Standing, I shake my head. "You don't have anything to apologize for."

He sniffs and rubs under his nose. A white dot sits on his lip and my eyes can't look away. Not even when his body stiffens and he licks his lip.

My brow furrows.

"I should go," he blurts.

Finally moving my gaze away from his lip, I meet his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

"No," he responds honestly, rubbing his nose again.

"I don't know what all is going on, but I'm sorry you're going through it."

"Yeah, thanks." He bends at the waist and picks his phone up off the floor.

When he moves to straighten, a miniature brown bottle falls out of his pocket. Reflexively, I pick it up. I know exactly what it is and what the nose rubbing is about.

Drugs. My heart drops into my stomach. Probably coke. I'd seen too many young girls—waitresses, backup dancers—fall victim to cocaine and other drugs.

Locking my eyes to his, I hold my hand out, palm up.

His eyes shift from the vial in my palm to my eyes and back before he takes it from me.

"I just—”

"You just brought an illegal substance into my home and around my son," I finish for him, shaking my head. "Why?" I furrow my brow.

"Why what?"

"Why would you waste your time and life with that crap?" I motion to the hand fisting the drugs. "I thought you'd be smarter than this."

His face turns to stone, any light in his eyes dies.

"I don't need a mother," he sneers. "Besides, you have enough kids to take care of, don't you think?" His head jerks in the direction of Lucas' room.

I bite my lip and fight tears welling up in my eyes.

"You thought you had this all figured out, didn't you?"

"No, I didn't." I shake my head as the tears threaten to spill.

"Whatever, Liza. Based on what you said to your cousin, you've been planning my exit." Shoving the vial in his pocket, he pulls out his cell before turning toward the door.

The tears escape, falling over my warm cheek.

Grabbing his knit hat and sunglasses from my small desk, he pauses at the closed door. His shoulder's sag and he turns around. I stare at a spot on the wall to the left of him.

"Just go," I say, my voice cracking.

"I—”

"Don’t need a mother," I remind him with a whisper before meeting his sad eyes. "And I have enough children, so go throw your tantrum somewhere else." Crossing my arms over my chest, I press my mouth closed tight and clench my teeth.

The sadness dissolves back to anger. Spinning around, he yanks open my apartment door and storms out. No matter how prepared I am for the slam, the noise still makes me jump. A swirl of emotion breaks loose inside me.

"Mom?" Lucas calls quietly from the hall.

"Yeah?" I try to sound as reasonable as possible.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, his voice closer.

"Everything is…" I breathe through my nose, exhaling the urge to burst into tears. Swallowing my feelings, I turn to my son. "Everything's fine."

"Where did Jackson go?" His eyes narrow, suspicious.

"He has things he needs to deal with." It's vague, but honest.

Lucas stands completely still, a look of apprehension on his face.

"It’s fine, Lucas. Go finish your game. It will be time to turn it off soon." I force a smile and turn, walking to the kitchen.

I begin rinsing out cups and downsizing the pizza boxes for the trash. When I finish with the small tasks, I look over my shoulder and find Lucas gone. With a deep breath, I lock the apartment door on the way to the bathroom.

In the shower, I break, hiding my tears and quiet sobs under the warm spray.

Chapter Twelve

Jackson

The heavy knock on the door is followed by the familiar bellow of Julia.

"Jackson, we have to be out of this hotel in twenty minutes." She knocks three more times.

Letting the hot water rinse away the alcohol seeping from my pores, I close my eyes. Behind my lids, all I see is Liza. Her blue eyes swimming in hurt. A hurt I put there—again.

"Jackson, come on," Julia pleads, followed by one muted thud.

Rubbing my face beneath the spray, I groan.

"Give me ten," I shout in irritation, pressing my palms against the white tiles.

Christ, I fucked up, but it's all so much. Too much.

I waited days for Chris to let me know what the fuck is going on and the moment he says breast cancer, I lose my shit.

"Mom has breast cancer," I say, testing the words out loud. My tongue wants to choke on them. "Fuck," I shout and turn off the water. Pushing off the wall, I slam my back against the tile instead.

Mom has cancer and kept that shit to herself for almost a month before even telling Nicholas. Then they decide not to tell anyone until more tests and a course of treatment is selected.

I snort, resting my head back against the shower wall. Fuck them!

I jerk away from the wall, climb out, and wrap a towel around my waist. Catching a glimpse of the remnant lines I snorted last night, I secure the cloth before lining up a few to get me going this morning.

"I'm going to need it just to get through this talent show bullshit." The justification sounds weak to my own ears. The shaking in my hands, something I ignore.

Rubbing away the residue from my nose and lip, I enter the bedroom to get dressed.

Julia immediately turns, giving me her back.

"Sorry, I didn't know you were coming out."

"You can look," I tease, feeling much better than a few minutes ago. "I know you want to."

"I'm good," she mumbles, making her way to leave.

"Hey," I call out, stopping her. "I'm only teasing."

"Yeah." Keeping her head down, she walks out.

I close the door behind her, agitation lessening my high. Who the fuck is she to give me attitude? Everyone thinks they have shit figured out.

My thoughts travel to Liza. Guilt and anger rage a battle for top emotion.

Releasing the towel to the floor, I slip into my clothes. Securing my “Cock Fight” belt buckle in place, I retreat back into the bathroom to snort away everyone's bullshit attitude and assumptions about me.

The drive to the studio is delayed by Monday morning traffic. Julia is anxious and providing updates to the producers regarding our arrival while I feel fucking fantastic, sprawled in the back of the limo, head back on the seat.

"Are you actually happy or just higher than the Hollywood sign?" Julia asks, her question saturated in criticism.

"You're cute when you're all worked up," I respond without lifting my head or opening my eyes. Fuck, I feel so goddamn good.

She huffs, but it doesn't kill my mood.

Upon arrival, she ushers me around from the lobby to the conference room. From there, we are escorted to our secret booth. It's all kinds of James Bond, so I decide to act the part.

Folding my hands together and stretching out my pointer fingers, I slide against the wall, singing the Goldfinger theme song.

"What are you doing?" Julia hisses, eyes wide and face red.

"Come on." I drop my hands to the sides of my body. "Goldfinger is by far the best Bond movie. You have to know the song."

She stands, mouth agape.

Raising my brow, I give her my best come-on look. Her lips twitch before a smile splits her mouth, showing her teeth.

"Come on," she giggles.

Taking my arm, she pulls me down the hall to where our escort awaits.

Showing us into the room, my eyes settle on Gemma.

"So glad you could join me," she says, her irritation evident.

"There was traffic." I shrug, dropping into the chair next to hers.

"Look at me," she orders, setting a pen and notepad down hard on the edge of the sound table.

"Why?" I take a notepad Julia hands out for me, keeping my eyes off Gemma.

"Goddamn it," she growls. "How high is he?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Julia snaps back. "It's enough for him to play James Bond in the hallway."

"Hey," I spin in the chair and raise my arms, "that was our special thing."

Julia rolls her eyes, taking a seat on a chair in the far corner of the room.

"Christ, Jackson," Gemma mumbles.

"We have work to do." I spin back around toward the table. "You can pray to me later."

She gives a half snort, half laugh.

"Bring lots of coffee. When he crashes, it ain't gonna be pretty," Gemma says to someone, probably Julia.

I feign a gasp, and follow with, "I'm always pretty."

"Your eyes are bloodshot, face flushed red, dark circles, and your nose looks like Christmas." Gemma purses her lips, raising one brow.

"Christmas?" I furrow my brow.

"Red as Rudolph and covered in snow," she quips before picking her notepad back up. "We're on contestant number five, in case you're interested."

Annoyed with the lectures and attitude, my anger levels spike.

"Don't act like this shit matters so much to you," I sneer.

"It does matter, Jackson," Gemma counters. "This is my fucking job. It. Matters. And what I don't need is to be partnered up with someone who's too fucking high to get shit done."

"Fuck you," I growl. "You don't know what I have going on."

"You aren't the only one to ever get dumped or cheated on, Jack!" Gemma slams her notebook down. "Grow a fucking pair and get over the little tramp. Why ruin yourself for someone who didn't care enough not to jump on someone else's dick the moment you guys were apart? Huh?"

I flinch from her words. They're harsh, painful to hear, and partly right. But this isn't about fucking Laney.

"I don't give a shit about her," I admit out loud. The truth behind the words surprises me into silence.

"Then what's your problem? The model bitch causing problems with your extracurricular activities? Boo-fucking-hoo." She crosses her arms over her chest, staring at me over her black-rimmed glasses.

"My fucking mom has cancer," I shout, and watch Gemma's face relax. "She's known for months, but didn't think she needed to share that shit. Instead, I find out last night, after all her tests and the decision for a double mastectomy had been made."

"Jackson," Gemma's voice softens, "I'm so sorry."

She places her hand on my arm, but I pull away from the sentiment.

"I am sorry," she says, her words a bit harder, "but it's still not worth it. Your mom would kick your ass if she knew you were—”

"Why should I tell her shit?" I raise a brow in challenge. "She didn't think I should know about her being sick," I shrug, "she doesn't need to know about my harmless fun."

"It's not harmless. You're not the same." Gemma's voice is quiet and sad.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't affect me, but I hit the mic button, blowing the conversation off.

"Who's next?" I ask the studio producer working with us today.

"Contestant number six just arrived," he informs.

"Jackson?" Gemma tries once more.

"We have a job to do," I turn hard eyes on her, "and I don't want to be the reason you don't get your fucking job done."

My attention back on the soundboard, I wait for the first of many headache-inducing performances to begin.

I'm right about the headache. By number twenty-four, I'm on my second dose of ibuprofen and fifth cup of coffee. Not all of them are horrible, not all are even bad—hell, some are pretty fucking good—it's the constant music, the replaying of the same bad songs, and the lack of reception to our coaching grinding my last nerve.

Julia sets a bottle of red liquid on the table next to me and walks away.

"Gatorade?" I ask her back.

"The electrolytes will help with the headache." She sits back into her chair, iPad in her lap.

"Thanks," I say.

She gives a small nod, not looking at me.

"I don't think she knows what to say to you," Gemma offers. "Sort of the way I don't right now."

I take a deep breath and exhale, turning to Gemma.

"Just forget about it and let's get this shit done. I need to talk to the producers and arrange travel back home."

Gemma stops my hand before I press the mic button.

"You're leaving?" Her eyes search my face.

"I'm going home to see my mom face-to-face. If they can't make arrangements around this, then I'm out of the show." I shrug.

She nods, pressing the mic button and asking for the next contestant.

Uncapping the bottle of red liquid, I drink greedily in hopes of easing the ache in my skull. Julia and Gemma both watch my every move, a transparent attempt to keep me sober.

What I wouldn't give for a hit right now…

I close my eyes and sigh at the thought as the stripped down sound of Toxic fills the room. Then the voice fills the room, reaching deep inside me. Her voice is unmistakable, husky, sexy, and hypnotic.

"Fuck, this girl is good," Gemma says, writing notes on her pad.

Her voice feels like familiar fingers dancing over my skin.

"Are you okay?" Gemma asks, but I can't focus on anything.

My chest rises and falls, my heart beats erratically, and my dick hardens uncomfortably.

Snake Charmer.

Skull pounding, dick hard, heart pounding an angry beat against my ribs, I shove out the chair. Julia squeals and Gemma curses at my sudden movement.

"What the hell, Jack?" Gemma snarls, standing from her chair.

She's a contestant. Liza is a fucking…did she already know I'd be on the show?

I stride to the studio room door, the hinges protesting when I yank it open.

"Jack—” The door slamming into the wall cuts Julia off.

"It's her," I growl.

"Stop him!" Gemma calls as I exit the room.

How could she know I was a judge? It was kept secret. Our interviewers weren't even allowed to mention it without fear of a lawsuit.

Digging my fingers into my hair, I storm through the hallway, my steps sounding like angry echoes.

She couldn't have known. It's impossible.

The tightness in my chest eases for just a moment.

Grabbing the first door handle, I shove it open. Empty.

"Jackson!" Julia and Gemma yell in unison.

"You can't just—”

I shove the next door open, silencing Julia.

"What the fuck?" One of two sound techs turns toward me. "You can't just barge in here! We're in the middle of recording."

Ignoring him, I step in and look through the glass. Not her.

Moving on, I reenter the hallway and run into Julia, a man in all black standing next to her.

"Jackson, what's wrong?" She attempts concern.

It's fucking patronizing.

Stepping around her, I continue to hunt her down.

Red. The thought stops me cold. Fucking Red knew. He'd tell that girl he's fucking in a heartbeat. And she's loyal to Liza. Loyal enough to give her the inside scoop for this show.

Heat rises from my stomach and over my chest, choking my throat. Gulping down a breath, I charge forward on my mission.

"Miss, I have to stop him." A deep voice comes from behind me.

I move quicker, reaching the next door before security reaches me.

Gripping the handle, I shove. Locked.

I raise my fist and large, heavy hands wrap around my forearm, pulling me away from the door.

"Get off me," I protest, shoving the man off.

The force is enough for him to release my arm and smack the wall across from me.

"Don't you fucking touch me," I warn.

A door opens and voices carry out, catching my attention.

My eyes lock onto Liza. Her eyes widen and lips part.

A storm of lust, need, and want rages within me just from the sight of her.

Her mouth opens to speak, but my approach silences her.

The way I want her, need her, knowing she possibly used me for the show, morphs my anger to rage. I hate it. I hate the way she makes me need her.

Fucking snake charmer.

Pushing into her personal space has her stepping back against a wall.

"Hey, man," the security guy calls out.

"Is this how you play your game?" I ask, narrowing my eyes.

She tries to move, but I trap her with my arms on both sides of her body. Surprise whitens her face.

"Jackson," she starts, her voice a worried whisper, "back up."

"Is it, Liza?" I press, bringing my face closer to hers.

Sweat forms on my upper lip, a combination of heavy breathing and sobering.

"What game?" Her eyes boldly meet mine.

I snort.

"Don't play stupid." Taking my left hand from the wall, I trace her cheek with my finger.

"I'm not. There's no game, Jackson." Defiance tightens her jaw.

"Who told you about me, Red or that bitch he's fucking?"

"You're high, aren't you?" she scoffs, shoving my hand away from her.

I immediately miss touching her. This just pisses me off more.

"Quit fucking evading the question," I sneer.

"No one told me about you!" she snaps. "I wish someone had." Her voice drops to a whisper and she closes her eyes, pain creasing her face.

"So, you thought you'd fuck your way to the finals or winner's circle?" The poisonous question leaves my lips.

Her eyes snap open. Pain, hurt—fuck, again with the hurt—and then fire.

"Move," she commands.

"Your game is good." Grabbing her thigh, I squeeze to emphasize “good”. "Maybe if you fuck all the judges they'll be just as infatuated with you."

My head snaps left from the force of her hand.

"You're a bastard," she says, the contemptuous words filled with pure venom.

Keeping my eyes on the wall to the left, I seethe.

"You want to know who told me about you, Jackson?"

I clench my jaw. I fucking knew it.

"You did!" Her temper flares.

I snap my head back, meeting her angry eyes.

"When you mentioned it on the phone last night." She shakes her head. "That's when I found out and I didn't think it was a great time to mention it."

My anger lowers to a nervous simmer.

"I guess I was wrong. I should've told you then. I mean…fuck it, I should just add it to the other shit you have going on." Her voice is hard, cold.

I hate it.

Guilt rises like a flurry of hornets in my stomach. I raise my hand to cup her face.

This time, the rejection is hers to deliver. She slaps my arm down.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch. Me," she seethes, accentuating every word. Every one of them like a knife stabbing my soul.

What have I done?

"Liza—”

"Don't." She shoves my chest, causing me to stumble back. "I don't want this."

Breathing becomes painful, restricted.

"Keep your drama and your baggage." She waves a hand in the air, motioning over me. "You need to deal with your shit." Closing her eyes, she shakes her head. "I can't do this back and forth with you."

I step forward and her eyes snap open. She puts a hand up, stopping me.

"You're like a razorblade, Jackson. And I'm not thick-skinned enough to survive you." Tears rest at the corners of her eyes.

Fuck!

"I'm sorry," I blurt. The words are simple, but I've never meant anything more in my entire fucking life.

"Sorry is just a word." She shrugs and the movement jars one tear loose. "It's like a band-aid with you."

My eyes track the tear trailing over her smooth, porcelain cheek, until it drips from her jaw. My vision blurs.

"Take care of yourself."

I blink, clearing the blur when tears escape.

Two steps forward is as far as I get before she stops me with a look and turns, pushing by onlookers.

Of its own accord, my body propels forward, needing to go after her.

Four hands press against my chest. I refocus on my surroundings, finding Gemma and Julia pushing against me.

"Let her go," Gemma says softly.

"I don't think I can." A humorless laugh escapes me.

"She needs space, Jack." Gemma wraps an arm around mine, leading me back to the sound studio.

I take a deep breath and pull my arm from hers.

"Where are you going?" Julia asks, her question riddled with panic.

"Restroom," I answer without looking back.

Locking the multi-stall room, my shaky hands retrieve the last of my coke from my back pocket. I line it up on the counter, catching a glimpse of myself before leaning over and snorting the rails. Straightening, I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to risk seeing the truth of what I've become.

I pull out my cell phone and scroll until I find his name.

"Yeah," his familiar voice answers.

"Randall, it's Jack. I need a package." I turn, leaning back against the sink. The drugs are taking longer to feel the effect.

"Christ, already?" He laughs. "You're a machine, but don't worry, I got some killer shit in yesterday. I'll personally deliver and we can party at your place."

"Sounds like a plan." Closing my eyes, I savor the numbness of my mouth.

Liza

"Sid, call me back. Please," I beg, leaving my third voicemail.

"Still no luck?" Bethany slouches in her dressing table chair.

I shake my head.

"I'm not Sid, but if you need to talk, Liza," her body turns toward me, "I'm here."

Looking up from my phone, I force a smile.

"Thanks. I appreciate that," I say, and I mean it, but I haven't been able to get past my confrontation with Jackson.

Damn him for being an asshole. And damn me for allowing myself to care enough to be this hurt.

I swallow down the lump of tears in my throat. A knock on the door pulls our attention.

"Come in," Bethany calls.

Red's wide body slips inside the room.

"Can I talk to Liza for a minute?" Red asks, his question directed at Bethany.

Her eyes come to me, waiting for my okay. I nod and she turns back to Red.

"Sure." Standing, she shrugs and walks to the door.

Before she can exit, he wraps an arm around her waist. Pulling her to him, he kisses her quick and hard. When he releases her, she tries to look annoyed, but even I can see her fighting a smile.

The minute the door closes behind her, Red steps further into the room, taking a seat on a small, worn loveseat. He bounces and presses his hand to the cushion.

"This thing is shit." He bounces once more. "I need to replace this."

His eyes come to mine. I give my second forced smile since I left stage rehearsal.

"That's not what I want to talk to you about." He clears his throat. "You aren't yourself tonight, Liza. Everything okay?"

Red's never given off the vibe of a jerk, but the tenderness in his question surprises me. He's usually loud, boisterous, and funny. In this moment, I see why Bethany likes him so much.

"Just a rough day." I shrug and sigh.

"I'm not one of the girls," he motions around the dressing room, "but you can come to me with shit."

The total guy attempt to be there makes me giggle.

"I'm serious." His brow wrinkles.

"I'm sorry." My giggle grows. "I don't mean to laugh."

I take a deep breath, getting myself under control.

"I really appreciate you checking on me. And I really appreciate you making me smile for real tonight, even if it was unintentional."

He grins, satisfied with himself.

"I need to talk to you about something else." His face grows more serious.

Worry assaults me for no real good reason.

"Don't look so panicked." He puts his hands up. "I think this is a good thing. I want to make you a featured performer."

I raise one brow, confused.

"I'm not sure I understand," I say, voicing said confusion.

"Liza, you're an amazing performer. Not just because of your voice," he rushes to clarify. "When you step onto the stage, you become another person. You know how to play off the crowd. Fuck, you make them play off you."

The compliments feel a bit uncomfortable, but a pleasant warmness fills my belly.

"Instead of you becoming what they want, you make them want what you give them. That's fucking talent." He rubs the back of his neck. "I want to do a photo shoot, and the leads—like Bethany and you—will have solo shots, but…" he pauses, getting serious, "basically, you are getting top billing. You're going to be the feature everyone comes to see."

I open my mouth to protest.

"I know who my best players are, Liza." Red stops me before I can get a word out. "Bethany and Jennifer will still do their solos and we may even bring in some new singers. But I've thought long and hard about this, I've watched the crowd and all of you. You're going to be the spotlight."

This time, I don't know what to say at all.

"Which means your photoshoot is going to be a bit more intense. Once I find the right photographer—”

"My cousin," I blurt.

"What?" It's Red's turn to be confused.

"My cousin, Sid, is a great photographer. I can get her portfolio or the online site she keeps."

"Her?"

"Yeah, it's short for Sidra. She hates it and goes by Sid," I explain. "She went to college for graphic design and online marketing, but she's studied photography since she was in high school."

Opening the browser app on my phone, I scroll through my favorites, knowing I have her Deviant Art account favorited. I adore the photos she posts there.

"Well, yeah, I mean, I really want to take these pictures to an edgy, sexy place. I was thinking of contacting some of the photographers I've worked with for Corrosive Velocity, but if you have her send some pictures, I guess I can take a look at—”

Shoving my phone in his face silences him.

Red's eyes widen and his chin drops a bit. He takes my phone.

"Just swipe left to see more." I sit back in my chair.

His finger moves across my screen a few times before he looks up from the series of pictures titled TitsAnAss Collection.

The photos range from woman wearing latex, pushing the material to its limits, to some shots of us from the club. You wouldn't know it's us since Sid focuses on the curve of a lace covered hip or the bone lining of the corset. Her photos are what I like to call sneaky sexy.

"Do you think she'd be willing to do this?" His eyes drop back to the phone, scrolling.

"I can ask," I answer, and shrug. "But I'm pretty sure she'd love to do it."

Red continues swiping the screen. Since he's taken the time to tell me his plans for me in the club, I feel the need to tell him about my involvement with Hidden Talent.

"There's something I need to tell you, too."

Red's eyes lift from the phone.

"Yeah?" he says, his business-like tone in place.

"I'm currently participating in Hidden Talent." Nervousness swirls in my stomach.

His eyes widen. "Does Jackson know?"

I blink, not expecting that to be the first question. I clear my throat.

"He does…now."

He nods.

"That what tonight's about?" Both brows lift over his brown eyes.

I give a noncommittal nod. "And some other things."

"I'm not thrilled at the idea of you winning that shit and leaving this place." He inhales deep, holds it for a moment, and then exhales. "But it could be decent publicity for the club."

"So, you're okay with it?"

Red stands, handing my phone back to me.

"Like I said, I don't want to lose you to some reality show shit, but it's cool. I'm surprised you signed up for it, though."

"I didn't. My son and brother did."

"Ahh…" He nods his head. "Well, just try not to win." He grins largely. "I've got plans for you in this place."

The statement warms me, while also making me wish I'd never agreed to Hidden Talent. Where I belong has never been clearer.

"I'll do my best to suck." I smile.

"No, don't suck. I want people to like you enough to follow you here." He smirks before going to the door.

"I don't know how the hell I'm supposed to be good while trying not to win."

"You better figure it out,” he responds, pulling open the door.

Bethany stands right on the other side.

"Really?" he deadpans.

Bethany faux-pouts. "I wanted to make sure she wasn't upset about being the feature."

I blink in surprise, not expecting her to already know.

"She's okay." He pats Bethany on the head before turning back to me. "Get me your cousin's information. I want to talk to her."

I nod my silent okay while focusing on Bethany giving me two thumbs up behind his back. He turns, catching her. Shaking his head, he walks by her.

"What am I going to do with you?" he asks, not expecting a response.

Bethany steps into the dressing room, closing the door behind her.

"He loves me." She smirks, wiggling her brows.

Still no answer or response from Sid, I have too much time to replay every Jackson moment in my life during the bus ride home. Each moment is painfully beautiful, agonizingly raw, or both. My head knows I've done the right thing by walking away. He has too much going on and I refuse to be his whipping boy, but deep down, I feel the ache of separation. Somehow, my heart got caught up in this mess.

I catch the inside of my bottom lip between my teeth, fighting the wobble of my chin. I close my eyes against the pressure of unshed tears, only opening them when the bus comes to a stop. On autopilot, I step down from the bus and walk the small distance to my apartment. Every nerve ending feels raw, exposed.

The soft glow of light from under my apartment door becomes the distraction I need.

They should be in bed.

I allow the annoyance of the boys being up so late to swallow the emotions I don't want to admit I feel.

Opening the door, I search for Kel, Lucas, or Sean, ready to lecture them. Instead, a wave of relief washes over me.

"I'm sorry," Sid blurts. "I meant to surprise you, but my flight had an unexpected layover because of engine problems. My phone was off for a while because of the flights and then I had to rearrange my second flight to get here."

In hurried movements and explanation, she slips off a barstool and walks toward me.

"I saw your calls but didn't want to ruin my surprise. I should've fucking answered."

Her arms wrap around my shoulders and the embrace is my undoing. My bottled up emotions pour from my eyes in salty, wet trails over my face. They erupt from my throat in a combination of sobs and hiccups.

"It's okay. Shh…" Sid holds me tighter.

"He told me to fuck all the judges," I sob out before covering my mouth to quiet the ridiculous reaction.

Sid releases me and steps back.

"You go change. I'll pour the wine. Then we’ll eat crappy food, drink cheap wine, and plot our revenge against the oversized, walking-coloring-book asshole."

With the mischievous gleam in her eye, I know she's already done the plotting. And her insult makes me laugh.

"I love you." It's my turn to hug her.

"Of course you do," she responds. "What isn't to love?"

"Now, go change." She steps away, swatting my ass.

"Ow!" I rub the stinging cheek.

"You liked it," she says without looking back.

Almost two bottles of wine, a can of spray cheese, and a box of crackers later, Sid is laying next to me on the pullout bed.

"What if—”

"Sid," I laugh her name, "I don't think I can take any more of your plotting."

I shove a cracker in my mouth.

"No, wait," she slurs, "this is the best. Just—” she hiccups, "just listen."

I nod, drinking the last drop of wine from my glass.

"Okay…what if I hack his twitter feed? You know I can do it." Sid licks her lips, always excited about hacking something.

"You already plotted that about twenty ideas ago," I remind her. "Right after your plan for me to revenge fuck his brother. Like that would even be possible."

The warm tingly sensation from the wine makes snuggling into the pullout bed actually feel good.

"Yes," she shouts, "but this time, we are going to change all his profile pictures to penises and kittens."

I bury my face in a pillow, smothering the laughter bubbling out of me. With a deep breath, I look up from the pillow.

"Penises and kittens?"

She nods, excitement in her eyes.

"Why kittens?"

Sid's face twists into an are-you-really-asking-me-that look.

"Um, wouldn't you question a dude posting penises and fluffy kittens?"

I open my mouth, but close it. She has a point.

"I'll get my laptop."

She starts to crawl over me.

"No."

I grab her leg, keeping her in the bed.

"Sid, stop. You aren't really doing it." I try to sound serious, but can't help laughing.

"Oh, yes I am."

She gets free, slipping from the bed onto the floor.

"And just for the fucking hell of it, I'm going to post gay porn all through his feed. You know I have a membership to plenty of porn."

I cover my mouth to hold in the burst of laughter threatening to wake up the boys.

Rolling to my side, I look down at a half-passed-out Sid.

"Sid?"

I reach down and push on her shoulder. No response.

"Sid?" I try again.

"Yeah," she quietly slurs.

"Get back in bed." My words are followed by a yawn.

"Okay," she sighs.

Rolling to face the bed, she raises an arm and grabs the mattress with her hand, but that's as far as she gets. Her arm falls to the floor.

"It's too far away," she mumbles.

I reach behind me, grab her blanket, and throw it down to her.

"Thanks." She snuggles into the blanket.

My lids grow heavy and my body goes lax.

Every muscle tenses and my eyes pop open at the loud pounding on my door.

"What the hell?" Sid growls, flipping onto her back.

"Liza!" More pounding follows his call.

"Is that—?" She props up onto her elbows.

"LIZA, please!"

With his volume increasing, I jump out of bed and trip over Sid.

"Ow, fuck," she curses, my foot hitting her side.

"Sorry." I look down to make sure she's okay. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she responds in a breath. "Hurry and shut loud mouth up before he wakes the building."

As if on cue, he shouts louder and bangs harder.

Going as fast as my tipsy body will allow, I reach the door, unlock it, and pull it open.

"Liza," he coos my name, his trademark half-grin in place.

He steps into my apartment and I take a step back.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my voice quiet, yet harsh.

His arms stretch toward me and catch me around my back, pulling me to him.

"I'm so sorry," he says, his words slurred.

"You need to leave." My words are stronger than I feel inside.

My body wants to melt into him; the effort of staying statue-like is exhausting.

"I need you to forgive me, Liza." He releases his hold on me, his large hands palming each side of my face. "I need you."

"Yeah, to forgive you."

I wrap my hands around his wrists, trying to pull out of his hands, but he won't allow it. Dropping my arms, I give up on a sigh.

"Okay, fine, I forgive you," I say, but the words are insincere and he can tell.

"No, you don't." His body sways and I reach out to help steady him.

A small smile forms on his face. "I want you, Liza."

His thumb rubs awkwardly against my cheek. In slow motion, his lips come closer. Letting go of his sides, I cover his mouth with my hands. The heat of his skin is concerning. He's burning up.

"Jackson, what did you take tonight?"

With my hands still over his mouth, I feel his lips move, but can't understand what he’s saying. I pull them away.

"What?"

"I need you. I want you. Forgive me."

His forehead rests against mine, the heat and slickness of his skin uncomfortable.

"Well, he's super high, isn't he?"

Sid's question distracts Jackson enough for me to get free of him. As soon as I have space between us, he turns his attention back to me. A frown mars his face.

"How much did you do tonight?" I cross my arms over my chest.

"Liza, fuck, can't you just—”

"How much, Jackson?"

"Randall brought me something new. It's the best I've felt all day." The sloppy grin on his face makes my stomach turn.

"Great."

"I feel incredible," he slurs.

Inhaling deep, I step forward and take his cell phone from his pocket.

His eyes snap open and land on me. The unfocused look saddens me.

Scrolling through his phone, I find Sam.

"What are you doing?" He grins.

"Calling your ride," I inform, waiting, hoping Sam answers.

"You know, I'm going to post penises, kittens, and gay porn all over your twitter feed."

My eyes snap to Sid. Standing only a few feet from Jackson, she has his full attention.

"What?" His face wrinkles in confusion.

"You heard me ash-hole," she taunts, her words slurred, but not nearly as bad as Jackson.

"Who the fuck are you?" he growls, narrowing his eyes on her.

"Your worst nightmare, Jolly-Cokehead-Giant." She crosses her arms over her chest, not backing down when he glares.

"Yes, sir?" Sam's deep voice finally breaks the ringing.

"Um, Sam, this is Liza. I'm not sure if you remember—”

"Yes, miss, I remember you. Did he pass out in your apartment?"

"You brought him here?" I ask, hopeful.

"Yes, miss. He was adamant and I'd rather not risk another taxi ride incident."

"He's not passed out, but he needs to go."

"And he's not willing?" Sam sighs.

"I'll get him downstairs, but be ready."

"Of course."

"Oh, and, Sam?"

"Yes?"

"I'm not sure what he used tonight, but he's on fire. Someone needs to keep an eye on him."

"I'll call Julia. She's his personal assistant and should be able to make arrangements."

"Okay. We'll be down in a couple minutes."

"I'll be here."

Ending the call, I look up to see Jackson and Sid staring each other down.

"As a matter of fact, I'll also hack all your personal accounts, shut down all your credit cards, and post your cell number to the masses," Sid adds to the end of their heated discussion.

"Jackson?"

His head slowly turns toward me, causing his body to waver.

"Come on." I put my hand out and he studies it for a moment.

"Come on. I'll walk you down to your car."

When Jackson doesn't move, I start to drop my hand with a sigh. He quickly reaches out for it, but misses my hand and stumbles into me.

"I don't want to leave you."

He lays his cheek on the top of my head, embracing me.

Slipping one arm around his waist, I start guiding him to the door.

"Don't make me go."

"Sam's waiting," is my response.

"I don't want Sam." His hands slide down my sides, stalling our progress to the door.

As if he hadn't shredded me like tissue paper earlier today, my body reacts. Fighting the lust, I push forward, unsure whether it's his touch or fever causing the heat between us.

Finally, he starts moving toward the door.

Sam tries to take Jackson's weight off me, but he won't let go.

"I have to go back inside."

I place my hands against his stomach, trying to push him away.

"You…don't...come…mine." He grows more incoherent.

"He's getting worse." Fear grips my chest, restricting my breaths.

"Julia is making some calls," Sam informs.

I feel a tremor run through Jackson's body and my fear turns to panic.

"Something's wrong." I shake my head.

"He's just high," Sam says, disgust dripping in his tone. "From what Julia says, he's been partying hard all evening with his dealer and what she assumes are hookers."

Nausea cramps my stomach, but Jackson's the one who throws up between Sam and me.

"Fuck," Sam growls, yanking harder on Jackson and pulling him toward the waiting car. Jackson's head lolls to the left.

Something’s wrong. I can feel it, see it.

"Wait!" I catch up, taking part of the weight.

"Miss, I can get him back to the hotel," Sam states, shoving Jackson roughly into the back of the car.

I look back at my building, glancing up to my apartment window. Then I turn to Jackson, sprawled in the backseat.

What the fuck am I doing?

I climb into the car, closing the door behind me.

Taking Jackson's phone once again, I send Sid a text, letting her know what I'm doing. I'm too much of a coward to call. The car pulls away from the curb and Jackson's body starts to slip from the seat.

Resituating our positions, I slip under his head, placing it on my lap.

Putting my elbow against the door, I rest my head in my hand.

"Snake charmer." I ignore the murmur, but movement draws my attention.

Jackson pulls himself up, digging in his jacket. He takes out a small, clear vial, trying to twist the little cap off.

Anger rolls from the pit of my stomach to my throat.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I yell, snatching the vial away from him.

"Come on, I'll share." He grins. "Have you ever fucked when high? It's amazing."

He leans, pressing his body against me.

"Yeah, I'm sure with all the shit in your system you could perform real well." I don't hide my sarcasm or anger.

Pressing the window button, I roll it down and toss the vial out.

"What the fuck?" he snarls, reaching for the window. "That's all I have on me."

He turns hard eyes on me.

"But you have more at the hotel?" I ask, meeting his glare with one of my own.

"I don't want to fight with you." His eyes soften. "I'm sorry."

His eyes roll into his head, causing panic to well inside my chest. He goes limp, landing in my lap. The shaking of his body is not a good sign. I wrap my arms around him and yell, "Sam!"

The divider window comes down.

"He's shaking." Looking up from Jackson's body, I meet Sam's eyes in the rearview mirror. "We need to take him to the hospital."

With a nod, he puts his phone to his ear.

Turning my attention back to Jackson, I make sure he stays breathing. I don't hear much of what Sam is saying on the phone, so when we pull into the garage of the hotel, I'm pissed.

"I said he needs the hospital."

Sam ignores me, climbing out of the car. The back door jerks open and Sam reaches in for Jackson. Pulling him out of the car, he throws Jackson's body over his shoulder.

"Why didn't you take him to the hospital?" I follow Sam inside the hotel and onto the staff elevator.

"If he goes to the hospital, it will be public news and gossip. Julia has a doctor on the way."

"News and gossip?" I scoff. "That's better than dead or in a coma!"

The elevator reaches Jackson’s floor and Sam exits without another word.

"I can't believe you would risk his life because of the press." My disgust is obvious in my declaration.

"You don't know how this business works." A small girl with dark hair stands next to the hotel room.

Sam enters, carrying Jackson.

"I know how life and death work. An overdose isn't something to fuck around with,” I growl, narrowing my eyes on her.

"You're no longer needed." She gives a nod and follows Sam.

Before the door closes, I shove my arm against it and enter behind her.

Her eyes widen, watching as I step past her and into the bedroom.

"Take him to the bathtub," I instruct just as Sam is about to put Jackson on the bed.

He looks to Julia for confirmation.

"Don't look at her," I snap. "I told you to put him in the bathtub."

"The doctor is on his way—”

"And when he gets here, you can show him in." I narrow my eyes, daring her to challenge me again.

"The bathtub, Sam!"

Closing my eyes, I inhale deep, trying to remember what Bethany did with a girl who OD'd back stage once.

With Jackson in the bathtub, I move Sam out of my way and start removing his shoes and clothes.

"If you aren't going to help, you can get out."

I groan from the exertion it takes to get Jackson's jeans off his legs. Heat radiates from his skin. In all my years of Lucas' colds, flus, and teething, I've never felt a fever this hot.

Finally, Sam leans down and helps me. With all of his clothes off, I grab a towel, throw it over his waist, turn the water to cold, and start the shower.

Jackson jerks, bringing his arms over his chest, but he doesn't wake up.

"Do we know what he took? Was it just coke? Did he swallow any pills?" I look at Sam while I climb into the tub behind Jackson.

"I'm not sure." He starts looking around the bathroom before exiting to conduct a search.

"Come on, Jackson. Wake up," I urge.

Slipping behind his body, I prop him up into spray. The water is freezing, but his body is on fire.

"What can I do?" Julia's voice surprises me.

"Put the stopper in the tub and get some ice. His temperature needs to come down and we can't give him anything."

She nods, stepping forward to flip the metal piece before exiting quickly.

Cold water slowly creeps up the sides of our bodies. Unable to take the temperature any longer, I slip out and lay him back against the porcelain.

"I've got the ice." Julia returns with two buckets of ice and we dump them into the tub.

Jackson begins to shake, but I can still feel the heat radiating off him. Grabbing a washcloth, I dip it into the water and place it on his forehead.

"We aren't sure of everything he took, but definitely coke, alcohol, and a lot of it." Sam's voice carries from the bedroom.

An average sized man in jeans and a long sleeve t-shirt enters the bathroom. His eyes settle on Jackson, Julia, and me.

"Let me see what we're dealing with." He pushes between Julia and me.

His hands work over Jackson's body: pulse points, forehead, pulling his eyes open. The doctor reaches back, pulls a red canvas bag to his side, and grabs a syringe. He turns Jackson's arm and presses on his skin a few times before jabbing the needle into his vein. It fills with blood and he takes the needle from his arm.

Setting it to the side, he digs through his bag again, and pulls out another syringe and a small bottle. He repeats the same actions as before, but this time, plunges a clear fluid into Jackson's veins.

"Who put him in the ice bath?" he asks, keeping his eyes on Jackson.

The doctor places a thermometer in Jackson's ear.

"She did," Sam says, quick to call me out.

"Good job." The doctor looks at the temperature reading and shakes his head. "His temperature was at dangerous levels. It's still not good."

"Will he be alright?" Julia asks.

"I think so, but I can't be sure what damage he's caused himself." The doctor stands, facing us. "We can get him out of the bath now. I gave him something to assist with the fever."

Sam and I go to work, getting Jackson out of the bath and into the hotel bed. The doctor stands, speaking with Julia.

"I should have the test results back in a couple hours, but he needs more medical attention. I placed a call to the hospital and they are sending a nurse with an IV. Chances are he's extremely dehydrated. The fluids will help, but he needs to come to the hospital for full testing."

Julia nods, tears filling her eyes.

"Liza?" Jackson calls for me through chattering lips.

I step to his side and brush the hair from his face. "Yeah?"

"I'm s…s…s…sorry," he chatters.

"I know." Leaning down, I kiss his forehead.

"You can expect paranoia, depression, and guilt when he wakes," the doctor says, his eyes on me. "When the fluids start, he's going to start showing withdrawal symptoms as well. Depending on the regularity of his using, the symptoms can be minimal or severe enough to need medical assistance."

I nod.

"He's lucky we aren't dealing with cardiac arrest tonight," he adds before leaving the room.

I sit down on the bed next to Jackson and bury my face in my hands.

"I called his family," Julia whispers.

Without looking, I nod.

"They should arrive in a few hours," she continues.

The silence becomes long and tense.

"I'm sorry for not listening to you earlier and for being a bitch." The bed shifts when she sits next to me, placing a large, white robe around my shoulders.

"It's okay." Exhaustion starts to take over.

"No, I was mad at him for the way he acted tonight," she hiccups. "I could've caused him…" she trails off, soft whimpers escaping her.

I can't tell her she's wrong. Things could've been worse, but it's obvious she never meant for him to get hurt.

"It's okay now. I'll get a taxi and get out of the way."

Julia puts a hand on my leg before I can stand.

"You're exhausted. Get out of the damp clothes and get some sleep. I'll let you know when they arrive and make sure a car is ready." She pats my leg twice before standing and leaving the room.

I stand from the bed, slip out of my clothes, lay them over a chair to dry, and secure the large robe around me. Back in bed, I stare down on him. Tears fill my eyes, leaking over my cheeks.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" My question is a quiet sob, a plea to understand.

I stare at Jackson's sleeping form until my lids are too heavy to keep open.

Chapter Thirteen

Liza

"Where is he?" A woman's voice stirs me from sleep.

I try to stretch, but my body is held down by Jackson. At some point, he rolled over, pinning me underneath his body.

"I don't care if he's still sleeping." The woman's voice is followed by the door bursting open.

Peeking over Jackson's arm, my eyes take in a lovely caramel-haired woman with a classic Hollywood glamor about her. Behind her stands an older, extremely attractive, gentleman, and two recognizable faces: the lead singers of The Forgotten and Hushed Mentality.

"Well, isn't this like fucking twisted déjà vu?"

"Chris," Mia Ryder hisses.

"What?" His face screws up in confused annoyance. "It is." He waves toward Jackson and me. "Like the time Nic found us in bed together on the bus."

Embarrassment creeps in a heated flush over my skin. I shove Jackson, rolling him off me, and stand from the bed.

"Give me a moment, please," the woman says, her eyes on me.

"But—” Mia grabs Christopher and drags him out before he can finish.

"I'll be just outside the door if you need me." The handsome gentleman kisses her cheek and exits the room, closing the door behind him.

"I'll get out of your way," I blurt, feeling nervous.

"Julia told me what you did for him." She approaches, leaving only a foot of space between us. "I want to thank you for taking care of my son."

"Of course." Stepping to the side, I move out of her way.

Her soft hand comes to my face, cupping my cheek.

"Thank you so much," she says, tears forming in her eyes.

Being a mother to a son, I can empathize with her. My eyes grow watery.

"You're welcome." I choke on the words.

"It's Liza, correct?" Her warm eyes study me.

I nod and she drops her hand from my face.

"Liza, this person…" She glances to Jackson's prone form, "this isn't Jackson."

Looking back into my eyes, I see determination.

"But I hope he's still in there."

Before I can stop myself, I blurt, "He is."

I watch as relief softens the deep lines of sorrow on her face.

"Good." Her shoulders relax and she stands straighter.

"I'll just get out of your way," I mumble, moving to collect my clothes from the chair so I can dress in the bathroom.

"You don't have to rush off because of me."

I don't look back or think before I respond.

"I have to get home to my son."

Before she has time to react to my admission, I close myself in the hotel bathroom.

Slipping into my clothes, I realize I came here wearing pajamas. Thankfully, I chose to wear cotton shorts and a t-shirt. However, I hadn't worn a bra and my shirt is white. In the morning light, it would be very noticeable.

I look around the bathroom and see Jackson's discarded clothes on the floor. Grabbing his long-sleeved dark tee, I pull it over my head. The shirt is too big, so I roll the sleeves and tie the hem in a knot.

I pull open the bathroom door, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Five sets of eyes turn toward me. Gwen, the older gentleman, which I assume is her husband, Nicholas, Christopher, Mia, and the doctor stare silently. Nervousness prickles across my skin.

"I'll show myself out." My nerves are evident in the pitch of my voice.

"Like I said, Liza, you don't have to go." I glance at Gwen when she speaks. "But I understand why you need to go." Her warm smile makes me instantly like her.

How Jackson could do this to his mother is beyond me. If only my mom had been like her. Mentally shaking my head, I quickly return the smile and exit the bedroom.

My hope to sneak out without any further notice is squashed when nine more sets of eyes turn to me.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice is familiar and my hair stands on end.

"Kristy, I suggest you shut the fuck up." This voice is unfamiliar, but her trademark blonde and black hair gives her away. Kat Conway, lead guitarist for Hushed Mentality.

Kristy ignores Kat and stands from a chair, the same chair Jackson shoved out of the way so he could—

"I asked you a question." Kristy is barely a foot away from me.

"Obviously, she was here for Jackson." This voice is also unfamiliar, but it belongs to Laney Trimball, Jackson's ex, and bassist for Hush.

"No one asked you, slut." Kristy tosses over her shoulder.

Laney jumps up and moves to attack. The thick arm of Elliott Brockman stops her, pulling her down on his lap.

"Calm down, Fast Lane. She's just pissed because Jackson has apparently moved on…" his eyes roam over my body, "to curvier and better things." He grins for a moment before shouting in pain. "Christ, baby, that hurt." He rubs where his wife, Serena, just pinched him.

"Can you stop flirting for, oh, I don't know, at least five minutes?" Serena glares.

"I'm just honest," he pouts.

"Keep your honesty to a minimum," she scolds.

"Are you jealous?" He smirks.

She narrows her eyes at him.

"Baby, you’ve got nothing to be jealous about. You know you're the only girl for me." He smiles wide.

"Oh, I'm so lucky," she feigns excitement.

"I know, right!" He sits back on the couch, putting his hands behind his head. "I'm a fucking catch."

Serena's face twists and she grabs her swollen stomach.

"What's wrong?" Elliott pushes Laney from his lap, reaching for Serena.

"Nothing." She sits back, stretching her body out. "He's got his feet in my ribs again."

Elliott winces, but stays on high alert.

"What can I get you?"

"A new husband." She grins.

"Not fucking funny, babe," he pouts again, and I have to fight not to laugh.

"This is all so pathetically cute, but I asked this whore a question." Kristy steps closer and I step back, wanting to keep space between us.

"Leave her alone." Laney gets involved once more. "Apparently, Jackson wanted her here, not you."

"Stay out of this, you cheating slut." Kristy spins, facing Laney. "If it weren't for you spreading your legs to whoever will climb between them, Jackson wouldn't be in this state, would he?" She crosses her arms over her chest.

"Did that Ethiopian white girl just say that shit in front of us?" Kat looks to Serena, who nods.

"Yeah, she did."

I glance over my shoulder, seeing this came from Mia.

"Bitch, are you crazy or just hungry? You know Laney's our sister, right?" Kat leans forward, hands on her knees.

"I don't give a shit about your—”

"Serena, hold my phone. I'm gonna kill this trick." Kat stands, only to be stopped by the final member of The Forgotten.

"Don't go to jail." Jimmy Thompson holds tightly to her forearm. "I don't have enough on me for bail."

"I suggest you leave." Mia's voice comes from right behind me.

I tense, unsure whether she's talking to Kristy or me.

"I'm his girlfriend," Kristy counters.

"Ex-girlfriend," Laney corrects, causing Kristy's face to redden.

"We all saw your interview," Kat adds, satisfaction all over her face.

"Yes, bravo by the way." Mia accentuates her sarcasm with slow claps.

"You don't know anything," Kristy hisses. "She's damn proof of the way he's treated me." She points a long, manicured finger in my face. "He's a cheating bastard."

Lack of sleep, stress, and the current situation causes something inside me to snap. I slap her hand out of my face, causing her to gasp.

"Then why are you here?" I ask, my voice cold and lashing. I step forward and she retreats, stumbling on her heels.

"If he is so awful and things were so terrible, why are you even here?"

"I…I love him," she responds, too quickly.

I snort.

"You love yourself and the attention. He broke it off and you don't like losing a toy before you're ready to toss it aside."

Her mouth parts, but my head is swimming and exhaustion washes over me.

"I'm so over this." I put my hands up, palms out, turn from Kristy, and walk to the room door. Reaching for the handle, I look back and lock eyes with Mia. "Take care of him."

Then, I leave. Every step to the elevator feels like a knife in my heart.

I focus my thoughts on Lucas, Kel, and Sean. And then I figure out what the hell I'm going to tell Sid when I get home.

Jackson

"Liz-ah?" My throat is so dry, my voice cracks.

Swallowing burns. I grab my neck.

"She's gone."

My mother's voice pulls me completely out of sleep and into a sitting position.

"Careful." She puts out a hand. "You'll rip out the IV."

She sits in a chair next to the bed. Following her eyes, I see the tube attached to the back of my hand.

"What—"

"Happened?" My mother finishes my question.

I look back to her face.

"You almost killed yourself," she says, her face a mixture of sadness and angry.

"Mom, I didn't—”

"Yes, Jackson, you did." She stands from the chair, looking down at me. "What is this?" She waves her hands over me and across my destroyed hotel bedroom.

Shit. Randall and those fucking people he brought with him.

"Mom, listen, it's nothing, really." I scoot back, leaning against the headboard.

"Nothing?" she repeats, her voice almost shrieking. I flinch.

I haven't heard her this mad since the time I went to jail for a bar fight while on tour.

"Is that your goal, to be nothing?"

"What the fu…uh…heck are you talking about?"

"You almost ended up as nothing." She drops back into the chair, desperation on her face. "The doctors found cocaine, ecstasy, and traces of LSD in your system. And let's not forget the amount of alcohol in your blood."

I open my mouth, but she puts her hand up, stopping me.

"You had a fever of one-hundred and six, Jackson. And that was after the doctor found you in an ice bath." Large tears trail over her cheeks. "If it weren't for Liza, you would’ve probably had a stroke or heart attack. You could be in a coma right now!" Her shriek makes me wince, but it's her tears that hurt most. "You could still have permanent damage to your heart or kidneys. Do you realize that? You still have to go get more tests to make sure you don't."

I bring my hand to my chest, trying to rub the ache away. Tears burn behind my eyes. I've fucked up so much. The drugs, lies…Liza. Fuck, where is Liza?

"You aren't my son."

I stiffen, a tear escaping the corner of my eye.

"You aren't my Jackson," she hiccups. "You're a rock star cliché and it's pathetic," she says, the last word spoken with pure disgust.

"Why, Jackson?" Her question is a plea to understand.

"Why did you hide your illness?" My voice is sharp in defense.

Her body tenses, just a bit, before a heavy sigh leaves her.

"I already explained this to you," she says, her voice quiet, tired.

"Because you're selfish." Even I hear the spoiled child in my tone.

"If that's how you see it, then fine, I'm selfish. I found out I have breast cancer. The doctors ran through the tests, treatments, possible outcomes, and all the variables surrounding my life."

"You're a part of my life, too." Tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision.

"I'm sorry it hurt you. That was never my intention." She takes a deep breath, capturing my hand with both of hers. "Jackson, my treatment and surgery will take so much from me. I know it's hard for you to understand, but, as a woman, to have my breasts taken because of this…" She sniffs, and I squeeze her hand. "No matter the choice I made, it is life altering, but the decision I've made now feels like a loss of my femininity, my identity."

She pauses once more, taking stuttering breaths.

"The mastectomy will remove a part of my body, but it's also a part that defines me as a woman. The chemo will ravage the inside of my body, including the parts that make me a woman. Obviously, I wasn't planning on more children and my body already started the process of taking away that possibility, but for it to be taken like this…" she hiccups. "This feels cruel and unfair. I needed to take my diagnosis on without sympathy and fear from others. I hope you can someday understand, but even if you don't, Jackson, I wouldn't change my actions if I could."

The silence isn't uncomfortable. In fact, my thoughts are anything but silent. My mom is going through something I couldn't possibly understand—not completely. I would never know what it's like to be a woman or to have pieces of that stripped away so severely.

"Why would you do this to yourself?" Mom breaks the silence and my thoughts.

"I…" I try to think of an answer. First, one that will satisfy her. Second, the truthful one. All I can come up with is: "It hurt too much. I needed to escape."

She sighs heavily.

"Relationships end. It's not a reason to do this." Her hand slips into mine and grips tight. "You're too smart for this."

Tears flow over both our cheeks.

"It got out of hand," I choke out.

"I know, baby."

She moves from the chair to the bed and embraces me like she did when I was young, her arms tightening around my shoulders.

"I've fucked up."

"Language," she scolds quietly.

"You sure as hell did," Christopher says, announcing his presence.

Mom releases me and sits back, staying next to me, her hand back in mine.

"Go ahead, Chris, get your I told you so out of the way." I drop my head back against the wall above the headboard. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and wait.

"Are you done with this shit?" His simple question brings my head up and our eyes meet.

He stands at the foot of the bed, arms over his chest, and a serious expression on his face.

"What shit?" I sneer.

My mother tenses, in part from our cursing and because she knows how we fight.

"Don't give me your fucking attitude. I'm not the asshole who almost killed himself because he needed to get high. I'm not the asshole who scared off the one woman who is probably truly it for him."

Clenching my jaw, I glare at him.

"You don't know a fucking thing about Liza and—”

"I know." He cuts me off with two words, retrieving my worn, folded up notebook from his back pocket. He throws it on the bed. "I fucking know, Jackson."

"Stop going through my shit," I sneer.

"Then start talking to me," Chris demands. "You haven't written like this since…Christ, Jackson, I've never seen you write like this." He points to the notebook.

"We don't talk," I scoff.

"That's bullshit and you know it!" He rounds the bed, standing on my right. "We don't chat over tea and fucking cookies, but our music is our conversation. You and me in the studio, that's our talking."

Dropping my head, I focus on the fibers in the blanket covering my lap.

He's right.

"You haven't really been in there with me for over a year. Even before you and Laney split."

I close my eyes and bite my tongue in an attempt to stop the sob wanting free.

"So, are you done with this shit?" The plea in his question surprises me.

Looking up, I see the watery glaze of his eyes.

"Yeah," I respond, feeling my mom squeeze my hand.

Christopher's shoulders relax.

"The drugs?" he pushes.

"Done," I whisper.

"You'll get help," my mother interjects, and I nod.

"We talk?" Chris continues.

"Yeah." My eyes meet his.

Chris gives a hard nod.

"Good." He inhales deep before releasing the large puff of breath. "Now, we've got to talk about Kristy."

My eyes narrow. "Is she here?"

"She was, but after the girls, and Liza," he gives a pointed look, "got ahold of her, she left making a lot of threats."

"I'll take care of Kristy." Una steps into the room. "She won't be posting or talking about Jackson anytime soon."

"Are you sure about that?" Chris turns the pointed look on her.

"Christopher, can I just tell you how much your confidence in me over the past couple years makes me feel warm and fuzzy?" Una tilts her head.

Mom muffles a quiet snort.

"It should," Chris states, turning back to me. "I'll be sitting in for you at Hidden Talent."

"What?" I furrow my brow.

"You are going straight into rehab. You will need at least a week to detox," Una informs me.

"I have things to take care of," I protest.

"You need to give her time." Laney's voice is the last thing I want to hear.

"Great, Laney, you really think you're the best person to come in here?" Chris snaps.

"Christopher," Mom warns.

She releases my hand, slips from the bed, and walks toward the door.

"I believe these two need to talk." Mom takes Chris' arm.

"No, we don't," I state, causing everyone to look at me.

"Jackson—”

I stop Laney before she can say anything else.

"There isn't anything left to say." I shrug.

"Come on." Mom pulls Chris out of the room and Una follows them, closing the door behind her.

Dropping my head back against the wall, I close my eyes and sigh.

"I'm so sorry," she says, her emotions already affecting her speech.

"Don't, Laney."

"I didn't know it would become this." A sob escapes her. "It's my fault and I'm so sorry."

Sorry is just a word. Liza's words come back to me. Liza. She's the one I want here with me. I need to make her see how sorry I am, but ‘sorry’ is just a word.

Epiphanies happen and this time, it feels like a slap to the forehead with a brick. I need to fix my shit and show her she means more than I ever planned.

Laney's sobbing pulls my attention back to her.

"Laney, stop crying."

She hiccups, wiping her face and watching me.

"This isn't your fault." I shake my head. "Yeah, you broke us, but you aren't responsible for breaking me."

Her eyes widen.

"I made my choices. Even before we split, I thought everything was perfect. Chris had a baby and got engaged. Elliott is fucking married, adopted Ryan, and has a baby on the way. Fuck, even Jimmy got married. I thought it was next for us, but I didn't take the time to think about what was right for us."

Laney sits in the chair my mom previously occupied.

"I never meant to hurt you," she whispers.

"I know." I nod. "But you did."

"I know," she mimics.

"And it's okay."

Our eyes meet. Hers are unsure and apprehensive.

"I never would've found Liza if you hadn't." I smile.

The worry lines melt from Laney's face.

"She's the one, huh?" Her question is a mix of happiness for me and sorrow for what we lost.

"Yeah, she is." I grin wide.

"Well, she has Kat's approval after the way she handled Kristy." Laney laughs, wiping tears from her face.

"I think I need to hear more about this." I reach a hand out to her.

She leans forward and takes it, careful not to touch the IV.

"Then, dude, sit back and let me tell you about the catfight you missed." Elliott pushes through the door, striding right to the bed and plopping on the end.

Slowly, Serena waddles in, with the rest of the group in tow. My chest warms, surrounded by my family. There's only one thing missing.

Liza.

Liza

Without Julia arranging my ride back to the apartment, I don't know how I would've managed. Having left my cell phone, bag, and shoes behind, I don't think any taxi driver would've let me in their car without verification of funds.

Taking a deep breath, I knock on my own apartment door. It flings open and Sid stands in her black, I Make Boys Cry t-shirt and cotton capris.

Our eyes meet and my chin wobbles.

"Come here," she orders without giving me time to move. She reaches out, pulling me into her arms. We stand, embracing, for a few very long moments. It feels nice, but not as great as it usually does.

"You okay?" she asks in a whisper.

I begin to nod, but realizing the lie, I shake my head and bury my face in her shoulder.

One hand rubs my back while the other releases me to close the open door before guiding me to the fold-out bed. She sits us on the edge and I lay my head on hers.

"Is he okay?"

"I think so." My voice is low, matching hers.

"What do you need me to do?" she asks. I lift my head, looking at her in confusion.

"There isn't anything to be done." I shrug. "He's got some serious problems to handle." Sniffing, I rub my tingling nose.

"You're right. He does," she agrees, letting her arm fall away. "And you can't fix his problems either."

"I didn't say I could." Defensiveness sharpens my words.

"But you're thinking it." She raises her brows and continues before I can say anything else. "I know you. You're a fixer. You've been trying to fix my shit for years, but each person has things no one else can fix."

I straighten my spine, square my shoulders, and open my mouth, but close it, knowing she's right. I've spent years trying to make Sid realize she's better than she treats herself. She's better than her hump-him and dump-him one-nighters, a habit she's created to avoid being hurt again.

"No one could tell you what to do when you had your mind set to move out here with a toddler. You can't make him straighten his shit out. No matter how much you want him to."

I let my shoulders sag. I've gotten too attached.

"I know," I say weakly, my voice having lost its edge.

"He's lost, Liza."

My eyes meet Sid's once more.

"He's famous, known, and…Christ, the size of him alone makes him hard to miss, but…"

"But what?" My throat tightens and my eyes burn with unshed tears.

"He's lost himself in the sea of celebrities, drugs, alcohol, and fame. It's up to him to find himself and get his shit together." Reaching out, she takes my face between her hands. "You can't fix him."

I nod and she releases my face.

"Okay?"

With a deep breath, I nod in agreement.

"I'm gonna need to hear you say the words," Sid presses.

"Okay. I can't fix him." The verbal confirmation satisfies her, but a deep finalization and fear resonates within me. I honest to God understand there isn't anything I can do to fix Jackson, but what if I've just been a part of the high?

What else do you think you are? This isn't a damn movie. Time to let it go and walk away. He has family to help him.

"Everything okay?" Kel's voice surprises me.

"Yeah." I wipe my face.

"Is he alright?" Kel's question panics me.

He knows. What if Lucas saw what happened?

"Calm down," he soothes. "I woke up when you guys were trying to get him out the door. I checked on Lucas and Sean. They were out cold and don't know anything about it."

"Know about what?" Lucas yawns the question.

"That we are going out to breakfast!" Sid jumps up and flails her arms over her head. "So, go get your buddy up and let's hit IHOP. Aunt Sid's got a need to stuff her face with pancakes and pig."

Kel's face lights up and he rushes off to get dressed.

"Thank you." I stand and touch her shoulder.

"Don't thank me yet. You're paying." She grins. "And you better hope they have the never-ending pancake deal. Big girls like to eat."

I roll my eyes at her self-deprecation but finally smile. It's not a complete smile, though. The accepting of this loss is still too raw.

Chapter Fourteen

Liza

"So, what's the song plan for this week?" Sid asks, fiddling with the neon rainbow photography portfolio on her lap. Before I can answer, she complains, "I hate carrying this thing. Tell me again why I couldn't just bring my Surface to go through the pictures?"

"The song is chosen and I'm all ready to record it tomorrow. As for the portfolio," I adjust a corner from poking my leg, "he wasn't specific on what he wanted to see, so it's best to have them both. He may prefer physical photographs to digital." I shrug.

With a heavy sigh, she sits back in the uncomfortable bus seat.

"What song did you choose?" she asks, brushing lint away from a black tee with Got Milk? in bold, white lettering across her double Ds.

"Shape of My Heart," I respond.

"By Sting?" She studies my face.

I nod.

"I hate how sad you are." Her lips purse and brow furrows.

"I'm fine." I give a small but sincere smile.

"Mmhmm." Keeping the pursed lips, she cocks one brow, disbelievingly.

"Look, it's our stop," I announce, changing the subject.

Her attention turns once more to the portfolio she put together on my apartment floor after a trip to Kinkos and a supply store. Taking a deep breath, I do my best not to wonder how he is.

Inside the club, the space is well lit in typical rehearsal day fashion.

I look around for Red, since his usual front row table is unoccupied, and find him standing at the bar with a vaguely familiar man. Two young, middle-school-aged girls sit near them at a booth.

"Do they both have the new iPhone and the iPad Air?" Sid asks enviously.

Red looks up from his guest and does a double-take, realizing we’re standing a few feet away. He says something to the man before walking toward us, causing the visitor to look in our direction.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Red greets.

"Ladies?" Sid looks behind her and then back to him. "Well, hell, I haven't been called that in like…ever."

Red laughs, loudly.

"Liza said you were funny." He nods. "So," his face turns all business-like, "are those for me?" He motions to the portfolio and tablet in her hands.

Sid goes to respond but stops, standing with her mouth parted.

"Sid?" I ask, following her line of sight.

The semi-familiar visitor walks to Red's side. Christ, he doesn't really walk—he prowls, and it makes me think of the way Jackson moves.

The man is shorter than Jackson…though, most people are. The visitor looks a bit over six feet tall with a wide muscular build bulging beneath the thin, white t-shirt stating Without Ballet, Life Would be Pointless across his chest. His head is shaved except for the thick, golden blond strands at the top of his head, which reach his shoulders. Tattoos swirl the shaved area, but his loose hair makes it difficult to see the images. He looks about the same age as Red—late thirties to early forties—but the beard could be adding a couple years.

Giving her some elbow encouragement, it's enough to shake her from mute ogling.

"Uh, yeah, here." Blinking rapidly, she holds out the neon rainbow portfolio.

"Didn't they have anything more obnoxious to choose?" the visitor asks as Red takes it from her, his golden brown eyes boring into her.

Knowing Sid, I try to stop whatever unfiltered madness will spew from her lips.

"Do you have a problem with rainbows?" Her arms come over her chest.

Damn it. Not quick enough.

His eyes narrow in curiosity.

"I’m sure he doesn't—" I attempt.

"Nah," he crosses his arms, mimicking her stance, "my girls love rainbows." With a twitch of his head, he nods toward the young girls.

Sid leans sideways, looking around Tall, Tatted, and Beard, before looking back to him.

"They're a little young to be working here, don't you think? Or are you just starting them early in their career?" She tilts her head, a picture of fake innocence on her face.

The smile he wears slips from his face. Hard lines emboss the sides of his eyes.

"Those are my daughters," he growls.

"Ah…so it's just bad parenting?" she presses.

"Who the hell are you to tell me what to do with my kids?" He drops his arms from his broad chest. Fists clenched, he continues, "I stopped by to bring Red something and there isn't a fucking thing they can't see going on."

"Aw, Dad, you cursed," one little angel-faced girl announces. Having heard his raised voice, she looks over her tablet.

"You know what that means?" the other girl, with the same face, adds.

Twins. I smile.

"Christ," he grumbles, pulling out his wallet.

I put my hand over my face and silently pray the roof collapses and ends this verbal sparring match.

Red's laughter makes me pull my hand from my face.

"Ladies, this is Xavier Stone. We go way back." Red motions toward the golden-red-haired tatted man. The man pulling twenties out of a silver money clip and scowling at Sid.

"Xave, this is Liza and Sidra." Red motions between us.

Xavier stays focused on Sid.

"Call me Sid," she corrects, keeping her eyes on the sixty dollars Xavier pulls out.

"Are you giving them sixty dollars?" Sid brings her wide eyes to meet his scowl.

"Yeah, because you made me cuss." He slips the remainder of his money into his back pocket.

Out of nowhere, a little hand appears, and he places the money in it.

"Wait," Sid holds up a hand, "you mean to tell me they get sixty bucks every time you curse?"

"No," the angel-faced girl says, drawing our attention. "We get twenty for each cursing occurrence."

Sid opens her mouth, but is silenced by the identical sister's arrival.

"Each time there's an instance when Dad curses, we each get twenty, unless only one of us is around. However, if it's the F word, we get an extra ten." She gives a nod, ending her explanation.

Sid uncrosses her arms and gives Xavier an evil grin before turning her attention to the twins.

"If I can get him to say the F word more than once, do you get thirty for each time it's said?"

"Don't—" Xavier begins.

"Yes," the girls answer in unison, nodding their heads.

"If I get him to say it, will you split the money?" Sid wiggles her brows.

Both girls' eyes widen in excitement before nodding enthusiastically.

"Now, wait a damn minute," Xavier interrupts.

"Hah, you cussed. Pay up." Sid points at him, her finger only a couple inches from his chest.

"‘Damn’ doesn't count unless it's followed by something else." He smirks.

With a pout, Sid sighs, wrinkles her nose, and crosses her arms over her chest.

Xavier's eyes drop to where she's put her large chest on display.

"Nice shirt. I could go for a jug of milk."

Sid's mouth drops open. Her eyes narrow just a bit, but I swear I see the corner of her mouth twitch with humor.

"Okay, as fun as this exchange is," Red pushes between the two of them, "Sid, please take this over to that table. We'll go through it there."

She immediately turns her full attention to Red, taking the portfolio from him.

"Of course," she states, now ignoring Xavier and walking away.

"Just so we're clear," Xavier recaptures Sid's attention, "I'll have you screaming my name some day soon." Straightening to his full height, arms over his chest, feet parted, he's the picture of self-assured.

"Only in horror." She shrugs, giving a small frown before taking a seat at the table near the stage.

"I don't know what the hell that was, but can you please not piss off my possible photographer?" Red shakes his head, clapping Xavier on the shoulder.

"That, my friend, is what I call foreplay." Xavier grins at the back of Sid's head.

Taking that as my cue, I escape backstage to prepare for rehearsal.

A day after the Xavier and Sid experience and on the bus ride back from the recording studio, I start to doze against the bus window. Sleeping with Sid on the pullout bed is becoming less comfortable with each passing night. She's used to a regular bed, so her tossing and turning makes the night restless for us both. The chime of my cell interrupts my in-transit nap.

Unknown Number: You should know he's doing well and going to rehab.

A mixture of unease and comfort swirl through me. Unease from a stranger providing me information Jackson might not want me to have, and comfort knowing he has people to help him. Closing my eyes, I tilt my head back to the window, feeling more relaxed than I should—especially with my next stop being the social services office to talk to my caseworker about outstanding items.

"Good morning, Miss Campbell." The receptionist is always kind and has seen a lot of me lately.

"Good morning." I prepare to sit, but my caseworker appears.

"You can come on back," she states with a smile.

The smile makes me think things with Sean and my financial situation are starting to improve. I follow her down the familiar beige hallway and into her small office. Thick folders rest on bookshelves, are stacked on tables, and clutter her desk. She picks a stack up out of the extra chair in the room.

"Please, have a seat."

Sitting, I place my bag on my lap and twist the strap.

She settles behind her desk, flips open the thick manila file folder, and rests her hands on the papers within.

"I have good news and not so good news."

Every muscle in my body tenses and I swallow the lump in my throat.

"The good news is the guardianship papers are processing." She gives a kind, reassuring smile.

I relax a little.

"It will go through the review process for a few weeks, but it didn't get an initial rejection, which is a very good thing." She nods and then sighs. "As for your housing, I'm afraid you will have about a month and a half to find a new place or you will have to pay the full lease price. Lucas will retain medical insurance until you can move him over to another plan. The food and cash benefits will cease after this month."

I exhale loudly and rub my forehead.

"There's no way I would pay the full amount for one of those places," she adds, causing me to look at her. "Don't get me wrong," she continues, "they are well kept, but they really hike up the price once it goes into a public lease."

I nod in understanding.

"I'm looking, but haven't been able to make anything really happen yet."

"Good. Do you have any questions?"

"What about Sean's benefits? Are they affected by my financial change?"

"No. He will still receive his benefits. You are simply being instated as his legal guardian to make decisions such as medical and school. He is still based on his grandmother's income. However, should she pass away, he could be placed into foster care if a more permanent arrangement isn't established for him."

I nod.

"Any other questions?"

Giving a shake of my head, I answer, "No."

"Okay, well, I just need you to sign these documents." She places a few forms and confirmation of information in front of me.

Upon completion, I sit back and take a deep breath.

"I know it seems daunting now, but, Liza, I've known you for years. You'll be fine." When she closes the manila folder, a feeling of closure comes over me.

"I think you're right." I meet her eyes and smile.

Jackson

"What the fuck could I possibly do with a cell phone?" The edginess has every muscle aching and sweat dampening my hairline. Stupid fucking withdrawals.

"It's policy, Mr. Shaw." My newest nurse, Joe, stands at the nurse's station. With a look of annoyance on his face, he points to the Rules to Live By sign on the wall near the front desk.

I scared away two nurses before they brought in Joe last night. He's bigger than Elliot and as strong as a damn ox. I’m only on my second day and he's already got me under his damn thumb.

"It's not like I can fit an iPhone up my goddamn nose," I growl, turning back to my room.

"You need to be on your way to therapy." Joe ignores my tantrum.

"I don't need goddamn—”

"Wow." The voice makes me spin on my heels, causing me to get dizzy and sway. "Are you sure you and Christopher aren't blood?"

A smile parts my lips. My family sent reinforcements. Dr. J, Chris' psychiatrist, the only shrink Chris would open up to about his past, stands next to the nurse's station. "Finally, you came to spring me from this place!" I throw my arms in the air.

"Uh, no." He crushes my elation.

"What do you mean ‘no’?" Dropping my arms, I slowly walk toward him.

"I'm here to collect you for therapy." Without another word of explanation, he waves for me to follow him.

"What? You take care of Chris."

He's Chris' shrink, helping him deal with his shit as well as putting up with Chris' need to be a constant pain in his ass. I mean, he practically toured with us.

I catch up with him, but he doesn't elaborate until we are inside a small, light blue room used for individual counseling.

"Take a seat, Jackson." He's suddenly all business.

I don't sit.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Jackson, your family asked me to counsel you for the rest of your detox so we can continue sessions after your release." He sits down in a black chair at a small, round table.

"I don't need a shrink," I argue.

I sit across from him and spread my legs wide so I don’t bang my knees on the pole under the table.

"I'm going to provide support during your recovery, that's all." He settles back in the chair, tenting his hands in front of his mouth.

"This isn't like Chris. I got carried away with partying. I don't need—”

"Someone to discuss the feelings that drove you to the drugs and alcohol?" His brows raise.

"It was just an escape. Once it's out of my system, I'll be fine." I press back into the chair, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Yes, well, I've been assigned the task of creating your recovery plan."

I open my mouth to argue, but he lifts a hand, silencing me.

"Whether you like it or not, you will have an ongoing plan. The first thing you need to understand is that you are an addict." Dr. J leans forward, his elbows on the table.

"I'm not an addict. I just…I…"

"There's nothing wrong with admitting you’re an addict." He shrugs.

"Nothing wrong with being an addict? Doc, you may not be doing this right." I curl up the right side of my mouth.

"Nice attempt, but Chris is much better with the witty taunts."

My could-have-been smile drops from my lips.

"I didn't say being an addict is okay. I said there's nothing wrong with admitting you are one, and Jackson," he eyes me sharply, "you are an addict. You took the drugs for fun and then they became a necessity during daily life."

"I just got carried away and—”

"Lift your hand," Dr. J cuts me off. "Do it."

Unfolding my arms, I put one hand up between us. The tremors in my hands are noticeable to the naked eye. There's no hiding my jonesing.

"That right there is your body fighting the effects of not having a foreign substance in your system. Your body craves the drug, the euphoric feeling." Dr. J reaches out and takes my hand.

"Jack, you have permanent liver damage because of how far it went. There's a chance you will have kidney problems in the future."

I drop my head and take a deep breath.

"What's the plan?" My question is my resignation.

"You'll finish the detox week. At the end, I'll consult with your doctors and nurses, and we will decide if you can leave the facility."

"Then?" I press, finally meeting his eyes again.

Releasing my hand, he sits back once more.

"You will meet an AA sponsor this week. If you are comfortable with them, then you will regularly connect with them to check in and for support. We'll find local AA meetings you can attend to support your sobriety goal."

"So, what the fuck are you for?" I grin. "Are you just trying to make Chris jealous?"

Rolling his eyes, he explains his role.

"I'll be doing some sessions with you to discuss the pressures you face. And, perhaps, it’s to make Chris a bit jealous." He shrugs, keeping a straight face. "Let's take a selfie together and send it to him." He cocks his head before a wide grin spreads across his face.

Our laughter fills the small room.

Walking Dr. J back up to the front, I notice a satisfied look on Joe's face and flip him off.

"You still got your therapy session, didn't you?" He pushes his bottom lip out in a fake pout.

"I don't like you," I inform in a bored tone.

"Good." He nods. "Just remember, I've worked here for six years and I'm not going anywhere. In order to avoid me, you will need to stay out of here."

A familiar voice interrupts before I can take my edgy-withdrawing-addict attitude out on Joe.

"Jackson?" Nicholas sounds both sad and stern. I'm not sure how he pulls that off.

Turning to face him, I'm shocked by how tired and aged he looks. This isn't the Nic I know.

"What’s wrong?" My feet carry me until there's only a foot between us. "Is it Mom?"

He looks up and shakes his head.

"She's okay. I just came to check in on you so she would rest this afternoon. She's been worrying herself about you all night."

Guilt assaults me and by the hard look on his face, I'm sure that's his intention.

Walking by him, I say, "Tell her I'm fine and doing what I agreed to do."

I enter my private room and sit on the bed.

Nicholas follows, closing the door behind him.

"I never thought I'd be here with you." Deep lines mar his forehead. "I wasn't prepared to do this…" he motions around the clinically clean room, "with you."

I open my mouth, but he puts a hand up, silencing me.

"I know I'm not your biological father, Jackson, but I can't hold back my disappointment." He closes his eyes and presses this thumb and pointer finger into the lids.

"Yeah, well, you disappointed me, too."

My response brings his eyes back to me.

"You didn't think about telling me my mother has cancer. That MY mother has a disease that destroys lives like a tornado." The venom in my voice surprises me.

"I respected your mother, MY wife's wishes." Nic steps closer to me.

Resting my elbows on my knees, I focus on a dark green fleck in the mint green tile at my feet.

"I know you're angry. But when she finally opened up and told me what was going on, the only way I could help her was by doing as she wished. Do you understand how helpless I feel?"

Bringing my glare from the fleck to his face, I answer, "No, Nic, I don't, because no one told me."

I push to my feet and Nicholas raises his head to keep his eyes on mine.

"I could've helped,” I say, pointing to my chest. “I would've been the person you could lean on, but you didn't give me that chance."

"You didn't give me that chance either, Jackson." He closes his eyes, inhales, and blows the breath out. "I know I'm not your real father, but—”

"Not my real father?" I choke out the question. His words both anger and sadden me.

"Yes, I understand I'm not." His arms cross over his chest like he needs something to hold on to. "But I wish you would've come to me. I would've listened. You aren't the only one who knows how deep heartache can go."

"How can you say that?" My body goes lax, my anger washed away by his words.

His eyes meet mine, confusion on his face.

"You are my father, Nicholas." All expression leaves his face at my words. "No one else has been there for me, raised me. You did that when you didn't have to."

Nic drops his arms and visibly swallows.

"I thought you understood. You are Dad."

The watery look in his eyes puts me in motion. Stepping forward, I reach out and pull his chest to mine, embracing him.

"It's hard to stay strong for her." The unfamiliar waver in his voice causes an ache in my chest. This is Nic—confident, strong, decisive Nicholas Shaw. He doesn't falter.

But he's human, an internal voice reminds me. I hold him tighter.

"We'll do it together."

"You just get better first." He pulls out of my arms, returning to the Nicholas I've always known. "She needs that from you."

My response is a quick nod.

Three days have passed since the emotional confrontation with Nicholas. Today, I'm surrounded by too many guests. And if Nurse Joe's scowl is any indication, he’s not happy about the rule breaking.

"Is this her?" Elliot turns up the next online contestant's submission.

Her voice induces the same reaction. My body warms and my cock stirs to life. Licking my bottom lip, I nod.

"Fuck me. I'm going to need to talk to Red about reservations." Elliot sits back in his chair, closing his eyes and listening. "Do they all sing this well?" His fingers tap out the beat on his massive bicep.

"The real question is, do they get naked?" Kat asks without looking up from the magazine she's flipping through while seated on the window sill. "If so, I'll need to be added to the reservation."

"Now you're into women?" Jimmy asks, slouched in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

"Maybe I've always been into women. Ever think of that?" She finally looks up from the magazine.

"Ever been into Serena?" Elliot's face displays genuine perverse curiosity.

"Will you guys shut the fuck up?" I snarl, taking the laptop from Elliot. "I can't hear shit."

Still not allowed access to my cell phone or computer, Elliot was kind enough to smuggle his inside. Having hidden it in the acoustic guitar case I've been given permission to have, along with my black lyric book.

"Well, look who just can't stay away from a rehab or psych ward." Elliot grins widely as Chris enters the room.

"Asshole," Chris greets him.

"Captain Emo." Elliot salutes.

Chris turns his scowl on me.

"What's wrong?" I close the laptop, silencing my snake charmer.

"You're gonna want to open that back up." Chris motions to the laptop as he approaches the bed.

I lift it open just in time for Chris to turn the computer toward him. He starts typing and when he turns it back around, nausea assaults me.

"When—?"

"An hour ago," he answers before I can finish asking.

"What the fuck?" Elliot's voice comes from over my shoulder.

"Who is that?" Kat asks, leaning forward.

She starts scrolling through picture after picture of Liza and me going into the hotel, Liza coming out of the hotel, and a fucking video of her leaving my room. The images are blurred and grainy. It would be hard to identify her, if you didn't know who she is.

"This shit is fucking viral." Jimmy drops his phone in my lap.

The images are all over the entertainment websites, being used as teasers for upcoming 'news' shows.

"I need my phone." I clench my fists.

"You can't—”

"I need to call her, to prepare her. I need to talk to Una," I growl, focusing on Christopher.

He shakes his head.

"Una is already on this, but…"

"But what?" I scream. "Una was supposed to be on this shit. She said she had Kristy under control."

"You think it's her?" Kat asks.

"Who the fuck else?" I start to pace. "I need my phone. Her number is on it."

"It could be any fucker looking to make some cash," Jimmy argues.

"You heard what that bitch said before she stormed out of the hotel room," Elliot counters.

"I need my—”

Chris' phone chimes, cutting me off. He answers, looks at me, and holds out the phone.

"It's Una. She needs to talk to you."

I snatch the phone from his hand. "What the hell, Una? You said you had this," I snap.

"Jackson, I know you're pissed, but I can't trace it back to Kristy."

"You know she—”

"Yeah, I do, but we've got a bigger problem."

"What?"

"Your drug use is getting more attention and rumors are flying around saying the girl in the pictures is a stripper you were getting high with at a club. They're also claiming they have clearer photos showing her with bruises and a swollen lip," she finishes with an exhausted sigh.

"What the fuck! That's a goddamn lie," I growl.

"Jack, I've got an anonymous message threatening to expose Liza and implicate you in some serious drug and abuse related shit. This isn't good. I know you want to immediately act on it, but I need you to take a breath and let me work this out."

I inhale deep, swallowing the roar threatening to escape.

"You better work it out right fucking quick."

Ending the call, I toss the phone onto the small table in the room.

"One of you needs to get to her."

"To who? Kristy?" An evil gleam flashes in Kat's eyes

I shake my head, even though I like how she's thinking.

"No. I need you to get to Liza. This is my fault and I need to fix it."

Chapter Fifteen

Liza

"No one can tell it's you," Sid reassures, dropping my cell to the counter between us.

"Then why would someone purposely send it to me?" I snatch the phone off the table and scroll through the grainy pictures sent by an unknown number. They also felt the need to include the word “whore” along with the website link.

Sid growls, "Damn it, Liza. Whoever released the pictures sent it, or someone involved. Nowhere on any of the websites does it say your name." She sweeps her hand over my laptop, her tablet, and our cell phones. "If they released your name or found out who you were, trust me, they would post it everywhere."

Realization smacks into me. It had to be that bitch.

"Kristy," I groan out her name, closing my eyes.

"You think that skank did this?" Sid slides my laptop in front of her and starts tapping on the screen.

"Yes. No. I don't know." I rub my tear swollen eyes before refocusing on my cousin. "Who else would do it?"

"Maybe it's not about you." Sid doesn't look up from computer. "It could just be about profiting off Jackson's drug scandal."

"Great." Rolling my eyes, I walk around the counter and slip onto the stool next to her. "That makes me feel so much better."

On a tired sigh, I ask, "What are you doing?"

"Tracing the phone number." She shrugs.

"Please don't do something that will get my laptop confiscated." And then, for good measure, I add, "Again."

She looks up and flails her arms into the air. "Once. It happened once." She holds her pointer finger up in my face. "You're never going to let me live it down, are you?"

"Sid, the FBI took my eleventh grade English essay and computer," I remind, trying not to smile. As scary as it was at the time, the memory of three agents arriving and the look on Aunt Char and Uncle Mark's face is funny now. Though, it wasn't funny when they showed up again, much later in high school.

"I replaced your essay," she blurts before turning back to the computer. "And I bought you a new laptop," she concludes on a mumble.

Covering my face with my hands, I lean forward, elbows on the counter.

"This isn't going to be the end of this," I moan.

"You don't know that." She tries sounding positive, but I can hear the lack of surety in her voice.

Later that night, I receive another unknown text.

Unknown Number: He's sorry about the photos and worried about you. He's trying to fix it.

Tired of unknown numbers, I hit reply to finally find out who this is. But before I can type a letter, I lose my nerve, afraid to scare off my one link to Jackson.

I'm a pathetic loser.

"You realize you're on the live show, right?" Sid greets me from my seat in the dressing room.

"Voting doesn't close until midnight." I shoo her from the chair at my dressing table.

Sighing, I sit, exhausted. Between sleeping next to Sid, the stress from the show, my current life changes, and dreaming about Jackson, my brain and body are close to a complete shutdown. Letting my body sag, I take three deep breaths.

"It doesn't matter," Sid continues. "There's no way anyone can knock you out of the top twenty."

A rush of nerves spikes my energy level. Straightening and turning, I look at Sid.

"What?"

She sits in Bethany's chair, flipping her tablet around for me to view.

"You're number five, my darling cousin." She grins, wiggling her brows. "Even with an hour to go, no one can knock you out of the top twenty now."

"How did...? I was at…" A lump of nervousness clogs my throat.

"Your numbers jumped over the past hour." She turns the tablet back to her.

"I'm going to the live show," I whisper.

"You're going to the live show," Sid confirms, grinning.

Our eyes lock for a second before we burst into squeals.

"Oh my God, I knew you would dominate!" Sid claps.

"Did you make it?" Bethany stumbles into the room, trying to walk and remove a platform heel.

Sid slips from her chair and moves over to the worn loveseat.

"She's top five and there are only minutes left before voting closes."

Bethany drops into her chair and lets the heel fall to the floor.

"Oh. My. God!" she screams, grabbing my hands and squeezing them in hers. "Are you excited?" She drops my hands and continues before I'm able to respond. "Of course you are. Why wouldn't you be? Did you tell Red?" She fires off the questions while touching up her makeup.

Pulling pins from my hair to change over for the last performance, I respond, "More nervous, I think. No, I haven't been able to tell Red yet, besides it's not final."

With a shrug, I roll the sides of my hair and pin them back, sticking tall feathers into the knot I created. Leaning toward my mirror, I grab my lip brush and touch up the bright pink lip stain.

"It might as well be official," Sid scoffs.

"Ten minutes," Jennifer yells through our door.

"Okay," Bethany and I yell in unison.

"I should've gotten the taxi like I wanted to," Sid growls from the bus seat. "It always smells like hooker armpits this late at night." She wrinkles her nose.

"And how would you know what a hooker's armpit smells like?" I raise one brow.

In a flash, she grabs my arm and leans into my pit.

"That's gross," I laugh, pulling my arm away.

"Well, now I know, don't I?"

"Bitch," I say on a giggle.

Ignoring the insult, Sid launches right into her favorite topic of the night.

"What song are you going to sing for the show?"

Shrugging, I tilt my head back and forth.

"Not sure yet."

I drop my head onto the back of the seat and close my eyes. Jackson's face flashes behind my lids as my brain rushes through the current state of my life. A pang in my chest joins in at the moment.

"You would totally win if you wore the pink corset with the black stripes."

"I don't think that would go over very well with the show producers," I respond, amusement in my voice.

"Liza?"

"Yeah?"

"You aren't really excited about this, are you?"

Taking a deep breath, I lick my dry lips.

"I'm just nervous."

"Liar." She knows me too well.

Lifting my head, I turn to look at her. Our eyes meet.

"I am a bit nervous, that’s not a lie, but it's more than that." I shift my gaze to watch the dark city pass by through the bus window. "I don't know if this is something I want anymore."

The warmth of her hand on my arm draws my attention.

"You've wanted this for forever. What's changed?"

With a humorless laugh, I give her the most honest answer I can. "Me, Sid. I've changed."

Our eyes meet again and we sit in comfortable silence. With a quick nod and a small smile, she turns to look out the window.

"I think you should sing something sweet, but sad." Sid doesn't turn around to me when she finally speaks.

I nod, even though she's not looking.

Two days later, an assistant producer for Hidden Talent calls to confirm my qualification for the live show. Papers arrive by courier an hour after the call, who waits for me to review and sign the documents so he can return them the same day.

Signing my name on the bottom line was bittersweet. All the years I wanted this very thing—to be noticed, discovered. Now…I'm not sure what I want anymore.

During club rehearsal, Red is more than thrilled I made it to the live round. He's pretty sure this will be great publicity for the club. Though, he's not happy I have to miss Friday night's performance. And again, he's expressed his concern over me leaving once fame takes hold, but his genuine belief in me is touching. It makes the thought of having to walk away from the club even harder to stomach.

The bus arrives at my stop and I step off onto the sidewalk, ready to just be home and in bed. Tonight's rehearsal combined with my nervousness about tomorrow's first stage rehearsal for Hidden Talent has me completely exhausted.

"No," Kelvin barks at Sid.

"Come on," Sid whines. "We all have to match."

"Match what?" I set my bag down and close the apartment door.

"She wants to wear matching shirts for the show." Kel rolls his eyes, answering my question.

"And what's so bad about—?"

"Oh, it's not the shirts. It's the bedazzling she wants on them." Looking away from me, Kel narrows his eyes on Sid. "I'm not wearing t-shirts that say ‘Liza's Bunch’ in rhinestones."

"But it will look better when the light hits them, especially for the cameras," Sid informs.

"I don't care. I'm not wearing rhinestones. Pick another design." Kel walks out of the room and down the hall to show the finality of his statement.

"Fine," Sid barely agrees.

I know that little glint in her eye all too well.

"What are you planning?"

She shrugs.

"He said no rhinestones, but he didn't say anything about glitter." With a large grin, she turns to the open laptop and taps away on the keys. The grin never leaves her face.

Too tired to attempt to sway her, I walk into the kitchen. Grabbing a wine glass, I fill it to the rim before taking a seat on the couch.

"I ordered pizza," Sid says to the computer.

"We just ate pizza the other night," I remind.

"So." She shrugs. "Pizza can be eaten at least three times a week. In fact, if you're a college student, it can be eaten twice a day, every day."

Shaking my head, I take a long drink from the glass and put my feet up.

While Lucas and Sean get ready for bed, Kel helps me clean up from dinner. Sid ordered pizza alright. Three different pies, cheesy bread, cinnamon sticks, and a family size salad. The kitchen looks like a Dominos explosion.

"Liza, come here." Sid's urgent tone draws my attention away from dishes.

"What?"

"Don't what me," she almost yells. "Come here. Hurry!"

Grabbing a dish towel, I enter the living room, drying my hands.

"What's going…?" Her finger pointed to the computer screen answers my question.

"That's Jackson," Kel announces over my shoulder.

"Shh." Sid waves her hand in the air and turns the volume up with the other.

Jackson sits at a table with microphones. A very attractive woman in business attire sits on his right, and his mother on his left.

Swallowing a lump in my throat, I read the banner scrolling below the live feed and freeze.

Jackson Shaw addresses his latest drug scandal.

Sid reaches up and pulls me to sit next to her on the couch. Kel follows, squeezing between me and the armrest.

Clearing her throat, the attractive woman leans toward the mic. Below her, the screen flashes the name Una Nobil, VP Nobil Records.

"Mr. Shaw would like to take this opportunity to address some current rumors and set the record straight. We will take questions at the end of the statement. Please be respectful and polite." Sitting back in her chair, she glances at Jackson and give a small nod.

Rolling his head on his neck, he sits forward. When he looks into the camera, every muscle in my body tenses. His dark blue eyes cause the familiar tremors of desire and lust. I take deep breaths, trying to calm my libido.

"First, I'd like to thank my family and friends for supporting me during this time in my life. I would also like to thank the outpour of support from the fans. I love you all." He grins into the camera and my thigh muscles clench. Dear God, this isn't the time to get turned on.

"Now, I'd like to address my prior relationship. The matter is private and out of respect for Kristyna and myself, I'd like to keep it that way. As everyone knows, when a relationship ends, people get emotional. Some choose to handle their emotions one way, while I choose to keep them private."

He reaches out and grabs a water bottle on the table, taking a quick drink before returning his attention to the audience.

"I can assure everyone I was a single man when I arrived in California."

Was? Is he with someone now? Back with Kristy?

He takes his mother's hand, entwines their fingers, and lays them on the table.

"My current medical situation is the result of drugs. I'm not going to try to make it sound pretty. I've dealt with my personal stresses in a way that's led to permanent liver damage, the risk of kidney problems, a nice stint in rehab, and who the hell knows what else the doctors will find. I'm at the end of my detox treatment and I'm lucky to have the means for an extensive team of support to help me get back to a better place."

I inhale sharply and Sid grabs for my hand. The realization of how close to death he'd truly been makes my chest ache.

"However, I need to thank a very, very special person for helping me during my darkest time." His eyes grow intense and my heart beat pounds in my ears.

"I'm forever indebted to you, snake charmer. I plan to thank you wholeheartedly."

My hitching breath gets caught in my throat and I cough. I'm coughing on air for Lord's sake.

"You okay?" Sid asks.

I nod.

"Good. Now, be quiet. I'm pretty sure he's talking about you." She turns back to the screen, and mutters, "We're totally discussing this snake charmer thing, too."

Jackson continues speaking into the camera.

"I want to apologize for disappointing my family, my friends, and the fans. Being the cliché of a rock star isn't the type of person I want to be. I hope you'll give me the chance to make it up to you."

Sitting back into his seat, he brings his mother's hand to his lips. She grins, pride radiating from her.

"Mr. Shaw will take a few questions," Una says, straightening in her seat.

His name is called out until he nods to someone in the crowd and the camera turns to them.

"Jackson, can you tell us what led you to drugs?"

Rubbing the back of his head, he leans forward.

"I'm afraid I was tempted in some convincing ways to partake, and, unfortunately, it became an addiction. Stress and circumstances led to bad decision making."

"Is it because of your breakup with Laney?" a reporter asks before being selected.

His face darkens for a moment before he shakes it off.

"No." His voice is assertive and final.

The crowd begins to chant his name once more before he nods to a small woman.

"Can you elaborate on the friend who helped you? Is it the same person in the pictures that have surfaced online?"

I squeeze Sid's hand tighter, praying he won't say my name, but it's Una who takes control of the question.

"Out of respect to the parties involved, we have no comment at this time. We aren't here to make them a headline."

"Okay." The small reporter nods. "Can you at least explain your statement that you were single?"

Jackson looks a bit confused by the question.

"Are you referring to me being single when I came to California?"

She nods. "Yes. You said, and I quote, 'I can assure everyone I was a single man when I arrived in California', which insinuates you are no longer a free man. Can you elaborate?"

His mouth forms an ‘O’ and I see the wheels turning before a mischievous expression paints his features.

"I'm not a free man," he confirms.

"So, you're involved with someone new? You aren't single?" she presses.

It's hard to breathe, to swallow, to process why this affects me so much.

Releasing his mother's hand, he leans his elbows on the table.

"I said I'm not a free man and if I think about it, I suppose I'm involved, but I can't make that decision for her." His smile is lopsided, teasing.

The reporter grins. "I guess we aren't going to get a straight answer."

He laughs, but says nothing more.

"Will there be legal charges for the illegal substances?" a round man asks, pushing up to the front.

"All the details have been handed over to the police," Una answers smoothly. "They are reviewing the information to see if or what measures need to be taken." She places a hand on Jackson's forearm. "I can assure you, Mr. Shaw is not trying to sweep this matter under the rug. He is taking full responsibility for his actions and working very hard to mend things."

The reporters all try to speak at once, but Una stands from her seat.

"We appreciate you all taking the time to see us this afternoon, but we must be going. Mr. Shaw has prior obligations." She nods to the crowd.

Leaning forward, Jackson looks up at Una and licks his lips before speaking.

"Thank you for being politically correct, Una." He turns to face the reporters. "I have my first AA meeting to attend in thirty minutes and don't want to be late. Thank you, everyone, for coming out to listen to me."

He stands and is genuinely caught off guard when a few of the reporters start clapping. With a hesitant grin, he gives a wave before the camera cuts to a local entertainment reporter.

"There you have it. Jackson Shaw has confirmed and denied a couple of the allegations. We wish him all the best and commend his honesty about seeking sobriety. Now, we go to—”

Sid closes the laptop, turning her attention to me.

"Snake charmer?" Her brow raises.

I shrug. "I don't know."

"Yeah right." Her eyes narrow.

"I really don't. It may not even be me he's—”

"Yeah right." This time, it's Kel.

Whipping my head around, I purse my lips at him.

"Don't you have dishes to finish drying?"

He chuckles but leaves the couch toward the kitchen.

"Well, regardless, he's not finished with you, snake charmer." Sid's voice holds too much amusement for my liking, but I can't say my body isn't burning and my heart isn't banging in my chest.

Chapter Sixteen

Jackson

"So, this is it?" I ask Dr. J while looking out the tinted window at the small, brick building.

"This is it," he responds, and then adds, "It's not the place that makes the difference. It's the people, the message, and how you participate."

"Yeah," I breathe out the word.

I exit the car with Dr. J right on my heels and we enter a set of steel double doors.

"You gonna make sure I stay in my seat?" I tease.

"No, Jackson. The meetings are private and for you, not me." He stops just outside a single metal door at the end of a beige hallway.

With a deep breath, I reach for the door handle.

"I'm proud of you Jackson," Dr. J says to my back.

Surprisingly, his words mean enough to warm me.

"Thanks, Doc," I respond without looking back.

Inside, a group of people mull about. Some stand, chatting in groups, others near a table with snacks and drinks, and a few sit silently, looking through their phones.

"Jackson?" A baritone voice comes from my left.

Turning, the short, thin man is not what I expect to find.

"You are Jackson Shaw, correct?"

Facing each other, I nod my confirmation.

He reaches out a hand, expecting mine. I hesitate. Years of fans and being approached making me cautious.

"I'm Greg. Greg Martin?" His hand still lingers between us.

"The sponsor." I nod, taking his offered hand.

"Yes." He smiles. "I was pretty certain it was you, since…well, you are Jackson Shaw."

"I guess I'm easy to identify."

Releasing his hand, I look around the room once more. Most of the eyes are on Greg and me.

"Yeah, most of them will know you, too."

I sigh. "It's to be expected."

"You can rest assured everything here is private." His serious tone draws my attention to his face.

"Thanks." My response is awkward. I've been exploited so many times over the years; it comes with the celebrity status.

"I'm serious." His face is frozen in stern sincerity. "You need to be comfortable enough to share your story and ask questions. While most will know who you are, it will stay inside these walls."

"What happens in AA stays in AA?" I ask with a grin.

He smiles. "Should be a t-shirt."

"If you make them, I want two," I say, holding up two fingers.

"Let's get started."

"What's first?"

He looks at the silver watch on his wrist.

"We have ten minutes before the meeting officially starts, so I'd like to run through a couple things about the program and being your sponsor."

"Okay," I relax my stance, putting my hands in my pockets, "hit me."

"First, you'll have people introducing themselves, stating their addictions, their stories, and so on. It stays private and we don't judge. We support everyone. Even if they've had a transgression."

I nod and he continues.

"Second, if you are comfortable enough today, you are welcome to contribute or you can just watch. Third, if you choose to accept my sponsorship, I'll expect weekly check-in calls. You can call more than that, but I at least need a weekly update of how you are doing. I want you to be honest, too. Brutally honest."

"All the dirty details?"

He gives one short nod.

"I can do that."

"Good." He takes a deep breath. "Do you have a girlfriend, boyfriend, significant other?"

I narrow my eyes.

He puts his hands up, palms out toward me.

"I only ask because we suggest you don't start any new relationships during the first year. If you're already in a relationship, then we suggest your partner get involved in a support group as well."

"My girlfriend has to come to meetings, too?" My body tenses. I fold my arms across my chest, raising one brow.

"We suggest a support group for spouses, not require it, but we find it helps them to have somewhere to go to talk about their struggles of being with an addict."

I drop my brow, relax the tension from my shoulders, and swallow. A fucking year. There is no way I can stay away or leave her alone for a year. Not when every part of me screams out for her.

"My relationship is new, but it's not going anywhere."

"New relationships are a challenge, Jackson. You need to make sure this is the right time to proceed." His eyes are soft, understanding.

I shake my head and drop my arms.

"I don't know if it's right, but I'm not walking away." My statement leaves no room for argument.

Instead of pressing further, he concedes with a nod. Side stepping to a small table by the door, he returns with pamphlets in hand.

"These are for you to read over. Learn the steps and rules of the program." He hands over three more. "These are for your girlfriend. There's information about support meetings for family and spouses, along with some general FAQs."

Taking the flyers, I slip them into my back pocket.

"How does this work when I'm not around for this particular meeting?"

"Good question. You can find a meeting in almost any town. Given your resources, I'm sure someone can find a local meeting. All I ask is that you let me know about the meetings."

"So you can keep track of my attendance?"

The sound of people moving takes my attention from Greg. He touches my arm and motions for me to walk toward the group, each of them claiming a metal chair in a circle of seats.

"I won't lie. It's a way for me to know you are doing weekly meetings and adhering to your sobriety goals so I can be an effective sponsor." He motions for me to take a seat.

"Makes sense. Thanks."

The metal chair is cold and uncomfortable, but surprisingly, the meeting isn't. By the time the fourth person has contributed, I feel connected to this group like I never imagined.

"This week marks my seventh month of sobriety," Adam, the current speaker, announces.

Praise and congrats rings through the group, but Adam's face stays somber.

"It also marks the third anniversary of my partner's death." He drops his head, pressing the fingers and thumb of one hand to his eyes. "I was supposed to be watching the back door during a domestic violence call, but I was too shaky and distracted. I hadn't been able to shoot up for a few hours and needed my fix. When the shot fired, the first place my thoughts went were to my stash back in the patrol car." His body begins to shake, voice breaking. The person next to him places an arm on his shoulder. "It was my fault." He sucks in a breath, straightens, and gives a humorless laugh. "You'd think losing my partner of eight years would be enough for me to realize I had a problem, but it wasn't. I buried myself deeper in heroin and anything else I could get my hands on. I lost my job, friends, and some of my family even gave up on me."

His tale, his journey, is like a knife between my ribs. The warmth of embarrassment creeps up my neck. Adam and the others have lost so much more and been through hells I could never fathom. I feel like an asshole for sitting here with my pathetic story.

"Jackson?"

I jerk my head up, my eyes locking with the meeting leader, Dave.

"Would you like to contribute?"

I open my mouth and close it. Taking a deep breath, I grow a pair and speak.

"I feel like an asshole with the pitiful excuses for my addiction."

"Start from the beginning," Dave encourages.

"Hello, my name's Jackson, and I'm a drug addict."

"Hi, Jackson" and "welcome" ring out from the group.

I share the story of my first taste of cocaine in the back of a limo and all the gory details that follow. I'm used to vultures circling my secrets for a hit of their own addiction—gossip. But this group is different. They listen to every word, nodding and understanding. There's no judging and in the end, I feel lighter.

The group bows their heads and does a prayer I'm not familiar with, so I listen as they pray. When they finish, Dave stands at the center of the circle.

"Before we go, I want to acknowledge a couple people." He turns to Adam. "Adam, thank you for sharing today. I know it's hard. Let's celebrate your sobriety. Congratulations on seven months." He holds out a small key tag.

The group claps as Adam hesitantly takes the tag.

When Dave's eyes land on me, I sit up straighter.

"Jackson, thank you for joining and sharing during your first meeting. I also want to commend you on your sobriety." He holds out a white key tag.

Reaching forward, I take the tag and read the gold print: 24 Hours of Sobriety.

"Thanks," I whisper.

The key tag is cheap, but worth so much. I clasp it in my fist, fighting back tears.

Dave addresses one other person in the room before closing the meeting.

A few people approach me, asking for an autograph and asking about the band. These are questions I'm used to and answer with ease. Greg and I exchange cell numbers and with a large thank you, I leave him to linger with the rest of the group.

Upon exiting the room, Dr. J stands from a row of metal chairs against the wall. I expect him to ask me about the meeting, but he remains quiet, walking with me to the building’s doors and into the waiting car. We pull from the curb and ride in silence until we reach our destination.

"Are you comfortable with the meetings?"

"Yeah."

The limo door opens.

"Good."

Nodding, I exit the car and come face-to-face with Sam. He steps back, allowing me a clear path to the entrance of the hotel—the hotel I hope to be out of in a couple days if Julia and Una come through. Dr. J slips out of the car, following me inside.

"I thought I'd be waking your ass up." Christopher barges into the bedroom of my hotel suite.

"Nah, couldn't sleep." I drop my pencil onto my notebook and lay my guitar on the bed. "What's up?"

Shrugging, he sits on the edge of the bed.

"How're you doing?" He focuses on the notebook and not me.

"Fine." I keep my answer short, but relish in the discomfort he obviously feels.

Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out some paper and unfolds it.

"I've been playing around with this."

I take the paper he's offering and look over the words.

Intoxicated by your mouth,

You fascinate me.

I want to taste the red of your lips.

"This is my—”

"Yeah, I know," he interrupts. "It really works with some of the music I've been working on."

I look over the arrangement he's put together from what I wrote. Words inspired by Liza cover the page while my brother's musical genius has composed lyrical gold.

"It's good." I smile and nod.

"This is her, isn't it?"

Looking up from the paper, I lock onto his sharp blue eyes. No words are necessary to confirm his suspicion. Chris nods and looks away.

"You need to tell her." His voice is soft, but frank. "Don't let her go until she knows."

"I don't plan on letting her go," I say, my voice just above a whisper.

He gives one firm nod. "Good, 'cause when you feel that," he gives the paper in my hand a pointed look before meeting my eyes once more, "it changes everything."

"I know," I breathe out the words.

"I was afraid she was just a rebound, a distraction you didn't need."

I open my mouth to protest, but he puts one hand up, stopping me.

"Stop," he clips out. "I know, I was wrong. Kristy was definitely all of those things, but this girl…" he gives his head a shake, "she's your angel, your Mia."

I grin. "She's my snake charmer."

"I don't think I want to know what you fucking mean by that." His grin matches mine.

"Probably not, unless you want to talk about my dick." Placing my arms behind my head, I lean my head back against the wall.

"You're the dick." Chris chuckles. "Now, tell me you're good with writing the song."

"I'm good."

"Thank fucking God. I've got so many things I want to do with this." He snatches the paper from my lap, stands from the bed, and begins pacing. "I want to taste the red of your lips," he reads, and then looks up at me. "That's fucking sexy as hell and completely relatable."

"She wears red lipstick," I confess, dropping my arms and picking up my guitar.

"Hungering to wear the fragrance of your skin?" He raises one brow.

"She smells like sin, and what can I say? I like to sin." I strum the guitar.

"Yeah, she's definitely your Mia." Chris grins wide, turning back to the paper and reading lines out loud.

Three hours later, we have the first draft of our latest song, Intoxicated, and some ideas for another two playing around in our heads.

"Jack…" Julia stops abruptly at the sight of Chris. "Sorry, I didn't know you—”

The panic on her face concerns me. Mom.

"What is it?" I place my guitar on the bed and stand in a pair of black basketball shorts. Her eyes focus on where they ride low on my hips and continue to roam over my half-naked body before giving herself a shake.

"Information has gotten out about Liza." Her eyes fill with concern. "Here." She holds out her iPad.

It takes four long strides before I can reach out and take the tablet from her hand. As I scan the popular entertainment website, I feel Christopher's presence on my left.

The site has pictures of Liza plastered all over it: from the hotel footage, personal photos, and another of her with Lucas and Kel.

My muscles tense, heart races, and my mouth is suddenly dry.

"What the hell?" Chris asks from beside me.

"Someone gave them her name and enough information for them to go on. I don't know what all they got on their own or if it all came from a source," Julia rushes out, causing my head to spin.

"Get Una on the fucking phone," I growl, scrolling through the online article claiming Liza is a prostitute working under the guise of a stripper, a single mother in L.A. ghetto housing, and, the worst, her son is a product of child molestation.

"She's already—”

"Now, Julia." I toss the iPad onto the bed. "Fucking now!"

She freezes in fear. I march to the bedside table and pick up my phone. Tapping her contact, it barely rings once.

"I'm working on it, Jackson," Una answers.

"I want Kristy," I growl into the phone.

"So do I," she answers. "But we don't have any solid proof. I've got people tracking down the cause of the leak, but the reporter won't give up the source."

"It's not a fucking leak, Una." I begin to pace. "They’re fucking lies. She's not a whore!"

"I didn't mean to imply she is what they are saying, but we have to—”

"Did you see what they are saying about her son? He's just a fucking kid." All of my energy drains and I sit down on the bed. Running my free hand through my hair, I sigh.

"I'm sorry, Jackson." Una's words are sincere. "We'll get this figured out, but you need to stay away."

"How the hell can you expect me to—?"

"Because if you show up, the media will crush you both. You will only make it worse for them."

"Fuck," I breathe out, realizing she's right.

"Julia's getting the apartment secured for you today," Una informs. "Work with her to get it set up and I'll work on getting Liza and her family moved into the hotel suite."

"No, get her into the apartment," I demand.

"But… Fine," Una concedes. "Work out the apartment details with Julia. I'm going to work on this shit storm." She disconnects.

I drop my phone to the floor and fight every instinct I have to rush to Liza.

"You got an apartment?" Chris' question tears me away from my thoughts.

"Yeah." I rub my face, leaving my hands over my eyes.

"What do you need me to do?" Julia asks from the spot where I left her.

"We have an apartment to finalize and furnish today." Dropping my hands, I look at her.

She nods, moving into action. Grabbing her iPad, her fingers fly over the screen.

"It's going to affect the show," Chris states.

"Christ," I groan, flinging back onto the bed. "I didn't fucking think about the damn show. It's a family program," I emphasize. "This is my fault, Chris."

"She didn't have to come to your hotel with you," he argues.

I push up, leaning back on my elbows. "Fuck you."

"I'm not being a dick…" he pauses, "this time. I'm just saying, she made a choice and crazy shit has happened. You can't take all the blame."

"Oh, I don't. I blame that fucking bitch."

"Kristy?" Chris sneers her name.

"I know, I know." I push back up to sitting. "You told me she was trouble."

"I am always right," he adds.

"Dick."

"Yeah, pretty much." He shrugs. "Go shower and get dressed. I'm going to make some calls."

"You're calling in the cavalry, aren't you?" I ask, walking to the bathroom.

"Why do this alone when you have all of us?" With a wink, he puts his cell to his ear. "Baby, I need you," he says with a grin on his face. "Fuck, don't say shit like that when I can't get my hands on—”

I close the bathroom door just in time to cut off their conversation.

Liza

Having just finished stage rehearsal for the show and not expecting to see three assistant producers waiting for me, I stop short.

"Miss Campbell, Mr. Thorne would like to speak with you privately." The woman in the middle speaks.

"Mr. Thorne?" I choke out the question. Why would the show’s producer want to speak with me directly?

"Yes," the man on the right answers.

"Is there a problem?" I swallow my nerves.

"He will tell you everything once—”

"Liza!" Sid calls, rushing toward me.

A security guard puts an arm around her waist.

"Let me go, you steroid ridden jackass!" She hits his arm, but turns her attention back to me. "Liza, it's Lucas!"

Something snaps inside me and I rush to Sid. Voices call out from behind me, but I can't hear them. My temples pulse, breathing labors, stomach cramps, and every muscle in my body is tense.

"What happened?" I push the guard’s arm from her waist and grip her upper arms.

"I'll show you on the way. Let's go." Grabbing my arm, she pulls me down the hall and out to an awaiting taxi.

Inside the car, I turn to her.

"Sid, please," I beg for answers.

She shoves her phone in my face.

I swallow down the bile rising at the words written on the website.

Sid pulls the phone away. I take deep breaths, trying to calm myself.

They know who I am. They think I'm a whore.

"Then, there's this." Sid pushes the phone into my hands.

Lucas and Sean’s faces flash in the video as the reporters call out to Lucas and surround him, separating him from Sean.

"Lucas, did you know about your mom?"

"Lucas, do you need help getting away from your home?"

"Who's your father? Do you know him?"

"I'm going to be sick." I cover my mouth.

"Drive faster," Sid orders the driver.

Kel breaks onto the screen, pushing through the crowd, and picks Lucas up.

"Kelvin, are you and your sister in a romantic relationship?" a report calls out, shoving a camera in his face.

Kel rears back, balls his fist, and punches the guy. Though holding Lucas is an obstacle, he still gets a clear hit and the guy's camera flies to the ground.

"You'll pay for that!" the asshole calls out.

"You deserved it," another reporter yells, stepping up and helping Kel get Lucas out of the crowd. The screen goes dark.

"Oh my God. What am I going to do?"

Sid takes her phone and replaces it with her hands.

"Lucas is fine. He's in the apartment, but those jerks are still outside."

I roll down the window and let the cool air hit my face. Inhaling deep, Sid squeezes my hands.

"It's going to be okay. We'll get out of town if we have to," she assures.

"The show," I groan. "That's why they were waiting and wanted to talk."

"You think they're going to kick you off?" Sid asks, anger in her tone.

"Probably," I laugh humorlessly.

Minutes feel like hours, but we finally arrive at my apartment where the media sharks are indeed surrounding the entrance.

Sid pays the driver and we slip from the car.

"Liza, look here?"

"Is it true Jackson paid you?"

"Does Jackson like rough sex?"

They are relentless, but I push by each of them.

"Get back!" Sid screams, shocking a couple of them still.

This gets us through the last of them and into the building. I take the stairs two at a time and burst into my home.

"Lucas?" I gasp.

"Mom?" He jumps up from the couch and rushes into my arms.

"I'm so sorry," I say to his head.

"I'm okay." He squeezes.

"We're going to go visit Aunt Char and Uncle Marc to get away from—”

"What?" He pulls away, looking up at me. "What about the show?"

"Forget the show, Lucas. I need to get you away from this chaos." I cup his face.

"No." He pushes my hand away. "I know it’s all lies. Don't let their lies win."

"It's not that easy." I drop my bag to the floor and take a deep breath.

"Yes, it is."

My phone rings, but I ignore it.

"No, it's not. They will probably release me from the show because of this anyway." I place my hand on his shoulder.

"Tell them they’re lying. They can't remove you from the show without proof," he insists, and for a brief moment, I wish I was this naïve once again.

My phone rings again and this time, Lucas grabs it.

"See? It's the show."

Before I can stop him, he taps the screen and answers.

"It's the show."

That it isn’t some media hound allows momentary relief, but then knowing this is the call where I'm going to be kicked off the show before it starts sets my nerves off.

I take a deep breath and answer.

"Hello?"

"Liza Campbell?"

"Yes."

"This is Ms. Smythe. I'm one of the assistant producers for Hidden Talent."

"I'm sure you're calling about the current story in the media. I assure you it's not true," I defend before she's able to judge me.

"Yes, well, while we are a family show, we do not have facts regarding this…development. The first live show is tomorrow evening. You will perform, but we will be investigating the allegations. I wanted to personally call you and let you know so you aren't surprised upon your arrival."

"I understand." I swallow.

"Good. We'll see you tomorrow." She disconnects before I can respond.

"See, you are still on the show." Lucas' face lights up. "They have to prove this crap is truth and we know it's not."

"I'm not going." The words aren't easy to say, but getting Lucas away is the smartest thing.

"You have to." His face drops with disappointment. "Don't let them win. This is what you've always wanted."

"Lucas—”

"No, mom," he snaps. "This is your dream and you would be living it if you didn't have me."

My head buzzes from his words and chest restricts, as if all the air has been sucked from the room. Dropping to my knees, I wrap my arms around my little boy.

"Oh, baby," I finally choke out. "No."

I squeeze him one last time before pulling back. Taking his face in my hands, our tear-filled eyes meet.

"You are the dream I never dared to dream, Lucas." A tear spills over his boyish cheek. "I love you so much. Don't ever, ever think there is something I want more than you." I hug him again, cupping the back of his head with one hand.

His tears dampen my neck as mine streak down my cheeks.

"I'll do the show for you," I whisper.

Lucas pulls out of my embrace and furrows his brow.

"You'll stay on the show?" The hope in his eyes warms me.

I nod. "Yes."

A smile splits the frown he wore moments before and my heart swells at the sight.

Leftover pizza and salad are eaten around the TV, but we don't watch live television. Instead, we watch movies until my son falls asleep in my arms. As I'm about to doze off, my phone chimes.

Unknown Number: He wants to come for you.

Setting my cell on the end table, I sigh, putting an arm over my face. I know it's irrational to want him, to fantasize about him showing up just to be close to me. It's stupid and crazy, but my heart has enslaved my brain.

Chapter Seventeen

Liza

Lucas' smile is the only thing that gets me through the group of photographers and reporters. Thankfully, their numbers are down, but there are still twenty too many.

"I can't believe the bastards are following us." Kel looks out the rear window.

Sid snorts from the front seat. "Of course they are. They want to be the first to get whatever story they can."

I drop my head against the back of the seat.

"It's okay, mom." Lucas takes my right hand and squeezes.

"They're a bunch of jerks," Sean grumbles, leaning his head on my left shoulder.

Freeing my hand, I wrap them both under my arms.

"I'm sorry you guys have to go through all this." I kiss Lucas' head before turning to Sean's.

"If they don't leave you alone, I'm gonna kick them in the balls," Sean mumbles.

The car falls silent for a moment before Sid starts laughing and the rest of us do, too. Even the driver chuckles.

Luckily, the theater has a gated rear entrance only authorized persons can enter. My gratitude dissipates when just inside the building, I have to say goodbye to my family.

"Here." Sid holds out the small flash drive.

"You finished it?" I ask, excitement and nerves battling inside my stomach.

"Stop worrying," she orders.

"I'm not—”

"Yes, you are, and you don't need to. You can do this. You're the strongest person I know, Eliza." Sid leans in and kisses my cheek before a show assistant leads them in the opposite direction.

Once they round a corner, I comply with the assistant's request to follow him.

"I need to speak with the band, staging manager, and lighting—”

"You're needed backstage to meet with producers and then in the green room for quick interviews with reporters." He motions for me to climb a few steps leading to a dark gray door.

"Fine, but I need to change my song for tonight."

"That's not possible." The assistant finally looks at me.

"Make it possible. I need to do this."

A look of confusion crosses his face, and then irritation.

"It's for my son." I hold up the flash drive.

His face softens. "Okay, but we have to be quick."

He opens the gray door and looks back and forth before hurrying us toward the stage. We find the band in a small makeshift studio working on a song with one of the other contestants.

The music director looks up from his piano.

"We aren't done here yet." The irritation in his voice is evident.

"She wants to change her song," the assistant states, pointing accusingly at me.

The director drops his head, sighs heavily, and leans forward to rest his arms over the shiny lacquered finish of the piano. Folding his hands together, he raises his head and gives me an annoyed look.

"Look, this is kind of zero hour. A song change is going to be a lot of work."

The other contestant snorts loudly before adding, "It's not like it will help you anyway."

All eyes turn to the young, tan-skinned girl.

"What? Everyone knows the show is only using you for first-night ratings. That's why you perform last tonight. After that, I'm sure you will be given your walking papers."

"They put her on last for ratings?" a backup vocalist scoffs.

The contestant shrugs. "No one has said it directly, but come on, why else would they put a singing prostitute on stage last? They want the ratings her scandal is going to bring."

"I'm not a prostitute," I growl, growing angrier every time the girl opens her mouth.

"Whatever," she says, drawing out the word.

"Look, you clearly don't know anything about burlesque or cabaret, especially since you're barely out of high school. There is a difference between selling myself for sex and performing on stage in a style that some of the greatest female singers have done in the past."

The girl opens her mouth, but I continue.

"And the fact that my personal affairs are being publicized doesn't give you the right to assume one damn thing about me. If your privacy were invaded, I bet you wouldn't look so sweet and innocent, would you? In fact, I'm sure I could get some easy information from that other contestant..." I turn to the assistant. "The guy with the long, dark hair and neck tattoo, what's his name? Ya know, the one with a pregnant girlfriend back home?"

"You don't know what you're talking about!" the girl screams, yanking her headphones off her head.

"Neither do you, so try to remember that," I snap at the little bitch before turning back to the music director. "I am changing my song for my son."

"Let the girl change her song, Ray," the backup vocalist says, joining my plea.

He shakes his head and grins. "Fine, let's see what you got."

"We aren't done going over—”

"Wait outside for a minute," Ray instructs. "After I speak with her real quick, we'll get back to you. Alright?"

She stands rod straight for a moment before stomping out of the room while complaining under her breath.

"So, what song are you doing?" He motions for me to step closer.

I do, handing him the sheets of music. "Nightingale."

"Demi Lovato?" He raises a brow.

I nod.

"Okay, let's run through the keys real quick. I'll try to get you in here before the show tonight, but I can't make any promises. Understand?"

"Yes, and thank you."

When we finally reach the originally planned destination, we're stopped short by three men and two women in suits.

"Miss Campbell, we've been waiting for you." I immediately recognize Gideon Thorne, judge and Bel Suono Studios producer.

"Yes, I'm sorry about that. I needed to speak with the directors to make some changes for tonight." I fail to sound as strong and sure as I'd intended.

"Changes?" He raises one dark, perfectly arched brow over his piercing blue eye.

"Um, Miss Campbell decided to change her performance song and—”

"You changed without speaking to us first?" A woman in a dark gray suit steps forward, exasperation on her face.

"It's my performance," I snap.

She opens her mouth, but Mr. Thorne puts a hand up, stopping her.

"We need to make sure you understand the allegations are still under investigation. This is a family show and we need to maintain a moral responsibility. So…" He drifts off at the end.

"So, if you find out I have prostitution in my past then I suddenly don't get enough votes to keep me on the show, right?"

The right corner of his mouth twitches, but he remains serious when he nods.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"Understood," I state firmly. "Can I go now? I have a show to prepare for."

"We'll talk more after the show, when Mr. and Mrs. Mackey are available to speak with you."

All my confidence shrivels into a ball of anxiety. The Mackeys, who own and operate Bel Suono Studio and Mack Productions, two major forces in the music industry and by whom the winner will be contracted, want to speak with me personally. Oh my God.

A ragged breath leaves my body, making my panic obvious. Mr. Thorne spares me a pitying smile before excusing himself and his team from the room.

"Are you okay, Miss Campbell?" the assistant asks.

"Just give me a moment." I prop myself against a wall and breathe deeply.

The crew flits about in the darkness, preparing each contestant before they go out to face the crowd. Knowing this will most likely be my one and only performance on this show doesn't help my nerves. Even though I'm used to performing on stage, this crowd is in the thousands and the mentors’ feedback is a toss-up.

I wipe my sweaty hands on the long, black, lace dress, my nerves ratcheting higher and higher.

"You're up." A crew member appears on my left and instructs me toward the darkened stage.

With a deep breath, I walk to my mark. The mic stand is right where I asked and the lights are so dim, I can see part of the audience.

Well, I didn't think that out very well, did I? My Lord, there are so many—

The show’s host breaks me from my thoughts, welcoming the TV viewing audience back from a break and begins to introduce my performance.

Shaking out my hands and arms, I breathe deep and exhale a couple of times before he finishes. My name is the cue.

The stage lights barely raise and a soft spotlight finds me alone on the darkened stage. The large screen behind me casts a glow against my back.

"For you, Lucas. You are everything," I whisper into the mic. The music begins and tears already threaten, but I swallow the emotion.

I start the song, knowing the first picture on the screen behind me is of the day I brought Lucas home from the hospital and a slideshow of his life will follow. I want everyone to know the truth; that my son is a regular boy and has led a typical boy's life. They can take their rumors and choke on them.

The spotlight makes it impossible to see the audience or their reactions, so I focus on one spot. Picturing the boy who will forever be the main man in my life, I sing for him.

The red lights on the cameras moving around me demand my attention, but I can't focus on them. I pull the mic from the stand and reach my arm out to the light bathing me. A feeling of love, peace, and satisfaction sweep over me. When I hit the arc in the song, I know what I want isn't this gimmick—this reality karaoke show.

Not caring about the audience, mentors, or all the judgmental assholes backstage, I lose myself, unleashing my emotions. Tears fill my eyes as I sing to my son, giving all of me to the moment. Me, Eliza Campbell, not Miz Liz.

"‘Cause, baby, you're my sanity. You bring me peace. Sing me to sleep," I belt, feeling the words through my entire body. I finish the song, one arm extended over my head, the other clutching the mic to the rapid rise and fall of my chest.

The crowd erupts, breaking me from my personal awakening.

I wipe away a stray tear and blink at the intrusion of the stage lights glowing brighter, until I see Jackson at the edge of the stage. He lifts Lucas onto the edge and Lucas says something to Jackson before setting his eyes on me.

His smile lights his face and he charges toward me. The love and happiness I feel in that moment spill over my cheeks. He enters my open arms, wrapping his around my waist.

"I love you so much!" he says, his voice muffled by my dress.

"I love you, too, baby." I kiss the top of his head.

Pulling back, he looks up and I cup his face with my free hand.

"You don't have to stay on this show. I know I wanted you to, but they don't deserve you." He buries into me again, not realizing his words were heard by every person watching.

Jackson

After assisting Lucas onto the stage, he rushes to his mother—their embrace for the world to see and a verbal exchange the world hears.

His declaration makes me grin. Instead of returning to my front row seat, I head backstage. She may have finished singing, but my charmer has already called out to my body; a request I'm eager to respond to.

Even from backstage, I hear the mentors provide exemplary feedback and joke about my absence. Gemma even throws in something about having that something everyone wishes they had and I catch her wink from a prompter set up behind the curtains.

I'll have to ask her about that later.

Liza exits the stage with Lucas tight against her side. With her focus solely on him, she doesn't see me until there's only a foot between us. And, fuck me, her dress is better up close. The cutouts have a skin tone lining, giving the illusion she's only wearing lace. My palms itch, wanting to peel away the dress and hear her sing out my name.

Her head raises, focusing on my chest before lifting higher to my face. Surprise widens her eyes before they shift to my left.

As I twist around, the clapping begins. Contestants, stage crew, and more familiar faces like Chris, Mia, Jimmy, Kat, Red, Bethany, Xavier, Sid, Sean, and Kel. Turning back to Liza, I clap with them.

Sid brushes by me, wrapping her arms around Liza.

"I am so proud of you!" she squeals. "You made that stage your bitch!"

"Thank you for doing the slideshow." Liza's arms flex, tightening the embrace.

Sid waves her off as Kel moves in to steal her into his arms.

"She's amazing," Mia says, her voice coming from my left.

I nod. "Yeah, she is."

"She's only talking about her voice." Chris chuckles.

"I'm not." I give him a side glance, catching his grin.

"Miss Campbell?" Everyone turns to the sweet voice of a young woman in a suit dress.

"Yeah," Liza sighs out, like she knows what's coming next.

"I've been asked to bring you to Chloe." Her body turns sideways, an indication to follow her.

"Chloe?" Liza asks, stepping forward.

"Mrs. Mackey." The assistant gives a genuine smile and leads Liza away.

Being a nosey bastard, I follow close behind, feeling the others at my back.

"Please wait…" She fades off, taking in the sight of everyone.

Liza turns around to see the entourage she wasn't aware of and her mouth drops open.

"If you could all please take a seat, they're in a meeting right now and will arrive in just a moment." She motions to the chairs and couches around the room.

"What are they meeting about?" I ask before she makes her quick exit.

"I'm afraid I don't have the details of the meeting." Her politically correct response is rehearsed, but I don't press further.

"I know what they're meeting about," Liza states.

She crosses the room and takes a seat, relaxing back into the cushions.

My first instinct is to pull her out of the chair and hold her tightly against me. Taking a deep breath, I ball my hands and root myself to stay where I stand.

"But it's all rumors," Kel states, sitting on the couch across from her.

She shrugs. "It doesn't matter, and honestly, I don't really care."

"They don't deserve to have you on the show." Lucas crosses his arms over his chest. He sits on the arm of Liza's chair with Sean quietly taking a place on the other arm, her personal security detail.

"Are you okay?" The question is strained from my internal fight to allow her space.

Her eyes meet mine and she visibly swallows.

"Yeah." She nods, her response tense.

Our eyes remain trained on one another. The room fades away and our breathing syncs, chests rising and falling faster and faster. Praying I have just a tiny amount of the same effect she has on me, I lick my lips. Her mouth parts and warm satisfaction courses through my veins.

About to beckon for her, wanting her to come to me, I'm interrupted by the sound of the door.

"Una?" I ask, confused.

She looks around the full room before greeting us. "Hello, everyone."

Her eyes land on Liza and she smiles.

"You, my dear, are amazingly talented." She steps closer and puts her hand out. "How about I formally introduce myself? I'm Una Nobil."

Liza pushes up from the chair and takes her hand.

"Liza Campbell." She blushes and furrows her brow. "But you already know that."

Allowing myself to move, I step around Una to stand by Liza.

"I've been speaking with Mrs. Mackey in regards to your, uh…situation." She offers a genuine smile.

"Why are you speaking on Liza's behalf?" I ask, knowing Una is kind, but she's also a label representative.

"Because you asked me to take care of things," she quips with a tilt of her head.

I raise one brow. She smiles.

"And because she's ridiculously talented," Una finishes with an unapologetic shrug.

"Yes, she is."

The new voice draws everyone's attention.

A tall, extremely attractive brunette walks around Una and offers her hand to Liza.

"I’m Chloe Mackey, Co-President of Bel Suono and Mackey Productions. I apologize for my husband's absence. Unfortunately, he had a pressing business matter to attend."

Liza's hand noticeably shakes as she takes the offering.

Chloe quickly clasps Liza's hands in both of hers, a look of compassion softening her expression.

"Miss Campbell, our sponsors, along with Bel Suono and Mackey Productions, are very sorry for this situation falling on you. All parties mentioned are in agreement that the rumors are falsehoods against you."

Next to me, I feel more than see Liza slightly relax.

"But…" Chloe continues.

"But…I'm still being asked to leave the show?" Liza finishes in a soft voice.

A look of pity crosses Chloe's face.

"I'm afraid the contract you signed is very particular about relationships with show executives, which includes mentors."

Guilt and tension tighten every part of my body as a throb forms between my temples.

With the recent scandal and my addiction going public, you'd think they would've permanently added Chris, but the announcement of Liza's exit from the show has already resulted in a drop of ratings. And Chris refuses to do more than sit in for a couple weeks.  Truth is, without my scandalized ass, they're betting they would lose more publicity.

"She had no idea he was on the show," Kel argues, standing from the couch.

"And he had no clue she was a contestant," Chris states in his familiar I-dare-you-to-argue tone.

Chloe nods. "Yes, I know, and I can't say I agree with this decision. However, the point has been made about fairness to the other contestants. I'm sorry, but we will need you to exit the competition."

Liza sighs loudly.

"This is—”

Liza's burst of laughter cuts off Kel's next protest and garners surprised looks from everyone. She grips my arm, using me to stay upright while holding her stomach with the other.

"I'm sorry," she says around laughs, "it's the stress." She fights between hilarity and gasps for air.

"Miss Campbell?" Chloe requests Liza's attention once more.

While she's calmed herself some, she's still fighting a battle with her “stress”.

"Yes?" she chokes out.

"Bel Suono is very interested in discussing a deal with you. Though this didn't work out, I'd like to set up a meeting to discuss your career."

"Get in line," Una snorts, giving Chloe a teasing look. "You aren't the only one."

Chloe grins. "It's been some time since I've gone head-to-head with you."

"It will be like old times." Una smiles.

"Hold up." Red moves into the small circle and stands in front of Liza. "Liza, don't agree to anything. Not until they provide offers and terms in writing. Then we'll review them and you can decide what you want to do."

His rush to help her doesn't surprise me. Red's always been a good guy, regardless of his man-whore ways.

"But, Red—” Liza begins.

"I won't let anyone take advantage of you." He shakes his head. "We haven't worked together long, but you're a good girl and I won't let this industry eat you up. You've been through enough." His eyes drift to me before returning to her.

"Red…" She removes her hand from my arm to place it on his chest.

A primal need to remove her hand, wanting it back on me, slides through my body in an angry, tormented heat.

"I don't want to leave the club," she finishes. "I know where I belong and where I wanna be."

Red's face falls clear of emotion just before a large grin takes over.

"Sweetheart, if these two," he thumbs over his shoulder to Una and Chloe, "have brains half as impressive as their asses, they'll make it work the way you want."

"Excuse me?" Gideon Thorne steps forward from the group of suits who followed Chloe in the room. "I think you should apologize to Mrs. Mackey."

Una and Chloe burst into laughter.

"Calm down, Gideon." Chloe waves him off. "It's nice to know I’ve still got it."

"Well played, Red,” Una adds on a giggle.

"Miss Campbell, we'll be in touch." Chloe smiles, nods, and exits with the suits in tow.

Chapter Eighteen

Jackson

As soon as the door closes on the show execs, I take Liza's arm and pull her to face me.

"I'm sorry." I cup her face.

She visibly swallows and parts her lips. I want to devour her mouth.

"This shit's my fault, but I'm going to try to make it right."

My eyes search her soft baby blues, the battles of a million emotions warring within them. I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to ask what they are. Does she hate me? Or, is she, like me, craving the taste of our mouths mixing and the feel of our skin touching?

She places a hand over my heart, the heat from her touch branding my skin.

With a slight shake of her head, she blinks, and says, "It's not your fault."

"Yeah, it is. I brought Kristy into your life. The bitch is going to pay for all this bullshit." My anger seeps into my words.

"Jackson," Una sighs, "don't do anything rash. We don’t have anything on her to shut her up or—”

"What kind of something do you need?" Sid asks from where she sits on the couch.

"Proof she released the information to start," Una states. "But no reporter is going to release their source."

"True." Sid stands and walks closer to Una. "But, and this is just hypothetical of course…"

"Of course," Una responds hesitantly.

"What if I happen to know someone with some itty bitty hacker-like skills who may be able to get something on her or get lucky and find out she's the source? Would you be okay with them getting involved?"

"Sid," Liza warns, turning to face her cousin.

I grip her hips and dig my fingers into the lace, bringing our bodies together.

"Shh…" Sid hushes Liza.

"We already had the one FBI conversation. Do we have to go over the other?" Liza pleads.

The FBI?

"I just wanted to see if I could do it. Besides, that was a bogus investigation. They had no proof," Sid answers in a blur of words before turning a sickeningly sweet smile on Una.

"Do what exactly?" Xavier asks, leaning against the wall and rubbing his bearded face, clearly eyeing her curves with apt appreciation.

"I'd tell you, but I have no idea what you are referring to." Sid looks completely clueless.

"You're kind of scary," Xavier states, a half-grin on his face. "It's a little hot." He gives a slight shrug.

She blinks at him before turning back to Una.

"So, about that," she brings her fingers up and air quotes, "‘friend of mine’?"

"What would this friend need?"

"Access to a secured internet connection, a couple gadgets, and immunity should legal authorities get involved." She grins sweetly once more.

Una stares at Sid, contemplating. With a sigh, she nods.

"Kacey?" Una barks and her newest junior assistant hurries to her side. "Get Miss Campbell—”

"Sid," she corrects. "No need to be formal."

"Okay," she breathes the word. "Please, get Sid whatever she needs."

"Of course," Kacey responds, reminding me of a puppy with her eager nod and the obvious need for approval.

Kacey turns to Sid. "What can I get you?"

Grinning, Sid steps forward and snakes her arm around Kacey's, walking them both away from the crowd.

"We should talk where there are less…ears." Her lips purse. "But first, any ideas how to get your hands on her cell phone?"

"Th-that's stealing," Kacey stutters.

"I'm just kidding." Sid pats her arm, and under her breath, adds, "Unless you can get it."

"I might be able to help." Kat saunters up to Sid and Kacey as they exit the room.

"Do you have any idea what you've just done?" Liza asks Una.

"No, and for the sake of future legal action, I think it's for the best." Una crosses her arms over her chest and turns her attention back to Liza and me.

"Did you discuss the apartment?" She raises her brows.

"No. Haven't really had a moment with the show bullshit and possible organized felony going on back here." I'm sure to give my best are-you-fucking-serious-right-now look.

"What happened to my apartment?" Liza takes a step forward, gets caught on my arm, and twists her neck to look up at me.

"Nothing," I say in a soft voice, trying to calm the panic on her face.

"Aside from the fucking media trap sitting on her front door," Jimmy adds.

"Thanks," I say, my sarcasm thick and eyes narrowed.

He shrugs, unapologetic.

"He's right," Una confirms in a gentler tone.

"I know," Liza responds. "They've been there for two days now, but the numbers had thinned out this morning."

"Yes, that was before tonight's show and the producer's decision. When this goes public, they are going to be even more ruthless," Una explains.

"But—”

"And we aren't sure what else Kristy has up her sleeve. If she’s the one—”

"It's her," I snap.

Una puts her hands up, palms out.

"I'd like for you to consider staying somewhere else until things die down." She drops her hands.

"Where are we supposed to go?" Liza asks, her body tensing against mine.

"I have an apartment," I answer before Una.

Liza turns in my arms, her chest almost pressed to mine. Her confusion is written in the frown lines on her face.

"You have an apartment? Here?"

Cupping her head, I use my thumb to smooth the lines between her brows.

"It's a three bedroom suite above the W in Hollywood. I just got it."

"We'll be fine at home." She shakes her head.

"What about Lucas?" I know it's a cheap shot, but I need her safe from the impending craziness. On a more selfish note, I want her with me. "They will surround him and harass him on his way to and from school."

Fear flashes in her eyes and she bites her lip. It's almost enough to make me feel guilty. Almost.

"School will be out soon." Her protest is weak.

"The W has security gates, cameras, guards, and I can arrange a car to drive Lucas and Sean to school with minimal harassment. It would only be, what? A thirty, maybe forty, minute ride?"

"But Kel—”

"Can also have a driver for school and work," I add before she can argue.

"Three rooms won't be enough for all of us." She tries to pull out of my arms.

"I had twin beds put in one room for the boys. Kel can have the other room. And I've had the media room arranged with a bed for Sid." I sweep her jaw with my thumb.

Her mouth pops open. She doesn't speak, simply licks her lips and closes her mouth tight.

Fuck, I want to suck the lipstick from her mouth.

"Sid and I already bunk together," Liza nods, focusing on my shoulder, "so I guess it would work."

I slide my fingers from her neck into the hair behind her ear and tilt her head, coercing her to meet my eyes. Leaning down, I bring my face so close, I can feel the heat of her breaths on my lips.

"You think you'll sleep with Sid?" I whisper.

"Yes." Her response is too breathy to match the slight narrowing of her eyes.

It's fucking adorable. She thinks she can resist us. The way we gravitate toward each other, feed off the other's energy.

"Okay." Fighting back a smile, I give a one shoulder shrug.

Her hands press to my chest and push. Straightening to my full height, I allow the space. When my hand slips from her hip, I don't like it. I cross my arms over my chest to stop myself from pulling her back into my arms.

"I'll need to get some things from my place." She turns to Una.

"We really need to get you and the boys to the penthouse—”

"Penthouse?" Lucas squeaks.

"Yes." Una looks between him and Sean. "As Jackson stated, his condo is at the W in Hollywood."

"Are you okay with this, Lucas? We can go home. You just say the word." Liza moves to her son, kneeling the best she can in her dress.

"No." He shakes his head. "I want to go to the penthouse." He sends a large smile my way. "Can I bring my Xbox?"

"Of course." I nod. "We'll have someone grab it for you."

"I can get our things," Liza says, trying to stand.

"It's best if we have someone else collect the things you’ll need. I'll go make the arrangements for cars. Hopefully, we can get out of here with little notice."

"Good luck with that," Jimmy snorts, shaking his head.

"Thanks, Jimmy, you just volunteered to help." Una's tone doesn't leave him much room to argue.

Grumbling, he pushes up from a chair and follows Una out of the room.

Liza covers her face with her hands and exhales loudly.

"I'm so going to regret this." She drops her hands and looks right at me.

I lick the metal hoop in my lip, smiling when she shivers and looks away.

Eliza

I don't have to open my eyes to feel him watching me. The only time his eyes haven't been on me was when I found the privacy to change out of the dress provided by the studio. And now I'm in the back of a dark limo, wearing the clothes I arrived in, with a man who draws me to him like a moth to a flame sitting across the way, and two boys vibrating with excitement. Keeping my head back against the seat and eyes closed, I try to make sense of everything.

My performance was supposed to be a polite fuck you and I guess I succeeded. I never expected to draw out crazed reporters, but dear God, I have. Nearly one hundred reporters and cameramen had to be waiting just outside the performer's exit. Thankfully, Una arranged an alternate exit route through a large garage, putting us into cars parked inside and out of the public eye. Before we shot off, she assured me our things would be delivered tonight.

"Liza?"

I open my eyes for him, like he has some power over me. Who am I kidding? He has a power—a key that unlocks me, leaving me open and bare.

"Yeah?" I breathe the word.

Leaning forward, he puts his elbows on his knees and places his palms on my thighs.

Damn his long arms and warm hands! Tingles travel across my skin, focusing their attention between my legs, which twitch to open for him. I tense my muscles to keep them shut. His fingers flex.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry." His eyes search mine as they did before.

"I know." I want to reassure him with a smile, but I'm exhausted, my nerves are raw, and he's too close.

Our eyes lock and he drags his tongue over the ring on his lip. A breath catches in my throat. Christ, I want to suck the moisture from his flesh, dip my tongue into his mouth, and demand its submission.

"We're here!" Sean's shout breaks the moment.

Jackson sits back into his own seat and I squeeze my legs together tighter.

I need to get my body on the same page as my brain. No sex, I silently demand as the car comes to a stop inside a parking garage.

The limo door opens and Lucas and Sean shoot out in a flash of khakis and polo shirts.

Sliding to the open door, I slip out of the car and pause. The boys stand next to Julia at silver elevator doors. Taking a deep breath, I prepare to move.

His large, warm hands settle firmly on my hips. I stiffen when his legs stretch out on either side of me. When he stands, he allows the front of his body to slide over my ass and back until the length of him is flush against me. I melt, leaning against him, absorbing his heat and inhaling his scent—leather and sandalwood.

The warmth of his breath on my neck should cause alarm. Instead, I loll my head to the side, allowing him access. The feel of his teeth sends a spasm through my body. I fist the denim covering his thighs and he lightly sucks at my skin, turning the spasm into a pulsating firestorm.

A throat clears and I jump, putting half a foot between Jackson and me. Turning, I catch Jackson glaring at the driver.

"There's a car coming, sir." The driver nods toward approaching headlights. "It may be the other limo, but I'm not sure."

"Alright," Jackson says coldy.

His hand comes out, snagging the waist of my jeans and pulling me against his side. "Let's go." He guides us to the elevator.

Oh God! Craning my neck, I look around the parking garage. Lucas and Sean are nowhere to be found.

"Where's—?"

"Julia took them up," he answers before I finish.

Closing my eyes, I exhale sharply, pissed at myself. Jesus, I'm a horrible mom. So caught up in—

"Stop." His voice cuts through my thoughts as the elevator door opens.

"I'm not doing—”

He walks us onto the elevator.

"It's all over your face. Lucas and Sean are fine. You saw they were with Julia."

He presses a button with his free hand.

Unsettled by his ability to read me and by how easy it is to just be with him, I stay silently pressed against his side until the elevator reaches the penthouse. With his hand on my lower back, he directs me into a foyer with dark wood floors.

Jackson's presence at my back spurs me to keep walking. Following the dark wood slats, I reach a large open living space with an oversized taupe, U-shaped couch and a large flat-screen TV on the wall. To the left of the area is a bar and the right has a wall of windows leading to a balcony.

"One of the rooms is back there past the kitchen."

I follow where Jackson points to a door at the far end of large, open dining and kitchen spaces. The dining table seats twelve, the kitchen bar six. Swallowing hard, I simply nod.

"The other rooms are this way." He thumbs over his shoulder.

Walking around him, I follow the dark floors down a long hallway.

"Closet on the right, half-bath on your left. The next door on the right is the master bedroom." He pauses, but I don't give him the reaction he's waiting for. Instead, I keep walking.

"Another bedroom is on your left. That's where the twin beds are for Lucas and Sean."

As if summoned by their name, the boys emerge from a room at the end of the hallway.

"This place is amazing!" Sean shouts.

"There are two balconies and they have a rooftop pool." Lucas grins. "Please, can we go swimming?"

"You don't have swim trunks." I brush stray blond hairs from his forehead.

"With your permission, I'll have some sent up." Julia walks out of the same room.

I can't fight the scowl forming on my face. Her eyes drop to the floor in submission.

"If you would rather them not—”

"It has nothing to do with swimming," I keep my tone even, "and you know it."

Her wide eyes meet mine and I raise a brow in challenge.

She totally gets that this isn't about swimming. It has everything to do with her stupidity in dealing with Jackson. I'm surprised he's allowed her to continue working for him.

Tears form in her eyes. She opens her mouth, but closes it and only nods.

"Come on, Mom," Lucas begs.

"Yeah, Miss Campbell, please?" Sean pleads.

"Yeah, Mom," Jackson teases, "let them swim."

Twisting, I find him half grinning.

"Fine," I sigh, turning back to the boys. "You have an hour. Then you come back and get showers. Hopefully our stuff is here by then."

I doubt they hear the part about showering because they cheer loudly and high five one another before hugging me.

"If you’ll follow me, I'll take you two up and have someone meet us with shorts." Julia moves to walk around me.

"Are you sure you can handle them?" I can't keep the snark out of my voice.

She pauses and looks me in the eyes.

"I promise, they'll be fine."

I nod and she has the boys follow her.

"What the fuck was that about?" Jackson's question is a mixture of amusement and concern.

"Nothing." I shrug, turn, and try to walk by him, but his arm shoots out, stopping me.

"Not so fast."

He places both hands on the wall, fencing me between his arms. Turning, my back meets the wall.

"Tell me." He leans his face close to mine.

"It's nothing." I cross my arms over my chest, a useless barrier between us.

"Did she do or say something to you?" His eyes narrow.

Is he really this dumb? Doesn't he realize what could've happened to him because of her decision?

"You're serious, aren't you?" I drop my arms.

Confusion furrows his brow.

"Her decisions…that night…"

"The night I overdosed?" He drops his arms, crossing them over his chest.

I nod.

"Because they brought me back to the hotel instead of the hospital?" His eyes search my face.

Thinking about that night, my throat clogs with emotion and my vision blurs.

Clasping the sides of my face and tilting my head, his lips crash into mine. I fist his t-shirt, pulling him closer.

He slips his hands from my face, tracing the shape of my body. Releasing my mouth, he reaches down, grasps behind my thighs, and lifts me, pinning me to the wall. I wrap my arms around his neck; it's my turn to claim his mouth.

Breaking the kiss, I gasp for much-needed breaths. His forehead presses to mine.

"You're pissed at her 'cause of me?" His question is labored.

"I just think she's stupid and almost made the situation worse."

He grins, squeezing my ass.

"You're pissed at her 'cause you care about me." It's not a question this time.

I stiffen and change the subject.

"Did you buy this place?" I ask, trying to get back on my feet.

This is stupid. He's so new to sobriety and I'm sure there's a rule about relationships, even if they are purely physical.

"Leasing it." He reinforces his hold with another squeeze. "Stop squirming."

"Why?" I ask, pressing against his chest.

"Why what?"

Rolling my eyes, I stop squirming and purse my lips. "Why are you leasing the penthouse? The hotel kick you out?" I taunt.

He smiles wide.

"Just testing the idea and location." He presses his body further into mine. "I've found a pretty good reason to stick around." He holds my eyes.

"Liza," Sid calls.

I push at Jackson's chest, but he doesn't release me. Instead, he lifts his head and looks down the hall.

Sid finds us and grins. "Maybe I should just…" She points over her shoulder and starts to turn around.

"No!" I push harder at an immoveable Jackson. "We were just…" I don't know how to finish.

"Getting your freak on?" Sid humps the air, her tongue sticking out.

Jackson's laughter vibrates against my chest.

"No," I deny.

"Bow chica, bow wow!" she sings, swinging her hips.

"Will you stop?" I try not to laugh. "Jackson, put me down," I demand, going for a more annoyed tone with him.

He studies me for a brief moment, places a kiss to my lips, and releases me.

On my own two feet again, I sway—just a bit—as I walk away. Passing Sid, I wrap my arm in hers, dragging her out of the hallway and away from sex on stilts.

Chapter Nineteen

Eliza

"Tell me again why you aren't climbing Mt. Jackson while the boys are distracted by video games?" Sid pulls another shirt from Lucas' bag.

Looking around at the bags and boxes, I start to think they brought everything we own.

"You know why." I hang the shirt in one of the many walk-in closets.

"Oh, yeah, cause of his sobriety, your guardianship status, blah, blah, blah." She digs into the bag, pulling more clothes out.

"Blah, blah, blah?" I place a hand on one hip and raise a brow.

"Yep." She continues on to the next bag of clothes, not bothering to look up.

"I can't just…" My words fall away, unsure how to explain.

"You just can't what?" Sid finally looks up, meeting my eyes. "Can't let go of your neatly scheduled day-to-day and live for once?"

"I'd hardly call my day-to-day neat." I purse my lips, wrapping my arms around my middle.

She growls, plopping down onto one of the twin beds. "Liza, in the past ten years, the only semi-spontaneous, totally crazy thing you've done is move across the country with a baby."

"Excuse me?" My voice raises an octave. "I just performed on a stage in front of thousands of people."

"Kel and Lucas entered you into the contest. You don't get to take credit." She lies back on the bed, her arms behind her head.

"I spent the night with Jackson," I say in a whisper.

She's already shaking her head. "He came to you."

Sighing heavily, she sits up, crisscrossing her legs.

"You deal. That's your thing."

"I deal?" I sit down at the end of the bed.

"Yeah, you run your day—school, house tasks and errands, soccer, dinner, work. When things come to you—Hidden Talent and your night with Jackson, for example—you deal with them because they happen to you." Leaning forward, she takes my hand. "I love you and who you are. I just want to see you live."

"When did you become the advice giver in this relationship?" I ask.

"I don't know, but I don't think I like it." She purses her lips. "So, take my advice so we can get back to you lecturing me about my bad choices in men."

"I don't lecture," I defend. "Though, you do choose guys who don't deserve you."

"They don't need to deserve me." She grins. "I just need him to be good with his mouth and know how to swivel his hips in just the right way…"

"Paul." It's not a question, it's a confirmation.

Her mouth forms an ‘O’ shape before she says, "That's a low blow."

Guilt riddles me and I slouch.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought him up." Paul is a touchy subject and I know I shouldn't have mentioned him. I just hate how much power he holds over Sid. He always has and I pray for the day when he no longer does.

"It's okay." She shrugs, but I know, deep down, I hurt her. I also know she won't talk about it anymore. Her defenses are up and there's no crashing through that barrier.

"You think I need to live?" I redirect back to our original topic.

The familiar tingle starts at the bridge of my nose and tears pool in the corners of my eyes.

"Yeah." She nods. "You adult way too much."

A tear escapes along with a laugh, breaking the tension.

"Come on." She pats my leg. "We have your entire apartment to fit into this one."

"I know, right?" I wipe away the tear, sniff, and get back to work.

An hour later, most of the necessities are put away. Kel's in the converted media room behind the kitchen, the boys in the middle room, and Sid and I have taken the room at the far end of the hall. And now, we sit around the open living space, eating pizza and wings.

"I don't ever want to leave this couch." Sid snuggles into the spot where she's stretched out, her empty plate resting on her stomach.

"It is pretty great," Kel agrees, standing from next to her and grabbing the plate from her belly.

"Thanks, handsome," Sid mumbles, eyes closed.

"Want me to take yours, too?" Kel motions to the plate in my lap.

I hand it to him. "Thanks."

"You want me to help with those two?" Kel returns from the kitchen moments later.

My eyes move to where both Sean and Lucas lie sprawled out on oversized bean bag chairs.

"Yeah," I sigh, trying to figure out which one will weigh less.

"They could just sleep there," Jackson says, stretching his long, prone body. He’s lying in almost the same position as Sid, just on the other side of the couch, closest to me. Close enough that I often felt his fingers in my hair.

"I don't know." I scoot to the edge of the cushion.

"He has a point." Kel leans over the couch, his hands pressed into the back.

"I guess." I furrow my brow, not sure why I think this matters so much.

"Well, if we aren't moving them, I'm going to bed." Kel leans forward further and kisses the top of my head. "Night."

"Good night," I say, turning and watching him disappear behind the door at the far end of the kitchen.

"Sid," I call, but all I get is a soft snore. "Sid," I say a bit louder.

"What?" she grumbles.

"I'm going to bed." I stand, keeping my eyes on her and not Jackson.

"'Kay," she sighs, turning onto her side, giving me her back.

Realizing she isn't planning on moving, I kiss Lucas' head and turn toward the hallway. With a quick good night to Jackson, I walk a bit too hastily from the room.

The bed is too soft. I toss. It's too warm. I turn.

"Why am I so hot?" I growl low into the empty room.

I kick off the covers and push up to sit on the edge of the bed. Pulling the hair tie from my wrist, I twist and secure my hair on top of my head.

With a frustrated sigh, I look at the large window doors and accept my inability to fall asleep. I walk to the balcony door and slide it open, stepping out into the night. The air is warm, but not stifling.

There's a comfortable breeze swirling around the penthouse, cooling the skin my sleep shorts and tank top leave exposed. Inhaling deep, I lean against the railing, gaze up at the stars, and exhale. The sky is clear and feels so close. My hand twitches on the railing, wanting to reach out and touch.

Is Sid right? Am I so day-to-day I've forgotten to live my life? I mean, I have to take care of Lucas and Kel, and now Sean. They have school and sports, I have a job and need to have meals ready to keep on track for the… I drop my head and sigh. Crap! Maybe I've gotten a bit neurotic.

The heat of his body surrounds me before he says, "You're too beautiful to look so defeated." His whisper is close to my ear, each word caressing my skin.

"I'm just thinking," I whisper in response.

Escaped strands of hair are swept aside and his lips press against my exposed neck.

"I like your hair up," he states against my skin.

Squeezing my eyes shut tight, I hurdle my nerves, and ask, "What is this?"

He stills. "You mean us?"

Feeling warm and flush from embarrassment for asking, I can only nod.

Jackson moves and the breeze blows away the heat of him. I instantly miss it.

His long fingers trail down my arm until they find my hand. Lacing our fingers together, he pulls me away from the railing and around a small privacy wall. When I see the door to his room on the other side, I stop.

"Relax." He looks over his shoulder—his bare shoulder.

In fact, his torso is completely naked, every inky swirl, line, and jagged edge on display. Swallowing my nerves, I continue to follow him, taking in every inch of him. From his back to the black waist of his red boxer briefs, the colorful patterns decorating his legs all the way to his bare toes.

Thinking back to our night together, I try to recall whether his penis is the only place he's not tattooed. He stops inside his room, bringing me out of the memories of his naked body, and drops my hand.

His eyes search my face, making me self-conscious. I look away and see photos on top of his dresser. The weight of his stare follows my move to the pictures.

The first image is a gorgeous woman with a small boy at her side.

"Me and my mom," he explains. "Nicholas took the picture."

Looking back over my shoulder, I give a small smile.

"Sorry. I shouldn't just go through your things." I put the picture down.

"It's okay." He shrugs, coming over and picking up the photos.

I step back, letting him collect the photos.

"Come here," he says, motioning for me to follow him to the bed.

Taking a seat, he pats the mattress next to him.

Hesitantly, I sit down, arms holding my stomach to keep the butterflies from escaping through my belly button.

Why am I so damn nervous? I've seen him naked, had sex with him, and bathed him in an ice bath for God's sake.

"This was the first time I met Nicholas." Jackson holds up the photo. "He scared me."

"Why?" I move my eyes from the picture to his face, taking in his profile. The long, lean lines of his face. The graceful way his neck curves.

He shrugs. "I didn't know him and wasn't used to a man being around." His eyes meet mine. "As far back as I can remember, it was always just me and mom. Sort of like you and Luke."

"Luke?" I raise one brow and fight a smile.

"Lucas is nice, baby, but Luke is manlier." He grins. "We had a conversation during video games."

"Oh, really?" The smile wins, spreading over my lips.

Dropping the picture, his hand cups my face, tracing my smile with his thumb.

"I totally get the expression 'the face that launched a thousand ships'." His face comes close.

"What?" I breathe, my eyes staring at his mouth as it inches closer and closer.

"You're my Helen of Troy. The face I would launch a full-scale attack to possess." The intensity with which he says this makes me inhale sharply.

His lips are so close, I can taste his breaths.

"Your sobriety?" I whisper, pulling back a bit.

In a fluid motion, he twists. The pictures slipping to the floor catch my attention for a split moment before he lays me back on the bed. With his body over mine, he holds his weight on his forearms.

My breathing increases, my chest rising and falling like my nipples are reaching out for his touch.

"You are my sobriety."

His mouth comes to mine, his lips pressing gently, lovingly, making their mark.

I wrap my arms around his shoulders, one hand sliding into his hair.

A gasp escapes when he moves his lips over my cheek, my chin, and down my neck, his tongue touching and tasting my skin.

His body shifts and he slides one hand over my shoulder, collarbone, and cups one breast. My entire body sighs at the contact, and when his knee presses between my legs, I open without hesitation.

Jackson crawls down my body, pushing my tank top over my head and kissing every inch of bare skin along the way. The tip of his tongue touches my right nipple and a jolt of need shoots through me. I fist his hair, holding him to my breast. He takes me into his mouth and sucks just hard enough to make me tense while his free hand rolls my other nipple between his inked fingers.

I force my eyes open and glance down. The contrast of his decorated skin next to my pale white, his mouth sucking on my sensitive flesh, and him looking up at me from under his lashes, pulls a moan from the deepest part of me. I lift my hips, but only achieve a press against his stomach.

"Why are you so tall?" I whine, still pressing my hips against him, wanting the feel of his hard length against me.

The vibration of his laugh makes me moan once more before he continues his decent.

With his legs taking his weight, he fists the side of my shorts and looks up at me, waiting for permission.

My muscles clench in anticipation and I lift my hips.

Pressing his lips against my bare stomach, he pulls the shorts down my legs. He stands at the end of the bed, taking my shorts over my feet. Throwing them to the floor, his hands grip the waist of his boxer briefs and shove them down.

I allow my eyes to travel over all of him and bite my lip. His lean swimmer's build towers over me.

He turns and walks to the dresser. Propping up on my elbows, I watch his muscles flex, making the images on his skin look like they're dancing. Even the flex of his ass is like a moving painting.

Jackson catches me staring and smiles, returning to the end of the bed with condoms in his hand. My eyes drop to his hard cock jutting out.

Yep, inked everywhere but there.

The dim light of the bedroom catches on his piercing as he slips the condom over his length. I can feel his eyes on me, but can't look away from his hands. I spread my legs, slide one hand down my body, and touch myself for him.

"Fuck, there you are, my little charmer," he growls.

Kneeling on the bed, his hands press against the inside of my thighs, opening me further for his viewing pleasure. He licks his bottom lip and I drop my head back.

"Spread yourself." His command brings my head up.

With my first and middle finger, I part my wet lips.

He inches forward, still on his knees, and lines up with my entrance.

"Put me inside you." His words are strained, struggling to keep composure.

Gripping him with my wet fingers, I guide him in slowly. The way he fills me, stretches me, and the rub of the piercing sends a direct pulse to my clit. I pull my hand back and he grabs my wrist, thrusting my fingers into his mouth and sucking to the same rhythm he thrusts his hips.

"Oh, God," I cry out, already feeling my body climb toward release.

Jackson releases my fingers and pushes my hand between us.

"Feel us, Liza," he commands, leaning forward.

Keeping his weight on one bent elbow, our joined hands feel his smooth hard shaft slide out and in, out and in, covered in my arousal.

His bowed body moves in rapid succession, pushing me closer to the edge of bliss.

Burying his head against my neck, he asks, "Can you feel me?"

"Yes," I pant, nodding.

"Do you feel how we fit?"

"Yes," I groan.

His words, the slick feel of his cock against my fingers, knowing the wetness is from my pussy, builds my impending release into a burning coil.

"Do you still question what we are?" he asks, accentuating his question by licking my collarbone.

For a moment, my desire wanes. Sex? Is he saying we're just fucking?

"Liza?" Concern fills his expression and he stills inside me. "Where'd you go?"

My eyes find his and I shake my head, looking away.

"Fuck," he growls, removing his hand from between us and grabbing my chin.

I smell the mixture of us on his fingers and struggle not to let tears form.

"No, baby. That's not what I meant." His hand slips over my cheek until his fingers dig into the hair behind my ear. He drops his head to my chest, pressing a kiss between my breasts.

Taking a deep breath, I will away my tears.

"It's fine." I try to look away, but he won't allow me. His face comes close and he presses his lips to mine for just a moment.

"I thought you felt it," he whispers against my mouth. "This connection."

He presses his lips to mine once more before lowering his head to my chest again.

"How we fit." A kiss is planted between my breasts. "That you understand the way you make me feel." His hips pull back, just a bit. "I guess I thought you might feel the same."

His sigh warms my skin.

"I didn't mean for you to think this is just fucking," he growls low, bringing his face back to mine. "If that's what I wanted, Liza, I could go anywhere."

The anger in his voice startles me, but the fear and insecurity residing in his eyes quells my fear.

He's…scared, so vulnerable. He's putting a piece of himself out there…for me. Taking my family into his home in an attempt to protect us from the media. This man is reaching for something, and I think it's me.

Cupping his face in my hands, I bring it to mine. Taking his mouth in a slow, but claiming kiss, I shift my hips. He pushes back into me, growing harder, and stokes the low burn back into flames with slow, possessing thrusts.

His body presses entirely onto mine, our kiss deepening. He pulls my hands from his face and stretches my arms over my head, lacing our fingers. The thrusts increase and I break the kiss to catch my breath.

"This is us, Liza. Entwined, feeling, fitting together," he moans against my cheek. "Do you feel me now?"

"Yes, Jackson." I lift my knees higher against his sides.

Hearing his name, he increases his pace. The sound of his hips slapping against the back of my thighs fill my ears. Orgasmic bliss rolls through me with a scorching vibration. His mouth covers mine, catching the guttural moan escaping my lips.

The drive of his hips comes harder, faster. My body jerks beneath his determination to possess.

Breaking away from his mouth, I turn my head and gasp for air. He pants against my cheek, the wetness of his lips dampening my skin. His fingers tighten on mine, pressing the back of my hands deeper into the mattress. I squeeze back.

Driving harder, his mouth opens around my jaw. The graze of his teeth and tongue against my skin causes my clit to throb in tribute to my recent orgasm.

"Jackson," I practically sing his name.

"That's it." He pumps once, twice, and locks his body against mine, grinding.

His mouth releases my jaw, kissing over my cheek until he reaches my mouth. Our bodies still locked together, he frees my hands and rolls, taking me with him.

Long, inked fingers trail over my back and cup my ass, grinding me down before slapping my ass cheek. Squealing, I pull away from the kiss and stare at him in surprise. He shrugs, grinning.

He grabs my hips, causing me to squeak again, and moves me onto the bed before he rolls off and walks to the bathroom. I watch the way his tattoos move with his fluid movements.

Breathing deep and exhaling, I lie on my stomach and grab my clothes from the floor, revealing the forgotten photos. I bunch my shorts and tank in one hand, collecting the photographs with my free hand.

The picture of Jackson and his mother is on top. Even in the dim light, I can make out the vulnerability on little Jackson's face. The same exposed look I saw on Jackson, the man, tonight.

The shift of the bed jostles me and I almost drop the pictures. He cages me under his body, his stomach muscles tensing against my ass. The long length of his arms settling on each side of me.

"You don't need these." His hand snakes over my shoulder.

I tense, thinking he's going to take the pictures out of my hand, but he grabs my clothes and flings them to the other side of the room. He settles against me, the warmth of his mouth pressing to my shoulder. A shiver runs down my spine and I feel him smile.

Slipping the top photo to the back of the pile, I study the two boys. One is clearly Jackson. A guitar strapped on him, he's grinning and giving devil horns. The other boy sits behind a piano, hunched and scowling.

"He looks so sad," I whisper.

"Christopher was never really in a right place until he found Mia." His response is nonchalant as he tugs on the hair that had fallen loose. "Can you pull your hair back up?"

"Huh?" I heard what he said, but the request confuses me.

"Your hair. Can you pull it back up?" he requests.

"Oh. Yeah."

I set the pictures on the floor and bend my head over the edge of the bed. Pulling out the hair tie, I collect my hair, twist, and secure the sloppy bun.

"Much better." He kisses the back of my neck.

Picking the photos up once more, I flip to the next photo.

"That's the day we signed with Nobil," Jackson says, describing the image of The Forgotten and two older men standing in front of a wall of gold and platinum records.

"Your hair's really grown out," I say after seeing the super cropped bleached style he typically wears.

"Yeah," he responds against my shoulder. "I've been thinking of letting the bleached part grow out."

"Is your hair naturally brown?" I flip through more pictures, finding mostly his mother.

"Same as Mom’s."

His warmth and weight disappears. I twist, curious to see what he's doing.

"Come here." He lies back on the pillows, putting his hand out to me.

Keeping the pictures in my hand, I push up and go to him.

When I'm in reach, he pulls me into his side. Settling me in the crook of his arm, he takes the pictures out of my hand and spends the next twenty minutes narrating the small parts and moments of his life in a slideshow.

Jackson

Even at this ungodly hour, when the sun hasn't fully risen, the warmth of her back against my chest and the softness of her ass pressed into me is something I want to feel every morning. I'm fucking spooning and it feels like goddamn home. I tighten my arm and pull us closer. She mumbles something I can't make out, but doesn't wake.

Nuzzling her neck, I inhale. Smelling me on her skin is the hottest fucking perfume this woman could ever wear. And underneath that lies the rawest essence of her—a fragrance impossible to describe. If warmth, soft, and heaven have a smell, she's every one of them. And it's mixed with me. All. Fucking. Over. Her.

My dick hardens, every growing inch gliding along the smooth skin at the back of her thigh. Reflexively, my hips press forward, my balls tightening.

Sliding my hand over her stomach and between her thighs, I slip one finger through her lips. One swirl around her clit and she moan softly. Second swirl, her ass pushes back into me. My cock jumps, smacking against her leg.

I slip one finger inside, finding her so wet and ready, even in sleep. My name falls from her lips in a part growl, part sigh.

I pull my finger out and grip the inside of her thigh, my slick fingers sliding on her skin. Lifting her leg onto mine, my fingers dig into her flesh. I position and plunge deep.

Her body arches, giving me ease of access. Releasing her leg, I palm my way over her hip, stomach, until I can cup her breast.

"Oh, God," she moans, placing her hand over mine.

Bending my knee a bit more pushes her legs open wider. I can get deeper, go harder.

"Fuck, Jackson," she whimpers, meeting my thrusts. "Harder. Fuck me harder," she demands.

And I lose my fucking shit.

Tightening my hold on her tit, my pelvis slams against her ass. My balls tighten and tingle. My dick throbs in anticipation of the release, a burn at the base of my spine growing, wanting to break free and consume my body in flames.

Liza's hand leaves mine, sliding down until she touches between her legs. Lifting my head from her neck, I watch her circle and rub her clit.

"Come on, baby. Get yourself there," I groan, watching her fingers increase in speed.

The sight is too much. I look away, burying my face in her neck once more, hoping I can hold off from coming too soon.

Shifting my hips, I thrust and grind.

"Yes," she calls, her fingertips brushing against my cock. "Yes, I—” The cry of her release cuts her off.

Moving my hand from her breast, I push her legs closed and pump fast and hard to release.

"Fuck," I growl against her neck, grazing my teeth over the skin where it meets her shoulder.

Breathing heavily, I wrap her in my arms and hold tight.

Liza squirms, pulling on my too-tight grip.

"Sorry," I whisper, easing my hold.

She doesn't say a word, just lays her arm over mine. Entwining our fingers, we hold hands against her chest as she falls back to sleep. The beat of her heart is a bassline etched in my soul.

Giving her a light squeeze, I take a deep breath. Exhaling, I've never felt so right. Where I should be fucking scared of letting this woman in, it feels like nothing I've experienced. Not with anyone. Fucking Chris is right. This is my one, my Mia.

Entering the kitchen on a mission for coffee, I stop and take in the set up at the kitchen bar. Sid sits with her back to me, headphones covering her ears. Two large screens in front of her, along with a mini laptop, two cell phones, a keyboard, three black boxes, and a slew of wires. Random numbers and images flash across one screen while another shows what looks like audio software.

Shuffling into the kitchen, I go straight for the dark, delicious ambrosia. Lifting the sleek pot to my nose, I inhale and drop my head back in a silent prayer to the coffee gods.

"You're welcome." Sid's voice startles me. Not because I forgot she was there, just because I didn't expect her to speak.

I turn around, coffee still in hand, and she looks me over, unabashedly. I suddenly feel like I should've thrown on a shirt with the black basketball shorts.

The headphones now around her neck, she takes her hands from the keyboard and crosses them over her chest. When her eyes make it back up to my face, she raises her brow.

"What exactly should I be thanking you for?" I ask, reaching toward the counter on my left and picking up a mug.

She uncrosses her arms and removes the headphones completely.

"If I hadn't stayed on the couch till the wee hours of the morning, my cousin wouldn't be naked and in your bed right now." Elbows to the table, she puts her chin in one hand. "She is naked, right? Please tell me she's naked and preferably covered in love bites with aches in all the right places."

Unsure how to respond to that, I busy myself by returning the coffee pot back inside the machine. Since I take my coffee black, I’m out of further distractions.

"Do your tattoos cover your entire body?"

Her question brings me back to face her.

"Yes." I step around the kitchen island and stand on the other side of the bar. "And thank you." Sipping the coffee, I close my eyes, reveling the flavor.

"You should be thankful, 'cause my neglected lady parts aren't seeing any action in this deal." She clears her throat and continues. "I have two questions," she states, continuing before I can object. "Did she come to you or you to her?"

For a moment, I'm not sure this is information I should share. The look on Sid's face tells me there is no damn way she will be ignored. Setting the mug on the counter, I lean onto my hands and level my eyes on the interrogating brunette.

"We sort of met on the balcony." I study her face upon my response.

She sighs, rolling her eyes. Then, in an exaggerated move, she throws herself back on the stool.

"You went to her," she groans.

"I didn't say—"

"Look," she cuts me off, "I know my cousin, probably better than anyone else."

"And?" I press.

Hell, the more I learn about Liza, the fucking better. Maybe this is a sneaky way to get the information, but I'll be damned if she'll be walking out my fucking door. At least…not without her hand in mine.

"And the woman you know isn't the girl I grew up with." She shrugs.

Grasping my mug in one hand, I raise my brow in question and take another sip.

"The girl I grew up with was carefree and crazy." Sid grins, her eyes getting a far off look. Shaking her head, she continues. "You don't get pregnant at fifteen without a bit of a rebellious streak."

Slipping from the stool, she rounds the breakfast bar and goes to the coffee maker. She pours herself a mug and adds sugar and milk before returning to her seat.

"And the woman in my bed?" I coax her to go on.

Eyeing me thoroughly, she blows over her mug, sips, and sets it down in front of her. Elbows on the counter again, she narrows her eyes.

"The woman in there plans just about every second of her life. Having Lucas and coming out here, her dream was stripped away. At least, that's what she believes." She takes another drink.

"You want the rebellious girl back?" I question, uncertain where she's going.

She shakes her head. "No, Jackson. I want Liza. That's not her." She thumbs over her shoulder.

"I'm not saying I don't understand, but if she's happy with how things are why—"

Sid snorts. "She's not happy. Liza is merely surviving."

She leans her body further forward, and instinctually, I lean in, too.

"Haven't you seen the difference when she performs? I mean, with the way you watch her, you have to have seen it."

I straighten. She's absolutely fucking right. Liza comes alive under a spotlight, in front of a crowd. What I saw on stage yesterday evening…that was Liza, my fucking snake charmer.

"I see you get it." She grins over her mug. "I think you help bring it out in her."

She tilts her head.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah." She nods. "But if you fucking hurt her again, don't think for one second I won't ruin you. You heard some of my past last night. I've never been arrested or caught, so don't press your luck." The gleam in her eye and the wicked sneer on her face surprises me, but it's the 'hurt her again' part that feels like a knife in my chest.

This girl is fucking scary.

"Warning received."

Her face goes neutral and she takes a deep breath. After exhaling, she nods, settling back on the stool, completely relaxed.

Really goddamn scary.

"Alright, now that we got that straight, question number two."

"Shoot." I half-grin, putting my mug to my lips and take a larger drink now that it's cooled.

"Do you have ink in your pen, Jackson?" Her eyes drop to my waist.

The coffee goes down the wrong pipe and I spit what remains onto the counter.

I gasp for air, coughing so hard my chest aches. Sid sits, smiling and sipping at her coffee.

"I'll take that as a solid yes." She sets her mug onto the counter, picks up the headphones, and puts them back over her ears.

I stumble to the sink, spitting and coughing. Looking back once in her direction, she's completely engrossed in her screens.

A heavy hand slaps my back.

"You okay, man?" Kel asks from behind me.

"I," cough, "think so." My eyes stay on Sid.

Kel takes stock of my face and then looks at Sid.

"Ah," he says, nodding and smiling, "I see. Sid threaten you?"

I shift my eyes to him, keeping my mouth shut. Maybe I shouldn't discuss anything with her family at all.

"By the look on your face, she totally did." Kel pulls open the fridge door and bends down, pulling out a white jug. "She's totally serious, too."

It's not a threat, not from Kel. He's just confirming what I already know.

"But she means well," he adds, patting my shoulder.

"She's fucking scary," I whisper. Keeping my eyes on her, I make sure she doesn't read my lips or some crazy shit like that.

Kel shrugs, snagging an apple from a bowl on the kitchen island.

"Yeah, but it's cool as hell to hear about the stuff she can do with a computer." He grins, leaning against the island and taking a bite of the red fruit. Around his mouthful, he continues, "Like, right now, she's working on that Kristy girl. I wouldn't want to be her. She messed with the wrong person."

"Liza?" I ask, though I already know the answer.

"They're more like sisters than cousins."

I nod, understanding.

"Is there only fruit to eat?" Luke's sleepy voice pulls my attention from Sid.

"Hey, Luke. I'm not sure." Turning, I open the kitchen cabinets, finding them completely stocked. Score! "Who want's pancakes?" I pull out a box of mix and grin.

Chapter Twenty

Eliza

I roll to my back, stretching my limbs. Pleasant aches throb in different locations of my body. Propping up on my elbows, I look around the sunlit room.

The bedding is all over the floor, except for the sheet tangled around me. The balcony door is wide open, but I can still smell sex lingering in the room. Dropping back, I cover my eyes with my palms.

What the hell am I doing?

I kick the sheet off my body and stand. Feeling a damn stickiness between my legs, my fingers instinctively reach down. Bringing my hand up, I sigh.

Damn it. Did the condom break?

Then, last night's round two flashes into mind.

Shit. No condom. Well, that's just fucking great.

Wrapping the sheet around my body, I walk to the balcony door, silently calculating when I had my last period.

A week and a half, give or take.

Entering my temporary room, I see the bed has been slept in and groan internally.

I'm going to be interrogated.

A long time ago, I learned it's best to just tell her everything and get it over with. Because eventually, you would tell her—she'd make sure of it. Like back in eighth grade, when I wouldn't spill who gave me a 'secret' love note. Sid spent our lunch period walking to each guy, pointing down at them and screaming across the cafeteria if he was the guy. If I didn't love her so much and know everything she did was never in malice, I may be serving a life sentence right now for murder.

Dropping the sheet, I grab denim capris, two layering tank tops, and underclothes on my way to the bathroom.

After washing away the evidence of last night, I dry off and dress. I comb my hair and dig in my cosmetic bag for my anti-frizz serum. Untangled and scrunched, the waves start to form. I pull a hair tie off the end of my brush and slip it around my wrist. Examining my face in the mirror, I grab my face lotion, which also helps fight acne—the stage makeup is starting to do a number on my skin. I mentally make a note to arrange an appointment with the dermatologist and a spa.

I walk down the hall with bare feet, my steps silent, though the noise from the kitchen would've masked any noise I could've made. Rounding a corner, I freeze next to the dining room table.

Sid sits in an electronics haven, Kel's taking cups out of a cabinet, and Jackson stands at the stove, shirtless, flipping a pancake. Lucas and Sean stand on either side of him, fists full of something I can't make out.

"Okay, drop them in," Jackson instructs.

The boys bring a fist over the pan and drop chocolate chips. Jackson flips the pancakes.

"Grab the plate," he orders. The boys rush to get a platter of stacked pancakes and he moves the now-done food onto the plate with the others.

"Morning, sis," Kel calls out, bringing cups to the dining room table. "Breakfast is almost done." His head nods toward the stove.

Looking back at Jackson, his eyes meet mine. A smile spreads across his face.

"Morning, babe." He licks something off his thumb, causing my pulse to race.

"Good morning," I say, my words just above a whisper.

The kitchen scene shakes me. I don't hate it—not at all. I like it too much. Nerves assault my stomach.

"Mom," Lucas comes toward me, a dish of butter in his hand, "Jack's making pancakes." He slips the plate onto the table next to me and wraps his arms around my waist.

I place my hands on his head and snuggle close to him.

"He let us help." Sean carries a bottle of syrup and forks, a super large grin on his face.

"Well…" I swallow the emotion, "that's awesome."

Lucas pulls back, smiling up at me.

"Sit down. I'll get you a plate."

We release each other and I sit, watching my son. I'm not sure if it’s confidence or just excitement, but there's something new about him. When he goes to get plates, he grins wide and adoringly at Jackson, who winks at him.

My stomach flips, worry tampering any appetite I had. I shouldn't have come here. He can't get used to this…this life. This isn't our life. It's a temporary illusion to what some people have—not us. Jackson may like having sex with me and enjoy my family, but I don't think he's looking to stick around with a mother of two, and Kel makes three.

"Get out of your head," Sid says, pulling me back to the present.

"I'm not awake yet." I shake my head, looking at the plate Lucas puts in front of me.

"Yeah, okay." She sits in the chair across the table from me. "So, how was your night? Was the bed comfortable?" She smirks.

My eyes widen.

"It was fine," I say through clenched teeth.

"Only fine?" Jackson pulls out the chair next to me. "Well, looks like I'll have to fix that, won't I?"

Grinning, he pulls in close to the table.

"That's not—”

Before I can finish, he grips under my chair and pulls. Our thighs practically share a seat. My head snaps to Lucas. He's forking three pancakes onto the plate in front of him. The grin he wears overjoys me. He's so happy.

I lean into Jackson, and whisper, "Thank you."

Straightening, I grab my glass and the jug of orange juice in reach.

"For?" Jackson leans close to my side, his hand coming to my thigh.

I swallow down the not-appropriate-for-breakfast feelings he inspires and pour a half-glass before looking at him.

"He looks so happy," I answer, keeping my eyes on Lucas.

"They're both good kids." His hand leaves my thigh and he turns his attention to the table. "Let's eat."

Yeah, he's happy now, but when this all ends, it will crush him.

Stomach full of chocolate chip pancakes, the boys lounge on the couch watching some annoying cartoon. Kel loads the last plate in the stainless steel dishwasher before excusing himself for a shower. Sid sits at her geek station, eyes shifting and fingers dancing across her keyboard.

Wanting to check in with my caseworker regarding Sean's case, I lean against the kitchen island, my cell to my ear. I leave a message and exhale heavily. Setting my phone on the counter, I pick up the coffee Jackson poured before going to shower. Knowing I need to have a talk with him about last night and this morning, I rub my forehead, not looking forward to the conversation.

"This bitch is cray cray." Sid's outburst draws me away from thinking about the lack of condom use and my son's attachment to Jackson.

"What?" I walk around the island and stand across from Sid. I put my hand up about six inches from the back of the monitors. "These things are putting out some heat."

"Yeah, they've been running since five this morning." She shrugs and taps the keys before pointing to the screen. "She must have no idea how to clear her phone."

Sid snorts, shaking her head.

"Her phone?" I choke on the question. "You stole her phone?" My voice raises, drawing Lucas and Sean's attention.

"Nooooo." Sid puts on her innocent face.

"So, you don't have her phone?" I cross my arms over my chest, raising one brow accusingly.

"I didn't say that." She grins. "I said I didn't steal it," she clarifies.

"Then how—?"

"Did you know Kat has really fast hands?"

"Kat?"

"Hushed Mentality Kat." Sid gives me a duh look.

"She stole the phone?" I ask in a breath.

Sid stops typing and turns, meeting my eyes.

"Kristy left her phone on a table at a club last night and Kat happened to find it for her." She smiles sweet and guilty. "Una's going to let her know it was found."

I open my mouth, but Sid continues.

"Once, I finish…" she teeters her head back and forth, "checking to make sure it wasn’t damaged."

Keeping a straight face, she looks back to her screens.

Bringing my elbows down on the counter, I bury my face.

"Oh my God,” I groan. "You're going to jail and I don't have bail money."

"Who's going to jail?" Jackson enters the room in full freshly-showered swagger.

"Me." Sid raises her hand.

"The FBI?" he asks, rounding the kitchen bar.

Coming up behind me, he places his hands on the counter, caging me against it.

"I don't think she has that kind of influence." Sid doesn't look up from the screen when she answers. "But, she definitely has an active social life." She turns her head toward us. "In her vagina."

"Sounds about right," Jackson mumbles into the side of my head.

I stiffen. Great, I've slept with a guy who fucked a whore—repeatedly.

I open my mouth to tell him we need to talk, but Sid goes on about Kristy.

"She has a video on here of you," she says, her focus over my shoulder on Jackson.

"The stuff that leaked?" He moves closer to me.

"Uh, no." Sid looks like she expects some sort of explanation.

"That's the past," Jackson states with a touch of menace in his voice.

His arms come around me and squeeze.

"It better be." She uses her first and middle finger, pointing to her eyes, and then to him.

"Anyhow, she may not have anything to prove she's the source of the leak, but she's got shit on here that wouldn't exactly keep her sweet girl model facade. She also has stuff on a few other people who would be less than thrilled to know it’s right at her fingertips." Sid turns a broad grin on us.

It's her huntress look—her prey is in sight and she's ready to pounce. As much as I dislike this woman, hate the fact that she unleashed chaos on my son without a second thought, that look in Sid's eye makes me fear for her. Just for a moment.

"Like what?" Jackson releases me, moving around the bar for a better view of the screens.

"Like this." Sid clicks a couple keys and a slideshow of pictures begin.

Kristy partying with different celebrities isn't a big deal, but the married ones snorting a line off her bare breast is another thing. Then there are the selfies with known drug dealers.

"And this," Sid says as the photos conclude. Another tap on the keyboard and a video pops up.

"Is that..?" I gasp, watching one of Hollywood's most sought after leading men making out in a dark corner with another man. "I didn't know he's gay."

"I'm pretty sure he doesn't want anyone to know." Jackson’s voice is flat, his expression stoic. "That bitch would out him the minute she found a way for it to benefit her."

"Then, there's this." Sid clicks and brings up another video.

This time, it's Kristy having sex with three men. One heavily tattooed body catches my attention and nausea threatens until the guy’s face comes into focus. Not Jackson.

"Who the fuck is videoing?" Jackson leans closer to the screen, disgust on his face.

"Wait for it." Sid sits back, crossing her arms over her chest.

Kristy releases a dick from her mouth, smiles at the camera, and reaches out her hand. The image shakes for a minute until someone places the phone on a stable surface.

A bare ass fills the screen, the person walking toward the bed. When the woman drops to the bed, Jackson stiffens.

"Shut the fuck up." He twists his neck to look at Sid. "Is that—?"

"Yep. It's Felicia Ferrah, the notorious Hollywood Madame." Sid smiles. "Oh, it gets better." She half talks, half laughs.

Felicia joins the group and I look away, unable to watch any longer.

"Can we fast forward?" Jackson asks.

"What? Why?" Sid loves her porn.

I sigh loudly.

"Okay," she grumbles, tapping a key. "Here it is."

The video resumes at normal speed just in time to see Kristy passed out on the bed and a now-dressed man hand a stack of cash over to Felicia.

"Did he just pay her?" I ask on a gasp. "Kristy sold herself to—”

Sid's head is already shaking. "This video was sent to her from another IP address. I don't think she knew the deal was going down and fifty bucks says I trace that IP address to Felicia." She shrugs. "But now we have it and can do with it what we will."

"Send it to the media vultures. Post it online," Jackson growls.

"Wait!" I protest.

Both of their heads turn to me.

"I know she's done some bad shit, but come on."

Sid gives me an are-you-fucking-crazy look. Jackson's eyes narrow.

"Fuck her," he snaps.

My eyes shift to Lucas and Sean. They are still staring at the TV, so I don't think they heard everything. Jackson follows my gaze.

"Sorry," he says softly. "She deserves whatever happens to her."

"Yeah, she deserves karma kicking her in the butt." I nod, agreeing. "I don't think we need to post something like this. She was being used."

"She used me." He points to his chest. "Then she used you to get to me." His finger turns to me.

"This makes us just like her." I wrap my arms around my middle and squeeze. "I'm not like her."

"Damn it," Sid grumbles. "No, you aren't like her. Why do you have to make sense?" She gives me a half-smile.

"Then walk away, 'cause I'm doing it." Jackson's voice is hard, ruthless.

"Fine." A cold edge seeps into my one word response.

Turning on my heels, I start to walk away, pausing only to say one last thing. "You aren't the man I thought you were."

In my temporary bedroom, I find my bag and start packing things I need.

"What are you doing?" His voice startles me.

I spin, grabbing my chest.

"You scared me."

"What's this?" He steps into the room, his presence filling the space.

"I'm packing stuff I need." Turning back to my task, I place my makeup kit inside.

"You aren't leaving." His hand fists the bag at the open zipper.

"What's wrong with you?" I tug on the bag.

"So, you're just going to walk out because we don't agree on something?" He yanks the bag away, causing my body to jolt.

Surprised by his action, I right myself and take a step away.

"I guess you aren't the woman I thought you were," he snaps, tossing the bag to the center of the bed.

My shock contorts into burning anger.

"You're such an ass," I state through clenched teeth.

"Who's the one running?" He steps closer. "What's wrong? This," he motions between us, "doesn't fit in your careful plans and schedule?"

The barb cuts deep, causing a lump to form in my throat.

"I don't know why I thought you would be different than the rest."

Tears fill my eyes.

"You want to pack your shit? Go ahead." Curling his lip, he turns and sits roughly on the bed.

Then, it all clicks.

He thinks I'm packing everything. That I'm leaving him.

"Jackson?" I say, my voice softer.

"What?" he snaps.

I take a deep breath and close the distance between us, putting my hand on his face. He pulls away from my touch and I drop my hand, clenching it at my side instead.

"It's my work bag. The bag I take to the club."

His head jerks up, confusion and guilt lining his face.

"For the club?" His brow furrows.

"I take it with me to carry my make-up, clothes, and some of my personal costumes."

"Fuck," he sighs.

Snaking his long arm around my waist, he pulls me to him, his face pressing into my stomach. Lifting his face, he looks up at me.

"I'm so sorry, Liza." Worry creases his eyes. "I keep fucking up and overreacting." He presses his forehead against me.

"Maybe we should just end this now before someone gets hurt," I whisper, the words making my chest ache.

His arms tighten around me and he shakes his head.

"You didn't feel me last night," he says, laughing humorlessly.

Setting me away from him, he stands from the bed.

I raise my head, meeting his eyes.

"Last night…I felt you, but we can't stay naked in bed all the time." Fighting the urge to reach out and touch him, I clench my fists at my sides.

"That's what you think I mean?" He steps forward, causing me to take steps back. "You think I mean physically feel me?" He shakes his head, laughing without humor again.

Grabbing my hand, he puts it to his chest.

"Do you feel that?" His eyes are as intense as his question.

"Yes," I whisper.

"This," he pats my hand on his chest, over his heart, "this is for you."

He moves us until my back is against the wall.

"You own it."

I shake my head.

"Yes, you do, Liza."

"No. You hardly know me. Aside from sex," I add before he can make some smooth remark.

He smiles.

"You just blew up, thinking I was leaving. That doesn't scream healthy," I add.

His smile fades and he nods.

"I'm sorry." He releases my hand, but I leave it on his chest. "I came back here to say you were right and I wasn't going to send out that video. But I saw you packing things and I thought, after last night, you were just walking away from me."

"This is so much more complicated than walking away from last night."

His eyes search mine.

"It doesn't have to be." There's a plea in his voice that tugs at me.

"Lucas is getting attached to you." My chin wobbles and nose tingles.

"Good." His hand cups my face. "'Cause I like that kid."

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and lay it all out there.

"Jackson, it'll crush him when you leave."

"When I leave? When?" His thumb caresses my cheek. "Why does it have to be when?"

Everything rises to the surface in a hysterical girl moment.

"Because I'm a single mother of basically three boys, I take my clothes off for a living, and live my life with government assistance. You don't have any idea what you're getting, and when you do, you won't stick around."

Opening my eyes, a tear escapes, rolling over my cheek.

He blinks once, twice, and then laughs.

"It's not funny." I sniff.

"Oh, Charmer, it's fucking hilarious." He presses his body flush against mine, tilting my head up to him. "First, I'm not an idiot. I know with you comes three boys and a scary ass cousin who's like a sister to you. But newsflash, Liza, Kel's a man. And Luke and Sean are the coolest little dudes I've ever met. Second, I know what you do for a living and it's equally hot, mesmerizing, and amazing. So just get that shit out of your head right now. I met you in that club and sure as fuck don't deserve you if I demanded you quit. Baby, I don't give any fucks about the role you play on stage. Want to know why?"

His words put too much hope inside me. I swallow the emotions clogging my throat, but my nerves win out. I shake my head.

"No, I don't want to know."

He grins.

"Yes, you do." His mouth presses to my forehead before saying, "It's because your mine and your ass will be in my bed after the show. In fact, your ass will be mine in your dressing room, backseat of a car, elevators, hotel rooms, and any damn where else I can get in you."

"Oh," I squeak.

"Yeah, 'oh'."

His mouth slants over mine, pressing me into the wall. Breaking the kiss, I push at his chest until he straightens.

"We need to talk about last night," I say between pants of breath.

"What about it?" His free hand comes up and cups the other side of my face.

"You didn't use a condom," I announce, my words a broken whisper.

His brow furrows just before his eyes widen.

"Shit. I'm sorry." His hands drop and he backs away. "I swear, I didn't do that shit on purpose."

Closing my eyes, I gather my courage, and say, "You've slept with Kristy."

"We used condoms. She was paranoid about pregnancy," he explains, rubbing the back of his neck.

"And the…the others?" I choke on the question.

"Condoms." The guilt and embarrassment are noticeable in his answer. "But I'll get tested. Anything you want."

I nod and drop the next bomb.

"I'm not on birth control," I rush out, my eyes still closed. "It was only once, so I doubt that it…that I could be pregnant, but you should know."

His hands grab the sides of my face again.

"Look at me. Please. Look. At. Me," he begs.

Slowly, I open my eyes.

The second his eyes find mine, he says, "I'm an asshole and didn't think. I'm sorry."

I nod, unable to speak without spilling tears of emotional exhaustion.

"Liza, honestly, I didn't do it on purpose."

Gripping his wrists, I nod. "S'okay."

"No, it's not." He presses his forehead to mine. "I'm always apologizing to you."

"Well, you fuck up a lot," I say, trying for humor.

It works. He plants his hands on the wall beside my head and starts chuckling, which grows into a full belly laugh. A smile breaks across my face and I start laughing, too.

After both of us calm and catch our breath, we stare at one another for a long moment. Jackson breaks the silence.

"You know I'm okay if you're pregnant, right?" His eyes don't leave mine.

The doorbell chimes through the penthouse.

This place has a doorbell?

I open my mouth to respond, but he continues. "I do have one condition."

"Condition?"

"You'll have to marry me." He shrugs.

"What?" I choke out.

"Hey, Jackson?" Sid's voice carries down the hall. "There are some people here for you."

Ignoring Sid's announcement, he continues.

"My mom didn't raise me to have a baby momma." He grins. "I'm afraid you're going to have to marry me or my death is on your conscience."

I shake my head. "You're joking."

"Guess we'll find out."

He places a quick kiss on my mouth before turning and walking out of the room.

"No, we won't!" I shout.

Bag finally packed, I carry it down the hall. Multiple voices grow louder the closer I come to the living space.

Dropping my things to the floor near the door, I continue forward and take in a room full of people. Both The Forgotten and Hushed Mentality fill the open space.

Christopher Mason sits on the couch with Mia Ryder in his lap and my son sits in a beanbag in front of them, gazing adoringly at her.

Oh, dear Lord. Could he be more obvious?

On the far end of the sofa, Jimmy Thompson sits on the edge, elbows on his knees. A very pregnant Serena lounges on the other side of Chris. She has at least three throw pillows around her and still looks uncomfortable. And then, to my surprise, Laney Trimball, Jackson's ex, sits on Serena's left.

Looking toward the kitchen, Kat Conway sits on a stool next to Sid and Kel, viewing the screens. I can only hope Sid isn't showing the homemade cell porn to my brother. And Jackson stands in the kitchen with a heavily muscled Elliott Brockman.

Elliott notices me first.

"There she is!"

I take a small step back as Elliott stalks toward me.

Christ, he's way bigger in person. Especially when he's charging toward you.

His large, muscled arm comes around my shoulders, guiding me to the couch.

"Girl, you shut that fucking show down!" he howls.

"What?" I laugh, his enthusiasm contagious.

"The website and voting lines blew up." Making an explosion sound, he raises his fist and flips his fingers out like his hand just blew up.

"Fat lot of good that does me." I continue to laugh.

"Doesn't matter." He shakes his head, stopping us in the middle of the room. "It was goddamn epic," he says with reverence, hugging me.

I stiffen.

"Quit molesting her." Jackson pulls him off.

"Christ," Elliott rolls his eyes, walking toward the sofa and pushing his large body between Serena and Laney.

"Hey," Laney squeals, scooting away before he smashes her into the couch.

He ignores her and puts an arm around Serena.

"He's going to be as bad as emo boy," Elliot finishes, pointing to Chris with his other hand.

"Shut the hell up," Chris retorts.

Mia smacks his leg, nodding toward Lucas and Sean.

Jackson wraps his arms around my waist.

I stiffen again, forcing myself not to look at Laney's reaction.

"Ignore the ape," he says before pressing his lips to my temple.

Guiding us to an open spot on the couch, I can't help but glance at Laney.

A smile adorns her delicate face, and I swear she seems jubilant. She catches my gaze and her smile grows larger, her eyes softer. She’s pleased for Jackson.

I return the smile and allow Jackson to settle us onto the sofa. He situates me against his side, spreading his arms out over the back.

"So, what are we doing tonight?" Elliott asks, looking at the group around the room.

"We could go to dinner?" Laney's suggestion sounds more like a question.

"Food is always good. Huh, baby?" Elliott leans into Serena and rubs her belly.

"It better not be some Sushi place." Serena narrows her eyes on Laney.

"I didn't even say a place," Laney defends.

"I've got a meeting this afternoon and then I'm going to Lux."

Twisting my neck, I look up at Jackson.

"You're coming to the club tonight?"

His arm slips off the back of the couch and around me.

"Of course." His brow furrows. "Why wouldn't I?"

Shrugging, I answer, "I just didn't know you were coming."

"I want to do that!" Elliott points at Jackson. "Can we go, too?" He turns pleading eyes on his wife.

"Do you need permission from your mommy?" Jimmy teases, sticking his bottom lip out.

Elliott grins wide at Jimmy. "Hey, if she'll breastfeed me, I'll call her mommy."

"You're sick," Jimmy laughs.

Serena drops her head back on the cushion and groans.

"Sick?" Elliott snorts. "Have you seen the size of these bad boys?"

His hand almost makes it to her breast, but Serena's head snaps up and she snatches his wrist.

"I will cut off your favorite body part before you can reach my boob," she threatens.

My boys burst into laughter, throwing themselves back on the bean bags. I bite my lip, trying not to giggle. Jackson's chest vibrates with his silent laugh.

"You never let me touch them anymore." Elliott sits back, crossing his arms over his chest, pouting.

Everyone trying not to lose it, erupts into full fits of hilarity.

"How are you?" Bethany asks, grabbing me into a hug before I can even set my bag on the floor.

"I'm okay." I return the embrace with one arm. "It wasn't easy getting in here tonight."

She pulls away, but keeps her hands on my biceps.

"Yeah, they've been waiting all day for you to show up." She rolls her eyes. "They stopped just about everyone who came in through the front doors. Red won't send them away since it’s free publicity." She gives an apologetic shrug.

"It's fine, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed for someone else to draw their scandal-obsessed attention. There has to be some affair going public soon, right?" I give her a hopeful glance.

She doesn't say anything else about the cameras or gossip writers blocking the entrance to Lux. Instead, she looks down my body and back up to my face.

"You look good." She nods her approval. "Jackson does a body good, I guess." Her brows wiggle over her eyes.

"Shut up," I laugh. She grins, releasing my arms.

I drop my bag to the floor and sit down to take out my things. Once my make-up, hair things, and paper towels are set up, I push out of my chair to peruse the costume rack.

"What costumes are needed tonight?"

"You don't honestly think you're working the kick-line," Red's voice startles me, "do you?" Walking straight to Bethany, he plants a quick kiss on the top of her head to avoid messing up her make-up.

"I don't know the set." I furrow my brow. "I'm sure I can improvise in the background."

Red shakes his head, settling into the worn couch like it's a throne.

"No fucking way, Liza. The crowd is going to be clamoring—and they’re clamoring for you." He points a thick finger at me.

I rub my forehead, suddenly not so sure I want to face the masses tonight.

"Don't even try it," Red's order brings my attention back to him. "You aren't a quitter. I saw what you did on that show."

"I'm no longer on the show," I say with a sigh. "And, to be honest, I was walking away regardless."

Red just shrugs.

"Doesn't matter. You went out there and showed them all what I've caught a glimpse of every time I watch you perform." Pushing up from the loveseat, he closes the distance, leaving two feet between us. "You've been Miz Liz and now you've performed as Eliza Campbell."

He clasps my shoulder with one large hand.

"Now, it's time to show them Liza." Red drops his hand away. "Girl, you have so much awesome inside you. It's the reason you're my damn headliner."

Taking a deep breath, I will away the tears threatening to drown my eyes and straighten my spine.

"What's the set?"

A smile breaks the seriousness lining his face.

"That's my girl." Red nudges my arm with his fist.

Bethany squeals, clapping in her seat.

I spend the next hour letting Bethany and Nikki do my hair and make-up while I read lyrics and listen to recordings through headphones.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jackson

"You sure you don't want to join us?" I ask Dr. J one more time.

He nods, grinning. "Perhaps another time."

"Your loss." My cheeks ache from smiling.

"It's good to see you again," Dr. J says, turning serious.

"You just saw me a couple weeks ago." I furrow my brow.

He shakes his head.

"No, that wasn't you." He lifts his chin toward me. "This is you."

I rub the back of my head, feeling heat crawl up my neck.

"Don't fall for his sappy bullshit." Chris barges into the room.

"Sure, Christopher, come right in," Dr. J deadpans.

"I know I'm still your favorite." Chris settles into the chair where I sat talking with Dr. J moments before. Putting his hands behind his head, he forces a large, sarcastic smile. "Quit trying to make me jealous through Jack."

"And why would I want to make you jealous?" Dr. J inquires.

Oh, here we fucking go.

Chris scoffs, dropping his arms. "Why wouldn't you want to? Obviously you feel like you aren't getting the attention you deserve from me." Sitting up straight, he tilts his head, his expression turning serious. "Do you have abandonment issues, Dr. J?"

Groaning, I turn for the door.

"I'll wait out here."

"This won't take long," Chris assures. "Dr. J just needs to get a couple things off his chest and then I can get back to my regularly scheduled program."

"God, help me," Dr. J sighs. "Why do I put myself through this?"

"Because you want me," is the last thing I hear before closing the sitting room door of the hotel suit Doc is utilizing today.

While I wait for Chris, I go through emails and messages on my phone. Julia sent an updated schedule for Hidden Talent. Curling my lip, I almost wish they would've removed me from the show. Reminding myself it's good for the band, I save the updates to my calendar and confirm with Julia.

Thirty minutes later, my emails aren't even halfway resolved. For a moment, I consider making Julia take care of them, then my mind drifts to Liza's dominating alpha female behavior with the girl.

Fuck. It was so hot.

The door opens and Chris exits, a scowl marring his face.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" I stand, slipping my phone into my pocket.

"Nothing," he growls, stomping out of the hotel suite.

"Well, alright then," I say to the empty room, following after the moody fucker.

On the elevator, Chris stays silent.

"Either drop the attitude or tell me what the hell is going on," I say impatiently.

"The doc doesn't approve of my wedding planning," he grumbles like a little kid.

Jesus, how does Mia put up with his ass?

"I didn't know you guys started planning," I say, keeping my tone light, hoping to improve the atmosphere.

The elevator pings its arrival and the doors slide open to the parking garage. A sleek black car waits.

"We didn't." He steps off the elevator and walks toward the car.

A driver slips out, coming around and opening the door.

"Wait, you just said—”

"Mia wants to wait. Said too much is going on and we need to let things settle down." He waves off the statement and slips into the car.

Crawling in behind him, I press for more information.

"And?"

He gives me an incredulous look.

"And, that's bullshit! Our daughter needs her parents married," he barks. "So, I put a deposit down on a private island."

"Without talking to Mia about it?" I really, really try to give him my best are-you-fucking-insane look.

"She loves the beach." He throws his arms up. "I'll tell her about it and then we can just get this shit moving along as it should." He crosses his arms over his chest.

"Did you pick the date without her, too?"

"Of course not," he scoffs. "She can pick a date within the week I've reserved the island."

"How very thoughtful of you." I suck on my lip ring to prevent myself from laughing.

"I know." He nods, putting his head back on the seat.

RIP Christopher Mason. You are so fucking dead.

After watching Hush rehearse on the theater stage for their Hidden Talent appearance, we spent some time chatting with Gemma, Big Kam, and Zarek. With the tension between Gemma and Zarek still at level nuclear, I tried my best to keep them separated. And she wouldn't elaborate further on the reason.

Noticing the time, I stand to go.

"I'm going to get over to the club," I announce.

"I thought we all were going?" Elliott looks around the room.

"Seriously? You're all coming?" I knew Elliott was on board, but that didn't mean everyone else was.

"What club?" Big Kam raises his brow.

"Lux Hedonica," I explain.

"Oh, shit, that's where your girl performs, right?"

"Yeah." I can't keep the smile off my face.

My girl. That's right, my fucking girl.

"Damn, boy, I'm so down." Kam rubs his hands together.

"Raise hands if you're going," Elliott states, raising his hand.

"We aren't in fucking school." Chris rolls his eyes before turning to Mia. "You wanna go?"

She nods. "I've never seen a burlesque show and this sounds pretty epic."

Looks like everyone is going. I pull out my phone and place a call to Red, hoping he has room for all of us.

The club is surrounded by cameras and reporters, as expected. The minute we step out of the cars, the lights flash and questions start.

"Jackson, are you here to see Liza?"

"Mia, when's your wedding?"

And before Serena climbs out of the car. "Elliott, does Serena know you're out watching girls strip?"

"I made him come," she announces after Ell helps her from the car.

The crowd roars with laughter, snapping picture after picture.

"Laney, are you trying to get Jackson back?"

The question makes my step falter. I look back over my shoulder for her answer.

All she does is grin, and say, "I'm here to watch Liza perform."

At that moment, things click together in my chest like I just figured out the jigsaw puzzle of life. Things are good, very good. And this is so fucking right, it's scary.

Inside the club, the guys and girls have the same reaction I had the first time I entered the place.

Red meets us by the bar, Sid sitting on a barstool next to him.

"Look at you little fuckers," Red boasts, pulling Chris and Elliott each under an arm.

"Who you calling little?" Elliott flexes.

"It's a good start." He returns a flex, out-muscling Ell.

"You have to be using steroids, old man," he taunts.

Red laughs, shaking his head.

"It's good to have you guys here."

Keeping an arm over Chris, he guides us to the back wall of VIP booths.

"Holy shit!" Xavier exclaims, sliding out of the booth.

"Xave," Chris greets.

Xavier brushes by him, sidling up to Mia.

"I've been dying to meet you in person." He takes her hand and kisses the back just before putting the tip of his tongue to her knuckle.

"That's not funny, fucker." Chris takes Mia's hand out of Xavier's.

The two of them go back and forth while Red seats everyone in the large VIP booth and a table he's set up in front of it.

As Sid passes me, I grab her arm.

She looks back at me in confusion.

"Who's with the boys?"

The confusion melts away into a smile of approval.

"You'll do after all," she says, winking, before answering my question. "Kel and Julia are with them at your place."

"Hey, scary lady." Xavier slides up behind Sid.

She twists and looks up at him.

"And I know you…how?" She takes a drink from the bottle in her hand.

He grins wide. "Admit it, you haven't been able to stop thinking about me."

"Oh, ginger beard man, I see you've started a strict regimen of erectile dysfunction meds."

Xavier's mouth drops open in surprise.

"'Cause you're a bigger dick than the last time."

Squeezing by him, Xave stands with a dumbfounded look on his face.

His eyes snap to mine, and he grins.

"I might be in love, brother." He looks back at Sid and then back to me. "I'm at least going to experience that attitude naked." Spinning on his heels, he follows after her.

Shaking my head, I find a seat and prepare for my girl to own the stage.

Everyone in a seat and drinks served, we settle into casual conversation.

"So, what should we expect tonight?" Big Kam asks, his excitement filled eyes on Red.

"Miz Bette will be the first on stage to warm things up. Then you will all get to see Miz Liz make my stage her bitch." His grin is full of as much pride as my chest currently holds.

The lights dim and the spotlight floods Bethany. The black and white pinstripe corset and micro skirt contrasts against her pale white skin and bright red hair. The matching hat on her head shadows her face until she raises it to the white light and sings her opening verse.

"I was five and he was six." Her voice caresses the words.

At "bang, bang", she gives the crowd her back and shakes a large red bow.

The backup dancers appear, gliding around her in slow, sensual movements. Bethany makes her way to the end of the stage, sits, and uses her thumb and finger to imitate a gun while removing piece after piece of clothing.

She's gorgeous and amazing, but I chew the inside of my lip in anticipation for Liza.

Bethany finishes her sensual performance of Nancy Sinatra's Bang Bang, and the stage goes dark. The crowd applauds.

Next, a dark-haired woman in a pinup swimsuit and hula hoops struts to the catwalk and performs a bump and grind in one of the most creative hula hoop performances I've ever seen. When she finishes, she steps off the stage, weaving through the crowd.

In a sudden burst, lights fill the stage, revealing three red doorways with silver glitter beads hanging in them. The strands sway from either vents or fans, and then the beat kicks in. A backlight shines behind her, revealing Liza's silhouette in the center door. The beat kicks in and her voice—sexy, gravelly, and seductive—fills the room. Two dancers fill the doorways on either side of her dressed in tuxedo styled lingerie.

Pushing the beads aside, she steps center stage, wrapped in white silk, the material knotted at her right side. Her hair's curled on top of her head, loose ringlets framing her face. This time, there are no gloves, stockings, or shoes. Her bare feet move across the black floor like she's walking on air.

She purrs the line, "I'll be your pussycat, licking your milk," and my cock stands to attention. The invisible lust she wraps around me tightens—the familiar call of my snake charmer.

Strutting on stage, she swivels her hips. Stopping to bump and grind when the beat kicks in, she charms and ensnares the audience when she interacts with them. At the end of the catwalk, she turns, wraps her arms around her body, and gyrates, all while singing, "Seduce me, nibble, and bite."

The fingers of her left hand untie one knot and the material falls away from her chest, leaving her in only a silky skirt barely covering her ass.

Keeping an arm over her breasts, she struts back to the doorway, disappearing behind the beads.

A couple people inch to the edge of their seats, wanting to follow her.

Let one of those fuckers try.

The beat kicks again and she slaps dangling beads open with one hand. Wrapping a thick group of them around her chest, she sings. She drops the beads, her silver glitter cat-shaped pasties on display before she pulls back, vanishing with the end of the song.

The audience roars, clapping and whistling.

The lights return to their normal dim. And without looking, I reach out, grab my bottle of water, and gulp. Closing my eyes, I will my body to calm the fuck down. Someone may need to strap me to the booth.

Fuck, that wasn't water.

"Fuck me," Kat exclaims, getting my attention. "She's like a different fucking person up there." Her wide eyes lock on mine. "My nipples are hard." Kat cups her boobs.

"Are you sure?" Elliott asks. "I should check."

He reaches across Serena, the grin falling into to a frown when she doesn't react.

"Babe? You okay?" His hands go to her stomach instead of Kat's chest.

"Do you think Miz Liz is into pregnant women?" Serena ignores Elliott and looks at me.

"What?" Elliott chokes on the question.

"I would do her in a second." She looks to her husband, unapologetic. "I would do her so hard, regardless of our marriage."

Laney spits her drink on the table. Mia and Chris burst into laughter.

"We're out of here." Elliott slips out of the booth, pulling Serena with him.

I catch Serena looking back at Mia, grinning.

"Tell your girl I said thank you." Elliott points at me.

"For what?" I laugh the question.

"'Cause it's been weeks, and I'm so getting laid tonight."

Serena starts laughing at his confession.

Wrapping his arm around his wife, Ell's hand drops to her ass, guiding her to the exit.

"Cheers." Xavier lifts his drink to the departing couple.

"Seriously, my nipples are hard," Kat reminds everyone. "Jack, is she into girls?" She waggles her brows.

"No," I state as the sound of music fills the room.

A drumming begins, followed by chimes. Dancers move in synchronized movements to the stage, each of them in leopard tops and fringed panties. The back curtain parts, revealing Liza in a harem girl outfit.

"Trust in me," she sings and the dancers stop.

Liza continues singing and the dancers kneel to the floor in levels while two others help Liza descend their backs like they are steps. Her bare feet hit the stage and she flows toward the edge, going into the crowd. The dancers follow like they're in a trance

Welcome to my fucking life.

"Shut your mouth," she purrs, using her fingers to lift one guy's chin. "And trust in me." Her hand slips over his shoulders and she's on to the next person. This time, it's a woman.

"You said she isn't into women," Kat accuses in a hush.

Dancers flow around her, pulling at scarves dangling from her waist and a hoop around her neck.

Ignoring Kat, I watch Liza stride toward our table.

Her eyes meet mine and she curls her lip, moving toward me.

The dancers continue to pull away material until she stands in a barely there, diamond studded bra top and thong.

My throat goes dry, making it difficult to swallow, and my dick throbs uncomfortably, wanting to follow her and maybe just fuck her in front of the crowd.

That will show all the fuckers staring at her bare ass thinking they can have her.

Reaching the table, Liza walks right by to the hidden stairs behind me. In the booth, I turn to follow her movements. She twists her body back and around, putting her face in mine. Winking, she straightens and continues leading her followers up the stairs and behind the mirror on the wall.

"Damn, this place deserves respect." Big Kam claps Red on the shoulder after the lights come back to normal.

"I'm hoping it gets some soon." Red lifts his beer bottle and drinks.

"You've got mine and you got some talent in this joint." Kam settles back in his chair. "I mean, Liza's a given, but, damn, that redhead is tight."

"Thank you." Red gives a sly smile.

Knowing about his relationship with Bethany, I'm sure that's the reason behind the look.

"I think you'll enjoy Madame J and Lady Nikle. They're up next." Red nods to the stage.

"You plan on doing guest performances?" Big Kam asks.

"I've actually done one." Red's eyes move to me for a moment. "But, I'd like to do more. You know, to draw people in."

Kam nods, looking deep in contemplation for a moment before he says, "If you can get me on stage with Liza, I'd be down for a spot."

"We'll talk." Red raises his beer.

"I wanna do it," Mia says, leaning her upper body onto the table.

"The hell you do," Chris protests.

Rolling her eyes, she keeps looking at Red. "I don't know anything about burlesque, but I'm open to whatever."

"It's more a cabaret-slash-burlesque kind of thing," Red clarifies.

Mia opens her mouth, but Chris breaks back into the conversation.

"The only thing you're open for is me." Chris sets his glass down, making it clack against the table.

Mia finally gives him her attention. On a sigh, she says, "Do you always have to be an asshole?"

Shrugging, he nods, answering, "You already know this."

"And yet, I still put up with you," Mia says, sitting back into the booth.

Chris puts his arms around her, pulling her into his side. "You fucking love me." He presses his lips to her temple.

My chest aches with want and I crane my neck, looking for Liza.

"She is amazing," Gemma says, obstructing my search with her appearance.

Squeezing into the booth, she forces me to scoot over to accommodate her.

"Do you think she and the redhead would be interested in auditioning with my stage director?" Her large eyes are filled with as much hope as her question.

Shrugging, I say, "I can ask her, but I'm not sure what she wants to do."

The statement is true, and the fact that I don't know what she wants to do, bothers me. I glance back at Chris, who still holds Mia captive.

Am I being like him? I haven't asked Liza once what she wants. Closing my eyes, I rub my forehead. Damn it, I am being like Christopher. Fuck.

"Are you okay?" Gemma's hand lays on my forearm.

"No," I groan, throwing my body against the back of the booth. Lifting my hand from my head, I motion to Chris. "I'm acting like the douche sitting across from me."

After the show when most of the crowd is gone, Sid leads the way backstage. She, Xavier, and I the only ones, besides Red, left from our group.

"You're not gonna act like your brother, are you?" Red asks, keeping pace with my strides.

"Meaning?" I round a small table.

"Meaning, you aren't going to rush the stage and carry her off because she's half-naked." His brow raises, anticipating my response.

Grinning, I shake my head.

"Nah. I'm a proud man, watching her perform."

"Good, cause I don't want to ban your ass."

"You'd ban me?" I fake shock.

We reach the curtain camouflaging the door to the back.

"Damn straight."

Sid pulls back the sheath of red velvet, grabbing the door handle. Xavier stands close to her back, holding the curtain open.

"Can I get some space, Gandalf the Red?" she asks, obviously annoyed.

"I'm just being helpful," Xavier responds innocently, but he could definitely help without riding her back.

"Mmhmm." She pulls open the door, putting force into it, landing an elbow in his rib.

Xavier gasps from the pain.

"Damn, woman. I'm all for rough, but at least ask my safe word first."

Growling, she slips through the door.

Xavier stands, holding the door open, giving us a large, goofy grin.

"You're a masochist." Red shakes his head, passing through the door.

"Maybe a little." He shrugs.

"You're a brave man," I say, patting his shoulder before ducking into the next room.

"Not really," Xavier says, closing the door behind him. "You guys are just a bunch of pussies. And speaking of pussy, where's my little hellcat?"

He cranes his neck, finding Sid talking to some performers.

"Excuse me," he says, moving in her direction.

At the private dressing room door, Red knocks. Calling through the door, he asks, "All the goodies covered?"

The door swings open to Bethany standing in a pink kimono.

"Like you wouldn't come in either way." She smirks.

"If it were just you, yes." Red grins back, grabbing her hips and backing her into the room.

The moment I enter, Liza turns from her mirror—one fake eyelash still on, curly blonde extensions hanging from the corner of her vanity, and a pile of make-up covered face wipes in front of her.

"Hey," I greet, taking the chair next to her.

"Hi." She blushes.

Looking away, she removes the remaining false lash and scrubs at her face. I watch the way she moves the cloth around her eyes, nose, mouth, neck.

And…I'm hard. Christ, is there anything she does that doesn’t turn me on?

"You're making me self-conscious."

Her words pull me out of my lustful thoughts.

"Why?"

"Because you're staring." Twisting in her chair, she drops the used wipe onto the pile. "I warned you."

Furrowing my brow, I ask, "Warned me 'bout what?"

"That I don't look like Miz Liz outside of this place."

She turns away again, hiding behind her hair.

Grasping the bottom of her chair, I pull her toward me.

"Jackson," she yelps, holding the sides for balance.

Taking her face between my palms, I kiss her hard and push her chair back in its place.

"Hurry and finish, so we can get home."

Her eyes wide in surprise, she nods.

"And so we can save Xavier from an early death."

Keeping her eyes on the reflection, she asks, "Death?"

"Yeah." I nod. "Death by Sidrome."

"Sid..?" She stops and bursts into a fit of laughter. "Oh, shit," she pants, "I'm going to have to tell her that one."

"Don't you dare." I straighten in my chair.

"Why not?"

She collects the wipes, throwing them all in a trashcan between the vanities.

"Because she scares me," I answer honestly.

It makes her laugh harder.

"Don't worry," she pats my leg, smiling, "I'll protect you. Besides, she'll love the nickname."

I snatch her hand from my thigh, bring it to my lips, and kiss.

"Let's get out of here."

Nodding, she quickens her clean up routine.

Before we leave the dressing room, Red mentions Big Kam's interest in performing to Liza. He also mentions what Gemma said to me about auditioning. I hadn't even realized he'd been listening to the conversation.

Liza looks both nervous and surprised. Red tells her to just think about it and they'll talk later. Then he tells us goodnight and kicks us out of the dressing room.

"They're going to have sex in the room where I get dressed," Liza groans.

"Probably," I agree, placing my hand on her lower back.

"I need to add disinfecting wipes to my bag," she sighs.

"Where's Sid?" I ask, scanning the open backstage space.

"I don't…" She pauses and then stiffens. "What did you do?"

Snapping my eyes to Liza, I follow her gaze.

Sid gives a big smile and releases the doorknob she holds, rushing toward us.

"Talk later, walk now," she rambles, rushing by us.

Looking back to Liza, her worried eyes meet mine.

All she says is, "Run, run now," before bolting after her cousin.

Hurrying to keep up with them, a muffled crash comes from behind. Not looking back, I pick up my pace.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Liza

Entering the apartment, I'm still pissed at Sid.

"You can't stay mad at me," she says in a sing-song voice. "You never could."

Brushing by me, she goes straight to her geek station.

"This time I will." It sounds pouty and I know it, but I don't care. "But, maybe I'll forgive you if you tell me what exactly you did."

"I didn't do anything," she says, her response too quick and innocent.

"I don't believe you." I'm going for mean, but it sounds shrill.

Damn it

"I don't want to know," Jackson says, walking to the couch.

He pulls off his t-shirt, leaving him in only a wife beater and black pants, before sitting on the sofa.

"Good idea," Sid says to her monitor.

"Um, Miss Campbell?"

Julia appears next to me, a look of nervousness on her face.

Good.

"Yes?" It's hard not to give her a bitch face.

"I just wanted to let you know Luke and Sean ate pizza, went swimming, played video games for only an hour, and were in bed by ten. So, they should be well rested for their soccer game tomorrow."

Fuck, the soccer game. It's their last game for the year and I forgot.

"Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?" Julia's eyes widen with worry.

I shake my head and swallow my pride.

"No. I'm okay. The game slipped my mind."

Taking a deep breath, I exhale and tamper down my bitch mode.

"Thank you for taking care of them tonight."

"It's no problem at all," Julia assures. "Is there something I can do to help with tomorrow?"

"No, but thank you." Smiling small, I nod and begin to walk away.

"I'm sorry," she blurts.

I turn on my heel.

"For what?" I ask, furrowing my brow.

"That I didn't listen to you and do the right thing."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I nod slowly. I feel both Jackson and Sid's eyes on me, waiting for my reaction.

"The one you need to apologize to is over there." I thumb over my shoulder toward Jackson. "He's the one who could've died."

Rounding and looking at Jackson, I say, "I'm going to shower and then bed."

I heft my bag on my shoulder and step into the hallway.

"As long as you make sure you're climbing into the right bed," Jackson calls after me.

Sid's giggle follows.

Rejuvenated by a long shower, I dig through dresser drawers. Slipping into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, I bend back down to get clothes for tomorrow.

"The pajamas are futile," Jackson says.

Looking over my shoulder, I watch him breeze in from the balcony door. His attention is on my ass, but under the weight of my stare, his eyes find mine. Knowing he's busted ogling, he grins.

Stepping close, his hands come to my hips and I straighten.

"What are you doing?" he asks, glancing over my shoulder into the open drawer of simple cotton underwear.

Reaching out, he lifts one pair in front of us, the white cotton dangling from his long finger.

I snag the underwear out of his hand, and say, "I wear thongs made of glitter and itchy lace panties at work. All under stage lights that feel like heat lamps. I prefer comfort at home."

His chest vibrates against my back. On a laugh, he says, "I didn't say anything."

Before I can reply, he continues, "In fact, I don't care what underwear you prefer." He puts his arms around my waist, his hands on my stomach, and pulls me to him. "If we're alone, they aren't staying on long anyway."

In a rare bold moment, I respond, "Good, since half the time I'm not wearing any at all."

I push the drawer closed and his arms tighten around my middle.

"Commando." It's not a question. "Right now?" His hands slip low.

"I prefer not to sleep with them on."

"Funny, we share the same preference," he quips, bending and lifting me into his arms bridal style.

"What are you doing?" I squeal, gripping his shoulders.

Striding out to the balcony, he carries me to his dimly lit room.

"Just making sure you climb into the right bed."

He lays me on the bed, grabs my shorts, and pulls them off. I fist the bedding so I don’t slip down the mattress.

Tossing the light gray shorts to the floor, he says, "And that's because I want you to be comfortable."

Jackson pulls his wife beater over his head and tosses it to meet my shorts on the floor. He shoves his black pants and boxer briefs down before kneeling on the bed and crawling over me.

Glancing at the side table, I find the clock.

2:49 a.m.

"I have to be up early tomorrow," I remind.

His fingers slip under the hem of my light purple tank and strip it over my head.

Pressing a quick kiss to my nose, he tosses the shirt and settles in on my left.

"I know."

Draping one arm over my stomach and folding the other under his head, he snuggles in tight.

"Shh, I'm trying to sleep," he finishes, nestling his face into my damp hair.

Unable to hold it back, I laugh. He joins.

After a minute or so, he rolls to his back, pulling me with him. I cuddle into the crook of his right arm, place my hand on his bare chest, crook my leg over his, and close my eyes.

"I do want to ask you something."

I reopen my eyes at his words.

"What?" I ask, shifting my head to look at his face.

Exhaling loudly, he begins.

"I realized something tonight."

Every muscle in my body stills.

"I've been a little obsessive about some things and I don't want you to feel forced into anything." He tilts his head down and looks at me. "What do you want, Liza?"

His eyes search mine, worry lining their edges.

"I agree. You've been…a bit controlling."

The muscles under my hand tense. I rub his chest, trying to soothe him.

"But I could leave, if I really wanted to." The truth sends a flush over my body.

His arm tightens around me.

"Tell me what you want?" he asks again.

Draping my arm over his stomach, I snuggle into his side. It's an attempt to get closer, but also hide my face.

"I want Lucas to be happy and safe, Sean's custody to be finalized, for Kel to go to college, and Sid to stay out of federal prison." I say the last with a smile.

His chest moves in silent laughter.

"After tonight, I'm not sure she's capable of evading conviction."

Jackson's lips press against the top of my head and he wraps both of his warm arms around me.

"And…" I continue with my list of wants, "as crazy as this may sound, I think I want you."

His arms tighten.

"Fuck, Liza, I want you so much."

Gripping under my arms, he pulls me up until we are chest to chest. My legs fall on each side of his body and I curl my feet under him. Jackson's hands slip down my back until he cups my ass, our faces only inches apart.

"Stay here with me," he whispers.

Dropping my eyes to his mouth, I answer, "It's too fast."

He licks his bottom lip before responding, "Yeah, it's fast, but it's right."

I pull my eyes from his lips and meet his gaze.

"And you know it is." He squeezes my butt.

"This place is too much and Lucas' school is—”

"It doesn't have to be here. I'll have Julia research places. It can be a house if you want. And how about we let Lucas, Sean, and Kel decide, for themselves, where we live?"

"It's only been a few weeks, Jackson," I sigh, laying my head on his chest. "This is a lot to decide."

"Then just think about it. We'll stay here for another week and see how things play out. I know you've got shit going on with Sean and we'll take of it. I'll make sure everything's cool on that end. Don't worry about it, yeah?"

His thumbs rub circles against the bare skin of my ass, causing goose bumps to appear.

"Okay," I answer quietly.

"Okay," he mimics, bringing his arms back around to embrace me.

The morning is a blur of soccer uniforms, missing shin guards—which Julia miraculously gets a replacement pair this early in the day—and Jackson.

After last night's talk, he's been completely relaxed and playful—teasing Lucas about brushing his teeth so girls will want to kiss him, which earned him a look of disgust. That is, until Jack mentioned Mia prefers clean white teeth. Then the boy couldn't scrub his mouth fast enough. Jackson also spent almost thirty quiet moments with my brother. Too busy with the boys’ breakfast and getting ready, I wasn't able to find out what their conversation was about. I only know it ended with Jackson patting a hand on Kel's shoulder. Sid didn’t emerge until we were heading out the door.

The ride to the soccer field is longer than usual, given our new location, but not one media person is on the radar. Until we reach the field.

"How did they know about his game?" Sid asks, peering out the tinted window of the car.

"The website," I groan.

"Website?" Jackson asks, brow furrowing in confusion.

"The soccer association has a website and the teams’ schedules are listed on there." I rub my face, taking a deep breath to calm.

"Are they going to film the game?" Lucas asks, sounding a little too excited about it.

The car stops in the parking lot near the fields. The driver exits the car and opens the rear door.

"Let me out first," Jackson orders, pulling Lucas away from the door.

Slipping from the car, the gossip hounds start right in with the questions. I can only hope they don't say something I'd rather my boys not hear.

"Okay," Jackson calls above the crowd. "I know you all want pictures and answers, but this is a soccer game with families and minors. I'll chat with you for a minute if you can keep from disturbing the kids’ games."

"Where's Liza?" a man calls out.

"Is she with you? Are you together now?" another person asks.

Taking a deep breath, I crawl over Sid's lap and climb out of the car. The camera shutters click in rapid succession.

"I'm right here," I greet, lifting a hand to give a small wave.

Jackson's arm comes around my shoulders in a protective fashion.

"If I give you all five minutes, I need you to respect my terms. Alright?"

Heads nod and vocal confirmations hiss.

Leaning down in the open door, I catch Sid's eyes.

"Can you get the boys to the field so they can warm up?"

"Of course," she says, scooting to the doorway and climbing out.

Behind her Lucas, Sean, and Kel file out of the car.

"Keep the cameras off the boys." Jackson's hand covers a lens pointed in the boys’ direction.

The cameraman nods sheepishly, turning the camera back to our united front.

"Are you two a couple?" a young, dark-skinned man asks.

"Isn't that a violation of your twelve steps?" A petite blonde woman pushes by the man.

"Liza?"

My eyes snap to a round man.

"Did you know Jackson was with Kristy when you started seeing him?"

My lips part on a gasp and eyes widen in surprise.

"I wasn't with Kristy when I met Liza," Jackson growls. "That was over before I came to L.A.."

He pulls me tighter to his side.

"Yes, we're a couple, and, no, I'm not violating one of the steps."

Jackson pulls out a key tag and holds it up for the reporters. They snap photos of him holding the tag stating his sobriety. I wrap my arms around his waist.

"What do you have to say about the abuse rumors?"

Jackson tenses and I act.

"If you're referring to me, then they are entirely false," I state.

"How do you feel about being kicked off the show due to your relationship with Jackson?" The petite blonde slings her question.

"The show really wasn't for me, but I wish the contestants well."

I smile and the cameras click.

"Do you have any comment about the article Cheyenne Post released online this morning?" Another journalist steps forward.

"I…I don't know about an article," I stutter, swallowing hard.

What the hell is being said now?

"She states in the article she expects big things from a woman with the caliber of talent you hold and she's disappointed in the narrow-minded suits running the show."

The man shoves his recorder closer toward me.

"Cheyenne Post said that?" Jackson asks in disbelief.

The man nods emphatically.

"I thank her for the kind words," is the only response I can think to give.

Almost ten minutes later, we walk away from the group of reporters. I keep looking over my shoulder.

"They aren't following," I whisper.

"Good," Jackson replies.

"I didn't think they would actually do it."

"Do what?" He guides me toward Sid and Kel.

"Listen to you." I step up on the bleachers and settle next to Sid.

"It only happens occasionally." Going up one bleacher higher, Jackson sits behind me and stretches his long legs on either side of my body.

Sid puts her arm on his knee and leans.

"Thanks," she says, keeping her eyes on the field of practicing players, "these metal things hurt my ass."

Jackson doesn't pull his leg away or push her off. Instead, he pulls me back into his body, perfectly at ease and ready to cheer on Sean and Lucas.

For the first time in my life, I understand epic romance movie moments. My heart thuds, my chest feels so full—almost too full—and every inch of my skin tingles with a pleasant burn.

After the game and awards, we lounge around the penthouse living space. Sean and Lucas sit in the oversized bean bag chairs they’ve claimed, playing a racing game on the TV. Kel lies stomach down, head toward the end of the couch cushion. He watches the boys play their game, dozing off and on. Jackson slouches against the curve of the sofa, one leg stretched along the cushions and the other bent at the knee with his foot on the floor. Lying between his legs, on my side, head resting on his thigh, I'm still amazed by the length of his body.

Having been talking off and on with Una regarding the videos and information she's found so far, Sid makes her way over and plops onto the couch.

"Una's going to be calling you," she says, getting situated against the overstuffed cushions.

"Why couldn't she just tell you?" Jackson asks, his head back and eyes closed.

"Dunno," Sid answers, but her interest is already on the video game. "I've got next winner."

Lucas and Sean groan in unison.

"Sid, you'll be on for the rest of the night," Sean whines.

"So?" She shrugs.

"So, we want to play together, too."

"Well, your mother should've bought more than two controllers," she snips.

The vibration from Jackson's phone travels through the couch before it rings.

"It's probably Una," Sid says, distracted. "Lucas, you missed the nitro launch."

Jackson shifts, trying to get his phone from his back pocket. I attempt to move out of his way, but his free hand presses my head back to his thigh.

Reaching his phone, he answers, "Yeah?"

"Wait, it's not my—”

Lifting my head, I watch Jackson roll his eyes. Pulling his phone from his ear, he presses it to his chest.

"Where's your phone?" he asks.

Reaching over the edge of the couch, I pull my phone from my bag and hand it to him.

Putting his own phone back to his ear, he says, "Shut up for two seconds," before reading off a phone number.

"Why are you giving out my number?" Sid questions with an edge to her tone.

He ignores her and continues talking to the person on the other end of his call.

"Well, it's your own damn fault," he lectures, tossing my phone to the empty cushion next to him. "No, but I'll definitely ask Red for the photos." He disconnects, dropping the phone next to mine.

Sid's phone vibrates across the counter next to her geek station.

She turns and looks at the phone like it might bite her.

"That will be Xave." Jackson winks. "Good luck with that, he's known for his revenge schemes. You can ask Chris about them."

"You bastard," she hisses. "Why would you give that overgrown ginger-jack my number?"

"Because I'm not your receptionist. You two handle your shit. I've got my own to worry about," he says, giving her a pointed look before putting his head back on the couch.

The phone vibrates again, but Sid ignores it.

"Looks like I'll be changing my number," she grumbles.

"What did you do?" Kel asks from his prone position.

She shrugs. "Nothing."

"Bullshit," Jackson snorts.

"What did she do?" I ask this time.

"He was in that closet last night." He rubs his eyes.

Whipping my head back to Sid, eyes wide, I find a small grin on her face.

"You didn't?"

She shrugs again.

Kel chuckles.

"He had it coming," she defends. "Did he," she points at Jackson, "tell you how his buddy was up my ass all night talking about how pretty and sexy he thinks I am?" she scoffs like it's impossible for someone to believe that very thing.

"Sid," I warn, shifting my eyes to the boys, but a part of me aches for her. Nothing and no one can get it through her head that she is pretty and sexy. I've tried so many times.

Her mouth drops open. "He just said bullshit." She stabs a finger at Jackson.

"Good point," I nod, "you both need to watch your mouths."

"Will do, baby." Jackson's fingers find my hair.

Sid sighs when her phone vibrates again and pushes up from the couch.

"I guess I should just get this over with."

She marches away and disappears with her phone.

"Good luck, Sid," Kel calls after her, earning him a middle finger salute.

He laughs.

"What else did she do?"

Jackson's laughter shakes me before he answers with, "She teased him into the closet, shoved him inside, handcuffed him to the hanger pole," he pauses to laugh harder, "and then," he gasps, "then she pushed a bra into his mouth."

My and Kel's laughter joins his.

"Whew," Jackson blows out a breath. "We literally walked out just after she did it all. Red has pictures."

"I'm not going to even lie. It totally sounds like something she would do." Propping up on my elbow, I glance up to his smiling face. "Actually, he's lucky she didn't take his pants first."

He raises one brow, questioningly.

Shaking my head, I lie down in his lap.

"You don't want to know, man." Kel turns back to the TV.

The next morning doesn't go as smoothly as I'd like, but it being the first time for the school routine, I suppose it could've gone worse. Kel rides in the car driving the boys to school so I have peace of mind.

I arrange the dirty dishes in a dishwashing machine so clean, I almost feel sorry for filling it with food covered plates and cups.

"You know a cleaning lady comes in right?"

Looking up from the dishwasher, I find Jackson leaning against the fridge. His arms crossed over his naked chest, he looks like he's posing for a magazine.

"It's weird having someone clean up after us." I look around the kitchen. "I feel like I should clean before she comes to clean."

Laughing, he shakes his head.

"'Cause that's not crazy," he teases, pushing off the stainless steel appliance and stalking toward me.

Backing up a step for every one he takes, my butt hits the counter.

"What?" I furrow my brow.

"Una called this morning," he confesses, placing his hands to the counter on either side of me.

"And?" I press.

"Kristy will be back in L.A. at the end of the week."

He lifts a hand to my hair, twirling a strand around one long finger, studying his actions.

"She's agreed to meet me at the hotel." His eyes move to mine. "Una has her thinking I want to talk."

"Well, you do."

"Yeah, but not the way she's thinking." He grins.

"Ah," I say, nodding, finally catching his meaning.

Great. I'm sure the skank will come wearing nothing but a smile.

"Chris texted right after the call, telling me he would be there, which means all of the guys will probably follow. Probably the girls, too."

"Okay." I nod.

Emotions ranging from hate and anger, to fear and anxiousness war inside me.

"Will you be there?" he asks, licking his pierced lip.

If I see her, I'm afraid I'll beat the shit out of her.

"If you want me—"

"Of course I want you there," he interrupts in a raised voice.

I flinch.

"Sorry," he softens. "You know I want you around, right?"

His eyes search mine.

"I think so."

"You need to know so," he states. "Do you want to be there?" he asks.

Nodding, I answer, "Yes."

But think, it will take all my strength not to break her face.

"Okay, then you'll be there."

Releasing my hair, he cups my face.

"Are you okay around the bands?"

"You mean Laney?"

"Partially," he inclines his head, "but I want you to be comfortable with them all."

"They've been nothing but nice." I shrug. "But I don't really know them yet."

"And Laney?" he presses.

"She seems really happy for you."

He runs his thumb over my cheek.

"That surprises you."

"Honestly, I didn't expect anything. I didn't plan on standing in your penthouse kitchen this morning."

A grin splits his face.

"But you are." Keeping the smile, he sticks his tongue through his teeth.

"Yeah, I am." I beam up at him.

"You stay'n in my kitchen?" he asks, his face moving closer.

"I thought we are seeing how things go?"

I press my hands to his chest, sliding my arms up to his shoulders.

"I'll just take that as a yes."

He dips his head and I knot the hair at the back of his head in my fingers, taking his mouth with mine.

Palming my ass, he lifts me onto the kitchen island and moves between my spread legs.

"People prepare food on that surface," Sid yawns the words.

Groaning, Jackson lifts his head, narrowing his eyes on her.

"Don't give me that look," Sid scolds. "This is public domain. Go play grope-and-poke in your bedroom."

She pulls open the fridge, taking out the jug of orange juice. Closing the door, she levels a look at Jackson and holds his stare.

"Cockblock," he taunts.

She stops, tilts her head, and looks contemplative before she says, "Hundreds of thousands of sperm and you were the fastest?"

I stiffen, immediately reminded of the no condom incident.

My period can't come soon enough.

They silently standoff for another minute before Jackson turns his attention back to me.

"I also have Julia contacting my lawyer today," he says in a casual tone.

"For what?"

"About Sean," he answers in the same cool tone.

"Explain, please."

I push on his chest, putting some space between us. He steps back, leaning against the counter behind him.

"I told you not to worry about the caseworker." He shrugs. "My lawyers will contact the caseworker and his grandmother to get your guardianship solidified. Then he'll be able to feel secure about being here."

The fact that he makes it about Sean feeling secure melts my insides.

"You know that shit affects him, right?" He raises his pierced brow.

"He told you that?" I slip from the counter onto my feet.

"No, not directly, but he's made comments to Luke about appreciating the mom he has and how his house will never be anything like this." He motions to the open space.

I cover my mouth to hold in my gasp.

"We're gonna get things handled before this week is over. So, don't plan on your caseworker returning your call. At least, not until my lawyers are done filing motions or petitions, or whatever the fuck they do." He waves a hand in the air.

"Well, well," Sid says, walking between us, a bowl of cereal in her hands, "you're good sperm after all."

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jackson

Five days. The mornings filled with school routines and—my favorite—afternoons in bed with my snake charmer. It's been five amazing days. It's also only been five goddamn days and she already has the head of security for the W in my penthouse foyer.

Liza stands to the side, scowling at a smirking Sid.

She's pissed, but I know part of the problem is the upcoming meeting with Kristy. Liza won't say it, but I see the flames light in her eyes when the psycho bitch is discussed.

"I promise it won't happen again," I assure, closing the door on the departing manager.

"Why?" Liza growls.

"'Cause it was way too easy," she says, shrugging and turning a pointed look on me. "And if I can hack their firewalls and change the network settings, you really need to rethink how safe you feel in this place."

"You changed the hotel's Wi-Fi to Free Porn – click me long time,” Liza blames.

Sid snorts, "Yeah." She grins, proud of her accomplishment.

"It's not funny," Liza cries, covering her face with a hand.

"It kind of is," I say, still not happy, but able to admit the humor.

Dropping her hand, she glares at me. "Not helping."

"Come on," Sid draws. "It's only Wi-Fi. It's not like I gave everyone free room service or reversed room charges."

"You could do that?" I ask, intrigued.

She gives a sly smile, and says, "Maybe."

My phone vibrates in my back pocket, ending my opportunity to ask more about her hacking capabilities.

"I can't take you anywhere." Liza throws her hands up, striding away from Sid and down the hallway.

"Liza," she calls after her cousin, following.

"Hello."

"Mr. Shaw, this is Susan, Mr. Lawrence Preston's legal aid."

"What can I do for you?" I ask my lawyer’s assistant.

"I'm just calling to update you in regards to Gertrude Johnson and the minor Sean Johnson."

"And?" I press, walking into the kitchen to reclaim the drink I poured before the Wi-Fi incident.

"The guardianship papers will need Miss Campbell's signature. They are being brought over now for her to sign. Just return them to him and he'll bring them back to us this afternoon."

"When will they be final?" I lift my juice to my mouth and gulp.

"They should be filed with the state by the end of the week. We'll send your copies as soon as they come available."

"So, they should be here in two days?"

"Yes, sir."

I visualize the girl nodding.

"I also wanted to let you know, Mrs. Johnson, the boy's grandmother, will not be returning to their previous home. It looks like she will have to go into an assisted living home. You may want to let Miss Campbell know so she can coordinate the retrieval of Sean's things."

"Do you know where Mrs. Johnson is being sent?"

"No, sir. I'm afraid I don't."

"Okay, thanks. Tell Lawrence to call me when he's free. I may need him for something else shortly."

"I'll let him know."

"Thanks."

Disconnecting with Susan, I walk to the couch and call Julia.

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't start with that sir shit again," I admonish, settling onto the sofa.

"I don't feel right using your name," she laments.

"Julia—"

"She's right," Julia hiccups. "I'm so sorry for the choices I made that night."

"I get why you did it. Liza doesn't understand the dirty side of working with public figures."

"But she's still right."

Sighing, I rub the back of my head.

"Yeah, Julia, she is," I confess.

"I'm sorry." She sniffs.

"I know you are, and, if you want to make it up to me, I need you to add something else to your list of tasks."

She sniffs once more, takes an audible breath, and says, "Of course. What can I do for you?"

"I need you to research assisted living homes in the same area you're looking for homes. Sean's grandmother is going to need a place to go and I'd like her to stay close to him."

"You are so amazing." Liza's voice surprises me, making me twist to look over the back of the couch.

"I'll start this afternoon," is Julia's reply.

"Great, thanks."

I disconnect, watching Liza come around the couch. When she reaches me, she sits on my lap, wrapping her arms around my neck.

"You don't have to do all this," she says, furrowing her brow.

Brushing away strands of hair from her face, I say, "I know, but it matters to you, which means it matters to me. Also, his grandmother is the closest Sean's got to a mother. He needs her."

She burrows against my chest, warming my skin and heating my blood. Encircling her in my arms, we sit this way for a while.

Fuck, this girl twists my insides.

Friday arrives and the Bel-Air hotel feels foreign to me now. Like my time here was so long ago, when, in fact, it's only been a few weeks. From where I’m sitting in one of the beige seats, I glance at the chair across from the couch—the same chair Liza and I began our first night of debauchery in. A smile comes to my face and I tighten my hand on the thigh she has propped on the arm of my seat.

"What the hell are you smiling at?" Elliott asks, sitting in said chair. He puts his hands over his t-shirt covered chest. "Quit checking me out. I'm a married man."

"There's something wrong with you," Jimmy says.

"If you're referring to my awesome manly physique, there's nothing wrong." Elliott rubs over his chest. "I can't help it if he wants me."

"You finally get laid by your wife and you think you're a sex god," Kat says from her spot on the couch next to Jimmy.

He scoffs, "I've always been a god."

"Enough," Chris exclaims, pushing off the wall, starting to pace. "When the hell is this bitch going to show up?"

"She's not exactly known for being on time," I answer, bored with this already.

"No, she's known for being God's gift to runway," Sid adds, causing everyone to look at her. She shrugs. "I could make her famous for other things."

The evil glint in her eye matches my own malicious desire to post that sex video to every website imaginable.

"She's on her way up." Una steps out of the bedroom, slipping her phone in her pocket. "We should clear out this area."

"Why?" Chris stops pacing, crossing his arms over his chest.

"So she doesn't go running out the door when she sees everyone in here," Una explains.

"Screw that," he snaps. "Julia, you answer the door, excuse yourself when she comes in, and close the door behind you. I block the door as soon as you're out. This shit ends and he does it with us at his back."

Always the asshole, he raises a brow, challenging Una.

His out of character caring, in his own asshole-like way, doesn't go unnoticed by Una. Her lips thin to hide her smile and she gives a nod.

When the knock comes at the door, Julia hurries to pull it open.

"Hello, I'll just get out of your way." She motions Kristy in and closes the door behind her.

Chris moves in a blur, pressing his back to the door.

Kristy stops in her stilettos. Taking in the group, the smile she wore disappears. Her eyes flit from Elliott to Jimmy, Kat, Una, Chris, Mia, and Sid, finally settling on Liza sitting at my side.

"Well, this is unpleasantly unexpected," she says, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "I thought you wanted to be alone, Jackson?" She bats her eyelashes.

"You're going to cease providing source material to the media," Una demands.

Kristy rolls her perfectly made up eyes. "Didn't we already have this conversation? I don't repeat myself."

"No, you fuck three guys at a time," Sid mutters.

"What did you say?" Kristy sneers, twisting her head in her direction.

Sid opens her mouth.

"Eyes on me, Kristy," I order, preventing Sid from launching into all the dirty details.

Her eyes come to mine, fire still blazing in them.

"I know you're the one spreading shit and providing whatever pictures you can get your hands on." Reaching out to the table, I pick up the bedazzled cell phone. "Whether it's from your own phone," I lift it for her to see, "or someone else's."

"How did you get my phone?" Stalking forward, she rips it from my hand. "You stole it?" she accuses. "I'll have you arrested."

"Oh, no, that would be me." Kat raises her hand, a large smile on her face. "But, I didn't steal it. I happened to find it on the floor of a club. I grabbed it so it wouldn't fall into the wrong hands." Kat's face is a mask of sweetness.

"Like mine," Sid adds, smirking.

Kristy, trying to ignore Sid, sees right through Kat's act. Seething, she turns back to me. Her mouth twisted in fury, she parts her lips to breathe fire.

"You'll pay for this and everything else, you pathetic asshole," she threatens.

Standing, I tower over her.

"You," my voice rises, "will stop this bullshit or every dirty thing we found on your phone will find its way to certain people."

Our eyes bore into each other, neither one wanting to back down.

"That means," Sid steps up next to me, "a particular celebrity will find out you have a video of him and his lover. And if he happens to believe you're trying to blackmail him, well…" Sid lets the sentence fall off and shrugs.

"You fat fucking—"

"And perhaps YouTube needs a new celebrity sex tape!" Sid claps her hands together, smiling. "Could you imagine the number of hits my channel could get?" She looks wistful.

Kristy's face falls, her body going still as a gush of air puffs out of her.

"Let me just tell you," Sid drops the smile and steps into Kristy's personal space, "You are no Kardashian. I don't think you'll skyrocket to fame on that one." Her eyes rake over Kristy's body. "You don't have the ass or tits for it, so I suggest you do as Jackson asks or I'll crotch kick your boney ass."

Liza grasps Sid's arm, pulling her away from a shell-shocked Kristy.

The room falls silent, aside from Kristy's heavy breathing. Her mouth pops open and closes, then opens again to say, "You wouldn't?" Her watery eyes come back to mine.

My silence widens her eyes. Stepping forward, her hands come to my chest, fisting my t-shirt. "You can't. I didn't…it wasn't..." she sobs.

Gripping her wrists, I pull her off of me and step back. Reaching back, I take Liza's arm and haul her to my side, wrapping my arm around her back.

"You mean like you tried with her." I nod to Liza.

A large tear spills over Kristy's cheek.

"And with me," I add, pointing to my chest. "You're a fucking piece of work, you know that?" I sneer.

Her shoulders shake and another sob escapes her mouth. More tears flow, causing her mascara to run.

"If it were up to me, that shit would've been viral four days ago. You can thank Liza for that not happening."

Her eyes move to Liza and then back to me.

"What do you want?" she whispers.

"You know what I want. Leave us the fuck alone," I growl.

"And you'll give me the video?" Kristy's eyes gleam with hope.

I shake my head.

"I don’t trust you. I'm not giving anything back."

"How do I know you won't use it anyway?" she whimpers.

"Because I'm not like you, Kristy," I growl. "I won't use any of it, as long as you stay away."

Sniffing, she uses the back of her hand to wipe away her tears.

"Fine," she agrees through clenched teeth. "But—”

"But nothing," Liza interrupts, her words containing the strong suggestion of reproach. "Just end it before I stop feeling sorry for you and give my cousin the green light to go live. Your modeling career may end, but at least you'll have porn to look forward to."

"Jackson, you should teach your home wrecking whore to be quiet," Kristy quips.

I flex my fingers into the flesh of Liza's hip.

"I'm sorry," Liza puts her hand to her chest. "Whose home did I wreck?"

Kristy opens her mouth, but Liza doesn't allow her to speak.

"You were out of the picture before I met Jackson. You weren't even on his mind when he took me back to his hotel. And if you think my cousin is a scary threat, you come at me or my son again and you will regret every moment. I sure as fuck can assure you it will be much, much worse than crotch kicking your boney ass."

Christ, she's hot. Do not bend her over the chair in front of everyone.

Kristy clamps her mouth shut and straightens her spine. The fight visibly dies from her body.

"Fine," she says, defeated.

"Good," Liza says on a sigh, giving a nod.

Gripping her phone in her fist, she holds her head up and walks to the door.

Chris doesn't move.

"Excuse me," she bites out.

Chris doesn't move.

"I said, excuse me," she whines. "What else do you want from me?"

Snorting, Chris finally steps out of her way, shaking his head and allowing Kristy to leave the hotel room.

Exhaling loudly, Liza falls back into the chair behind us.

"That was fun," Kat says, smiling wide.

"I've missed our little get-togethers." Elliott fakes a sniffle as his phone rings. Pulling the device from his pocket, he answers, "Yo, baby, yo—”

He jumps from the chair.

"I'm on my way." All humor gone, Elliott rushes to the door and out.

"What the fuck?" Jimmy asks.

"Serena's in labor," Mia blurts, her eyes on her phone.

Her fingers working on the screen, she strides to the hotel room door. Chris has it open before she reaches and follows her out.

"Hey, wait!" Kat calls after them.

"I'm texting everyone the hospital she's going to," Mia shouts, the door closing behind them.

Multiple pings go off in unison as everyone files out of the room.

Liza

In the back of a car taking us to Cedars-Sinai Hospital, Jackson holds me close to him. With his arm draped over my shoulder, I'm blissfully happy. Maybe too content, because all this good has to go wrong at some point, right?

Taking a deep breath, I exhale the nervousness dulling my ease.

The chime of my phone surprises me. Jackson's hand slips down my back, pulling it from my pocket and handing it to me.

Taking it from his hand, I look at the screen and see another text from the unknown number.

Good job with the whore.

"Why is Chris texting you?" he asks.

My eyes widen. Chris is the one who's been texting me updates?

Jackson turns my hand so he can see better and reads the message. He chuckles, giving me a squeeze.

"He's right about one thing," Jackson says, releasing my hand.

"What's that?" I choke out, still surprised by Chris being my unknown source of information.

"She's a whore," he says with disdain. "But you did more than a good job."

"I didn't do anything." I put the phone back in my pocket.

He grips my chin, pulling my face to his. Dipping down, he says, "It's fucking hot when you defend me," against my lips.

I inch closer to kiss him, but he won't allow it. Determination setting in, I stare at his evading mouth.

"Like with Julia," he groans low, "I'm hard thinking about you getting fired up."

"Unless you're making this a threesome, you need to control your pheromones," Sid says, interrupting our lusty moment.

Jackson drops his head to the back of the seat.

"You are like the queen of derailing dick," he says in exasperation.

Without missing a beat, Sid quips, "Undefeated champion, five years running."

Shaking his head, he chuckles.

At the hospital, we're the only ones in the waiting room, which works well since there are so many of us. Chris sits in the corner of the room with Mia on his lap. Kat and Sid sit across from Jackson and me, looking through magazines. Laney sits adjacent to them, leaning with her head on Jimmy's shoulder.

After thirty minutes, a young boy rushes in.

"Where's my baby?" He looks around.

Jackson's mother and Nicholas Shaw follow, Nicholas holding a gorgeous little girl in his arms.

"Daddy," she squeals. Stretching her arms out to Chris, she clenches and unclenches her fists in excitement.

Mia slips off his lap, allowing Chris up. He goes straight to her.

"Hey, princess," he coos, taking her from Nicholas. "Come sit with me and mommy."

The little girl's eyes flicker to me before landing on Jackson.

"Jack," she squeals.

"Hey, baby girl," he calls out, grinning.

"Jack," she calls again, smacking her dad's shoulder.

Rolling his eyes, Chris puts her down on her little feet. She wobbles and then finds the right pace to bring her to Jackson.

Jackson puts his arms out, lifting her against his chest.

"You been a good girl?" he asks, tickling her sides.

She giggles, burying her face in his neck.

The precious moment is almost enough to make me hope my period doesn't come.

"Where's my baby?" the little boy asks again, turning to Gwen and Nicholas.

"The baby isn't here yet." Gwen tousles his hair before collapsing in a seat.

"Come here, Ry," Laney calls the little boy over to her.

Jackson stiffens, catching the tired look on Gwen’s face.

Nicholas quickly takes the seat next to her.

Standing out of his seat, he hands the little girl over to Mia's waiting arms.

Chris and Jackson move at the same time to Gwen's side; Chris taking the seat on the other side of her and Jackson squatting in front of her.

They speak in intensely hushed tones before Gwen smiles at each of them and shakes her head.

"She's started some medicine in preparation for surgery," Mia says, taking Jackson's seat.

"She looks so tired," I whisper. "Beautiful, but tired."

Mia nods. "I hate it. Gwen's usually so vibrant and full of life."

The little girl smacks my arm.

"Maggie," Mia scolds.

"It's okay." I smile. "How old is she?"

"Almost two." Mia bounces her with a knee.

Maggie giggles.

"She's gorgeous."

"Thanks." Mia looks up from Maggie to me. "She looks like her daddy."

"I think I see a bit of her mom in her, too." I grin.

"I'm a dad!" Elliott's booming announcement startles everyone.

"You're my dad," Ry says, furrowing his brow.

All eyes study Elliott and Ry's interaction. Elliott lock's eyes on the boy and grins manically. Squatting down, he opens his arms.

"Damn straight, little man," he confirms, and the boy runs into his arms. "I'm a dad for a second time is what I meant."

I furrow my brow, not sure what's going on.

"Ryan is Serena's son," Kat whispers.

"Elliott just adopted him," Laney adds.

I nod, now understanding the dynamic.

"My baby's here?" Ryan asks with a smile.

"You're a big brother, dude. Want to come meet your sister?"

"A girl?" Kat, Mia, and Laney all ask in unison.

If possible, Elliott’s grin grows larger.

"Yep. Zoey Mae Brockman came screaming into the world ten minutes ago." He bounces Ryan in his arms. "Mom wants you, little man."

"My baby's here!" Ryan cheers. "We did it!"

"Come on." Elliott motions to us all.

"I'm pretty sure there's a limit on visitors," Laney says, but still stands to follow.

"I don't give a shit," he exclaims. "Come meet my daughter."

Striding out of the room, he carries Ryan down the hall. The rest of them follow, except me.

I stay seated, pulling out my phone. Shooting a text to Kel, I let him know where we are and that I'll be back soon. Sid sits next to me, bumping my shoulder with hers.

"Hey. I can get a cab back to the penthouse," she offers, nodding to my phone.

"We can go together." I slide the phone back in my pocket. "I'm just giving Jackson a minute before I take off."

Sid rolls her eyes.

"What?" I ask.

"You think he's going to let you—”

"Liza?"

Twisting in the chair, I find Jackson poised in the doorway with his brow furrowed.

"Yeah?"

"You coming?"

He lifts a hand toward me.

I shake my head.

"Go ahead. I'm going back to the penthouse. The boys will be back from school soon." I wave him to go on.

His furrow deepens.

"Well, now you did it," Sid mumbles.

"You want to leave?" he asks, an edge I don't like in his tone.

"It's a family thing," I explain. "I don't want to intrude."

His brow unfurrows, but he doesn't move.

"I can wait for you if you want?" I offer.

"I'm just going to catch a cab," Sid says, slipping out of the room.

"What did I do now?" I ask, my shoulders drooping.

He shakes his head.

"You didn't do anything." He runs his fingers through his hair. "I want you to come with me, but I understand why you're uncomfortable. It just took me a minute."

Lifting from the chair, I close the distance between us, putting my hand on his chest. I raise onto my toes and fist his shirt, pulling him down so I can kiss him. Our tongues slip into the other’s mouth, tangling and fighting for dominance.

Breaking the kiss, I drop back to the flat of my feet.

"I'll wait here for you," I say, releasing his shirt and smoothing the wrinkled material. "Take your time."

"I'll be right back," he assures, walking backward out of the room.

Back at the penthouse, Kel sits at the dining table with the boys doing homework.

"Hey," he greets, looking up from some brochures.

I walk toward them and kiss Lucas on the top of his head.

"What are those?" I ask Kel before kissing Sean's head.

"Nothing."

He pushes them into a pile, but I catch the words on one.

"Are those college brochures?" I know my question sounds way too excited, but I can't control myself.

"I'm just looking at them," he rushes to explain. "Don't get worked up."

Biting my lip, I breathe through my nose, trying to calm the thrill coursing through my veins.

"I won't." I fail at sounding casual.

"I told you she'd act like this," Kel says to Jackson.

I twist to see Jackson give a one shoulder shrug before saying, "Is it really such a bad thing?"

"No," Kel sighs.

"You did this?" I ask Jackson.

"Your brother did it," he responds, flipping through the mail on the counter. "It was his decision to make."

"Can we have pizza?" Lucas asks, looking up from his homework.

"Again? We eat pizza all the time." I purse my lips.

"Chinese?" Sean suggests.

"You know how to win me over." I ruffle Sean's hair.

"We should go out to eat," Jackson announces, lifting a large manila envelope in the air.

"What's that?" Lucas asks.

Jackson rips open the end, pulls out a stack of papers, flips through them, and then presents one page with a seal on it.

"This makes Sean an official member of the Campbell/Shaw household."

All eyes turn to Sean, who drops his pencil and visibly swallows.

"Those papers mean I can stay?" he asks, a bit of sadness in his voice.

Pulling out a chair, I sit next to him and nod.

"Yes."

"What about Grandma?" Tears form in his eyes.

Jackson comes to his side, offering him the paper. He takes it.

"Sean," Jackson starts, "listen, your grandma isn’t going to be able to take care of you anymore. She's gotta stay in a place where people can help take care of her."

"The hospital?" Sean asks, looking up from the paper.

"For now," Jackson answers. "But we're looking for a safe place for her to move into where you can visit her anytime you want."

Sean's eyes brighten a little, the guilt he must have felt dissolving a smidge.

"Really?" Hope returns to his face.

"Really," I respond. "We'll make sure she's in a place close to where we live."

Sean launches out of his chair and into my arms. The force scoots my chair back an inch.

"I've dreamed about a mom like you," he says, throat clogged with tears. "I love Grandma, but she's not a mom, ya know?"

Unable to fight my tears, I let them fall and nod. "I know."

"Time to celebrate!" Lucas exclaims, pushing his chair back and hugging his best friend. "We're like real brothers now."

More tears streak my cheeks and Jackson wipes them away.

Jesus, this man twists my insides.

"You stay'n in my kitchen?" Jackson asks, his eyes burning with desire.

I nod. "I'm staying in your kitchen."

His knees come to the floor in front of me before his lips press to mine.

"Gross." Lucas fakes a gag.

Jackson pulls away, one hand cupping my face.

"You won't think so in about five years, my man."

"No way, not me," he argues.

"What about Mia?" Sean sings her name and makes kissing noises before rushing away from Lucas.

"Shut up." He chases after him. "You'll pay for that."

"You sure you're ready for that?" I ask, motioning to the boys with my head.

"Baby, I don't think you realize this just yet, so I'm going to help you out," he says, leaning in closer. "I wasn't ready for you when you stepped on stage at Lux. I wasn't ready to feel more at home and relaxed in your tiny ass apartment than I do in my Seattle house. And I sure as hell wasn't ready for this crazy little family you come with, but…" his mouth comes so close to mine, I feel his breath, "even when it was the last fucking thing I wanted a few months ago, I'm damn ready to make you fall for me the way I'm falling for you, snake charmer."

Oh. My. God. Falling for me?

For a moment, I swear my heart completely stops. And the ensuing heavy thud is an acceptance. The acceptance of a new dream—a dream I would never dared believe was possible.

Our mouths meet and our tongues dance seductively, but the kiss ends too soon.

"Now, let's feed the natives and get them to bed so I can feast on something more delicious."

His eyes roam over my body and I shiver.

"You don't have to make me," I whisper.

The right side of his lip curls.

"Good to fucking know, baby."

Things may be fast, may be too good, but we can handle whatever comes. The truth is I can fall in love with this man. I'm on my way there now.

Epilogue

Jackson

1 ½ Months later…

"Thank Christ tomorrow tonight is the end of this damn show," I exclaim, entering the master bedroom.

It took Julia two weeks to find multiple listings in L.A. and less than two days for me to convince Liza on a three bedroom condo in Brentwood. She fell in love with the wood laminate flooring, which the boys couldn't destroy as quickly as real hardwood, designer stone work, carved sinks, and Viking appliances. The look on her face gave away her excitement and appreciation for the place. The price tag on the place, however, nearly gave her a panic attack.

The $1.8 million was actually an excellent deal on the ready-to-move-in, partially furnished home. It took some convincing and perspective by comparing the cost to the Seattle house. I hadn't purchased the Seattle house alone, of course, but I did buy out the rest of the band as they moved on with their lives. And it had been on the market during my time with Laney, but now I'm glad to have it as a place to go when I need to be in Seattle.

And, I suppose, Sean's grandmother being transferred to an assisted living home only a ten-minute walk away and the private school Luke and Sean will attend next year swayed Liza.

Besides, the Brentwood condo at Las Ventanas is a gated community and has fifteen-foot ceilings. Come on, how many places have ceilings high enough I can't touch them or have to duck through a fucking arch to get into the next room. Not to mention the wall-length shower with a built-in tile bench. Definitely an excellent feature when my girl is lucky to top off at five-foot-six barefoot in said shower. Christening the shower is definitely the newest addition to my highlight reel.

"How did rehearsal go with your brother?" Liza steps from the bathroom, twisting her hair on top of her head.

"Good," I answer, hopping onto the bed.

Placing my hands behind my head, I watch her secure the messy bun on her way to the walk-in closet.

"I have more good news."

She reappears with the worn bag she won't let me replace and the new garment bag I bought a week ago.

"You're skipping the photo shoot to spend the night naked with me?" I grin.

Tilting her head, she smiles.

"No, I'm not pregnant." Her smile grows.

A part of me feels the loss of the possibility. It's a part of me I hadn't realized was so ready for a baby with Liza.

Watching my grin fade away, her brow furrows. "You aren't happy about this."

It's not a question.

Inhaling deeply, I take one hand from behind my head and reach out to her. I exhale when she moves without hesitation.

Pulling her onto the bed next to me, I kiss her cheek.

"Jackson?" The trepidation in her question makes me feel like shit.

"It's all good, baby."

Placing my fingers under her chin, I lift her face to mine.

"I think I got a bit too used to the idea of being a dad."

Her eyes widen as a flurry of different emotions fly across her face.

"I'm sorry," she chokes.

"Hey, don't be sorry."

I touch my lips to hers briefly and pull away.

"It's definitely for the best."

Smiling, I move my hand to the side of her face and circle her cheek with my thumb.

"We need time to be just you and me," I say, but then continue, "and Luke, Sean, and—”

"I get it," she laughs.

Pressing my lips back to hers, I roll so she's beneath me.

"We should celebrate," I pant against her mouth, licking her bottom lip.

"Um…no," she quickly responds. "I just told you I'm not pregnant."

She pushes on my chest to stop my tongue’s assault.

"That means I just started my period."

"I don't care." I shrug. "We can take this to the shower."

"You and the damn shower," she giggles, shaking her head. "I swear, it's the only reason you bought this place."

"We bought this place," I correct.

Growing more serious, I capture her eyes with mine. "I'm not gonna have this discussion again. It's all of ours. You got that?"

She nods, swallowing.

"I need to hear you say you got it, Liza."

"I’ve got it, Jackson," she whispers, biting her lip.

"Good." I give a nod and then dip my face close. "Now, back to naked celebrating."

"You're incorrigible," she says with an exaggerated sigh.

"Does that mean horny?" I purse my lips.

She smacks my chest and laughs.

"Come on, it's summer!" Luke begs Liza.

She's tough as shit. I would've given in three pleases ago.

"You have until midnight, Lucas." Liza crosses her arms over her chest.

It does wonders putting them on display. She can't be serious about no sex during her period. This isn't fucking medieval times. People fuck through this shit all the time.

"You're ruining everything," Luke growls. "Blaze and Colton are going to think I'm a baby."

"Their mom and I already spoke. She laid the rules down for them as well," Liza says through clenched teeth.

"Great," Luke snaps, throwing his hands in the air. "Now they've told everyone else about my bedtime."

Liza rolls her eyes, turning away from him to address Julia.

"Video games off by midnight. I don't care if they watch a movie, but it's lights out and down for the night."

"Understood," Julia responds, agreeing to the terms.

Luke growls again, stomping up the stairs.

Liza and Julia aren't best friends by any stretch of the imagination, but she's worked overtime to prove herself to Liza. The atonement was enough for Liza not to say anything when I decided to hire Julia full-time as a personal assistant. In fact, she agrees Julia is great at her job. Her job doesn't typically include watching the boys, but tonight Kel is helping Sid with her equipment for the photo shoot. We also haven't had time to talk about a sitter/nanny situation further than mentioning the thought.

Luke's door slams shut—hard.

Liza fists her hands in frustration.

"I’ve got this," I blurt. Putting my hands out, I push off the couch in the living room and walk to the stairs.

"You don't have—”

"It's cool."

I slap her ass on my way by her and she squeals.

"You'll just owe me later."

"I could just go beat him myself," she replies.

Giving her a look that feigns horror, I put my hand on my chest, and say, "You will not beat my favorite kid."

Smiling, she shakes her head and turns back to Julia. I finish the climb.

"Open up," I command in a casual tone, knocking on the wooden door.

The door creeps open, Sean standing there with his brow furrowed.

Sean's been so thankful and appreciative, but the darn kid is almost terrified to show any unhappiness or emotion. No matter what we say, he just swallows it down. I'm afraid one day he's going to explode.

I should mention having him talk to Dr. J. Note to self: talk to Liza about it.

Luke lies on his top bunk. He pulls the pillow off his face and sighs when he looks at me.

"So, she sent you to yell at me?" There's a bit of fear in his eyes.

Sitting on the wooden desk in their room, I cross my arms over my chest.

"When have I ever yelled at you?" I ask.

"Never," he mumbles, sitting up and dangling his legs off the edge.

Sean quietly sits on his bottom bunk.

"Exactly," I state. "So, I get you’re pissed."

His eyes rise from the floor to my face.

"I was a kid too and it sucks to have a curfew or bedtime, but she's the mom." I shrug.

"I know," he grumbles.

"What time are the twins…what's their names?" I ask, forgetting the two boys Luke and Sean met after we moved in.

"Blaze and Colton," Sean answers.

"Thank you. So, what time are Blaze and Colton coming over?"

Uncrossing my arms, I plant my hands on the desk on either side of me.

"In an hour," Luke mumbles.

Glancing at the Star Wars clock on the wall, I note the time and look back at Luke.

"Luke, my man," I draw, "that's going to be like six hours of video games. You really getting pissed about that?"

"It's embarrassing, Jack," Luke cries, throwing himself back on the bed.

"I feel ya," I concede, "but I also think six hours of video games and then movies to go to sleep is a pretty kick ass deal."

I shift my focus to Sean. Pushing away from the desk, I walk over and crouch in front of him.

"What do you think? You embarrassed?"

Sean's eyes widen and he gives a quick shake of his head.

"So, you think it's a fair deal?"

He nods.

I sigh and push off the desk.

"Sean, buddy, tell me what's on your mind."

His eyes shift to Luke's feet dangling next to him and back to my face.

"Come on, you have to think something," I press.

"He thinks I'm being a jerk to Mom," Luke sighs, still thrown back on the bed.

My eyes don't leave Sean.

"That so?"

Sean starts to nod.

"Use your words, dude."

The look I give stops his nodding.

"I…I think six hours is cool," he whispers.

"But?" I press further, feeling something's unsaid.

"But…" he pauses, taking a breath, "it's embarrassing that she called their mom."

"Hah!" I exclaim, causing Sean to jump. "I knew you could do it."

Giving him an easy punch to the arm, he matches my grin with one of his own.

Straightening to my full height, I step back from the bunk beds.

"I agree, calling their mom was kind of shitty. I'll talk to your mom about it, but remember, that doesn't mean anything will change. She's the boss, my boys."

They nod, half smiling.

"Do me a favor, Luke, and apologize to your mom for the attitude. Okay?"

Our eyes meet and for a moment, he looks thoughtful.

"Good talk. I'll let myself out." Pointing to the door, I spin.

"Hey, Jack?" Luke's call turns me back around.

"Yeah, man?"

"I don't know much about dads, but I think you make a pretty good one," Luke states, and Sean nods.

The air leaves my body, an ache forms like I'm taking double punches to my chest, and all I can do is walk out of the room. I close the door and press my back against the wall, breathing deeply.

He just cracked open my chest, grabbed my heart, and took it. The little fucker stole my heart just like his mother.

Finally able to move again, I stride down the stairs and find Liza at the kitchen bar going through her bag.

"Have you seen my—?"

I grab and spin her around, lifting and planting her ass on the bar.

"What's wrong?" she asks, worry lining her face. "Did Lucas—?"

Putting my hand over her mouth, I take a deep breath, collect my thoughts, and launch everything at her.

"You know those boys are my favorite little fuckers."

She pulls at my hand. I know it's to protest the way I call them little fuckers, but that will have to wait.

"Let me finish," I bark, causing her to still and drop her hands.

Releasing her mouth, I press my palms on the counter on either side of her and push between her legs.

"They just twisted me inside out like a fucking girl losing her virginity on prom night."

She opens her mouth, but the look I give silences her.

"I didn't ask to love you, but I do. I didn't ask for a premade family, but I got one. I didn't plan to feel like this."

Fear flashes in her eyes and tears start to pool.

Shaking my head, I continue, "Don't. You're reading me wrong, baby."

Palming each side of her head, I hold her face inches from mine.

"I thought I knew love, knew I'd found the one before, but I didn't know shit."

Emotion bubbles up and out of me in a harsh laugh.

"I fucking love you, those two boys, your crazy ass cousin, and…well, I'm cool with your brother. Declaring love for him would be fucking creepy as hell, but you get what I'm say'n."

Tears spill from her wide eyes and I wipe them away with my thumbs.

"I fucking love it, Liza. Every goddamn thing about you and all this, I love it."

Leaning forward, I crush my lips to hers in a bruising kiss. Her hands capture my wrists and hold.

Pulling back, I smile down at her.

"And you may not be pregnant now, but you can guaran-fucking-tee it won't take me long to correct that shit."

Her look of surprise morphs to shock, and she asks, "What the hell happened?"

"A fucking revelation, baby."

Liza

Lux Hedonica is home. Even with the new signage to compliment the remodeled front of the building, the inside is still where I belong. The updated furniture only compliments the vintage wall mirrors and bar. Red treats the place like it's his baby, which I completely respect and appreciate. The man may look like he belongs on a tour bus bouncing unwanted guests, but he has a mind for business. And having not been on tour for years, since the end of Corrosive Velocity, he's put his know-how into multiple thriving businesses.

So, three weeks ago, when the contract offers came in from Nobil and Bel Suono Studios, I felt confident with Red reviewing the papers and discussing them with me. After input from Jackson, I formally asked Red to manage my career.

Red's been supportive, brutally honest, and clear about our working arrangement being parallel to the club. He sets up my appearance at the club as if I'm a featured guest so I am free to arrange something else should it arrive. And his suggestion to go with Nobil's deal allows me and Red the freedom to choose most performance venues and appearances, while agreeing to give them exclusive rights to any recorded and live music.

The deal is perfect since I don't have any intentions of becoming a pop singer or doing huge tours like The Forgotten and Hush. Though, I do have a clause requiring me to record with some of their artists, Nobil is listed as my recording label, and I've also agreed to a five venue burlesque tour. The studio time and tour is currently being figured out logistically to allow time for me to work on the creative end of the live show. This means I'll need to record the music in the show for retail sales.

"It's about time!" Sid exclaims when we reach the sitting area of the club.

The tables and chairs stacked off to the far side allow room for different photo shoot sets.

"Damn!" Jackson exclaims, glancing around the room.

"These look great." I take in the scenes.

The large gilded mirror above the VIP booth is draped in red velvet, overflowing into the black leather booth. The table is gone, leaving the opportunity for full body photos. The stage is arranged with a clear bathtub, and pink satin drapes from the ceiling with black and white bows accenting areas. The tub is empty, but a large bubble machine sits just in front. The shimmery white chaise lounge we occasionally use onstage is surrounded by dangling pearls and diamond strands with a white fur rug beneath. The baby grand piano is polished and draped in metallic gold. A plain white background is set up just in front of the bar, and last is a raised platform covered in red satin with a red and white striped background set up behind it.

"Because I'm awesome," Sid boasts, giving me a wink.

"Yes, you are." I nod.

"Go get dressed," she orders. "The costumes are set up and numbered in order."

"Yes, ma'am," I salute.

Turning to Jackson, I push up to my tiptoes for a kiss. He leans down, cupping my ass and squeezing.

"Get a room," Sid teases.

Jackson's head snaps in her direction, a large grin on his face.

"Oh, I can take this to the dressing room if you want?"

"No," Sid cries. "Then I'll never get the pictures."

"See ya in a bit." I pat his chest and disappear backstage to get dressed.

"I have no idea how to put this on." The voice is new, but I know it's Mia.

Entering the changing room, Bethany is fully costumed in a leopard print corset dress. She's leaning over and attaching a garter to Mia's fishnet stocking.

"There you go." She straightens and examines her work.

"Thank you so much," Mia sighs in appreciation. "I don't know how you guys do this all the time."

She places her hands on her black leather corset, rubbing her stomach. The black, leather boy shorts hug her ass perfectly and her legs are complimented by the knee-high gladiator boots.

"You get used to it," I say, dropping my bag on my chair.

A large grin spreads across her face and she slips a black, cat-ear headband on her head.

"Hey," she greets, opening her arms and engulfing me in them.

"I didn't know you were doing the photo shoot." I return the hug. "I thought Chris didn't—”

She pulls back, dropping her arms.

"Yeah, Chris likes to think he's in charge of everything." There's a hint of rebellion in her voice. "Anyway, I figure this is a good compromise. I won't perform live, but I will be a part of the calendar Red is putting together." She moves with a grace that makes me jealous and sits in Bethany's chair. "Besides, he can't argue when he finds out it's for charity." She gives an evil smile.

"You go, girl." Gemma Harper enters the room.

"Red recruited you, too?" Mia asks.

"Yep." She smiles, flipping her neon red curled hair over her shoulder.

She looks around the room and her brow furrows.

"The rest of the band isn't participating?"

"Laney and Kat are in another room." Mia tilts her head toward what used to be a storage room until Red remodeled backstage to provide more private dressing areas.

"Cool," Gemma says to Mia before turning to me. "And you," she starts, walking toward me, "when are you going to come to New York and read for my director? He's dying to add a burlesque inspired steampunk character to the show."

"I believe Red is trying to work it out," I explain. "It's just been a bit…"

"Overwhelming?" Mia offers.

"Yes," I sigh out the word, and drop into my chair.

She nods, understanding written on her face.

"Chris and Jack aren't exactly the same, but they both go balls-to-the-wall when they desire something," she says. "When they work on a song, I won't enter the room for fear of losing a limb."

I laugh.

"Oh my God!" Gemma exclaims, slipping out of her sailor inspired dress. "I remember recording with them. I thought their brotherhood and the band was over, but in the end, they just nod and fist bump."

"That's part of it," I say, shrugging. "The rest is just the career stuff. If I didn't have Jackson and Red, I'd be in a moving truck bound for Pennsylvania."

Gemma holds an emerald green bra-top to her chest with one hand and clasps my shoulder with her left.

"It will take some getting used to, but I'm confident you'll handle it well."

"Thanks." I give a small smile and start slipping off my street clothes.

"My boobs look amazing!" Kat bursts into the room, wearing the circus ringleader costume: shiny, black, second-skin pants, a red brocade corset with gold tassels, thigh-high black boots, and a miniature black and red top hat on her head.

"Let me feel," Mia says, pushing out of the chair and grabbing Kat's boobs.

"Pretty fucking awesome, right?" Kat puffs out her chest.

"Damn, they are pushed up to perfection, aren't they?" Mia taps the curve bulging from the top. "Serena could play a sick beat on them."

"I'm never taking this off." Kat walks over to the loveseat and plops down.

"Yeah, right. One hot, dirty boy and you'll lose the duds in a blink." Laney leans against the doorway dressed in a silver flapper inspired corset. The color compliments her fair skin and light pink hair. The metallic silver stilettos add a couple inches to her tiny frame.

"Where are my models?" Sid yells backstage.

Barging into the room, she looks each of us over, one by one.

"Kat, your tits look awesome. Mia, I may grab your ass. This is fair warning. Laney, you are too fucking cute. I think I want to take you home as a pet."

Laney blinks at Sid as the rest laugh.

"Come on, Hush, we've got to get this shindig started." With a wave of her hand, she motions for them to head out to the scenes.

Mia stops long enough to present her ass to Sid and true to her word, she clasps with both hands.

"Chris is a lucky fucking man," Sid states before following a laughing Mia.

"This is going to be one crazy ass day, isn't it?" Gemma asks, still staring at the door.

"Yep," Bethany and I say in unison.

In a crystal chandelier dress with a white satin corset beneath, my hair pulled up on my head with white feathers, and clear, glass-inspired heels, I walk out for the photo shoot.

"No fucking way, Mia," Chris shouts.

She stands on the gilded mirror stage with her arms over her chest.

"It's for a charity calendar. Stop being—”

"Stop being what?" he interrupts. "Stop not wanting you to be half-naked for millions to see?" He shakes his head violently and then points to the floor. "Get the fuck down and go change."

Dropping her arms to her sides, she fists her wrist-length fishnet-gloved hands.

"Private Island, Chris," she says through clenched teeth.

His body stills.

"You reserved an entire island without fucking asking what I wanted," she continues grinding the words through her teeth.

"Baby," his voice softens.

"Don't baby me," she barks. "You didn't ask about a half-million dollar island, so I don't have to ask about a charity calendar."

Half a million dollars for an island? Did he buy the damn thing?

"I hope you got a receipt to return that shit," Sid mumbles, but shuts up when Chris cuts a glare her way.

"The opportunity presented itself," Chris explains. "It will be the perfect way to keep reporters out of our wedding."

"And you couldn't bother to ask me about it?" Her brow raises.

"Okay, so maybe I could've, but you aren't interested in planning the wedding," he accuses.

Bad move.

Mia's face contorts in anger, but before she can unleash, Sid interrupts.

"I'm just gonna move on to Kat for now. I'll be back," she informs, putting up a finger and pointing to where Kat sits, waiting in front of the red and white striped scene.

"No," Mia blurts. "I'm ready." She nods to Sid and then glares at Chris.

"Get out of the way, Christopher."

He opens his mouth.

"Christopher Tobias Mason, I swear to God, if you don't walk away right now, not only will there be no sex until we're married, but I'll insist we live separately."

Chris snaps his mouth shut, but flames burn in his eyes.

Grumbling inaudibly, he storms off to lick his wounds in a chair next to Jackson, Red, and…Xavier, I think. It's Xavier who claps Chris on his back, which earns him a glower.

"Damn, girl," Sid whistles and begins the shoot.

While Sid does her thing, I walk over to where the guys are watching.

"Liza, your cousin is a girl after my own heart." Red grins.

"She can be pretty amazing." I return the smile.

"And fucking insane," Xavier mumbles.

I fight not to laugh when I remember the picture Jackson showed me of Xavier in the closet tied up.

"Where's Kel?" I look around for my brother.

"I've got him looking over inventory." Red motions over his shoulder with a thumb. "Your brother is a damn wizard with that shit. I've been trying to get Todd, the head bartender, up to speed on it, but he just can't get it. Your brother stepped right in to help me out and he's rocking it."

"Really?" I ask, the warmth of pride filling my chest.

"Red's almost convinced him to go to Business College," Jackson adds, pulling me to him and sitting me on his knee.

"Seriously?" I ask Red, eyes wide with hope.

"Told him he needs to go to school and I'll hire him to help manage this place." Red shrugs.

"He's only eighteen."

Red nods. "I know. I talked to him. He can help out around here and learn, but won't be official until he has a degree. He won't be serving, so he doesn't have to be twenty-one."

Slipping off Jackson's knee, I wrap my arms around Red's shoulders and squeeze.

"Thank you." I fight off the tears.

"No problem," he says, giving me a one arm hug and pat on my back.

"Okay, he gets it." Jackson grabs my hips, pulling me back onto his lap. "Red was also just telling us about an idea he has for a benefit concert," Jackson says.

"When?" I ask Red.

Sighing, he rubs his large hand over his cropped hair.

"Not sure. It will take at least a year to plan and it's a lot to take on right now."

"Because of my stuff," I say.

"Partly, yeah." He nods.

"Red, you don't have to—”

He puts a big hand in my face, shutting me up.

"I chose to be your manager, Liza. I know the business and you're good business."

He levels a look at me, daring an argument. I keep my mouth shut.

"I'd like to plan it for next year around the anniversary of Ethan's death," Red says, eyes shifting to Xavier.

He stiffens and slowly looks at Red.

"What are you up to?" Xavier's brow furrows.

"I'd like to have Corrosive Velocity play for the benefit," he admits.

"Without a fucking lead singer?" Xavier snaps.

Red shrugs, and says, "I was thinking of asking Chris or Mia to stand in as the front man."

"You're out of your mind if you think Corbin will go for any of this."

"If we present a united front, I think we could get him to step up for a cancer benefit."

Jackson stills and his thigh muscle tightens beneath me.

"We'd probably play the benefit," Chris offers quietly. "I'd have to talk to the guys first, but…" he lets the words die off and completely ignores the topic of singing for Corrosive Velocity.

"Liza," Sid calls, getting my and the rest of the table's attention. "You're up."

She leans forward to pick up a lens from her bag and catches Xavier staring. Slowly, she raises her middle finger, kisses the tip, and blows. Xavier growls.

"Damn it, she's soooo my kind of crazy."

Red chuckles.

I climb off Jackson's lap and follow Sid to the piano set.

"We're starting here and then you can change for the next set." Sid directs my body in front of the piano, ass facing her camera angle.

"How many of the scenes are we doing?" I ask.

"You are doing all of them." She lies on the floor, focuses her lens, and snaps up at me. "Then Red can decide what he wants to use on the calendar and other shit like your website."

"I have a website?" I ask.

"Don't make that face." She cringes. "It won't photo well."

Schooling my features, I pose for her shot.

"Yes, you have a website." She clicks the camera and climbs from the floor. "You're welcome."

"Sid?" I ask through a perfectly practiced lip curl and eye fucking.

"Yes, my dear." She brings the camera close to my face and snaps.

"I want to hire you."

"For what?" She lowers the camera.

"Well, Jackson has Julia to help him and me, but you can do the website and such. You can obviously still do the other stuff, I just want to be one of your clients."

"You really trust me to help you with stuff?" Her head tilts.

"I trust you with my life, Sidra."

Her nose wrinkles at her full name.

"I trust you with my son."

She smiles and wraps her arms around me, pulling back quickly.

"Holy shit, those crystals are hard as fuck," she states, rubbing her boobs. "They tried to take out the girls."

Shaking my head, I giggle.

It's bittersweet to sit front row at the Hidden Talent finale. And, if I'm honest, I wouldn't be here tonight if Jackson and Chris weren't performing. Their set has been kept a secret, only being mentioned as a surprise performance in the commercials leading up to the show. Jackson won't tell me what they're doing.

The reporters went crazy when Jackson and I entered the building. Over the past weeks, we've established an understanding with most of them. We give the reporters and cameramen ten minutes or so and most will back off. Of course, it doesn't always work and not all of the paparazzi actually follow through, but it does lessen the numbers.

Big Kam is the first to take me away from Jackson, talking about wanting to feature me on a track he's working on. Jackson steals me back, telling Kam to speak to Red.

Tonight, the mentor chairs are gone. They've been given the first few rows for themselves and their guests. Chris and Mia sit on Jackson's right with me on his left. Jimmy, Kat, Laney, Xavier, Sid, and Kel sit a row behind us.

Hushed Mentality is the second act to take the stage and bring the audience to their feet. Xavier fills in on drums since Serena is home with the new baby. Jimmy even steps out from the side and joins Laney. The performance makes me a bit more jealous of Mia. The girl can sing, play guitar, and bare her soul in beautifully constructed lyrics. And the look of pride on Chris' face makes my stomach warm. The raw love in his eyes is the stuff little girls dream about.

Next up is one of the finalists. In fact, it's the sweet bubblegum snob who called me a prostitute. It's taking a lot of effort not to stand up and out sing this little bitch during her performance. It's petty and arrogant, but I know I could do it. Instead, I take satisfaction knowing she had to follow Mia Ryder's performance.

"I've gotta go back," Jackson whispers.

I smile and nod. He and Chris make their way around the side of the stage into darkness. Anticipation brings pterodactyl size butterflies to life in my stomach.

"It will be great," Mia whispers, slipping into Jackson's empty seat.

"Do you know what they're doing?" I ask in a hush.

She shakes her head. "Chris only said Jackson needed to do this," she says, and glances over her shoulder.

I follow her gaze and find Jimmy.

"The fact that he's not going back has me really curious," she states, her face turning back to me with a large grin.

The stage darkens and a spotlight lands on the host of the show up on a balcony.

"Tonight, we have a special performance by two members of The Forgotten. They will be giving you a peek into their newest unreleased song," he announces with a grin.

The crowd screams.

"In a stripped down performance, I give you, Christopher Mason and Jackson Shaw."

With a wave of his hand, the backdrop of the stage turns blue. A soft spotlight lands on Christopher behind a grand piano and microphone. The piano is slanted so he faces the crowd at an angle. Another illuminates Jackson sitting next to him on a stool, holding his guitar on his lap. A mic stand stretches from the floor toward Jackson's mouth.

The once roaring crowd falls silent.

Jackson starts a slow rhythm, leading everyone along his journey, higher and higher, until Chris comes in with the piano. He strokes keys, licks his lips, and hums into the mic. And then, Jackson's voice fills the room, starting off the song.

"Your presence consumes me.

Taunts me without a single touch.

I'm freed by your beauty,

Making my tainted chambers beat once more."

Chris joins with him on the chorus.

"Intoxicated by your mouth,

You fascinate.

I want to taste the red of your lips.

Intoxicate me."

And then it's back to Jackson.

"Slipping under layers of betrayal,

Desire burrows beneath my flesh.

I crave the torture of your existence,

Hungering to wear the fragrance of your skin."

They continue to alternate between the two.

"Intoxicated by your charms,

You taunt.

I want to taste the words you speak.

Intoxicate me.

Eyes see through the illusion,

Piercing the darkest parts of my soul.

Fear of a four letter word disintegrates,

Replaced with a need for devotion.

Intoxicated by your kiss,

You haunt.

I want to taste the air you breathe.

Intoxicate me.

My shadowed heart is unworthy,

But I'll own your love.

I sacrifice what remains of my soul,

Staking yours with my claim.

Intoxicated by you.

Devoted to your taste.

I will savor your submission.

Intoxicate me."

Chris carries the last note to a place Jackson can't. The stage dims back down and the crowd erupts so loudly, my first reflex is to cover my ears. Then, I see him.

Jackson strides to the end of the stage, focused on our seats. There's no way he can see me with the spotlight on his face, but he knows where to find me.

"Go to him," Sid orders, shoving at my back.

"That was for you, Liza," Laney adds. "Go to him," she yells on a laugh.

He leaps down from the stage, a spotlight finding and following his every move. Mia grabs my arm and pulls. I finally move, meeting Jackson halfway between the seats and stage.

Jackson slides his hands up the sides of my neck and holds my head. Thumbs under my jaw, he tilts my head and leans in close.

"I fucking love you, Eliza."

His words dampen my lips and underwear.

"I love you, Jackson," I respond.

"Say it again," he says against my lips.

"I love you."

Our lips meet in a mutually hungry kiss as the cheer of the crowd fades away around us.

The End

Stellar Collision

(A Falling Stars novella) book 2.5

Sadie Grubor

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Copyright 2015 Sadie Grubor

Cover Art by VST

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any existing means without written permission from the publisher. Contact Author at sadiegrubor@live.com.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

Dedication:

This story is for those who couldn't wait to get more of Chris & Mia. This is for YOU.

That's right—it's for you, the person reading this.

Your dedication to this series, this cast of characters, both excites and makes me nervous. When I started Chris' journey, I never planned to go further with the group. But you loved them so much, it brought the characters into their own light.

Thank you for giving that to me.

Thank You!

Special Thanks:

I need to thank my family and friends who support my crazy aspiration to write these stories.

A special thank you goes out to my husband and kids for letting me disappear into my imaginary worlds.

To my mother, thanks for always supporting me.

To my BETA team, thank you for the ego boosts and humbling moments you provide. Also, I want to mention each of them jumped on board for a cameo in this novella and the upcoming book. You are all so awesome!

Thank you, Kara, Leeann, Marie, Bronwyn, Stephanie, Tracey, Michelle, Ruth, & Pam.

Monica, girl, you make me sound so much better than I do in real life!  You Mo'Nica fo'life shorty!

HUGE shout outs to:

Kim Ginsberg, your hawk eye and constant support astound me.

Elaine Marie, you are so kind, supportive, and selfless. I want to be like you when I grow up.

Heather Moss, you amaze me with your willingness to support my work. I heart you, my margarita soul mate.

Danielle Piccin, my dearest warrior princess, you are such a strong woman. Thank you for being a friend.

Teresa Coleman, I still don't know what I did to deserve such a loyal reader and friend, but I'm thankful I have ya.

Lisa Figliolino, by far, I think you are my truest ride or die chic! Rock On, girl!

Blurb

Christopher Mason got more than he dared to believe he deserved: the perfect woman, a love deeper than the emotional scars he carries, and a family. But, in true Chris fashion, the greedy asshole wants more. He won't settle for anything less than a legally binding, last-name-changing event—one that can't take place soon enough.

What he isn't ready for is a discovery that will take him back to a dark place, one he refuses to repeat, but sometimes we find our largest revelations hiding in our darkest fears.

Mia and Hush are at the top of their game in the rock world. Deemed the current Queen of Rock, Mia is feeling the pressure as well as the love from the industry. She's also not happy with the lengths Chris has gone to for their wedding, but her love for the big asshole and his unwavering devotion to her is greater than her frustration.

Then, a realization puts the two of them on opposite sides and Mia worries this is the one thing their love won't be able to overcome. For the first time, Mia's own fears and emotional turmoil might outweigh Christopher's.

You're cordially invited as Christopher lays his final claim.

Chapter One

Christopher Mason

"You're lucky to still be breathing," Jackson jokes, sitting back in the chair of my home studio.

"Whatever," I mumble and adjust the treble.

If I have to hear them rag on me any longer about the damn island, I may punch each of them in the goddamn balls.

"He's still being punished," Elliott adds with a laugh.

Twisting my head around, I glare at him.

"Don't give me that look. If you don't want me to find out about shit, then don't do stupid shit. I'm married to your woman's sister, get used to me being in your business." He leans back in his chair, raising his arms and interlocking his fingers behind his big ass head.

"Wait," Jimmy pushes up from his prone position on the couch, "what don't we know?" He motions between Jackson and himself.

"Nothing," I snap, narrowing my eyes on Elliott.

Elliott bursts out laughing, his massive body shaking.

"I'll just say Captain Emo actually has an excellent reason to be in such a pissy mood for a change," Elliott states, his answer vague enough that I think he may keep his mouth shut, but then he adds, "since he has a raging case of blue balls."

"Mia's holding out on you?" Jimmy asks, turning wide eyes to me.

"For the past two months," Elliott explains with a laugh.

"Wait, she's known about the island for almost eight months." Jackson's brow furrows.

"Yeah," Elliott nods, "but dickhead didn't tell her how much his brilliantly romantic idea cost. She just found out through the wedding planner."

"Christ, do you have a vagina to go with your gossiping bullshit?" I growl at him.

"No, so don't try to fuck me!" Elliott brings his arms down, pointing a finger in my direction. "I don't care how desperate you are to get laid."

"Fuck off, you idiot." Growling, I spin my chair back to face the sound table.

"Damn, man," Jack sighs from my left, "that blows."

"No, it doesn't. It doesn't suck, blow, jerk, or fuck," I correct, placing my elbows on the edge of the table and burying my face in them.

If I don't get inside Mia soon, I'll lose my goddamn mind. It's such bullshit, too. I surprise her with a private island resort, for a fucking week, to get married. Even went as far as securing a wedding planner to help her with arrangements and privacy for the ceremony. And if we are totally goddamn honest right now, it's her fucking fault we have to go to such extremes. She's the one the industry has titled Current Queen of Rock. That's all on her.

Throwing myself back into my chair, I cross my arms over my chest.

"You somehow just made this her fault, didn't you?" Jackson asks, a stupid half-grin on his face.

"I've done no such thing." I cock one brow at him. "She's done this to herself."

"Yeah. Okay." Jackson leans forward, moving the knobs around.

"Stop moving the bass." I slap his hand away. "This isn't fucking R&B."

He puts his hands in the air and pushes back from the table.

"You know, the last time I checked, I wrote this fucking song," he throws at me.

After readjusting the bass level, I spin in the chair.

"I wrote the melody," I counter.

"It's my girl's song," he challenges back.

Goddamn it!

"It's my studio," I verbally grasp for the win.

"Are you guys going to take your balls and go home next?" Jimmy asks, snorting at our exchange.

"Nope," Jackson says, sliding up to the table and adjusting knobs. "I just won that shit."

"Speaking of Liza, is she here?" Elliott asks, scooting his chair closer to my side.

"Nah, she's in Vegas." Jackson twists another knob.

I fist my hands in my lap, stopping myself from correcting the mess he's making.

"Is she performing?" Elliott sounds a bit too excited.

"Stop fantasizing about my girl's goodies, asshole." Jackson turns dark eyes on him.

"I'm not," he argues.

"You do sound a bit too happy about Liza performing," Jimmy adds.

"Wrong," Elliott says, shaking his head. "Vegas got me thinking about bachelor parties." He wiggles his brow.

Groaning, I close my eyes and drop my head back.

"Come on, you've gotta have a bachelor party," Elliott practically whines.

Opening my eyes, I focus on the matte white ceiling, and say, "No. I don't."

"The girls are having one," he grumbles, the chair protesting as he moves.

"What?" I ask, bringing my head up and twisting toward him.

"Serena and Mia were talking about a wedding shower and bachelorette stuff with the wedding planner last week," Elliott informs me, stretching out one arm and motioning to make a point.

"Oh, really?" I ask rhetorically, a grin spreading on my face.

So, now she's planning shit and not telling me about it? Looks like I'll be balls deep in my angel sooner than she thinks.

Mia Ryder

"Why is this so difficult?" I turn my eyes away from the triple floor-length mirrors and focus on Serena.

"You look amazing." Her eyes roam over the ivory silk gown.

"But…" Spinning, I look over my shoulder at the back of the dress.

My arms are bare. Delicate French lace encases my neck and collarbone, creating cap sleeves before the ivory silk starts draping. The front is a conservative V-neck, but the back is completely open, framing the tattoo on my spine. The material dips low, exposing my skin down to the top of my ass, and snugly shapes to my hips, with lace overlay, before flaring to the floor.

I both love and hate this dress.

Love that it's soft and delicate, but hate how girlie I'm being about this damn thing.

"But what?" Laney steps up next to me on the raised platform.

Our eyes meet in the mirror.

"What if he hates it?" I ask in a whisper, embarrassed for feeling so insecure.

I mean, this is Christopher we're talking about. The man worships me to a level of obsession. Still, I don't want to disappoint him.

"Seriously?" Kat asks, rolling her eyes. "Jesus, Mia, you could wear a plastic bag."

"Or a paper one, since plastic is not good for the environment," Laney mumbles.

"I'm repurposing," Kat snaps, narrowing her eyes playfully at Laney before looking back up at me. "My point is, the only fucking thing Chris is worried about being on your body is him, and the only thing he wants on you, besides that, is his last name."

Serena snorts, drawing my attention back to the couch where little Zoey is sitting in her lap, snoozing.

"She has a point," she says with a shrug.

"I didn't even think about changing my last name." My focus blurs for a brief moment and dizziness swirls.

"Whoa there," Laney exclaims, grabbing my arm.

"Are you okay?" Serena asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

I nod and breathe deeply. "Yeah."

"Did you eat anything besides red fish today?" Laney asks, a bit of annoyance in her tone.

"Yes," I respond defensively. "I ate a bagel."

"So, a bagel and red fish." Laney levels a look at me. "I'm sure that's soaking up the three mimosas real well."

"You girls should wear…" Linda's word die away and she clasps her hand over her heart. "Oh my lord, Mia, you look beautiful."

"I feel ridiculous." I cross my arms over my chest.

"Well, you don't look ridiculous." Linda approaches me, tears in her eyes.

She reaches out and ghosts her hand over the skirt of the dress.

"Okay, then I feel like an imposter," I say, amending my previous statement.

"Why?" Linda asks, her watery eyes meeting mine.

"Because, I'm Mia Ryder—jeans, t-shirts, and Converse. I'm not…" I wave a hand over my body, "I'm not this girl."

"No, you're this woman." Linda straightens to her full height, her face turning serious. "You are Amelia Marie Ryder. Rock's queen, a mother, and the woman Christopher Mason sees straight to the heart of. So, no, Mia, you aren't a girl. You are a woman, and you are beautiful," Linda finishes with a small nod.

I inhale sharply and launch myself off the raised platform. Linda reflexively opens her arms, catching and embracing me.

Tightening my arms around her, I inhale the soothing cocoa butter scent of her dark skin. The familiar feel of Serena's arms comes around us.

"Thank you," I choke out against her neck.

"Holy shit!" Laney exclaims on a sniff. "Kat, are you crying?"

Releasing Linda, Serena and I take a step back and wipe at our damp cheeks before turning toward Kat.

"No," she lies, running the back of her hand against her face. "It's just allergies or something."

"I had no idea the antichrist could shed real tears," Laney teases.

Kat turns a mischievous grin on Laney.

"Don't, Kat." Laney puts her arms out. "We're in a public—”

Laney's scream fills the room as Kat dives toward her, taking them both to the floor. Two of the dress shop women who'd been helping us come out with Kara, my wedding planner. Eyes wide and mouths open, they watch Kat lick Laney's face.

"Oh my God," Laney cries. "Kat, you're thirty, not thirteen!"

Looking away from the Laney-Kat chaos, I wave at Kara. Her eyes, filled with disbelief and shock, find mine.

"This is the dress," I say, giving a nod and thumbs up.

Chapter Two

Christopher

Flattening my palms against her inner thighs, I drag my tongue slowly up her slit. What started as a simple discussion regarding her failure to share plans for a bachelorette party escalated to much better and sweeter things.

"Oh, fuck, Christopher," Mia calls out as she climaxes. "That goddamn tongue ring."

That's orgasm number two. Teasing her clit with the metal ball, I press my shoulders into her legs further and keep her open.  Her body jerks with every swipe of my tongue and convulses when I suck on her bundle of nerves.

"Chris, I can't take anymore," she groans. Hips wiggling, her hands grab my head, trying to still me.

"I've got three more to go," I say against her swollen lips.

"No," she gasps. "It's too much."

"This is the punishment for holding out for so long." I cluck my tongue and return to feasting.

Fuck, how I've missed the way she tastes, the sounds she makes, and the way her toes curl into my skin when I eat her out.

"I need you to fuck me, Christopher," she says, her voice a breathy demand.

My body stills. As much as I want to keep my head between her legs, my dick has been neglected for two long months.

"Don't you want to fuck me, Chris?" The taunt in her question is almost enough to make me play a little harder to get. "I really need your cock inside me, baby."

And…I'm done.

Releasing her thighs, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and get to work on removing my jeans.

Having only had enough time to persuade and seduce Mia out of her clothes, I hadn't been able to take off more than my shirt. I couldn't risk her backing out while I removed my damn pants.

I shove the denim and cotton boxer briefs over my hips, my eyes drawn to Mia's hands.

Her thin fingers slip up over her stomach and cup her breasts.

I lick my lips and push my pants to my knees.

"Touch your nipples, angel," I instruct, my eyes riveted as she does what she's told.

Her thumb and forefinger pinch and roll the dark pink tips. Her neck arches back, and she gasps.

I kick the material off my legs and climb between her legs.

Placing one hand on her bent knee, I flatten the other on her stomach, my thumb briefly tracing the scar on her abdomen. Pain stabs at my heart, thinking about almost losing Mia during Maggie's birth, but she rubs her wet pussy against my cock, bringing me back from the darkness I gravitate toward.

"Please, Chris," she begs, causing my dick to jump.

"Offer your tits to me, baby," I order, leaning over her body.

Mia cups her breasts, pushing them together and up. I latch my mouth onto the left nipple, roll my tongue, and suck. She cries out when I release and move to the right.

Her hips grind up and against me. Pulling my hips back, she whines.

Keeping my weight on one forearm, I use my other hand to position and slide just the tip inside.

"Chris," she croons, "please."

"Please what, angel?" I ask, the question strained to my own ears.

My tip throbs, demanding full entrance.

"Fuck me!" she cries, wrapping her legs around my hips and pulling me into her.

"Fuck, Mia," I growl, planting my forehead between her breasts.

Taking a deep breath, I try to control myself from blowing my load like a fucking teenage boy.

Her hips wiggle and jerk, making me lose any fight to stay still. I pull back and slide in deep, feeling every twitch and tightening of her walls.

"Faster," she demands.

Obeying the woman I love, I increase the tempo.

A sheen of sweat forms on her skin. Moisture drips down my back, pooling above my ass. Our skin slaps against each other, filling the room with the sounds of us in our most raw and primal moment, when we are one.

"Harder, Chris." Mia's arms come around my shoulders. Her short nails rake down my back as the heels of her feet dig into my ass.

Sliding my hand through the combined sweat on her body, I slip my damp fingers over her clit and rub. Her body tenses, a guttural moan escapes her mouth, and I fuck her until her pussy locks my dick in the best vice grip God ever created. It's the last thing my neglected cock can take, and I explode on my own orgasmic release.

Dropping my head to her shoulder, I lick her skin. "I cannot wait to make you my wife."

"That was an unfair maneuver," Mia states, still a little breathless, referring back to my pressing her against the bedroom wall and running my tongue piercing over her bottom lip.

I fucking love my piercing.

Rolling to my side, I pull her into my chest.

"You're an arrogant asshole," she teases, tracing her fingers over my triumphant smile.

"Baby, by now, you gotta know how much your pussy needs me."

Opening my mouth, I lightly nip at her fingers.

"Mmhmm," she hums, snuggling into my bare chest.

The heat of her skin saturates the coldest, blackest parts inside of me. I need her warmth, her light, like a person needs air to breathe.

"So, we never did get to where you're planning these parties," I say against her temple.

"I'm going to have the wedding shower at your…at Nic and Gwen's." She still pauses before referring to Nic as my father, not knowing which of my moods is in play.

The sessions with Dr. J have actually brought me into a better place. Not that I'm going to tell the smug bastard, but the facts remain the same. He's given me a better way to cope with my past and deal with my present.

Nicholas can still trigger the darkness, causing me to spiral into those depths. I know the rationale for the entire situation, but there's still a deep feeling of anger toward him. Sometimes I can't help but imagine how things would've been had he not given up so quickly and looked for my mother. Or the happy little family he got while the gates of hell drew closer and closer to my doorstep, the devil himself taking away the one person who loved me. He sure as fuck didn't love me enough to look for me.

"Chris…" Mia's soft voice soothes my inner demons.

Opening my eyes, which I hadn't realized I'd closed, I find her chocolate eyes, framed in worry lines, staring back at me.

"It's okay, baby," I whisper, hugging her closer.

"You disappeared on me." It's not a question. Mia's well-versed in my spiraling moments. "When's your next—?"

"Next week," I snap, a bit too harsh. "Sorry," I say, quickly apologizing.

Her right arm slips under mine, easing around me, and she squeezes.

"I get it," she says. "There is a lot you still need to work through and current situations make it more difficult."

The present situation being Gwen. Her last chemotherapy session happens next Thursday. A full two weeks before we depart for Cayo Espanto, our island wedding.

"I'll give him a call," I say, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Thank you," she whispers, placing her lips over my heart.

Closing my eyes, I settle into her body and drift to sleep.

Mia

The four of us stand in one bathroom, using the large mirror over the sink to apply the final touches. Laney swipes glittery shadow over her eyes. Kat uses the hotel washcloth to scrub lipstick from her teeth. I'm brushing on the final coat of mascara when my sister's reflection draws my attention.

Serena adjusts her boobs once, sighs, and sticks her hand into her shirt to make further adjustments. When she looks up into the mirror again, she catches me watching.

"I don't know what to do with them anymore," she whines.

"You've always been big chested," I remind her.

"Yeah, but they grew an entire size larger this pregnancy." She looks down and pokes her left boob. "They went back to normal after Ryan was born, but with Zoey…" she trails off, sighing.

"You're still breastfeeding. I'm sure it has something to do with that," Laney offers.

"I don't think they're ever going back to normal," Serena groans, grabbing each boob with one of her hands. "My own hands can't contain them anymore, let alone any of my bras."

"Buy larger bras?" Kat offers.

"I know one person who's happy," I tease, sticking the mascara wand back into the tube.

"Oh, indeed," Serena agrees. "My husband calls them his baby making bonus."

Lane, Kat, and I burst into a fit of laughter. Even Serena cracks a smile.

"That sounds like something he'd say," Kat snorts.

"Enough laughing at my endowments and Neanderthal husband," Serena says in a mother-like tone, dropping her hands away from her chest. "Let's get this party started!" She throws one arm in the air, her fingers giving a devil's horn.

Filing out of the Vegas hotel suite bathroom and bedroom, we find Liza sitting on one of the chairs in the shared space. She stands, tossing her phone on top of an overnight bag on the table in front of her.

"You should've told us you were here," I tell her, walking up and pulling her into a hug.

Liza is new to our girl crew, and we don't keep her around just because she's with Jackson. She is super sweet, knows her music—the past, present, and upcoming—holds her own with Jackson (not easy to do), and can dance in a way I wish I could move. Even with my years of dance lessons, my body doesn't roll like hers. Not to mention the way she's built. Where I'm thin and lanky, Liza is all curves. Not exaggerated curves, though. Her breasts aren't as big as Serena's, but they're nice, and her tiny waist was made to wear a corset. Then, there's her ass. Good lawd, the girl has a perfect heart shape ass. This is why I sing for Hush and she at Lux. She's got the body for it.

It took her a few awkward girls' nights to get comfortable around us, especially Laney. But one outing, including her fucking hilarious cousin, Sid, and all uncomfortable tension disappeared.

Releasing Liza from my hug, I step back.

"I just got here." She shrugs. "There was a small obstacle getting out of the hotel room."

"Jackson is anything but small," Kat teases, plopping on the couch.

Liza laughs. "Sorry, I had a very tall obstacle."

"I thought Chris was bad with Mia," Serena says with a sigh, shaking her head, "but Jack might be worse." She sits down next to Kat.

"His dick spends more time in her than his own pants," Kat adds with a nod.

"Agreed," Serena responds, nodding back.

"This coming from super boobies," Laney taunts, slipping onto the arm of the couch. "Didn't we just talk about your husband's obsession with your mammary glands?"

Kat's hand flies out, landing on Serena's right breast.

"But they are so nice," she says, squeezing.

"If I leak through this bra, my foot is going up your ass," Serena threatens.

Kat pulls her hand away quickly.

"As kinky as a foot in my ass could be, I'm not into milky palms." Kat wrinkles her nose, adding, "I don't know why you chose to get pregnant. It's so gross."

Liza's laugh gets our attention.

"Sorry, you sound like Sid," she explains.

"Where is your fuck-awesome cousin?" Kat asks. "I love that bitch."

"She was going to come, but had something to take care of last minute," Liza informs.

"Is that something Xavier Stone?" Laney asks, waggling her brow.

"No," Liza answers with a grin. "Sid has a business she runs out of Pennsylvania. She's got some packaging issues or something. Once she started in with the logistics terminology, I sort of shut down."

"She's totally a Madame, isn't she?" Kat sits forward, waiting for a reply.

"No," Liza giggles. "Though, you're warm." She points to Kat.

"Oooh, let me try," Laney says, rubbing her hands together. "She's one of those people who lure pedophiles on the internet?" she guesses.

"No," Liza snorts. "I could see her doing that, but then she'd end up in jail for beating the shit out of them."

"She makes sex tapes?" Serena tosses out.

I start to grin, but stop when I see Liza freeze up. A look of sadness darkens her face before she shakes her head.

"You okay?" I ask, taking a step toward her.

"Yeah," she nods. "I'm all right."

Glancing at the girls, they wear the same look of concern.

"Why don't we get out of here before Chris comes crashing in and kidnaps Mia?" Serena asks, pushing up from the couch.

Kat and Laney follow suit.

"Is this expected?" Liza inquires, grabbing her phone off her bag and slipping it into the back pocket of her tight, black pants.

"We have a poll," Kat says. "I've got a hundred dollars on Chris showing up before midnight and crashing our party."

"And," Laney adds from behind me, "I say it will be after midnight."

"After seeing Liza's ass in these pants," I start, giving her a good once over, "I've got two hundred that says Jackson shows up first."

"What?" Liza half gasps, half laughs.

"I'll take that," Kat blurts. "Chris is the king of the pussy whipped."

"I'm in with Kat," Liza says, surprising me.

I raise my brow at her.

"Jack already got some before I left." She shrugs. "He's good for a few hours, at least."

"She has a point," Laney states.

"Fuck, I didn't think of that," I groan.

We step out of the apartment and onto the elevator. In the mirrored walls, I take in the image we create. Liza's black, skinny pants have a wet-look finish and she's paired them with some kick ass white leopard print pumps. Kat wears black micro shorts and knee-high leather boots. Laney is all glamor tonight with her silver sequin miniskirt and black strappy heels. Serena, like me, has on skinny jeans, but where she's wearing zebra print ballet flats, I have on my red, glitter Converse.

We each have on a custom tank top Laney had made, all wearing a different color: black for Serena, neon pink for Laney, red for Kat, and bright blue for Liza. Their shirts say, She's Tying the Knot, Buy Us a Shot in glitter, while mine is white and says I'm Getting Married, Bitches across my chest.

"Everyone ready for a night of debauchery?" Kat asks.

The elevator arrives at the main floor and the doors slide open.

"Hell yes," we say in unison, stepping into the lobby.

Kara, my wedding planner, hears us enter the large marble area. She and her assistant, Leeann, stand by the concierge desk, waiting.

"Ladies, I—”

"Did she just call me a lady?" Kat snorts.

"She doesn't know you very well," Laney states, patting her on the arm.

Kara clears her throat. I think the dress shop face-licking incident has made her uneasy around us.

"I switched from the limo to a party bus for tonight," Kara says, motioning toward the doors.

"Are you saying we belong on a short bus?" Serena asks, teasing.

"Of course we do," I say with a laugh, and turn to Kara. "Thanks, K."

The bus is loaded with full bottles of liquor and Kat is quick to serve it up.

First stop is a restaurant, where Kara secured a private room for us. This is super smart on her part, given the food fight Kat and Laney start. It takes Serena to calm them down.

Next is the Voodoo Rooftop Nightclub. The music is loud and the drinks are flowing. We're set up in our own little corner with Bill, the bodyguard, keeping watch. He's the size of two Elliott's, and Kat's been trying to distract him with her ass and tits for the last hour.

"Kat, stop trying to distract our protector," Serena shouts over the music.

Huffing, Kat pulls herself away from the stoic man-beast.

"He doesn't even blink," she complains, sliding into a chair next to me. "He must've trained with those guards in England or something. Liza, get over there and seduce him."

Liza chokes on her purple drink.

"Why am I the seducer?"

"Because I've seen you in action," Kat tells her. "Go bump and grind. See if you get anything."

"Maybe he's not into girls," Laney adds, looking Bill over from behind.

"Hmm…" Kat considers, and she grins.

Twisting toward Bill, she yells, "I'm totally down with a guy being in the picture. And if you aren't into girls at all, can I just watch?"

"Kat," Laney yells, turning wide eyes on her.

"What?" she asks, giving a shrug.

"Bill is doing an excellent job," I shout over everyone, so he can hear me, "regardless of his sexual orientation."

Turning my eyes on Kat, I finish with, "Now, respect the Taser and leave him alone."

"Fine," Kat sighs, slouching in her seat.

A waitress slides by Bill with a full tray of fresh drinks.

Serena sits up, clapping her hands together.

"I want the blue drink this time," she calls out, grabbing it off the tray and shoving it in my face. "It has a glow stick in it."

"Mia?"

I turn my head toward Kara's voice.

"Just let me know when to call the bus."

"What time is it?" I look at my watch-less wrist.

"It's almost eleven," she responds.

"We've been here for three hours already?" I ask, my eyes bugging out.

She nods. "I already radioed down to Leeann about the bus. She's on standby whenever you are ready."

"We need to go to a strip club," Laney shouts.

"Yes," Kat agrees emphatically.

"Can we go to the Crazy Horse?" Serena asks over her drink.

"That's girl dancers," Laney states.

"Even fucking better," Kat exclaims.

"No one wants to see wang swinging around in their face, Lane," Liza says, wrinkling her nose.

"True dat," Serena agrees.

"Girls are prettier to look at. Don't you think?" I ask Kara.

Her face goes blank and her mouth pops open.

"You need a drink," I decide, grabbing a glass full of an orange-red liquid.

"No, I really need to—”

"Drink up, buttercup." I hold the glass out with a large smile.

"Drink, drink, drink, drink," Kat and Laney chant.

"Oh, that one's good. I had it last time," Serena says, endorsing the beverage.

Kara tentatively reaches out, takes the drink, and sips.

"It's splendid," she says with a smile.

"Drink it," I say.

"Come on, K, show us how it's done," Kat urges.

With a deep breath, Kara tosses back the drink, earning cheers and clapping from us.

Twenty minutes later, my wedding planner is shaking her ass with us on the dance floor like a pro.

"Holy shit," Kat gasps loudly.

"What?" I ask, following her line of vision.

Liza moves in next to us.

Security Bill stands in the same spot, his eyes narrowed in on Kara's ass.

"Guess he likes girls," Liza adds with a laugh.

"Stand back and let me work," Laney squeals, pushing between us and up to Kara.

In true Laney fashion, she positions Kara so Bill has the best view in the house. She also encourages a hot guy to dance up on K, earning a furrowed brow from Bill.

The night just got more interesting.

Midnight arrives as Leeann herds us, including a tipsy Kara, onto the party bus.

"I win!" Kat yells, jumping up, causing the bus to sway.

"What—?"

"Figures," Serena says, cutting off my question. She narrows her eyes on each member of The Forgotten.

"No, sir, it's after midnight!" Laney holds her phone in Kat's face.

She slaps it away, sending it skittering across the black rubber floor.

"It's like three minutes after and they had to be on the bus before that," Kat argues.

"But he didn't get to Mia until after midnight, so I win, bitch face," Laney chirps.

"What time did you get here?" Kat turns to Chris.

A little drunk, a little horny, and a lot tired of being stuck at the back of the group, I climb onto the bus seat. Hands pressed to the roof, I walk along the cushions until I reach Chris.

"Hey, baby," he croons. "You miss me?"

"You're such an arrogant," I slur, climbing over his lap and straddling him, "asshole."

His mouth opens, but I press my lips to his, silencing whatever he was going to say.

The sounds of Kat and Laney still arguing over their bet fades away.

Chris' hands come to my ass, pulling me against him. His cock stiffens beneath his jeans and I press myself down harder. My ‘a little horny' skyrockets to desperation.

Moving my lips from his, I kiss over his chin and down his neck.

Chapter Three

Christopher

"You all are going to need to get off this fucking bus in about three seconds," I order, ready to bury myself in my angel.

"Fuck you," Elliott retorts. "I'm not going anywhere. In fact, you two need to get out of the way."

Mia's tongue against my skin makes it difficult to focus on whom Elliott is bitching at, but a squeal from Laney and a curse from Kat give them away.

"My goddess," Elliott croons.

Serena giggles, followed by a shout.

Opening my eyes, I see her over his shoulder, his hand squeezing her ass.

"Come to me, snake charmer," Jack says, his long ass arm outstretched.

Without hesitating, Liza walks right up to him and plants her ass in his lap.

"What, no kiss?" Jack asks playfully.

"You crashed Mia's bachelorette outing. Why do you deserve a kiss?" She leans against his chest, her elbow pressing into his shoulder.

"Because he would've been here over an hour ago if it weren't for me stopping him," the fucking traitor tells her.

"Elliott, if your hand goes any further in her pants, I'm going to kick you," Kat warns.

"Shut up, cock block," he retorts. "My goddess needs me, don't you?"

"No one wants to see that, and do I have to remind you she will sober up eventually?" Kat cautions.

"Damn it," he growls.

Mia laughs against my neck and rolls off my chest. I hate both of them for distracting her from her tongue's exploration. Her snuggling into my side is the only thing saving their asses.

"She's sooo right," Mia adds. "If she finds out you finger fucked her on a bus full of people, she'll kill you."

My cock throbs when “finger fucked” comes out of her mouth.

"Let's head back to the hotel," I shout to the driver.

"No," Laney objects. "We're going to the strip club."

"No, you aren't," I correct.

"Yes, we are," Kat growls, narrowing her eyes on me.

"Yeah," Serena shouts, pushing away from Elliott. "To the Crazy Horse!"

Kara's assistant speaks to the driver and we pull away from the nightclub.

What should have taken less than ten minutes turns into almost thirty with the traffic clogging the strip. When we finally pull up to the Crazy Horse, everyone stands, waiting for the bus door to open. Everyone, except me.

"Cheer up, Captain Emo. It's a strip club," Elliott says, holding his hands over his chest. "That means boobies."

"I've got all the boobs I need right here," I quip, standing behind Mia and cupping both her breasts.

"Yeah, but those are covered," he retorts, as if I'm the stupid one.

Inhaling through my nose, I swallow the urge to bitch slap the idiot.

"Okay," Leeann shouts over our loud asses, "Kara is waiting with the manager. They will be just inside the front entrance to show you to a VIP area."

The driver opens the door and Leeann steps back, letting us file out.

Dale, our security guard for the evening, and the girl's guard, Bill, stand on either side of the entrance and take up the rear once we enter the club.

"Hello, welcome to the Crazy Horse," a very sleek woman greets. "I'm Michelle, the manager, and we are thrilled to have you all here with us tonight." Her smile is bright and takes up most of her thin face.

"This is Gage," she gestures to a large man in a Crazy Horse t-shirt, "he's one of our security men. He will be working alongside your personal detail." Her eyes move to the two large men at the back of our group.

"Right this way," She smiles, motioning for us to follow her.

"This place kicks serious ass," Kat exclaims, taking in the red, blue, and pink neon-lit room.

Black leather chairs surrounding multiple low tables decorate the zebra-carpeted floors. A large, square stage with five poles juts into the middle of the room, three of the poles occupied by women with pasty-covered tits and exposed asses.

"Now, that takes fucking talent," Kat exclaims, staring at a girl on a small stage working a hula-hoop.

Focusing harder, I realize its three hoops. The dancer moves them up and down her barely-dressed body as she sways and spins. She manages to move one circle away from the group and brings it up her body until its spinning on her arm.

"That's Stephanie," Michelle informs. "I don't know how she does it, but she definitely stands out."

"You have to move your stomach muscles individually," Liza announces, eyes following the hoop dancer. "She's very impressive."

"Holy shit," Laney exclaims, and everyone turns back to the poles, where a dancer is holding herself upside down, walking the ceiling.

"Many of the dancers come with formal training, and not just in dance," the manager states proudly. "Ruth," she nods to the ceiling walker, "is a trained gymnast."

"She'd fucking have to be," Elliott blurts. "Shit," he calls when Ruth arches her back, drawing her legs down to the pole. Gripping it with her thighs, she releases her hands and spins her body in a seated position.

"If you'll follow me," Michelle says, urging us to continue.

We continue walking, but every eye shifts between Stephanie and Ruth.

"These two bottle service areas are for you." Michelle shows us two sections of black leather booths, tables, and smaller black tables. "If you need anything," she waves her hand toward two scantily clad girls in black, bikini-style outfits, "please just ask Heather and Meryl. They are happy to assist you."

"I'm going to need a blue drink with a glow stick in it," Serena shouts over the music, planting her ass on one of the bench seats against the wall.

Elliott follows, sliding in next to her. Laney sits with her legs crisscrossed in a chair across from them, and Mia leads me to the opposite end of the bench, shoving me in first. I wrap my arm around her shoulders and look around the room.

I'm reminded of the club where Liza works, Lux Hedonica, but this place is definitely more stripper and less vintage tease.

"We can do that," the one called Heather responds.

"What can we get for the rest of you?"

"Jack, no ice," Jimmy states, taking a seat on one of the leather chairs. Kat slides onto the arm next to him.

"Bring bottles of water," Jack says, leading Liza to one of the plush chairs, where he sits and pulls her onto his lap.

"Miss Campbell, is there anything we can get you?" Meryl, the mocha-skinned waitress, steps closer to Liza.

"Um," Liza mumbles, looking and sounding surprised to be addressed personally.

"I'm sorry," Michelle interrupts. "Some of the girls saw your show a few weeks ago and most are big fans. Including me," she quickly adds.

"Oh." Liza blinks a few times, still not used to the fan base Red's been telling her she has. "Thank you, so much. I'm really not sure what I want, so—”

"I'll send over a few complimentary bottles for you all," Michelle offers, but it's clear the compliments are mostly for Liza. She motions and the servers move off toward the bar.

"I knew you would be my meal ticket," Jack teases, even though he's staying true to his AA commitment and only drinking water.

"Honestly…" Michelle moves closer to Liza and leans down, "Miss Campbell, we were hoping you would consider performing with some of our dancers tonight."

Liza's mouth pops open, but the club manager continues before she gets a peep out.

"Obviously, you can tell me to take a hike, but I know it would be an honor to have you on stage. Nothing extravagant, of course."

"She's not a stripper," I growl.

Michelle's head twists toward me.

"Of course not, but our girls on the main stage, as you will see for yourself, are performers," she says with some attitude.

"Ignore him," Mia says. "He's just angry because we made him come."

"I'm not really sure about—”

"Read," Jackson orders, holding his phone up to her face.

Liza glances at the screen and then up to Michelle.

"I'd be happy to," she says, a smile on her face.

"Wonderful," Michelle straightens, clapping her hands together. "If you'll just follow me, we can get things worked out backstage."

Liza slips from Jack's lap, leans over, and plants her lips on his. As she goes to walk away, he slaps her on the ass, earning a squeal.

"Do your thing, snake charmer," he shouts after her.

"How the fuck can you stand for a bunch of horny assholes to drool over your woman?" Laney asks, and I have to agree.

"I want to get on one of those poles," Mia blurts.

"Like hell you're getting on a pole," I snap.

Rolling her eyes, she looks over at her sister.

"Wanna charge the stage with me?"

"Yes!" Serena exclaims.

"The only pole you'll be getting on is mine," Elliott states.

"You didn't just say that," Kat says, cringing.

"Fuck yeah, I did," he responds with a shrug.

"So, back to my question," Laney says over them, shutting everyone up.

Jackson screws up his face, and says, "Because I know they don't have a fucking chance of getting her."

"Aren't you sure of yourself?" Kat taunts.

"You're fucking right I am. Liza's ass is mine. She couldn't get rid of me if she tried."

"Stalk-her," Serena sings the words.

Damn, she's so fucking drunk.

"Call it what you want. I'll just call it fact," Jackson says with a grin. "Besides," he continues, "she fucking loves me."

The waitresses show up with Jimmy and Serena's drinks, along with two bottles of champagne and a pitcher of margaritas.

"Well, they did their homework, and did it fast," Jackson says, shaking his head.

"What?" Mia asks, pouring four flutes with champagne.

"Liza's favorite drink." He points to the pitcher. "Traditional margaritas."

"Damn, they're good." Laney whistles low.

"I'm gonna go see a dancer about her vagina," Kat says, slipping from the arm of Jimmy's chair.

"In the mood to tag team?" Jimmy calls out to her retreating form.

Kat gives a thumbs up over her shoulder before disappearing into the crowd around the center stage.

"Whoa, whoa," Elliott booms. "You forgetting about your wife?"

Jimmy snorts, tossing back his drink. "You mean my soon-to-be ex."

"What the fuck happened there?" Elliott presses.

"Dude, you didn't say anything. I'm—” Jimmy puts his hand up, cutting Jack off.

"It's mutual. Things were good, but after she graduated and started her job, shit went downhill."

"Can't handle a career woman?" Laney asks.

"Nah, she can't handle me not working nine to five like her." He shrugs. "It became a point of constant tension."

"Man, I'm sorry—"

"Don't be,” he cuts me off. “I didn't say anything because right now is about you two."

He raises his almost empty glass to Mia and me.

"Lord knows nothing will tear you fucking two apart," he says before draining the remaining liquid.

"What did you show Liza?" Laney asks, apparently trying to change the subject.

"Uh," Jack mumbles, shaking his head. "I knew she didn't know what to do. She and Red have been selective about performances and publicity, so I texted Red while the manager was talking."

"He gave the go ahead?" Laney presses further.

"More like, and I quote, Get your beautiful ass on that stage and make it your bitch, end quote."

The girls burst into laughter.

"That sounds like Red," Jimmy adds, a half-smile on his face.

The music dies down, silencing our conversation. A male announces a special guest performer and cheers erupt from the crowd when they hear Liza's name.

Stage lights flicker, ceiling lights swoop from the room toward the stage, and the heavy beat to I Put a Spell on You pumps through the room. The Crazy Horse knows it's a crowd favorite and has over a million views on YouTube the last Sid reported.

Guitar riffs tear through the air, center stage lights up, and MizLiz stands with one hand on a pole, the other on her hip. Dressed in a dark red leather corset and barely-there underwear, she opens her mouth and captivates the room.

I've gotta give the girl fucking credit. Liza can flip some damn switch and go from the sweet girl sitting on Jackson's lap to the creature beguiling each person with a bump, grind, arch of her back, and a single note. MizLiz knows how to own a fucking audience.

Two hours and three attempts by Mia to get on a pole later, I finally have her alone in the back of a taxi. For a brief moment, I think about the first time we were in the back of a cab with her drunk.

I would definitely be fucking her tonight, just like that first time.

"What are you grinning about?" she slurs, running her finger over my lips.

Catching the tip with my tongue, I draw her thin digit into my mouth and suck.

She sighs, pressing closer to me.

"I love you so much, Christopher."

Releasing her finger from between my lips, I cup the side of her face with my hand.

"I love you too, baby."

"Marry me, Chris," she says, burying her face in my chest.

"I am, Mia."

Wrapping both arms around her thin body, I hold her tight.

"No," she exclaims, pushing off my chest.

"What?" I ask with a laugh.

"Marry me now," she whines.

"Baby, you'll kick my ass if—”

"Stop the car," she announces, smacking the back of the driver's seat. "I need a chapel."

Twisting in the seat, she looks out the window.

"Mia—”

"There," she yells, tapping the back of the poor driver's seat over and over.

The driver pulls beside two parked cars and hits the breaks.

"Baby, you'll kick my ass if—” I try again, but she spins around, grabs my shirt, and pulls my face to hers.

"Marry me, Chris," she demands, pressing her lips to mine.

Pulling back, she focuses on my face as best as her drunk ass can.

"Tonight, you can fuck your wife."

Throwing two fifties at the driver, I follow her out of the car and into a random Vegas chapel.

Tomorrow, I know she's going to freak out, but she did this to herself. I can't be held responsible when she's throwing out words like ‘fuck' and ‘wife' in the same sentence.

Chapter Four

Mia

"Oh, God," I groan, covering my head with a pillow.

An arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against a hard body.

Chris. His touch and smell is too familiar for me to mistake.

"I'm going to throw up," I say, my words muffled by the pillow.

"What do you need?" he asks against my neck.

"A new head," I groan.

"There's water and Advil on your nightstand."

Reaching out, I try feeling around for the items.

"I'll get them," Chris says, climbing over me.

The bed shifts and my stomach rolls.

"Here," he says, forcing me to pull the pillow away.

"Thanks," I squeak, peeking through one eye.

Taking the pills from his hand, I pop them into my mouth. Chris already took the lid off the water bottle, so I grab and chug. Hangover task one complete, I lean back on the pillows and throw my arm over my face.

"I'm never drinking again," I whine.

Chris slides closer, pulling the hem of my shirt up, exposing my stomach. His lips press against my skin.

"I tried to stop you," he mumbles against my flesh, "but you were hell bent on keeping up with Kat." His lips disappear from my skin. "Who, by the way, should have died from alcohol poisoning long before we left that place."

"She's always had a crazy tolerance," I say.

"Tolerance my ass," Chris snorts. "She sold her soul or some shit, ‘cause that ain't normal."

"Maybe she's a mutant," I suggest with a laugh.

"Or an alien," he offers.

"Fuck, I feel like an alien is trying to escape my stomach."

Pushing off the bed, I stumble into the bathroom and shut the door. After using the toilet, I begin hangover task two.

The hot water loosens my tense muscles and washes away the night before. Lathering up my skin and hair, I feel the fuzziness in my brain rinse away with the bubbles. As I smooth conditioner into my hair, I think about the previous night.

Dinner, drinking, dancing, drinking, strip club, Liza performing, drinking, Kat getting a lap dance, drinking, me trying to get on a stripper pole and Chris losing his mind, Elliott fighting Serena's hands away from his crotch—they disappeared soon after—and more drinking. My bachelorette party kicked ass.

Rinsing my head, the rest of last night's events come to the forefront of my mind.

I shove open the curtain, climb out of the shower, and throw open the bathroom door. Water drips down my body as I step onto the plush carpet of the hotel bedroom. Christopher lounges on the bed, naked with his hands behind his head, a sheet the only thing covering his groin.

"Well, hello there, Mrs. Mason," he says, grinning.

"We got married last night!"

"Yep," he confirms, sitting up and putting his feet on the floor.

The sheet slips just a fraction, almost exposing him.

"Why did you let—?"

"Don't blame me," he interrupts, pointing to himself. "It was your idea."

"I know it was my idea, but I was drunk," I growl, crossing my arms over my bare chest.

Chris rubs his hands over his face.

"Fuck, Mia, you need to cover up," he groans. "I can't have this conversation with you naked and wet."

Huffing, I stomp to the bed, yank off the sheet, and wrap it around my body.

"Is the water still running?" he asks, looking around me toward the bathroom.

"Focus, Chris," I shout. "We got married last night!"

"So what?" He shrugs. "It's about fucking time."

Grabbing my hips, he pulls me between his legs.

I put my hands on his shoulders, looking down into his eyes.

"We have a wedding—an expensive fucking wedding—planned, and we just blew it all," I cry. "What about the dress, family, friends—?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" His hands tighten on my hips.

"That we got married already and all the plans are ruined."

"It's not ruined. We're still having the wedding." His eyes narrow.

"We already got married," I quip.

"So, we have two goddamn weddings," he growls.

"Chris," I sigh.

"Mia, the only thing this changes is our anniversary date."

He fists the sheet and pulls it away from my body.

"Now, straddle me like a good little wife and ride your husband."

Lifting my hand, I place my palm on his forehead and push.

"You're such an ass," I tease, stepping away from him.

"Last night, you said I could fuck my wife, but you were too drunk and passed out when we got here." He stands, ready to follow me. "I'm just collecting on your end of the deal."

"Deal?" I ask with a laugh.

"You made me marry you so I could fuck you," he explains, taking one step toward me.

"I did, didn't I?" I purse my lips.

"Fuck yeah, you did. I put a ring on it. Now, I get to be inside you."

Lifting my hands, I examine them.

"Um, the only ring I see is my engagement ring," I correct him with a teasing smile.

"Of course it is," he quips, stalking toward me. "There's no way I was putting one of those piece of shit bands on your hand."

Reaching me, he dips down and lifts me. I wrap my arms around his shoulders, my legs dangling, and he carries me until my back presses against the wall. Pinning me with his body, he releases my waist and runs his hands along my sides, over my hips, until they wrap under my thighs, lifting me higher.

Instinctively, I put my legs around him. His hard length throbs against my pussy. Rocking forward, he slips between my lips and rubs all the right places.

"That feels so good," I gasp.

"Damn, baby, you're so wet already," he grinds out.

His head drops to my shoulder, hands sliding to my ass and squeezing.

"I need to be in you, angel." The words heat my skin.

"Yes," I agree, sliding the fingers of my right hand into his hair and gripping.

Chris pulls his hips back and I reach down with my left hand. Grabbing his cock, I press the tip to my entrance and he slams home. We both moan at the welcome intrusion. "What's your name?" Chris asks against my neck before running his tongue ring over my jaw.

"Mia," I answer, knowing what he wants, but the wanton woman in me deciding to drive him mad.

He pulls back and slams into me again.

"Tell me your name, baby?" This time, he follows the question with a nip to my chin.

"Amelia," I respond.

Chris growls and pulls back.

I tense, anticipating the thrust I want so badly, but it doesn't come.

Furrowing my brow, I drop my chin and meet his eyes.

Bringing one hand up, he grips my chin.

"What's your fucking name, Mia?"

His jaw clenches, the muscle ticking. Fuck, it's so hot.

"Amelia…" I pause, earning a hard squeeze to my ass.

"Marie…" This time, I earn a jaw muscle twitch and fingers tightening on my chin. Not painfully, just making their presence known.

"Mason." I barely get the N out before his mouth engulfs mine.

"Say it again, baby," he begs, panting against my lips.

"Mrs. Christopher Mason," I surrender.

He finally thrusts deep, and hard.

"Again," he demands, releasing my chin and returning his hand to my ass.

"Amelia Marie Mason," I comply.

His hips start moving in a primitive rhythm between my thighs.

"Angel," he whispers into my neck.

"It's Mrs. Mason to you," I say around groans as my body climbs toward bliss.

"Fuck, baby, I love you so much," he growls, moving his hips faster, harder, setting the perfect pace.

My head falls back against the wall and I push my hips forward, raking my nails over his shoulders. I want him to climb inside my body—I need more, my body just needs...

Chris pushes a long finger between the cheeks of my ass, applying pressure at the entrance.

"Please," I cry, so close, so ready.

"Does my wife want her ass fingered?" He accentuates the question by licking my collarbone.

"Yes," I shout, right on the edge, the precipice.

His long finger penetrates me, sending my body into an ecstasy freefall.

"Oh my God," I scream.

The pace of his thrusts increase, fucking me fast and hard, riding my orgasm until he's wrung every shudder and spasm out of me.

Panting, I relax my flexed fingers, taking my nails out of his skin. Content warmth settles over me.

"I'm not done with you, Mrs. Mason," Chris growls.

Pulling me away from the wall, he takes us to the bed, never disconnecting from me. His thrusts resume the moment my back touches the mattress.

"It's your turn, baby," I coo, running my hands through his hair.

"You're going to give it up again, angel," he pants.

"Baby, you—”

He takes my nipple into his mouth, rolling his piercing over the tip. Using his teeth and tongue ring, he pinches the pebble, causing my pussy to clench around him as tingles travel through me.

He releases me from his mouth and grins down at me.

"You're going to give it up again."

Pushing up to his knees, he pulls out, rolls my body, and enters me from behind.

"Chris," I gasp as he pulls me onto all fours. His hips piston back and forth, his cock in and out, the sound of our skin smacking, heavy breathing, and moans filling the room.

"Chest to the bed, baby."

Placing his palm between my shoulder blades, he presses me to the bed and slides his hand back along my spine until he reaches my ass. One slap to my right cheek makes me tighten around him again and sends a pulse to my clit.

He moves his hand from my hip and leans forward, slipping a finger over the bundle of nerves he's coaxed back to life. Rubbing and pinching, my hips jerk reflexively.

Pushing back into his thrusts, he flicks my clit—hard.

"Oh, fuck," I cry out, surprised at the new sensation, and completely turned on.

He does it again, earning another cry from me.

My body escalates in a rush of heat and desperation. Slamming back into his thrusts harder, I scream his name.

"That's it," he calls out.

Straightening his back and gripping my hips, he rides me through my second orgasm.

"Fuck, baby," he shouts, slamming once, twice, and on the third, stilling and grinding against me.

His sweaty forehead presses to my back as the sound of our panting fills the room.

It takes less than two hours for the phone calls and text alerts to start. The TV gossip shows highlight the shotgun nuptials from last night.

"We didn't plan it. It…it just happened," I explain to my hurt father.

"I was going to walk you down the aisle, just like your sister," he grumbles.

"And you still will, I promise. We're still having the wedding."

Guilt eats away at me, causing a sharp pain in my chest.

"You sneaky fucks!" Elliott bursts through the bedroom door with his arms spread, wearing a broad grin.

Since I'm wearing Chris' t-shirt and nothing else, I grab the sheet and pull it over my lap.

"What the hell, Elliott?" Chris yells, throwing the comforter over me.

"Dad, I promise, we are walking down that aisle together. This doesn't change anything."

"Other than you're my wife," Chris snaps.

Twisting my head, I glare at him.

"Actually, I'm here to let you both in on something." Elliott throws himself onto the bed, jolting me.

"What the hell are you talking about? And get off the bed!" Chris shouts, using a foot to shove him.

Elliott grabs Chris' ankle under his armpit, locking it there.

"I'm about to rock your world, Captain Emo, but you ain't married. Boom!" He releases the ankle.

"What do you mean?" I drop my cell from my ear.

"You're a liar," Chris growls. "I was there, asshole. The chapel did the ceremony."

Elliott pushes up from the bed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, but you forgot an important detail called the marriage license. If you answered your phone, Una would be able to tell you there is no marriage recorded. The chapel can't issue the license. You two," he motions between us, "are still going to hell for living in sin."

"She would've called me," Chris clips, narrowing his eyes.

"She's been trying to call you," Serena says, stepping into the room.

She sits on the bed at my feet.

Chris scrambles around for his phone, finding it buried under the blanket. His face wipes clear of emotion.

"Ha!" Elliott exclaims. "I told you. You can have a ceremony all you want, but without the license from the bureau, it's all just show."

"So, we aren't married?" I ask, looking at Chris.

Cell phone to his ear, he slowly turns to me. He gives a headshake and looks away, furrowing his brow.

Putting my phone back to my ear, I croak, "Dad?"

"I heard," he says, his voice low. "I'm sorry, baby."

Tears sting my eyes as realization sets in. I'm not Christopher's wife. Even knowing that we'll be married next week, it still hurts. It's crushing.

Chapter Five

Christopher

"Baby?" I knock on the door again and try the handle. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she groans. "I'll be out in a minute."

Gripping the top of the frame, I press my forehead to the door.

"I hate that you aren't feeling well. And I hate that you locked the goddamn door," I say, irritated she's locked me out. She only does it when she's mad and trying to keep me away. Since we returned from Vegas, she's done it twice, and I sure as fuck haven't done anything. I've been a goddamn saint.

"Sometimes, Chris, a girl needs her privacy," she says as the door opens.

"For what?" I don't move out of the doorway. "I've seen everything and every part of you. There's no need to hide when you're sick."

"Okay," she concedes, patting my chest.

I narrow my eyes on her, suspicious. She gave up way too easily.

"What's going on?"

Mia takes a deep breath and exhales before saying, "Christopher, I'm tired, feel sick, and have to get ready for a bridal shower."

She shoves by me.

I drop my arms from the doorframe and turn, watching her move around our bedroom.

"I don't have the energy to discuss why most humans like a private moment every now and again," she sighs, and I immediately feel guilty for giving her shit.

Sitting on the bed, she leans back on her hands.

"I swear to God, if I didn't know you had the vasectomy, I'd think I was pregnant," she says with a humorless laugh.

Ice runs through my veins.

"Why would you think that?" There's no way to hide the panic in my words.

"Because this reminds me of morning sickness, but it's not."

Sitting forward and pushing off the bed, Mia walks to the closet.

"Are you sure?" My mouth goes dry. "You're absolutely certain?"

Turning away from her clothes, she looks up at me, her brows furrowed.

"You had a vasectomy. Why are you—?”

"You're still on birth control, too, right?"

Her face twists with confusion.

"No, and I told I—"

"What do you mean no?" I shout, clenching my hands into fists.

"Christopher," she exclaims, "what the hell is your problem?"

"Why the fuck would you just stop taking birth control and not tell me about it? Christ, Mia!"

Bringing my hands to my head, I grip my hair and start pacing.

"Whoa, wait a minute. When I was in New York a few months ago, I told you I missed my shot because I was in the city longer than expected. We talked about it over the phone, right before you asked me what I was wearing."

"You distracted me," I accuse.

"The vasectomy is—"

"I didn't get it," I blurt out angrily.

Stopping in front of her, I drop my hand from my head.

"Jackson and I were in the studio. We got caught up and I missed the appointment," I confess.

Mia's eyes grow large and her mouth parts as her hands go to her stomach.

"Fuck," I shout, causing her to jump.

"Shit, I'm sorry," I apologize, pulling her against my chest.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispers.

"I forgot about it," I ground out. "I can't believe you quit taking fucking birth control without talking to me about it."

Mia jerks out of my arms and pokes a finger into my chest.

"You can't believe me?" she exclaims, turning the finger on herself. "You didn't tell me about missing the surgery, Chris. That's all on you. We did talk about my shot, but you were too fucking concerned with having phone sex," she shouts, eyes blazing and cheeks flushed.

She's fucking gorgeous.

"And now…" she pauses, placing her hand back on her stomach and lowering her voice, "now I might be pregnant."

Mia might be pregnant. My chest constricts as images from the hospital swim in my mind, blurring my vision.

"You can't have another baby," I demand, shaking my head.

Her fiery eyes narrow on my face.

"I'm serious, Mia. I won't risk losing you."

Pain lances my chest. I can't breathe. Dropping to my knees, I grab onto her hips and shove my face into her stomach.

"Don't make me risk you," I plead. "I can't lose you."

Fisting the material at her sides, I press into her further. She sways, gripping my shoulder for balance.

"Chris," she sighs.

Biting my lip, I fight off the memories of her screaming in pain, the flurry of nurses, doctors rushing her away from me…

"Christopher." Mia's hands come to my head.

Her fingers run through my hair, distracting me from the dark depths of my mind.

"Baby, we don't even know if I'm pregnant," she soothes.

"But what if you are?" Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath.

"Chris, look at me."

On her order, I look up.

Cupping my face, her eyes bore into mine.

"You were in a bad place and the day was a lot for you to handle, but it wasn't—"

"I remember how—"

"It wasn't as bad as you remember it," she adds over me.

"The hell it wasn't!"

Releasing her legs, I stand. Her hands fall away from me, coming to rest at her sides.

"You were in horrible pain, you blacked out, and they had to rush you into emergency surgery so you didn't die," I remind her.

She shakes her head.

"Chris, an emergency C-section is pretty standard." She puts a hand up when I open my mouth to argue. "Stop. Let me finish."

I close my mouth, crossing my arms over my chest.

"It was painful and scary, but the nurses and doctors had things under control." Mia paces away from me, rubbing the back of her neck. "You aren't going to like hearing this, but…" she turns to face me, "you weren't mentally prepared to deal with all of that. You are way beyond that now."

Shaking my head, I grind my teeth.

If she thinks for one second I'll let her have this baby, she's lost her fucking mind.

"You've worked so hard to grow beyond that, so if—and this is a big if—I am pregnant, you can handle it. We can handle it. If we have to, we'll all sit with Dr. J."

"You aren't having another baby," I say, raising my chin.

Any understanding or compassion melts from her face.

"Oh, really?" Her arms cross over her chest.

"Yes, really, Mia," I growl.

"What are you going to do, Chris?" She raises a brow, challenging me. "You going to push me down some stairs, punch me in the stomach, or what?"

The shock of her question is like a kick in the balls.

"Why the fuck would you say that?" Brows furrowed, I drop my arms. "I would never hurt you and you fucking know that," I shout, hurt she would say such a thing.

"Exactly," she grounds out. "You can't stop me from having—" She growls, throwing her arms in the air, "Christ, we don't even know if there is a baby." Covering her face with her hands, she takes three deep breaths before dropping them away.

Eyes closed, she says, "Chris, I want to be understanding, but you are making it difficult." Opening them, she finishes, "I won't get rid of our baby if there is one."

All the anger and fear rushes out of my body, realizing what she's saying and what I've been demanding of her. Am I really asking her to get rid of our baby?

Nausea swirls in my gut and I step toward her.

Her arm comes out, halting me.

"I need you to go," she says, her voice leaving no room to argue. "I'll meet you at Gwen and Nic's."

"Mia—"

She turns away and walks back into the bathroom, closing the door on me.

Pacing my studio, I check my phone for the tenth goddamn time before tossing it on the couch. The minute it hits, Crazy Train starts to play: Dr. J's ringtone.

Snatching it up, I tap the screen.

"It's about fucking time," I answer.

"I'm good, Chris, how are you?" Dr. J replies.

"I'm a fucking disaster." The truth of the words forces me to collapse onto the couch.

"What happened?" he asks, going straight into doctor mode.

"I almost demanded Mia get an abortion and she's fucking furious. She shut me out and won't let me—"

"Whoa, start from the beginning," Dr. J interrupts.

Bouncing my leg, I swallow down my emotions and confess everything. A few moments after I finish, Dr. J still hasn't responded. Frustrated, I growl and throw myself back into the couch, closing my eyes.

"Why didn't you tell Mia about missing your appointment?"

"What?" Opening my eyes, I furrow my brow at the ceiling. "That's what you took from all of that?"

Dr. J sighs through the phone.

"Chris, you aren't even sure the two of you are expecting. The fact that you sort of lost it isn't surprising. Maggie's birth was a traumatic experience for you, for everyone. So, while your behavior today was handled poorly, it's understandable."

"But, Mia won't—"

"It sounds like Mia tried, Chris, but you couldn't get over the memory," he says, cutting me off.

"And she made a very valid point. Things are different now. You are in a much better place. Mia's previous delivery is on record and can be monitored from the start. And, if she is indeed pregnant, you cannot force your will on her."

"I'm not trying to force my will," I deny.

"Now, what I'm most interested in is why you didn't tell Mia," he says, ignoring me.

I groan, annoyed.

"I don't fucking know. She never asked, so I just didn't think about it. I mean, why wouldn't she ask about something like that, Doc? It's my goddamn balls."

"Let's not redirect the fault to Mia." Dr. J's been a new kick lately with this redirection bullshit.

"I'm not redirecting," I defend.

"Oh, really? So, you aren't making your omission Mia's fault, or at least assigning some of the blame to her?"

Damn him.

"I hate you," I grumble.

"Good, it means I'm doing my job. Now, I want you to think about why you, someone who has been so adamant about no more pregnancies, fails to mention not getting a procedure that would ninety-nine percent assure him. It could be pure fear or something a bit deeper, so I want you to think about it and we'll discuss it later this week."

"So, I'm supposed to spend the rest of the week before my wedding soul searching to make sure of…what?"

"It's not to make sure of anything," Dr. J says. "This is about exploring the reason and need to keep the secret before we further discuss the variables."

"You get shrinkier as you get older, you know that?"

He barks out a laugh.

"I'll see you in a few hours, Christopher," he says, confirming he'll be at the wedding shower brunch Gwen planned.

"Yeah," I clip and end the call.

Refusing to drive off on my own, I lean against the dark green Jeep Cherokee Mia insisted on purchasing. I won't admit it to her, but the damn thing is perfect for the terrain and weather.

"I said I'd meet you there, Chris," Mia half-growls, carrying Maggie on her hip.

"Daddy!" Maggie exclaims, grinning.

"Come here, baby girl." Reaching my arms out, I take her from Mia.

Mia opens the rear car door I had been leaning on.

"You aren't pushing me away because of an argument," I state, putting Maggie into her car seat and buckling her in tight.

"Make sure you latch the chest part," Mia reminds, opening the front passenger door and putting Maggie's backpack inside.

"I will." Making a face at Maggie, I roll my eyes.

She squeals with laughter.

"I'm serious, Chris."

"But it's so tight," I argue.

"It's supposed to be. Unless you prefer she flies out of it if we're in an accident."

Straightening out of the car, I place my hands on top of the open door and look over it.

"We won't be in an accident."

"You better have buckled the chest—"

"I did," I cut her off and shut the door.

Mia starts to slip into the front seat, but I hook her by the back of her jeans and spin her around. Cupping her face, I kiss her. Instead of protesting or fighting me, her arms snake around my waist and hold tight.

My girl knows exactly the reassurance I need—that she's still mine and loves me regardless of my bullshit.

Breaking the kiss, I press my forehead to hers, and whisper, "I'm sorry I acted like a dick."

"I know," she responds. "I'm sorry I got—"

Pressing my thumb over her lips, I silence her.

"You have nothing to apologize for. I fucked things up and what happens is my fault."

Her body stiffens before she pulls away.

"What?" Furrowing my brow, I watch her climb into the Jeep and shut the door without answering me.

I round the car, slip into the driver's seat, and study her profile.

"What did I say?"

"Nothing," she mumbles.

"If you don't tell me what's wrong, how the hell am I supposed to understand why you're mad?"

"I'm not mad, Chris." Mia rubs her forehead, sounding tired. "We need to get going so we're not late."

Sitting back in the driver's seat, I hold the steering wheel and stare out the windshield.

"Chris, we need to—"

"We're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong," I say, twisting my neck and raising my left brow.

Mia closes her eyes, drops her head, and sighs into her lap before asking, "Was Maggie a mistake to you?"

Her question stiffens my spine and chills me to the bone.

"You fu…" I trail off, remembering Maggie is in the backseat. Taking a deep breath, I get my emotions under control, and start again. "Why would you even think that? You know I don't think she's a mistake," I growl low.

"Then why would this baby need to be someone's fault or a mistake?"

Remembering what I said just moments before, I release the wheel and run my fingers through my hair.

"Christ, Mia, I didn't mean it like that."

Her head snaps up. Feeling her eyes on me, I meet her gaze.

"Are you sure about that?" she asks, her question as sharp as the look in her eyes.

I open my mouth, but shut it, trying to find the right words. My hope is to avoid any further arguing.

"That's what I thought," she snorts.

Throwing her body back into her seat, she shakes her head.

"Give me a minute to think," I say. "I don't want to say the wrong damn thing again."

"Just drive," she softly implores.

"Look, no child we ever have would be a mistake," I explain.

Mia keeps her eyes turned toward the window.

Taking her hand from her thigh, I bring it to my lips, and she turns back to face me. I press a kiss before saying, "I have reservations about you being pregnant and we both know why. It terrifies me to think of you in a hospital bed, in pain, and there isn't a fucking thing I can do about it."

Her eyes flit to the back seat, then to me.

"Sorry," I mumble, apologizing for the f-bomb in front of Maggie. "Our child…children, are not, nor ever will be, a mistake. But I can't be happy about something that almost took you from me before."

Mia tightens her fingers on my hand and pulls it to her mouth, pressing her lips to my knuckles.

"We need to get a test," I choke out. "You can do that, right? Take a test to find out?"

Placing our hands on her lap, she gives a small smile.

"I'm not late, Chris," she says.

"Late for what?" My brows pull together.

A small, quiet laugh escapes her.

"I haven't missed my period," she explains.

I give a nod, followed by a hard swallow.

Maggie fusses, drawing our attention.

"We're going, baby," Mia coos, reaching back and handing her a toy. "We need to get moving," she says to me.

"Okay."

Turning the ignition, I start the Jeep and pull away from the house.

"So, there's still a chance—"

"That you are worrying for nothing?" she finishes my question, and then answers, "Yeah, there is."

Left hand on the steering wheel, I palm her thigh with the other.

Chapter Six

Mia

"I can't believe you two," Linda scolds when we enter twenty minutes late. "First, you try to elope, and now, you're late for your wedding brunch."

"I'm sorry," I say, handing Maggie over to her waiting arms and avoiding the elopement conversation altogether. "We got a later start and ran into construction."

Stepping into Gwen and Nic's home, I hope my excuse is enough.

"You look as pale as me," Gwen teases, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

Returning the embrace, I can't help but be reminded of all the weight she's lost. The surgery, radiation, and chemo did the job, her first post treatment test results indicating she's going into remission, but it also stripped the glow of her skin, curve of her body, and the hair from her head. Where her caramel hair once flowed, she now wore a light brown wig. It's well made and in a cute bob style, but it's not Gwen.

"Are you not well?" she asks, pulling back and looking me over.

"I'm—"

"Someone's ill?" Nic steps into the foyer. "Gwen, you should wear the mask, just in case."

She waves him off without taking her eyes away from me.

"I don't need the mask. My counts are all up and perfect. Call Dr. Myers if you don't believe me."

"I'm fine, just a bit run down I think," I answer.

"Too much Vegas shenanigans." The amusement in her eyes matches the grin on her face.

Fuck you, cancer. She's still beautiful.

"And, you," Gwen moves from me to Christopher, "how dare you try to spoil things by eloping in Vegas."

Chris takes her in his arms, gently embracing her.

"Why doesn't anyone believe me?"

He sets Gwen back on her feet and looks around the foyer.

"It was Mia's idea." He points to me. "She's the one who put it all into motion." Looking at me, he says, "Tell them."

With a small, one-shoulder shrug, I say, "I don't know what you're talking about," and turn on my heel, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Entering the large sitting room, my father greets me, followed by Serena, then Laney.

"I can't believe you're still playing the too drunk to remember card," Chris exclaims, entering the room on my heels.

Refusing to look at him, I search for our family before continuing to greet the extended guests Linda and Gwen invited.

Jackson sits in the far corner, Liza on his lap, with Elliott across from them, talking animatedly, his arms mimicking drumbeats. Una is a chair away, listening to their conversation and smiling, a dark-skinned man standing next to her. He looks familiar, but I can't recall his name. Then, there's Jimmy. Standing at a tall window, he keeps his back to the room and eyes focused outside. He's seems so distant, and his shoulders tense when Una laughs.

"I think you might need this," Kat sidles up and hands me a mimosa, distracting me from Jimmy.

"Thanks."

I accept the glass, but a familiar arm reaches over my shoulder and takes the drink from my hand. As Chris does this, he whispers into my ear, "Better safe than sorry."

Twisting my head, I glance at him over my shoulder.

With a smirk, he drains every last drop.

I sigh and rub my forehead. So, this is how it's going to go this afternoon.

Two hours later, after conversations, a brunch buffet, and opening gifts and cards, I could really use a drink. Unfortunately, Chris has not let up on stealing every drink he suspects has alcohol.

"What's up with the pain in the ass?" Serena asks, sitting down next to me with Zoey sleeping in her arms.

"Nothing," I mumble.

"What's going on?" she asks, her motherly instincts on high alert.

"There isn't anything going on," I defend. "She's getting so big," I say, trying to deflect.

"Yeah, well, she's her father's daughter."

Just when I think I've succeeded, she brings it right back around.

"Now, what aren't you telling me?"

Keeping my eyes on my chubby little niece, I say through gritted teeth, "Let it go."

From the corner of my eye, I see her mouth open and close twice before she finally sighs, and says, "You know I'm here. If you need me."

Shifting my eyes to meet hers, I smile.

"I know. Thank you."

"Mia," Chris slurs, loudly.

Turning away from Serena, I watch him sway as he walks toward me.

"You're such a lightweight," Elliott boasts on a laugh.

"I'll get him some coffee," Laney offers, rushing out of the room.

"I don't need coffee," he grumbles at her retreating form and turns his eyes on me. My stomach twists.

"What I need is for you…" he comes to stand before me, leans down to cage me into the couch, and lowers his voice, "to take a damn test before I lose my fucking mind."

"Not here," I growl at the same time Gwen scolds him for cursing.

Goddamn him. If Gwen heard him, did anyone else? And did he have to drink every glass he took from my hand?

"Mia…" He rubs a hand over his face.

"Christopher?" Dr. J appears next to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder.

Chris straightens to full height—a full head above the doctor—in an attempt to intimidate. It never works with Dr. J, though.

"I'm talking to—"

"Yes, but I think we should go talk in private for a moment. Maybe share a coffee?" he offers.

"I'm talking to Mia," Chris growls.

"Go with him, Chris," I say through gritted teeth.

His head snaps in my direction.

"We need to finish talking abou—"

"Fine," I cut him off, standing from the couch, "the three of us will go talk."

Turning on my heel, I head for Nicholas' office, hoping he doesn't mind us using it.

Chris and Dr. J follow close behind.

With the door to Nic's office open, I hear Elliott say, "I don't know what's going on, but someone make me some popcorn. I can feel the emo coming off Chris like hurricane winds. Shit is about to get interesting."

"Language!" Serena exclaims as Dr. J closes the mahogany door.

"What the hell are you doing, Chris?" I shout.

"Me? What the hell are you doing?" he argues back.

"Let's calm down, all of us," Dr. J says low, stepping between us.

"I'd be a lot fucking calmer if she'd take a damn test." Chris points at me.

"Oh, really?" Crossing my arms over my chest, I widen my stance. "And how fucking calm do you think you would be if it comes back positive, huh? Did you think that far?"

Chris' mouth opens, but nothing comes out.

"Yeah, didn't really go much further than making me pee on a stick, huh?"

"Okay," Dr. J intervenes once more. "Chris, Mia, please sit."

He motions to the dark wooden chairs in the office.

Dropping my defensive position, I plop down into one of the chairs. Chris takes the one next to me, but turns the chair so it faces my profile. Dr. J leans against Nicholas' desk, palms pressed to the edge.

"Now, I'm going to go out on a limb and say this tension is a result of the non-vasectomy and possible pregnancy," Dr. J says, looking between the two of us.

"If she would just take a pregnancy test, then we'd know if it's possible or not." Chris throws himself back into his chair, bringing his arms over his chest.

"I didn't say I wouldn't." Gripping the arms of the chair, my knuckles whiten. "But I'm not going to do it here…" I snap my head toward him, "or with a goddamn audience."

"Why are you pushing so hard for a pregnancy test?" Dr. J asks Chris.

"Wouldn't you want to know?" Chris barks.

"Now, give me a real answer and not a return question."

Sighing, Chris runs a hand through his inky hair.

"The unknown is making me lose it. I can't handle this limbo."

"My period isn't late, Chris." I put up a hand, stopping his next argument. "Sure, I can take the new ones that detect early, but they aren't a guarantee. What happens if I take the test and it's negative, but a week or so later, we find out it was a false negative? Or if it comes up positive and it's a false positive?"

Burying my face in my hands, I try to hold off the tears.

"I know a false positive would make your fucking year, but I'm not so sure I want to go through those emotions."

The screech of a chair brings my face out of my hands. Chris has scooted so close, his legs so wide apart, the chair and I are between them.

"Mia, baby…" his hand comes to my back and rubs, "what about a test at the doctor's office? Is that more accurate?"

Deep down, I know he doesn't get it. There's no way for him to understand my feelings, my head…my heart. Not with this.

While another baby isn't the best news right now—not with the upcoming release of Hush's second album, my possible role in a Broadway play, and planning our first world tour—deep inside, the idea of our baby is taking root in my heart. Where he'll do cartwheels at a negative result, I'll feel the loss of what could've been. And I'll feel it alone.

"Yeah, sure," I mumble, standing.

"Where are you going?" he asks, grabbing my hand.

Pulling it out of his grip, I wrap my arms around my waist.

"I need to be alone," I say, walking toward the door.

"But—"

"Chris, let her go," Dr. J says, stopping him from following me.

Exiting the office, I sneak down the hallway and into the guest bathroom.

If I am pregnant, will I have to choose between the man I love and our unborn child? And what the fuck would I choose?

Sinking onto the closed toilet lid, I bury my face in my hands.

Christopher

"Take a seat, Chris," Dr. J instructs from behind me.

"I need to go after her."

I don't get more than a foot closer to the door before his hand grasps my shoulder.

"Take a seat, Chris." His firm order draws my eyes from the closed door to his face.

"She's not going to marry me," I state, but it sounds like a question to my own fucking ears.

Turning around, I move back to the chair. Dr. J's hand falls away as I sit back down. Elbows on my knees, I press the heel of my hands into my eyes.

"I'm going to lose her no matter what I do," I say, choking back tears.

"Why do you think you're going to lose Mia?" Dr. J asks, taking a seat across from me.

Without moving my hands, I say, "Because I'm fucking broken."

"Nobody's perfect, and I think Mia, of all people, knows your flaws." His words aren't reassuring.

"Yeah," I snort, "and I'm sure she's fucking tired of dealing with my shit."

"Let's talk about your shit."

Dropping my hands away from my face, I slouch back into the wooden chair and level a look at the doctor.

"If you want to put up your walls and deny this conversation, I can't stop you," Dr. J states, knowing my look of defiance all too well. "But if you don't work this out, I can assure you things will not get better."

"What shit are we talking about today?" I verbally whip him with the question. "How Mia is out there somewhere, angry and tired of my shit, while I sit in here having a psycho's powwow with your ass? Or how, if she is pregnant, there's a fucking chance I'll lose her during the birth?" My voice rises with each question.

"Or we could discuss what you're really afraid of, the deep and irrational fears you're harboring."

"I've told you already what I'm afraid of," I snap.

"Maybe," he says flippantly.

Damn shrinks.

"Maybe?" I growl the question, straightening my spine.

"Christopher, I realize your fear of something going wrong during the pregnancy or the birth, but you have escalated your fear to a borderline irrational level. I think there's more to this panic than what you're saying."

Gripping the wooden arms of the chair, I prepare to push out of the seat. Fuck this. I need to find Mia.

"Why didn't you tell Mia about your missed vasectomy?" His question throws me off.

"I told you. I forgot about it, and…"

How could I just forget about something like that? What the fuck would stop me from letting her know and rescheduling?

"Why do you think it was so quickly pushed from your mind? I mean, during previous sessions, you were adamant about no more pregnancies and getting, as you put it, your balls sliced," he inquires, using words I said to him just months ago.

Furrowing my brow, I settle back into the chair.

Why the fuck would I forget?

"I don't know why," I admit.

A heavy breath leaves Dr. J, drawing my attention to the thin smile on his face.

"Good."

"Good? That's fucking good?" I ask, my voice rising again.

"Yes, Chris, it is. I don't know how many times I have to tell you there is no right answer. Not every question has a definite response. The point is for you to think about the question, mull it over, and search within." He rests his elbows on the arms of his chair.

"I don't fucking get it." I shake my head, running a hand through my hair.

"I think you do," he counters.

Before I can retort, Dr. J continues. "Now, let's talk about what scares you the most about the possibility of another child."

"I already told you," I groan. "The risk of losing Mia during the birth is something I'm not willing to do."

"So, if she is indeed pregnant, what do you plan to do about it?"

Opening my mouth, I realize I don't have an answer.

If she's fucking pregnant, then she's pregnant. There's no changing that. I can't magically erase the issue or demand my own way.

"Ah," he says, nodding, "I see the light is dawning in there."

"Fuck you," I growl.

Ignoring my insult, he smiles before continuing.

"Let's talk about Maggie's birth."

Inhaling sharply, I close my eyes and see nurses rushing Mia down the sterile hallway—away from me.

"Start with the moment she went into labor at the house," he instructs.

It takes a few thundering heartbeats before I tell him about finding her on the stairs, gripping the railing and breathing heavily.

"The pain she went through in the car escalated so fast," I reminisce, shaking my head. "Then, once she was in the hospital bed and she went limp…" My words fall away. There's not enough air in my lungs to speak.

"Chris, it's over. Mia is safe now. Take a breath."

I hear his words, but I can't get my lungs to cooperate.

The sound of an opening door and a click sneak their way in.

Is Mia back?

Two voices speak in hushed tones before hands come to my shoulders. Gentle and coaxing, they slide down to my chest.

"Breathe, Christopher." Gwen's voice soothes the rising panic. "Breathe with me."

She inhales, and I mimic the action. As the air fills my lungs, calmness settles over my body. My muscles relax, jaw unclenches, and the blood returns to my whitened knuckles.

"There you go," she praises.

"Perhaps we should stop for today," Dr. J says, patting my knee before standing.

"No!" I exclaim, grabbing his arm.

Looking up at him, I only hope he can see the desperation I feel.

"If I don't do this, I'll lose her." My hand tightens on his sleeve. "I can't lose her."

Dr. J's warm hand covers mine.

"You can't force things."

"Fuck that. I can do this," I insist, even though a small voice deep in my mind is calling me a goddamn liar. "When the nurses started running around, the doctors barking out orders, and then they rushed her away from me…" the panic tries to seize my chest once more, but I push that shit down and keep going, "I was so sure that was it." Lifting my eyes from his sleeve, I meet his. "That she would never come back through those doors."

"But she did," Gwen says, moving around me.

Sitting in the chair Dr. J vacated moments ago, she reaches over and takes my free hand in hers.

Looking away from Dr. J, I focus on her.

"Childbirth is a scary thing, even when it's not as eventful as Maggie's." Squeezing my hand, she smiles small. "But Mia was in good hands and you were never in critical danger of losing her."

"But—"

"If you want to get the medical records and read the notes on the delivery, I'm sure there is a way to do so." She gently brushes a thumb over my knuckles. "Maggie's arrival wasn't easy, but it was not as extreme as you remember. You're focusing on the fear and pain. You need to allow yourself to embrace the good."

Her words slice through my chest.

Focus on the good.

I furrow my brow. I can't think of one fucking good thing about childbirth.

"It's the day you got Maggie," Gwen adds.

The furrow fades from my face and every tense muscle relaxes.

The smile on Mia's face when I entered her room. The look in her eyes when she handed me our daughter. The fullness that engulfed my chest looking down on the perfect little baby wrapped in white and pink.

"Do you think Mia would choose to risk her life, leaving Maggie behind, if the birth was as bad as you've remembered?" Gwen gives one more squeeze before releasing my hand.

"I've only focused on the negative," I breathe the words. "The fear and pain are the only thing I know."

"At that time, yes," Dr. J rejoins the discussion.

Releasing his sleeve, I drop my hand into my lap.

"But now..." he squats down next to my chair, "now, Chris, you are a different man. You've risen out of the dark place."

Shaking my head, I try to let what they've said actually sink in, but the memory of Mia, lifeless, on the hospital bed,? flashes in my mind.

"I'm not, and I haven't," I argue, turning my eyes to his. "I'm still in that darkness. I can see her lifeless and can't get past it."

A single tear, one of realization and despair, rolls down my cheek.

I'm going to fucking lose her.

Chapter Seven

Christopher

Leaving Gwen and Dr. J in Nic's office, I return to the get-together. Scanning the room, I don't see Mia anywhere.

"She's not here," Serena says to my left.

My head snaps in her direction. "What?"

"She left with Kat."

Turning away, I start for the front door.

"Give her space, Chris," Serena blurts, grabbing my arm.

"Stay out of it," I growl.

Her hand tightens on my bicep.

"She needs to breathe, and think. Let her have it."

Jerking my arm away, I step into Serena's personal space. Straightening to my full height, I stare down at Mia's nosey fucking sister.

"I won't give up on her, or us. So keep your fucking advice to yourself."

"Hey," Elliott barks, drawing my attention, "get the fuck out of her face."

Even with his large, muscular build, Elliott moves fast. He reaches our standoff and pushes between us.

"Boys," Nicholas tries to intervene.

"Tell your wife to mind her own business."

"I'm not going to tell her a damn thing," Elliott snaps, crossing his arms over his chest. "You need to calm the hell down."

"Chris…" This time, it's Jackson.

"Stay out of it," I say, keeping my eyes locked on Elliott.

Long fingers clasp my shoulder and jerk me away from the great wall of Elliot.

"Come on," Jackson says, pulling me out of the room.

In the empty dining room, I jerk out of his grip.

"I'm not letting her leave me, Jackson."

"Look, man, I don't know what the hell is going on right now, but Mia isn't fucking leaving you." Pulling a chair away from the large table, he sits down.

Nervousness, anxiety, and fear roar through my veins, pushing me to pace the room.

"She will," I grumble.

"What did you do? Buy an island?"

I know he's trying to lighten my mood, but it's not fucking working.

Stopping mid-pace, I level a look at him.

"She might be pregnant," I admit.

His eyes widen and mouth pops open.

"Well, fuck me. Congratu—"

The look on my face cuts off his well wishes.

"You aren't happy about it?"

It's more of a statement, but I answer anyhow.

"Fuck no, Jack," I bark, planting my hands on the table and looking down at the dark wooden surface.

"And Mia is happy about it?" he presses.

"I…" Fuck, I don't even know how she feels about it.

"Ah, you didn't take the time to talk about it before you went into panic mode." He nods, strumming his fingers on the table.

Yanking a chair out, I drop onto the hard seat, place my elbows on the table, and put my head in my hands.

"Dude, you need to talk this shit out with her. I get you have reservations, but—"

"Reservations?" I snort. "I almost fucking lost her the last time."

"Chris, you're going to lose her now if you can't get your shit together." His blunt words cut straight to my heart. "Listen, I don't know everything, so you can take what I'm about to say and tell me to fuck off, but knowing you for as long as I have, I've got a pretty good idea of how shit went down between the two of you. You lost your shit and probably irrationally so. For once in your life, you're going to need to give her some time. Let Mia have some space to work through the emotions you didn't give her a chance to share before you went off."

"Fuck you," I mumble, because he's fucking right and I hate him for it.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure Mia isn't going anywhere."

I drop my hands from my face and look into my stepbrother's eyes.

"Don't look so surprised. She fucking loves you, and I mean complete and devoted love. You're goddamn soul mates if there ever were such a thing."

"What am I supposed to do?" I ask, my voice just above a whisper.

"Well, my brother, you are going to think long and hard about everything, take your shit to Dr. J and work through it, and then you're going to have to come up with the greatest grovel ever known to man. Because when the woman you love tells you she might be pregnant, the proper reaction is to drop to your knees and worship the shit out of her."

"I almost lost her the first time," I remind him, glaring.

He gives a half-grin.

"You've almost lost yourself a million times, but somehow, you always rise above. Mia's fucking stronger than you, so I'm pretty sure she can handle anything."

"Fuck you," I mumble, again. Because, again, he's right and I fucking hate him for it.

Hope surges in my chest at the sound of Mia's ringtone. Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my cell and touch the screen.

"Mia?" I answer, watching Jack stand and walk out of the room.

"I'm sorry, Chris. I had to get out of the house and away from all the people."

"You just left. Took Maggie without a fucking word." My words are much harsher than intended.

"And I'm sorry I did that." The soft hiccup in her voice melts my anger.

"Where are you? I'll come—"

"No," she cuts me off, sniffling. "I need to think."

Feeling like she just punched me in the stomach, I breathe out, "Mia, please?"

"Chris, there's a lot I need to think about and I can't do that with you around. Not right now, not with how disappointed and angry you are."

Fuck! Running a hand through my hair, I close my eyes and inhale through my nose.

"I'm going back to my house for—"

"That's not your house," I growl. "Your home is with me."

"That's not what I meant," she sighs. "I'm going to stay at Serena's for a couple days—"

"A couple days?" I exclaim. "You're going to run and hide from me?"

"I'm not hiding, Chris," she says, sounding tired. "I called so you would know where Maggie and I are. I just need a couple days. Can you give me that?"

"Do I have a fucking choice?" The question lacks the anger I want it to have.

"No," she instantly responds, "you don't. I need this, Chris. I have a lot to figure out."

"Damn it, Mia, baby, I know I've been a jerk. I'm so sorry. Just come home and we'll figure out what to do together," I beg.

"You've made your wishes clear. Now I need to figure out mine."

Heat blossoms in my chest, rising into my neck. A light sweat coats my skin and my stomach knots.

"Please, Mia, don't do this. Don't leave me."

"It's only for a couple days. I'll be back before our flight." There's a hiccup in her voice once more, and it guts me.

Before our flight? That's more than a couple days away.

"I love you," are the only words I can form.

"I love you, too," she says, just before ending the call.

Releasing the phone, it slides down my cheek and thuds onto the table. I fold my arms on the wooden surface and drop my head onto them.

"I'm fucking losing her," I whisper into the darkness created by my arms.

"Chris?" Gwen calls, but I can't look at her.

Anger, fear, and despair take turns drowning me in their waves.

"Christopher," she sighs my name, placing a hand on my back. "Give her time."

I'm so sick of hearing "give me time, give her time”.

"Yeah, everyone keeps saying that," I growl, shoving the chair back from the table.

Gwen jumps out of the way, pity in her eyes.

I fucking hate pity.

"And when she gets enough time and space, she'll wise the fuck up and walk away from my bullshit," I snap at Gwen, pushing out of the chair.

"Don't take this out on her," Nic warns from the doorway.

Taking a deep breath, I turn toward Gwen and take her in my arms.

"I'm sorry," I apologize, giving her a light squeeze before releasing her and walking away.

"Where are you going?" Nic calls out when I reach the front door.

"I need time," I retort sarcastically.

Once out of the house, I take a deep breath. The cold air is a sharp shock to my nose.

When I start the car and pull out of the driveway, my first instinct is to drive to Mia. But at the end of Nic and Gwen's road, when I should turn left, I turn right and head to an empty house.

I guess I should get used to it being empty.

Mia

"You all right?" Kat sits down on the cushion next to me.

Unable to speak, I stare at my cell phone in my lap and shake my head.

"So, who all knows about this?" she asks, taking a sip from her mug.

Shrugging, I fight back the sobs building in my chest.

"Okay," she draws out the word. "Are you calling off the wedding?"

Jerking my head up to look over at her, I ask, "What?"

"You heard me," she retorts with a sniff. "Are you calling off the wedding?"

"No," I blurt without a second thought.

"Okay then." She grins.

Furrowing my brow, I swallow the lump in my throat, and ask, "Why?"

Her grin turns to a full-blown smile.

Leaning forward, she places her mug on the coffee table and turns her body to face me.

"The fact that you aren't even thinking about calling off the wedding tells me you still love the big jerk."

"Of course I still love him. Why would you even think—?"

"Let me finish," she cuts me off, rolling her eyes. "It also tells me where we're at in this. You aren't calling off the wedding, but you need a couple days to process his reaction to the maybe-baby."

Sighing, I slouch back into the couch.

"You also need to figure out how you feel about it," she adds, reaching out and taking her mug into her hand once more.

I drop my head back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling.

"I won't get an abortion," I state. "Another baby, right now, isn't exactly ideal, and to be honest, I'm not exactly thrilled at the idea."

"With everything we have going on, I can understand that."

"But a part of me will be sad if there isn't a baby." Groaning at my conflicted feelings, I rub my hands over my face. "I know. It doesn't make any fucking sense."

"It makes perfect sense."

Rolling my head to the side, I look at Kat's scrunched up face.

"You know what it's like to be a mom and you're realizing you might want that again, even if right now isn't the best time. You also know how freaked out Chris is, so if you aren't pregnant now, then chances are, you won't have the opportunity again."

"Are you fucking Dr. J? ‘Cause you sound like him," I tease.

Kat shrugs one shoulder. "Not really my type, but…" She lets the thought die and I laugh—hard.

"Look, you need to get your feelings figured out and then tell Chris what you want. If he's not on board, I'm sure you can sway him."

I open my mouth to argue, but she puts a hand up to silence me.

"But for this evening, we aren't thinking about a goddamn thing. Tonight, we are going to get sugar wasted and watch Purple Rain for the gazillionth time."

"Sugar wasted?" I raise a brow.

"Yep," she grins.

"Serena doesn't keep junk food in the house now that we've moved out," I remind her.

The evil glint in her eyes makes me smile.

"I happen to know where Elliott keeps his stash."

"Lead the way," I giggle the words and follow Kat down to the basement.

"What the hell?" Elliott whines, finding Kat and me on the basement couch surrounded by candy wrappers and chip and cookie bags. "This is fucking thievery!"

"Watch your mouth," Kat scorns, nodding toward Maggie in the playpen we brought down to his 'man cave'.

"Sorry," he crosses his arms over his broad chest, "but I'm too busy watching your mouths devour my goody stash."

"How do you eat this stuff and not have a gut?" I ask around a mouth full of chips.

"Cardio," he responds, as if I should know this already.

"Does Serena know you have all this in the house?" Kat asks, taking a bite of a soft baked chocolate chip cookie.

"All of what?" Serena asks, striding down from the last step.

"Nothing," Elliott blurts, trying to block her from seeing the junk food.

Shoving him aside, she takes in the wrappers scattered around the table.

"You didn't eat all the Oreos, did you?" she asks, sitting on the leather couch between Kat and me.

"Nope," Kat says, handing the package to her.

"Awesome," Serena cheers, putting the cookies in her lap.

"What the hell?" Elliott says again.

"Babe, go get me some milk," she commands.

His brows knit together and his mouth opens.

Twisting a cookie open, Serena takes a long lick from the creamy center.

"Please?" she asks, licking her bottom lip.

Elliott's mouth snaps shut and he turns, trudging up the stairs.

Kat puts her fist up to Serena. "Respect, my sister. You got him to do your bidding from licking a goddamn cookie."

"Yeah." She shrugs, bumping her fist to Kat's. "The only drawback is he takes longer when walking around with a hard on."

The three of us fall into a fit of laughter before turning our attention back to the movie just in time to sing Purple Rain with Prince.

The next morning, I wake up in Kat's old bedroom, now Serena's spare bedroom. Kat and I had shared the bed, but she was already up and gone.

Climbing out of the bed, I grab my cell and find nine text messages from Chris. Swiping the screen, I begin reading them as I descend the stairs.

Come home.

I miss you.

I love you.

Please, Mia, come home.

I need you.

You mean everything.

Tell Maggie I love her.

Baby, stop ignoring me. It's killing me.

I'll leave you alone, Mia. But know it is fucking killing me to be in this house without you.

"Are we going to talk about what's going on now?" Serena asks, laying a sleeping Zoe into her playpen.

"Where's Maggie?" I ask, sitting on the couch.

"Elliott has her upstairs. They're playing cars with Ryan." She sits down next to me. "So?"

"I don't even know where to start," I groan, settling in next to Kat.

"I already filled her in," Kat says around a spoonful of yogurt.

"Well, that saves us twenty minutes of back story, doesn't it?" Part of me is irked, but the bigger part is glad I don't have to retell the story.

"Don't get pissy. It will upset the baby." Kat puts another spoonful in her mouth.

"You're pregnant?" Elliott stops at the bottom of the stairs, Maggie hanging upside down from his arm. "Well, that explains Chris acting like the Duke of Douches."

Kat snorts.

"Yeah," I sigh out. "He's worried about the birth."

"Because you had to get cut open?" Elliott flips Maggie around, causing her to giggle harder.

"That's part of it. He's afraid I'll die giving birth."

Elliott nods, a contemplative look on his face.

"He realizes C-sections are a common delivery practice, right?" Serena asks. "I mean, yeah, yours was unexpected and considered an emergency, but it wasn't like you were on death's door."

"I know that. You know that. Chris doesn't see it that way."

"Mia," Elliott says, squatting down by the coffee table in front of me. "You know Chris is afraid of losing the people he loves most. That day…" he shakes his head, "it's not easy to watch your brother break down like that. I'm not trying to make this worse, but I am sure he's fucking terrified right now."

"Elliott, you can't honestly stand behind him being irrational?" Serena asks, incensed.

He shrugs and stands, bringing Maggie back up with him.

"All I'm saying, babe, is Chris lived in darkness until your sister burst into his scene. If it were you, and I'd been in his place, I'd have lost my shit a little, too." Shrugging again, he turns around and yells, "Ry, come on, man!"

"I'm coming," he shouts, stomping down the stairs.

"Easy on the steps," Serena scolds.

"Sorry," he blurts, a football under his arm.

"We'll be out in the yard," Elliott says, walking to the door.

I open my mouth to remind him he has Maggie but close it when he grabs her coat and slips it and a hat on her.

"When did Elliott get so insightful?" Kat asks, setting the empty container on the coffee table.

"He's so good with kids," I add. Smiling, I watch as he carries Maggie out the door.

"My man has depth, girls," Serena says.

The sound of Laney greeting Ryan, Maggie, and Elliott alerts us to her arrival. She sweeps into the house, stripping off her knee-length coat.

"You guys didn't start yet, right?" she asks, hanging her coat next to the door.

"Christ, you tell her everything, too?" I raise one brow at Kat.

"Yep," she responds, wearing a large grin.

"Blabbermouth," I taunt.

"At least someone told me," Laney exaggerates.

"Look, I just need to figure my head out and then I can talk it all out with Chris."

"What you need is to take a test," Laney produces two boxes from her oversized bag.

Shaking my head, I say, "No, I'm not late, and I don't fucking want a false result."

"You need to just—"

"No," I snap.

"Okay," Laney says, yielding to my refusal.

"What can we do to help you, Mia?" Serena asks, desperation in her voice. "You're supposed to get married next week. We all fly out in a few days to start the wedding week. If you aren't sure about things, then I stand behind you one hundred and fifty percent. You know that, right?"

Her declaration brings tears to my eyes. My big sister is tough and bossy, but she's also got my back no matter what choice I make.

"You offering to be my getaway car?"

"Of course," she says, scooting closer. "I'm returning the same offer you gave me on my wedding day." A small smile curls the right side of her mouth.

Remembering the day of her wedding freak out, I return the smile.

Placing my hand on her leg, I squeeze.

"I want to marry Christopher, but…"

"But what?" Laney asks, sitting on the coffee table in front of me.

"But…" my voice hitches and tears clog my throat, "what if I'm pregnant and he doesn't want anything to do with it?"

"Mia…" Kat croons.

"You know Chris wouldn't do that," Laney reassures.

"You're afraid he won't want to marry you if you're pregnant," Serena states, voicing my fears aloud.

"What if his fear of losing me in childbirth is too much of a risk? Or maybe we just can't work this out and he calls it all off." I shrug, wiping tears from my cheeks.

Kat's head lands on my shoulder, Laney moves to kneel in front of me, her hands taking both of mine into hers, and Serena wipes tears from my face.

"There isn't anything in this world that would stop me from marrying you, Mia." Chris' voice startles all of us.

Sniffing, I pull my hands from Laney and wipe my eyes.

"What are you doing here?" I choke out. "I asked for time to—"

Laney quickly backs away when Chris strides toward me. Taking her place, he pushes between my legs and grabs my face. His eyes burn into mine.

"You're the fucking world to me and nothing will ever change that. You got me?"

Reaching up, I wrap my hands around his wrists.

"Until you—"

"There is no until," he snaps. "Fuck, Mia, my soul would disintegrate without you."

He releases my face and drops his head into my lap. Snaking his arms around my waist, he mumbles against my legs, "Don't you get it? I don't fucking deserve you."

Placing a hand on his head, I close my eyes. "If I'm pregnant, I can't live like this, stressing about how you don't want the baby."

Raising his head from my lap, his eyes meet mine.

"It's not about wanting our baby," he states, brows furrowed. "It's about me killing the people I love the most." He cups my face once more. "I can't kill you, too."

My eyes widen and mouth drops open.

There it is. Christopher's fear is not just me dying during childbirth, but him being the reason I die.

"Chris, you wouldn't—"

"It's me who got you pregnant the first time, and I almost lost you. Now, I get you pregnant again. I'm fucking tempting fate. It will take you away from me, and it will be because I got you pregnant again."

He drops his head, his hands sliding from my face to either side of my neck. Bringing my hands up, I cup his face, making him look at me.

"You didn't kill anyone, Christopher." The sob breaks free from my chest.

He still blames himself for the death of his mother. He blames himself for what he thinks was my almost death during Maggie's birth. And now he's afraid he's testing fate once more.

"You have no idea what it's like to feel this pain, this guilt, for being the reason someone dies or almost dies," he says, a tear tracing his defined cheekbone. "If I'm the catalyst for your death, I won't survive the loss."

"Chris, you aren't losing me," I reassure.

He tries to pull away, but I hold fast.

"Christopher, look at me," I order.

His eyes snap back to mine.

"You. Aren't. Losing. Me."

"Jack's right," he whispers, our eyes still locked.

"Jack?"

"You're so much fucking stronger than I am."

His mouth crashes into mine and our tongues meet, the metal ball of his piercing sliding over mine. His body presses over and into mine.

"You cum stain that couch, you're buying me a new one," Elliott states.

"Elliott!" Serena scolds, motioning to Ryan and Maggie at his side.

Chris and I break apart, taking in the red-rimmed eyes of my best friends and the annoyed look on Elliott's face.

"Daddy," Maggie squeals, rushing toward Chris.

"What if I'm pregnant?" I whisper.

Chris pulls Maggie into his arms and looks back to me.

"We'll figure it out," he says. "And I'll work my shit out with the doc."

"I love you."

"Love you more, angel," he responds.

Chapter Eight

Christopher

The night Mia came back home with me, I kept her in bed until ten the next morning, worshipping every inch of her skin with my mouth and hands. I thought if I showed her how much I love her we could get past things faster, but the minute we were out of the bedroom, I felt her withdrawal.

"Tomorrow, you and Mia leave for the island, right?" Dr. J sits across from me in my home studio, having agreed to meet with me before our departure.

I nod, rubbing my forehead and staring at nothing.

"What's on your mind, Chris?"

Lifting my head, I straighten my spine and ask the question that's been swirling around in my head.

"Why wouldn't I tell her I missed the appointment?"

For days, I've been thinking about the situation. Starting the day I drove home alone from Nic and Gwen's when I realized my fear wasn't just losing her, but being the person who causes the loss. Fate fucking hates me, and putting Mia back in its hands is not something I'm eager to do.

"Maybe you were afraid she'd get upset?"

Leveling a look at him, I purse my lips.

"You damn well know that isn't it."

He shrugs.

"Then, you tell me." He raises one hand in invitation.

I rub a hand over my face, close my eyes, and suck my bottom lip into my mouth. Releasing the lip, but keeping my eyes closed, I confess, "Deep down, I think Mia wants more kids. I think she's only giving the option up because of me."

I pause, praying Dr. J will start talking. When he doesn't, I continue.

"I'm always fucking taking things." Shaking my head, I open my eyes and focus on his appraising eyes. "What the hell do I ever give her, Doc?"

"Only Mia can answer that for you," he finally speaks.

"I didn't tell her about the vasectomy because I was afraid she'd change her mind and demand another baby."

Dr. J opens his mouth, but I hurry to finish.

"But, I'm also so afraid to take something else from her. She could resent me for taking away the option of more kids."

He closes his mouth and laces his fingers together in front of him. Dipping his head, he presses his lips to them for just a moment before dropping his hands into his lap.

"You've done a lot of soul-searching." He gives me a thin smile and nods. "Your fears are valid, Chris, and they are so very normal."

"Normal?" I scoff. "I'm anything but fucking normal."

He chuckles quietly.

"The fears won't be resolved unless you talk to Mia about them. I can offer you advice, but I can't give you the answers you seek. I'm not Mia."

"Thank fucking God," I blurt. "No offense, but you aren't my type."

"You aren't mine either," he replies.

My chest shakes with laughter. Taking a deep breath, I drop my head to the back of the chair.

"And what happens if Mia is currently pregnant?" he asks.

"The more I think about it, the more I want to throw up," I admit. "I can't help it. I'm fucking terrified."

"I'm not an OB/GYN, but I think it's safe to say Mia will be monitored regularly, given the previous delivery circumstances."

"What does that even mean?" I lift my head and focus on him.

"It means, when a woman has a second child, the doctors review the previous delivery records and notes. It means, you can both express any fears or concerns and the doctors and nurses will address them."

"And I'll look like a fucking idiot, right?"

"Since when do you care what other people think?" he counters.

"You have a point."

"They're professionals, Christopher, and if they don't respond to your concerns, you get a new doctor."

Unlike the times before, thinking on my own and talking with Dr. J, this actually settles the riot of knots in my stomach.

"To be honest, while I get your reservations about childbirth, I'm also a bit surprised you aren't forcing her to have a ton of kids."

"Why?" The question slips out before I even think about it.

"You've always seemed like the type who would…how shall I say this? Lock her down with kid after kid so she's stuck with you for the rest of their lives."

"Huh," is my only response.

"Christ, I just gave you the idea, didn't I?"

My grin is met by a look of exasperation and a shake of his head.

Entering our bedroom, Mia flits around the space with the grace of a dancer. The magazines, reporters, and label can boast her rock goddess persona all they want—when she twists, walks, turns, and pushes onto her toes, tossing clothes into our luggage, I see the grace, balance, and beauty in each movement.

"Mia?"

Her body starts and she turns to me. When her surprise-filled eyes meet mine, she asks, "Do you have everything packed?" She motions to the open bags lining the floor.

I nod, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Baby, talk to me."

"About?" she asks, scanning each piece of luggage.

"Can we start with how withdrawn you are?" I ask, getting straight to the point. Why beat around the bush?

She snaps her head back to me and gives a weak shrug.

"I'm fine, really. There's just a lot to do before tomorrow."

"Bullshit. You and I both know it has nothing to do with the trip or the wedding." Leaning forward, I put my elbows on my knees. "Unless you're not sure about the wedding?"

Her dark chocolate eyes widen.

"Of course I'm sure…are you?" she asks, the question almost a whisper.

"Fuck, Mia, how…of course I'm sure. Why would you think any different?"

"I don't know," she growls, walking to the bed and sitting next to me.

"Is this about the baby?" I can't look away from the floor.

"Partially," she admits.

In one swift motion, I sit up and wrap her in my arms.

"Mia, we'll work through my bullshit, okay? I promise."

She sighs, pulling away from my embrace. Rejection lances my chest before she places one hand to my cheek.

"My period started," she says, her voice low, wavering.

I part my lips, unsure of what I plan to say, but Mia beats me to it.

"You don't have to say anything." The hard swallow following the words tears into my heart.

"Are you sure?"

What the fuck? Of course she's sure.

She nods. "Yeah. It's…you don't want the details, but I'm sure it's starting."

What does starting mean? Instead of asking the question, I pull her back in my arms and whisper into her hair, "I'm sorry, baby."

When she relaxes into me and slips her arms around my middle, I hold her tighter.

"At least you don't have to worry anymore."

Each word stabs into my chest.

"Baby, I—"

"Can we just forget about it?" She pulls out of our embrace, stands, and goes back to packing.

"Mia, I didn't—"

"Chris, please," she begs, closing her eyes. "It's okay, but I don't want to talk about it anymore." Her eyelids flutter open and she pierces me with her dark eyes. "Okay?"

"Yeah," I agree, like a coward.

Because how do I tell her, after the way I've behaved, how much her sadness guts me? How I really meant what I said about working my shit out? And, worst of all, how do I tell her it fucking hurts knowing she's not pregnant? I didn't expect that shit, but it's there. I've been so afraid of losing Mia, I didn't even consider feeling the loss of a baby that wasn't there.

Fucking fate or karma? I don't know, but fuck them both.

Pushing up from the bed, I leave Mia to her distractions.

The sound of Maggie's laugh draws me to her room. Her smile usually fills the dark parts of me with fucking sunshine and fireflies, but right now…right now, it reminds me of another giggle that will never be.

Pushing her door open, I find my baby girl playing with our nanny's daughter, Carmen.

"Hey, Mr. Mason," she greets, seeing me standing in the doorway.

"Daddy!" Maggie exclaims, clapping.

Daddy. The title fills my heart to bursting, but also turns my stomach. I've been such an asshole—an idiot.

"Play?" Maggie asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Of course."

Stepping out of the doorway, I take a seat on the floor next to my baby girl. The one thought I can't get out of my mind is how great of a big sister Maggie would be.

The next morning is a flurry of bags, bodies, and phone calls.

Giana gets Maggie ready for the airport, a driver and his assistant help load our luggage, and Mia is on her fifth phone call to Kara, going over details about her dress, my suit, the groomsmen and bridesmaid items, along with some cake designer being flown to the island. Apparently, Harlow Cakes is a big deal in wedding cakes, not that I know a damn thing about them. The name of the cake place fucking rocks, though.

I lean against the kitchen counter and listen to Mia on her phone, standing by for further orders. I'd already been called upon to double check my bags, carry them to the front door, and run up and down the stairs three times for random things.

Now, I'm thankful I couldn't sleep last night, since I was up super early and able to call Dr. J. Not wanting to upset Mia with the unexpected feelings about everything, I used the doctor to work through them. He'd been as shrinky as ever, but at the end of the call, my mind and heart were finally in the right fucking place.

"I think we're good," Mia says, slipping her cell into the back pocket of her jeans.

Glancing down at the watch on my wrist, I say, "I hope so. We needed to be on the road five minutes ago."

She grabs my hand and looks at my watch.

"Fuck!" she exclaims. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Grabbing her bag from the counter, she strides to the front door.

"I thought I just did." I push off the counter and follow her.

Mia's quiet for the drive to the airport. The silence and distance convinces me to keep my mouth shut. She doesn't need to deal with my sudden feelings about losing the idea of another kid and I sure as fuck don't want to admit how wrong I've been about it all. Given her mood, I know that will only set off another argument. At this point, I'm just trying to get this girl down the aisle before she wises up.

The car pulls into the FBO away from the commercial terminals and the door opens. Kara peeks inside and smiles.

"Everything is going perfectly," she assures.

Glancing at Mia, her body visibly relaxes and she slips out of the car.

I exit right behind her and she turns, coming face to chest with me.

Blinking, she looks up. I grab her face and press my lips to hers.

Our lips mold together, her arms slip around my waist, and our bodies press against each other. Sliding my tongue past her lips, our mouths tangle together. My chest burns, heat building in my stomach and stretching through my limbs.

Spinning her, I press her against the car.

"Ahem," a throat clears.

Fuck them. I've got her close and responding. I don't give a shit if we miss the flight.

"Dude," Elliott's loud call breaks the moment, "you can't fuck her in public!"

Breaking the kiss, I press my forehead to hers and sigh.

"I love you, Mia."

"I love you, too, baby," she pants.

The click of shutters and sounds of people invade our little bubble.

"Stupid leeches," I growl, pushing away from Mia.

"Chris! I love you, Chris!" the screams of two women draw my attention.

Looking over the roof of the car, a woman with blonde hair and a The Forgotten t-shirt stands against the fence. A large group of fans behind her cheers loudly when I wave. As I'm looking away, two fans scream for Mia.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Elliott and Laney heading toward the crowd. Two members of our security team jog over to join them.

I lean down to face Giana, who is waiting in the back of the car with Maggie in her lap. "Keep her in the car for a minute," I instruct. "We'll be right back."

Straightening, I grab Mia's hand and pull her around the car.

"Where are we—?" Seeing our destination, she doesn't finish.

I answer anyway. "To calm the savages."

Reaching the fence, we each take selfies with fans, shake hands, and sign shirts, arms, and photos.

Taking a black marker and photograph out of the blonde's hand, I ask, "What's your name?"

"Oh my God, I love you," she cries, clutching her t-shirt.

"That's a long name," I tease.

"It's Tracy," she blurts.

"It's nice to meet you, Tracy."

I sign the photo and hand it back.

"Can you sign me?" She presses her chest out.

I take a deep breath, give a nod, and say, "Sure."

Retrieving the marker from her hand, I step closer and sign the shirt just above her breast. Her hand flashes out, grabs my wrist, and pulls me closer. Wrapping her arms around me, she squeezes.

"Miss," one security guy warns, "I need you to release him."

Pulling on her arms isn't working and I'm afraid to hurt the woman.

"Let go," security orders, gripping her arm.

The woman's lips press against my neck and just as the tip of her tongue touches my skin, security finally pulls her off. I retreat, stumbling back and rubbing my neck.

"You okay?" Mia asks, shifting her eyes to glare at the woman.

"Oh my God, he tastes like heaven," the fan shouts.

Damn groupies.

Mia's head whips to me and then back to her. Anger flashes in her eyes and I tense, but then she bursts into laughter.

"Ladies, Chris is taken, but I'm fair game," Jimmy arrives, arms wide open.

The crowd cheers.

I pat him on the shoulder, and say, "Good luck with them,” before moving to stand next to Mia.

Keeping her close to my side, I'm able to grab the back of her jeans when she tries to hug one of the male fans. I allow her close enough for a quick hug and photo, but when two others grab her arms, I quickly pull her back to my side.

Tucking her under my arm, I grin at the pouting fans, and say, "Sorry, I'm not really into sharing."

Kissing Mia on her temple sends the cameras and fans crazy.

"Thank you," she mumbles as we turn away from the crowd.

"No problem, baby," I say, steering us back to the limo.

Mia plants a quick kiss to my jaw before walking over to talk to Kara, and I reach into the backseat to take Maggie from Giana.

Standing in the open, next to the limo, the cameras go crazy and reporters call out from behind a fenced area. Thankfully, they can't come out to the tarmac and disrupt the private jet operations.

"How are things?" Jackson asks.

Lucas and Sean stand at his side, holding their bags.

"Good, I think," I answer.

Looking at Mia, surrounded by Kara, Leeann, and Hush, she meets my eyes and smiles.

"Yeah, I think we're good for the most part," I confirm.

"Can we get on the plane?" Lucas, Liza's son, blurts.

"See those two in the blue uniforms?" Jack points to the airport employees who will check our identification and paperwork before we board.

"Yeah," he responds with a nod, his eyes on Mia, who is currently going through the check-in process.

Biting the inside of my mouth, I fight laughing.

The kid has it so bad for my future wife. It's fucking priceless.

"Show them your passports and let them check you off on the register," Jack instructs.

"Awesome!" Lucas exclaims. "Come on."

Grabbing Sean's arm, Lucas tugs him toward the plane.

"Where's Liza?" I ask, looking around him since I can't see over the tall fucker.

"She had to make an unexpected trip back to PA." I don't miss the deep growl to his words.

"For what?"

I lift Maggie higher against my chest, her fingers playing with the gauge in my earlobe.

He shakes his head. "All I can say is her cousin Sid is having a hard time and needed her."

"That's not vague at all," I say, raising one brow.

"It's not my story to tell, man," he says in a puff of breath. "But, if I ever get the chance, I'm going to beat the shit out of a hipster douchebag. I might need bail money."

Furrowing my brow, I examine the deep lines at the corners of his mouth and his piercing eyes.

Having been through enough with my brother over the years, I know he's suppressing a serious level of rage.

Giving a nod, I say, "I've got you."

"Come to Giana, sweet girl." Maggie's nanny sweeps her from my arms and walks her toward the plane.

"Daddy," she protests.

"I'm coming, baby girl," I assure her, and smack Jackson on the arm. "Come on."

We meet Giana and Maggie by the plane, the security personnel going over the documents.

"So, she's flying from Pennsylvania?" I ask Jack since we have to wait.

"She's flying down from New York after meeting with Gemma and the producers of that musical."

"The one that keeps getting pushed back?" I ask, stepping forward when Giana climbs the stairs into the plane.

"Yep," he answers.

With a flash of my passport and flight papers, I'm climbing onto the plane.

Mia

Kara reassures me for the hundredth time everything is fine, I didn't forget anything, and whatever happens, we will work it out. Fuck, wedding planning and execution sucks. I don't know what I'd do without her and Leeann.

Stepping onto the plane, we're met by the cabin crew: two flight attendants, the pilot, and co-pilot. The attendants vary in age, the first looking only a few years older than me, wearing a nametag identifying her as Bronwyn, while the other could be my grandmother, identifying herself as Marie. The pilots look closer in age, maybe in their forties.

"Welcome," the pilot states, giving me her hand.

"Thank you," I respond, moving further onto the plane to allow everyone else onboard.

The interior of the private jet is neutral tones of light blues and beige. Two beige couches line the front of the plane, Giana having taken one of the eight spots with Maggie on her lap. Kara and Leeann sit next to each other across from Giana. Four sets of airline seats make up the middle. Jackson sits by himself in the rear row on the right side of the plane, while Lucas and Sean sit with a table between them in the rear interior. There is one more chair and table option across from them and a pale blue door behind them, which I assume is a restroom.

Moving through the aisle, I take the first seat in the middle grouping, leaving the window seat next to me open, and close my eyes. I inhale and release the breath.

"I can get you in a car and back on the highway in five minutes," Serena says out the side of her mouth as she sits in the row behind me. "Just say the word."

"What's the word?" I ask, fighting a grin.

Keeping her tone casual, she responds, "Vagina."

"What are we tie-breaking?" Laney asks from across the aisle, settling into a seat.

A laugh burst out of my mouth, capturing Chris' attention the minute he walks onto the private jet.

He raises one brow in question. I shake my head.

"Mommy," Maggie cries, pulling my attention.

I turn and watch my tired girl stumble away from the couch toward me. Planting her face in my lap, she wraps her arms around my legs and squeezes. A warm tingle I never knew existed until becoming a mom spreads in my chest.

I slip my hands under her arms and pull her onto my lap. She lays her cheek on my chest, legs spread on either side of me, presses the front of her body to mine, and her thumb goes into her mouth. It's one of her I'm-ready-for-a-nap tells.

After a morning of packing, checking lists, making phone calls, and finding spotting during a trip to the bathroom, I'm ready for a nap myself.

While part of me is relieved knowing my period is starting, putting to rest the speculation of the maybes, I'm also disappointed. It feels like a part of me has gone missing. Having expected to feel sad, I thought I was prepared, but I was so wrong. This feels like a loss, something I'll never get back. And I don't even want to think about the reason I packed a pregnancy test. Torture? Precaution? Hope?

Wrapping my arms around Maggie, I hold her to my chest and inhale the smell of her lavender baby wash. For a moment, it makes me forget what could've been.

"Someone's tired," Chris says, taking the seat next to me.

He runs his long fingers over her head, then leans forward to kiss the top of her head. Straightening, he stops halfway and presses a kiss to my mouth.

"Mia—"

"Good afternoon," the younger of two flight attendants says. "Please settle in so we can begin our trip." Smiling, she starts walking through the cabin, checking seatbelts and carry-on luggage placement.

Chris lifts the arm divider between us and moves as close as his seatbelt will allow. He lays his hand on my knee and I wait for him to finish his thought from moments before, but he doesn't. Instead, he puts his head back and closes his eyes.

Gwen and Nicolas enter, moving to the rear of the plane.

Kat settles in next to Laney.

"Behave," Laney warns.

"I'm a fucking angel," Kat insists.

Serena and I snort at the same time, earning us a middle finger from Kat.

Elliott bounds onto the plane with Ryan right on his heel. Andrea, Serena and Elliott's nanny, is close behind with Zoey in her arms. She takes a seat next to Giana while Elliott squeezes into the seat behind Chris. Ryan follows, climbing into his lap.

"Ry, you should probably sit with Andrea," Serena encourages.

"I wanna sit with daddy," he whines.

"It's okay, buddy," Elliott soothes. "You can chill here."

Jimmy strides onto the plane stopping to flirt with the pilot and Marie. She giggles and pats his chest at something he says.

Una enters behind him, watching his performance.

"Typical," Una mutters.

Jimmy tenses for a moment before giving her the side-eye and a grin.

"Jealous?" he murmurs.

Rolling her eyes, she steps around him and takes a seat on the couch next to Kara.

I twist my head toward Laney, curious if she witnessed the interaction.

Our eyes meet and I raise my brow. She shrugs, mouthing, “What the hell?”

Returning her shrug, I turn around to see if Serena caught the moment. Given her wide eyes and open mouth, I guess she did.

Ten minutes later, the plane is full and the speaker system chimes.

"Good afternoon, as Bron mentioned earlier, we are going to go through the safety announcements real quick-like," Marie says, grinning.

Bron comes to stand before us, her body twitching and hands shaking. She repeatedly licks her lips, and I can't help but wonder if this is her first flight.

"To operate your seatbelt, insert the metal tab into the buckle and pull tight. It works just like every other seat belt. And, if you don't know how to operate one, you probably shouldn't be out in public unsupervised."

Bron bites her lip as soon as Marie finishes her announcement, but goes through the belt demonstration.

Marie continues with her speech, earning giggles and snorts. "There may be fifty ways to leave your lover, but there are only four ways out of this airplane," she says, and Elliott howls with laughter, causing Maggie to jump and burrow deeper into my lap.

"I love this woman," he declares.

"You're so fucking loud," Chris growls, turning a glare on Elliott.

"Aww," Ryan draws, "you said the f-word, Uncle Chris."

"That's because your dad is a—"

"Hey now, not in front of the boy," Elliott cuts him off.

"Name calling is bad," Ry defends Elliott.

Pulling my lips into my mouth, I fight back a laugh.

Chris huffs and twists back to face front.

Amid their bitch session, Marie has plowed on with her safety spiel, moving on to the oxygen masks portion.

"In the event of a sudden loss of cabin pressure, masks will descend from the ceiling. Stop screaming, grab the mask, and pull it over your face. If you have a small child traveling with you, secure your mask before assisting with theirs. And if you're traveling with more than one small child, pick your favorite."

This time, Laney, Kat, and I burst into a fit of laughter with Elliott. Soon, everyone is laughing—even Chris.

Bron relaxes and starts to smile as Marie finishes the safety announcements.

"Your seat cushions can be used for flotation. In the event of an emergency water landing, please paddle to shore and take them with our compliments." She goes on to the call buttons located above some of the chairs and on the tables of others.

After Marie's comedic safety instructions, both attendants do a final sweep of the plane before taking seats near the cockpit. Moments later, we are taxiing out to the runway and preparing for takeoff.

Chapter Nine

Mia

Thankfully, Maggie sleeps for most of the four-hour flight, which means I'm able to drift off for a couple of those hours.

When we touch down at the San Pedro airport, I wake curled under Chris' arm. At some point, Maggie migrated to his lap. They are both focused on the window, Maggie pressing her hands to the glass and leaning closer.

Righting myself, I stretch my arms over my head.

"Hey, gorgeous," Chris coos, wrapping his fingers around my arm and tugging.

I lean down and meet his mouth with mine.

"Kissy," Maggie squeals, shoving her face against where ours meet.

Laughing, I pull back and watch our daughter kiss attack Chris.

As the plane comes to a stop on the tarmac, the overhead system dings. Marie stands at the front of the aircraft with the phone to her mouth.

"Last one off the plane must clean it," she says with a mischievous grin. "Just teasing. As you exit the plane, please make sure to gather all of your belongings. Anything left behind will be distributed evenly among the flight attendants. Please do not leave children or spouses," she finishes, hanging up the phone.

"Babe, if I weren't already married to you, I think I'd marry Marie," Elliott jokes, following Serena out of their row.

"Babe, don't let our marriage stop you," she taunts over her shoulder.

A loud smack fills the plane, followed by Serena's scream.

"Woman, how many times do I have to tell you how much you love and adore me? You would be devastated if I was gone," he tells her.

"Was Mommy bad?" Ry asks, his face scrunched up.

"Not yet, bud. But she can be very, very naughty when she tries," Elliott answers. "That's how we got Zoey."

A loud snort of laughter comes from Gwen.

"Elliott," Serena scolds, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Can you try not to get murdered during my wedding?" Chris asks, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Don't worry, man, she loves me." Elliott claps Chris on the shoulder.

"You're sleeping on the beach," Serena threatens.

"You hear that, Ry? We get to go beach camping!"

"Yes!" Ryan cheers.

"Are you really sure about marriage?" Serena raises her brow at me.

I open my mouth to respond, but Chris beats me to it.

"Don't blame us for your poor choice in husband. Mia's getting a better deal."

"Ouch, dude, that hurts," Elliott feigns, pressing his hand to his chest.

Collecting our carry-on luggage and other items, we each exit the plane.

Gwen and Nic are first, followed by the rest of us.

Una excuses herself since she's staying in San Pedro and not on the island.

I don't miss the way Jimmy watches her until she disappears into the airport crowd.

"It's so warm," Kat revels, stripping down to a tank top.

"Are we on the island?" Lucas' question is so full of excitement, it causes me to grin.

"Not yet," Jack answers. "We've got a short boat ride to get there."

"When's Liza coming?" Sean asks, much quieter than Lucas.

"Tired of hanging with me already, huh?" he teases.

Seeing and hearing Jack with the boys makes my chest warm. It's so great to see him come so far in such a short amount of time. He's bonded with both boys, and Liza's brother, Kel, almost as fast as he fell for her. Jack's a natural and from overhearing some comments he's made, I know Jack is ready for more—more commitment, more kids, more of anything and everything Liza will give him.

"A staff member is waiting to transport us to the marina. There, we'll board the boat for the island," Kara announces over our loud group.

Giana and Andrea collect the kids, getting them fed and letting them burn off some energy in the airport while our luggage is loaded onto a transport bus. After an hour of waiting and killing time, Elliott, Ryan, Lucas, and Sean all own at least ten Mexican jumping beans each.

"Really?" Serena fights smiling at Elliott.

"Babe, this one is a champion," he boasts, holding up a black bean.

"You cheated," Lucas claims.

"My dad doesn't cheat," Ryan argues.

"Okay," Jack says, quick to diffuse the situation, "let's get to the bus.”

At the bus, a very blonde, very tan woman greets us.

"Hello, my name's Lisa. I'll be escorting you to the island."

She motions to the bus entrance in a silent request to board the bus, and we do.

Another hour passes and we finally make it to the island.

"It's gorgeous," Gwen gasps, walking along the wooden slats of the dock.

"Dude," Elliott draws out the word, glancing around at the scenery.

"Chris," I whisper, reaching back and taking his hand.

"It's all for you, baby. I'd give you the fucking world if you'd let me."

His fingers lace with mine and tighten.

Spinning around, I grip his shirt and plant my mouth to his.

"Hey, we aren't to that part yet," Jimmy teases, walking past.

"They have houses over the water," Laney says, excited.

"We saw that online," Kat reminds her.

"But it looks so much better in person," Laney retorts.

"True," Kat concedes.

Holding out her fist, Laney bumps it with hers.

"This way," Lisa, the island staff member, calls, waving us to follow.

Kara is first to step away from the group. Clipboard in hand, she sets to task, joining Lisa and speaking in hushed tones.

"Okay, everyone," Kara announces, looking away from Lisa. "Let's go get properly checked in so luggage can be distributed."

Inside the main building, we meet three other staff members. The check-in is smooth and fast, given we're the only group expected.

"The villa over the water," Leeann says, handing Chris a map.

"Thank you," he grins, leaning down and kissing her cheek.

Leeann's face burns bright red before she quickly turns away to hand Elliott and Serena their map.

"Chris, I don't think a place over the water is a good idea for Maggie," I say, leaning in close and pressing my hand to his chest.

"Maggie will be with me in the main building," Giana touches my back, rubbing.

"But that's so far from—"

"You two should have alone time," she says, cutting me off. "This is couple's time."

Pulling away from Chris, I open my mouth to argue, but Gwen interjects.

"She's right, dear." She captures my face in her hands. "Giana, Andrea, and the kids are in a room next to ours," she informs.

"Gwen, you shouldn't be taking care of the kids."

"Giana and Andrea are there, but I want to be a real grandmother," she pouts.

"You are a real grandmother," I assure her, leaning forward and kissing her cheek.

"We'll be there if anything is needed," Nic adds, wrapping an arm around Gwen's shoulders.

Next to him, her gaunt frame is much more noticeable. She definitely looks better than a few weeks ago, but her full weight has yet to return and the short wig she wears still doesn't compare to her naturally beautiful locks.

I wonder if she'll ever get the same hair back.

"Thanks, Nic," Chris says, pulling me from my morbid thoughts.

"Your parents' room is across from ours," Nicholas states. "Are they still arriving tomorrow?"

"Yes." I nod, smiling. "Dad couldn't get away from work until then."

"It will be like vacationing with them." Gwen smiles.

"Everyone, if I can get your attention before you take off to your rooms and villas," Kara shouts over our noise. "Once you are settled in and freshened up, please join us near the pool. I have a dinner planned for everyone."

Turning to Giana, I take Maggie out of her arms and squeeze her. She squeals in delight as I plant kisses all over her face. Swooping her into his arms, Chris lifts her in the air over his head. She giggles wildly and he plants a loud kiss on her chubby cheek before handing her back over to Giana.

"Thank you, Kara," I call out as Chris tugs me away from the crowd.

Christopher

Finally, I have her on the island and all to myself. No parents, no kids, no siblings, no planners, and there's no fucking way we are going to the group dinner.

Outside the main building, a line of golf carts sits with drivers waiting.

"Hey," I call out, getting their attention, "can one of you take us to the villa over the water?"

One of the drivers steps out of his cart and walks toward us.

"That would be me, sir. I'll be driving you to the dock," he says, motioning to his cart.

Pulling Mia closer to my side, I guide her toward the cart and we climb in.

The driver maneuvers out of the line, down a sidewalk, and then onto a dirt path.

"Your bags have already been taken to your villa," he states. "They were brought to the appropriate location after you arrived."

"Thanks," I say, grasping the back of his seat when he takes a sharp corner.

Around the bend, the villa comes into sight. The sun is low in the sky, casting a tropical glow around it.

"I can't believe we get to sleep over the water," Mia says cheerfully.

"Here we are," the driver says, getting out of the cart.

Slipping from the back seat, I hold my hand out for Mia. She takes it and pulls herself out onto the plush grass.

Releasing my hand, she squats and unties her shoes. After toeing them off, she picks both up in one hand and wiggles her black-polished toes.

"That feels incredible," she sighs.

"Please," the driver motions with a wave of his arm for us to follow the dock out to the villa.

As we walk toward the villa, our heads twist back and forth, taking it all in.

Inside, the interior is made up entirely of polished wood, white linens, canopy style bedding with mosquito net style draping, and large glass panels in the floor.

"I can see into the water." Mia releases my hand and squats down.

Placing a hand on the glass, she leans forward, peering into the water. The look on her face at this moment has made every goddamn dollar spent on this place worth it. My angel is so happy, she practically vibrates.

"There's a fish!" she exclaims, pointing.

"Another panel is located in the bathroom, along with a two-person jet tub, standing shower, and double sink," the driver tells us.

"It's all so amazing," she sighs, glancing away from the floor and around the bungalow-style room.

"If you need anything else, there is a phone on that table." He points to a small wooden table near another open doorway. "Dial star to reach the main building. Someone is always on call."

"Good to know." I nod.

"If you won't be needing anything else, I'll let you settle into your room." With a nod, he backs toward the door.

"Thank you," Mia calls to his retreating form.

He smiles and slips back out of the villa.

My attention goes back to the second open doorway and my feet carry me over.

Outside is a covered wooden deck with chairs and a small table.

"I'm going to change," Mia calls out.

"Me, too," I say, grinning.

Twenty minutes and one phone call to the main building later, I'm in a pair of black basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. Having found a hammock strung up in the far right of the covered deck, I cocooned myself in the soft beige material.

Fifteen minutes later, Mia emerges.

"Chris?" Mia steps out of the villa.

For a brief moment, I just take in the view of her. Mia, in a pair of shorts and a flowy top. The setting sun puts her in a warm orange light.

She's fucking gorgeous.

"Over here." I give away my location and reach out for her.

With a smile on her face, she walks to me and takes my hand.

"You took forever," I tease, and she visibly stiffens.

Tugging on the hand she gave me causes her to stumble forward. I catch her and pull her into the hammock with me. It swings gently.

"We should probably head back for dinner." She cuddles in close to me.

"Just think, in a day and a half, we'll be married." Wrapping my arms around her tighter, I press a kiss to her head.

"Do you think it will be different?" she asks, picking at the white cotton over my chest.

"What do you mean?" I place my hand over hers, stilling her fingers.

"I don't know, being married. Do you think it will change things after it's official?"

"Are you worried it will?" I furrow my brow, even though she can't see it.

"It's hard to explain," she breathes out. "I'm not worried or scared, just nervous. Does that make sense?"

Internally, I scream, "No, it doesn't make fucking sense! Why are you so worried about marrying me?"

Doesn't she want to get married? Maybe she just doesn't want to marry me.

"Chris?" Mia lifts her head, looking up at me.

"Yeah?"

"I made you mad," she says with a groan.

"I'm not mad," I mumble. "I just don't understand."

"Christopher, I want to marry you. I am marrying you. I just feel really nervous about the wedding and marriage in general."

In the dimming light, I can't see her face, but I feel her shrug.

"Your parents have a great marriage, and so do Gwen and Nic. It can be pretty fucking amazing, Mia." Reaching up, I cup her face.

"Chris, you only know Dad and Linda," she says, then hesitates.

"What do you...? Your mom." Realization slams home. I've only ever known John and Linda Ryder. I don't know a damn thing about John's marriage to Maxine, Serena and Mia's mother.

"Things weren't good for them," she confesses.

"You never said anything." I can't keep the accusation out of my tone. It hurts to know she's never shared this part of her life.

When does she have time to share? It's always about your bullshit.

She sighs.

"I was young when Mom died. I don't remember everything, but I know Dad and Mom weren't in a good place before she got sick. Honestly, I think the illness was a part of it, but Dad won't talk about it."

Her fingers resume twisting the cotton of my shirt.

"Serena and I've talked. She remembers fighting for a year before Mom's diagnosis, and even a time when Mom packed bags and drove us to grandma's house. We both remember a huge argument about keeping secrets. We're pretty sure she knew she was sick, but didn't tell anyone. I guess those bad moments surface pretty fast when I travel down memory lane. They're right up there with her illness and death."

"Baby," I coo, pulling her into my chest, "I think I understand, but that shit won't happen to us. I mean, fuck, Mia, after everything we've gone through, together and apart, and where are we?"

Silence is my response.

"Where are we, baby?"

"Here, together," she chokes out the words. Sniffling, she continues, "But what if something changes? I mean…" she hiccups, "sometimes things can't be controlled."

"Don't cry, please," I beg. "We know how to survive the bad, the crazy, and—"

"And what?" she sniffs.

"And we have Dr. J," I add, teasing. "He'll get my shit in order pretty quick."

Her chest shakes with silent laughter before snorting.

"I love you," she says, the heat of her words seeping through my t-shirt.

Squeezing her, I respond, "I worship you."

She presses on my chest and props herself up.

"We should really get going."

"No need, I called up. Dinner is coming to us," I confess.

"But our family—"

"Will have us all fucking day tomorrow, and the next. Tonight, I just want you—us."

Gliding my fingers over her cheek and into her hair, I pull her face to mine and take her mouth. She tastes of mint and Mia. Her tongue gravitates to my piercing and I fucking love it. Sliding my other hand down to her ass, I grip and pull her up my body.

Chest to chest, mouth to mouth, her right hand in my hair, the other fisting my shirt, I squeeze harder.

Inching her body down, she rubs her clothing-covered pussy against the raging hard-on in my shorts.

Fuck, I hate clothes. New plan, spend the entire night naked. We're far enough from everyone else.

Bells chime, startling us apart.

"Mister Mason," a voice calls out from the front of the villa.

"The food," I growl, giving her ass one more squeeze before maneuvering out of the hammock.

I almost flip the damn thing, planting us both on the deck floor.

"Fuck. That was way easier to get into."

Mia giggles, following me.

"Come on in," I call out.

Two men in island staff uniforms push a cart inside and begin to unload trays, baskets, a bucket of ice, and bottles onto a two-person table near the glass floor panel.

"Will there be anything else?"

"No, thank you," I respond, my eyes on the full table.

"Have a good evening," they say in unison and exit.

"Chris, we need to talk."

Looking from the food to Mia, the soft glow from the lamps reveal the nervous lines on her face and furrow of her brow.

"Mia," I reach her in two long steps, "we are stronger than anything that ever comes our way. Will we argue? Of course, we will. You're marrying an asshole, for fuck's sake."

The right corner of her mouth twitches in amusement.

Cupping her face, I continue, "But there will never be anything stronger than my love for you."

She presses her cheek into my hand and grips my wrist, breathing deep.

"Now, let's spend the evening eating and focusing on the good for a change."

Releasing her face, I trail my fingers over her arm and take her hand.

"Think we can do that?"

She nods, using her free hand to wipe away a stray tear.

"No more tears, baby." I lead her to the table. "Unless they're happy tears."

Tucking her into a chair, I take the one across from her, remove the lids from the containers, and we settle in, eating in comfortable silence.

Dinner finished and empty dishes on a pushcart the staff left, we are back in the hammock. Mia lies in my arms. A warm breeze with a delicious tropical aroma swirls around us. The moment is almost perfect, and I'm about to make it achieve perfection.

Running my hand down her side, I grab the back of Mia's leg and pull her on top of me. Without speaking, her mouth comes to mine. She licks my viper piercings before attacking my lips. Her tongue drives into my mouth, dominating.

It's such a fucking turn on.

Her hips start a slow grind against my painfully hard dick and she reaches between us, dipping her hand inside my shorts.

Thank God I didn't put on underwear.

Wrapping her fingers around my length, she slowly strokes, teasing the tip with her thumb.

I palm her thighs, squeeze, and lift my hips, offering myself to her hand.

I've never been more thankful for Mia not to be a tight shorts kind of girl. My fingers easily slide inside, finding the fabric of her underwear wet.

Curling my fingers inside her underwear and shorts, I pull the crotch to the side.

Please…

"Please, what?" she pants against my mouth.

Shit, I said that out loud.

"Put me inside you, Mia."

"Are you mine to do what I want with, Chris?" Her tongue swipes over my lips as her hand pumps harder.

"Yes, take me, use me, fuck me however you want," I beg, pulling the crotch of her shorts as far as they'll go.

She lifts up. My chest tightens. She places the head of my cock against her. I hold my breath. She slides, agonizingly slow, down my shaft. I groan.

Gripping her hips, I pull her down hard.

She moans into the darkness, grinding on me.

Tightening my hold, I move her against me.

Mia slams her hands into my chest, halting the movement.

"Fuck, baby, please," I beg, again.

My balls are so tight, they ache. My stomach is in knots. I need her to fucking move.

"I get to use you how I want, remember?"

Grabbing both my wrists, she pulls them from her hips and pushes my hands to my chest. Keeping her hold on them, she widens her legs just a bit and uses my cock to find her orgasm.

The clench of her pussy as my name falls from her mouth pushes me into my own release. Bucking up into her, as much as the fucking hammock will allow, I empty myself inside her.

Mia collapses to my chest, caging my arms.

We lie there, catching our breath. When my dick finally softens and slips from her body, the wetness reminds me of her time of the month.

I'm so glad she doesn't hold out when she's on her period.

"Baby, my arms," I pant.

She shifts and I pull my arms free.

Holding her tight, I hang one leg over the edge of the hammock and move my body until I can get both feet on the floor.

"What are you doing?"

"Need to clean us up," I respond, standing us both up.

Grinning, I look down, but it's too dark to see her face.

"I've mastered that bitch," I boast, proud at my hammock exiting skills.

"Yeah," she says with what sounds like a forced laugh.

First, clean up, then find out what's up.

"Come on." I guide us to the bathroom.

Inside, I turn on the shower and strip off my shorts.

Staring down, I freeze.

"Mia, I thought you started your period?"

I turn, finding her facing the vanity mirror, her hands planted on either side of the sink, head down, eyes clenched shut.

"I thought so, too," she says, eyes still closed.

"What—?"

She spins around in a sudden move, her eyes blazing with emotion. Tears spill down her cheeks.

"I…" she snaps her mouth shut.

Leaning down, she opens the cabinet beneath the sink, takes out a blue box, dips her fingers inside, and pulls out a white stick.

A flurry of emotion courses through me. Dropping to the side of the tub, I grip the edge, close my eyes, and take a deep breath.

"You're pregnant," I whisper.

Fear and panic surface, but excitement starts to grow, surprising me. The anticipation drowns the panic, leaving only a thin outline of concern.

"I don't know," she says in a strained voice.

Snapping my eyes open, I find doubt and fear marring her beautiful face.

"I brought the test, but couldn't bring myself to take it," she blurts, and a sob jerks her entire body.

"I'm so sorry, Chris. I really did think I started this morning." She wraps her arms around her body. "I never would've said anything if…" a sob swallows the rest of her words.

I'm a fucking prick. Look what I've done to her.

I push up from the tub and rush to her, pulling her in my arms.

"Baby, no, don't," I plea as sobs continue to rack her body, hard.

I'm a selfish fucking asshole.

"Mia, please," I implore, "don't cry. There's nothing to get upset about."

"Of course there is," she cries. "You don't…and I might…and it's…everything's a mess."

Taking the test out of her hand, I look at the two empty white windows, toss it into the corner of the vanity counter, and put her arms around me.

"I was so afraid you'd think I lied to you," she chokes out.

I press my mouth to the top of her head, and say, "I'm a fucking jerk."

Tears sting the back of my eyes as I palm her head between my hands and tilt her head up from my chest. When she doesn't meet my eyes, I tell her, "Look at me."

Biting her lip, she closes her eyes.

"Look at me, baby. Please?"

Her eyes open and meet mine.

"Let's get a shower, okay?"

Her brow furrows, confused by my request.

Releasing her head, I remove her shirt and push her shorts and underwear to the floor.

"Come on," I say, taking her hand and leading her to the large glass shower.

Under the spray, I lather both our bodies, Mia's jerking from a sob every few moments, wash our hair, and rinse us clean. Dropping to my knees, I hold onto her hips. Mia's hands come to my shoulders for balance.

Pressing my forehead against her stomach, I choke out, "Forgive me."

She hiccups once, and says, "There's nothing to forgive. You can't help it if you don't want—"

Lifting my head, I cut her off. "Forgive me for making you feel like this. Christ, Mia, you were seconds away from a panic attack because of me!"

I sit back on my feet and close my eyes, fighting the tears burning for release.

"You deserve better than someone like me," I say, my fingers tensing into her flesh. "But I'm selfish." Opening my eyes, I lock them with hers. "I'm too fucking selfish to let you go." The tears finally escape, mixing with the droplets from the shower.

Mia kneels down on the tile floor in front of me.

"Did you ever consider that I'm the selfish one?"

Her question causes me to jolt.

"That I'm too selfish to let you go?" Her hand comes to my face. "That I'm selfish to take and expect so much from you?"

Shaking my head, I take a deep breath.

"My life would mean nothing without you," I confess. "There isn't anything you could take or expect that I wouldn't give you freely."

Scooting closer on her knees, she presses her mouth to my forehead.

I shove her back, earning a look of confusion.

"Quit placating me," I snap.

"I'm not," she argues.

"Yes, you are. Mia, I deserve your anger. I freaked out from the start about the pregnancy. Not once did I stop to think about how you were feeling. I'm an asshole who almost sent you into a panic attack because you might be pregnant."

She opens her mouth, but I keep going.

"Pregnant with my baby. What kind of dickhead acts the way I did? Oh, that's right, this one." I point to myself. "Then, when I finally fucking get my shit together, you tell me you aren't pregnant," I let out a humorless laugh, and she tenses, "and I'm fucking disappointed!"

Her eyes widen at my admission.

"Disappointed?" she asks in a whisper.

"Yeah," I quip. "How fucked up is that, Mia? I was more than disappointed. I was fucking crushed to find out you weren't pregnant."

"But you didn't—"

"Say anything?" I ask, my voice rising. "Of course not. I'm a fucking twat and thought it was best to keep my mouth shut."

"But, why?" She sits back on her feet, new tears falling from her eyes.

Inhaling and exhaling heavily, I get myself under control.

In a calmer voice, I answer, "I could see how emotional you were. That you were upset, and that's when it hit me. I didn't consider how you felt about the whole thing, so what right did I have to share in the regret of what could've been?" Pointing to my chest, I say, "I'm your biggest disappointment, Mia, and you should fucking hate me."

I push up to my feet, shut off the water, and exit the shower stall.

"Chris," she croaks, "stop!"

Naked and dripping, I turn just as she stands.

"I was sad and disappointed, with you and the whole situation." She swallows and licks her lips. Guilt lances my chest and spreads over me.

"I can't hate you. I love you. I need you."

Tears fill her eyes, but don't spill.

Grabbing a large towel from the wall, I wrap it around her body and bring her to me.

"I don't deserve you," I assert, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"You're wrong," she says, snuggling against me. "We deserve each other's love, and our flaws."

With a heavy sigh, I embrace her tighter.

Chapter Ten

Mia

I roll to my back and reach out, finding a vacant spot. Sitting up, I hold the soft sheet to my chest and look around.

"Chris?" I call out.

Nothing.

Slipping off the bed and wrapping the sheet around me, I go to the bathroom to take care of morning necessities.

My eyes are drawn to the vanity corner and I stop when I see the test stick is gone. I search the full vanity and open the cabinet beneath the sink, but the test is nowhere to be found.

Curiosity burning away, I rush through my bathroom tasks and slip Chris' white t-shirt over my head. I emerge from the bathroom, toss the sheet back on the bed, and head for the hammock. Reaching the open doorway, I open my mouth to call out for him, but the sight of him at the end of the deck, legs over the edge, and shoulders hunched silences me.

He looks deep in thought, and I'm hesitant to interrupt. After last night's confessions and intense conversation, he's probably in his dark place. Taking a step back, I decide to let him have his solace.

The sound of my cell phone causes me to start. Chris twists at the waist and looks at me.

Before I turn for my phone, I notice he has his cell in his hands.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. He probably called Dr. J, still working through his emotions.

"Ignore it," he calls out, just as I tap my screen.

"Hello." My voice sounds gravelly, so I clear it.

"You wanna meet for breakfast and take the kids down to the beach?" Serena asks.

"Uh, yeah, let me talk to Chris."

"Text and let me know when you plan to head up."

"Where are you?"

"In one of the beachfront villas," she states. "I think we're neighbors, but this map is confusing the shit out of me."

"I'll text when I know."

"Okay," she says, ending the call.

"When you know what?" His hands come around my waist.

The tension I felt since waking up alone disappears at his touch, and I relax into his body.

"What time we're heading over to breakfast," I inform, turning in his arms.

Placing one hand on his bare chest, I look up and meet his eyes.

"You okay?" I ask.

Bringing up one hand, he grins and moves some hair behind my left ear.

"I'm good, baby." He palms my face and leans down, placing a quick kiss to my mouth. "You okay?"

I nod.

His brow furrows.

"Tell me the truth," he requests.

"I'm okay, really. Nervous, but okay."

"I love you, Mia." His words are as intense as his blue eyes.

"I love you, too."

Releasing me, he walks over to the luggage we have yet to unpack.

"What's the plan for today?"

"The plan?" I follow his example and go to my bag as well.

"I know Kara has something all planned out. It's probably in outline and spreadsheet format with a flow chart," he teases.

I giggle because it's entirely true. I'm surprised we don't have a schedule of events on our phones this morning.

"Serena mentioned taking the kids to the beach," I say, pulling out a bathing suit, drawstring shorts, and a gauzy tank top. "So, I'm going to take Maggie down after breakfast."

"We," he corrects, dropping his shorts to the floor.

I take a moment to appreciate the man I love in front of me—the man I am about to marry. The colorful images on his arms bulge and sway with the flex of his muscles, drawing your attention down his body in bold designs. I bite my lip and fist my hands to keep from sexually assaulting him.

"Baby," his voice pulls my attention back up his body and to his face, "you gonna get dressed or continue to eye fuck me? Because, if you keep it up with the eye thing, we won't see anyone until lunch." He raises his brow.

"I'm dressing," I claim, giving him my back and pulling his shirt over my head.

"Fuck, baby," he groans.

It takes a split second for his hands to make contact with my bare skin. His head dips to my ear.

"Tell Serena we'll see them for lunch."

His long fingers run up my stomach and cup my breasts. The thumb-swipe over my nipples almost persuades me to agree, but Maggie's face flashes in my mind.

I step out of his arms, instantly missing his touch.

"We need to take Maggie to the beach," I remind him.

Sighing heavily, his eyes rake my body once more before going back to the task of dressing.

I secure the dark purple bikini to my body, grab my cell, and text Serena.

"You're not wearing that," Chris clips.

Turning, I find him examining me from ass to tits, his arms over his chest.

"Don't start," I quip, rolling my eyes.

"Where's the one with the tank top?" he asks, striding over and digging through my bag.

"I didn't pack it," I say, straightening my spine and pursing my lips.

The truth is Kat and Laney unpacked the tankini and replaced it with two string bikinis instead.

"It's a tropical island, Christopher," I remind him, "I'm not the only person who's worn a bikini here."

"Don't care about other people, Mia," he growls, arms over his chest once more.

"Good to know," I say.

Patting him on the arm, I walk around his stoic form and grab my shorts from the bed. I slip them over my legs, tie them tight, and slide the thin, sheer, gauze tank top over my head.

"Ready?"

Stuffing my cell phone into the back pocket of the terry cloth shorts, I turn to face him.

He motions toward the shirt I put on, and asks, "What the fuck is the point of even wearing the shirt? It's fucking see-through."

"Bye, Chris," I say, walking past him and out the villa.

He catches up to me on the dock.

"You do this shit on purpose," he grumbles.

"What shit?" I ask, regretting it as soon as the words leave my mouth.

"Oh, you know what you're doing to me and any other guy who looks at you," he growls.

I stop halfway across the dock, mouth agape.

He walks three steps before turning to look back.

"You coming?" he asks, like he didn't just imply I'm hootching it up.

"I think you just indirectly told me I'm dressing like a slut."

"No, I didn't," he argues.

"I dress this way to do something to other guys?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

His mouth opens then closes. He frowns before a look of exasperation masks his face.

"You're not a slut," he announces, "but you damn well know it's going to drive me nuts."

"It drives you nuts, really?" I ask, my sarcasm clear.

His jaw clenches and he marches up to me.

"You know how much I hate other guys looking at you," he informs.

"Looks like you should be with someone else then, huh?"

The frustration melts from his face. Eyes round and mouth slightly parted, he relaxes his jaw.

"I don't want anyone else."

"Good to know." Patting him on the chest, I grin and walk around him.

"You just fucking played with my emotions, woman," he calls to my back.

"Maybe," I say over my shoulder.

The heavy fall of his feet sends a thrill through my body. Turning around, I see him charging me.

An uncharacteristic squeal escapes my mouth as he bends and lifts me onto his shoulder.

"Put me down," I laugh the words.

The swat to my ass causes another squeal to leave me.

"Chris," I shout on a giggle.

He smacks one more time, but leaves his hand on my ass and squeezes.

"If you insist everyone checks out your ass, I'm going to damn well make sure they know who it belongs to."

"You're such an asshole," I say, reaching down. It's my turn to swat his ass.

"Baby, you keep that up and I'll turn us around," he warns.

"Jerk," I growl, playfully.

"You love me," he retorts.

He gives my ass another squeeze, carrying me all the way to the breakfast.

My ass still in the air, Elliott whistles loudly when we enter. Kat and Laney cheer, and everyone else laughs.

Chris puts me on my feet next to my parents' table.

A wave of dizziness assaults me and I reach out, grabbing onto Chris for balance.

"Shit, you okay?" He examines my face, lifting my chin.

"Give me a minute," I breathe out.

"Fuck, Mia, I didn't think."

"It's okay," I reassure.

He leans in, his lips next to my ear, asking, "Did I hurt you or the...?"

The question falls, reminding me for the first time since early this morning I could be pregnant.

"I'm fine, honestly," I assure, kissing him on the cheek before he straightens. "It's just…the readjustment to being upright again."

The scrape of a chair pulls my attention from Chris to my father.

"Hey, baby," he coos, wrapping his arms around me.

Releasing me, he turns to Chris.

"Mr. Ryder." With a nod, Chris extends his hand.

My dad takes it in a firm hold.

"Mia!" Linda shrieks, pulling me into a tight hug. "Are you excited? This place is fantastic, and our room is spectacular."

Her rapid-fire speaking makes me laugh. Linda is usually so put together. It's nice to see her so excited.

"I'm glad you like your room, and the island is pretty amazing," I say, leaning in and kissing her cheek.

The familiar scent of cocoa butter fills my senses and brings with it a reassurance I didn't realize I needed. Pulling out of our embrace, I look around the room full of tables filled with family and friends. Everything feels right. Like the last piece in a puzzle, it fits.

"Hungry?" Chris asks, pulling me from my thoughts.

Smiling, I look up at him, and say, "Yeah."

His brow furrows for just a second before he returns my smile and leads us to the buffet table.

Christopher

This morning, I woke up with the sun, a head full of chaotic thoughts, and guilt riding my ass. Unable to fall back asleep, I found myself standing in front of the double sink in the bathroom, staring at a white plastic stick. Who knew something so simple could fuck with your world so irrevocably?

Snatching it from the corner of the vanity counter, I had every intention of tossing it in the garbage, or even the fucking water surrounding us. But when I turned and saw Mia lying in the bed, white sheets wrapped around her body, one bare leg exposed and bent, I shoved the stick in my luggage.

For now, I don't want her worrying about it. She's worried enough about me, my reaction, and the whole fucking situation.

With breakfast over, most of us have gathered on the beach. I watch Mia and Maggie walk the edge of the water. Maggie's hesitant to go in and tries to climb up her mother when the water rushes over the sand at her feet.

Mia tosses her head back and laughs. She's been so happy since breakfast.

I have no fucking clue what has her so smiley, but I'll fucking take it. Seeing the glow of happiness around Mia makes my chest feel tight—in a good way. After last night, she deserves to feel—to be this happy. I can only hope I'm part of the reason.

"Chris!"

Elliott's yell takes my attention from my girls. Jogging over in a pair of gray swim shorts and nothing else, he stops a few feet from me.

"Come be our third." It's not a question or a request.

"Where's Jimmy?" I look at our group, finding him nowhere in sight.

Elliott shrugs. "I don't fucking know. He said he'd meet us down here, but then disappeared."

"I'll pass," I decline, sidestepping so I can focus back on Mia and Maggie.

"It's one thing to be Captain Emo, but to pull out Uncle Asshole is another thing," he complains. "Come play with your nephews."

My muscles tense, straightening my spine. Twisting my head to Elliott, I push my sunglasses onto my head.

"You're going to be my brother in law," I verbalize my realization.

Elliott's face breaks into a massive grin.

"Should I start calling you Emo Bro?"

"Fuck," I sigh and drop my head back.

"Uncle Chris," Ryan calls out, running up to us.

"Yeah, little man," I respond, pulling my head up.

"Will you be on my team?"

"Give him the face," Elliott says, pretending to cough.

Sure enough, Ryan sticks out his bottom lip, tightens his mouth, and bats his eyes.

"Too much eyelash," Elliott coughs out again.

Shaking my head, I level Elliott with a look.

"What?" he asks, having the nerve to look innocent.

"I can't believe you," I say, stepping around him. "Come on, Ry." I clasp his small shoulder and head to where Jack, Lucas, and Sean are tossing a football.

"I'm teaching him valuable life skills," Elliott shouts after us.

Almost an hour later—an admittedly fun hour—Elliott is climbing out from the latest three-boy tackle. Jack steps over, grabbing Lucas from the top and then Sean.

Watching Jack interact with the boys is nice. He's settled into a fatherly role with the same laidback attitude he's known for. A part of me hates how smooth the transition to a father figure and committed relationship has been for him. The other part is happy to see him in a much better place than he was a year ago.

"Mom," Lucas yells, kicking up sand as he rushes across the beach.

Jack twists around so fast, he loses his balance in the sand and stumbles before righting himself and following Lucas' trail.

"Hey, baby," she coos, and Lucas propels himself at her. Liza drops an oversized white canvas bag and catches him in her arms.

Mia appears at my side with Maggie on her hip and wraps an arm around my waist. Instinctively, I put my arm over her shoulders and kiss the side of her wet hair.

Twisting her neck, she briefly presses her mouth to mine. She tastes like the sun, lotion, and salt.

"I swear to God, that girl looks like she always just stepped out of a vintage calendar," she sighs, focusing back on Liza.

Following her gaze, my eyes return to Liza. In her floppy hat, sheer white shirt thingy over the yellow and white polka dot bikini, and large, dark sunglasses, I have to admit she does look the part.

"If she weren't so damn sweet, I think I'd kind of hate her," Mia adds.

"She's got nothing on you, baby." I squeeze her shoulders.

Mia snorts. "No, she's got more boobs and ass than I do."

Liza yelps, breaking our conversation.

Jackson has her lifted off the ground, her chest to his and his mouth buried in her neck. Lucas and Sean stand nearby, fake gagging.

"Let's go say hello," Mia says, smacking me on the ass before withdrawing her arm.

"Daddy," Maggie whines, putting her arms out.

"Come here, baby girl," I croon, taking her from Mia.

Placing her against my chest, she lays her damp head on me and sucks her thumb.

"Someone needs a nap," I say, giving her a small bounce as I follow Mia toward Jack's crew.

"No," she mumbles around her thumb.

"Don't start with the no's," Mia says over her shoulder. "Daddy isn't a big fan of being told no."

I don't miss the grin on her face before she turns forward once more.

"Like you would ever tell me no," I quip, meeting her stride and slapping her on the ass with my free hand.

Gwen and Nicholas, along with Mia's parents, end up taking Maggie and Zoey for the afternoon. With Lucas and Sean holed up in a media room in the main building, the rest of us lounge around the pool.

Elliott sits on the edge, watching Serena float around. Kat and Laney lie in the soft light of the disappearing sun. Jackson rests back against the side of the pool, arms stretched out wide and Liza wrapped around his body. Mia lounges between my legs on the pool chair I pulled us into.

"Where the fuck is Jimmy?" Jack asks, running a hand through his overgrown hair.

"Lisa said he took a boat over to the mainland," Elliott says, slipping into the water.

"Who's Lisa?" Liza asks, untangling from Jackson, only to be pulled back against him. "I'm just resituating," she says, shaking her head.

"You've been gone for days," he draws out the last word.

She shakes her head again, leaning her back against his chest.

"Lisa is the staff girl who escorted us from the airport," Mia states, running her nails over my bare legs.

Serena's scream fills the area before a splash, and Elliott stands in the water with the float she'd just occupied over his head.

Emerging from the water, she sputters, finds him, and charges.

Given his size, there is no fucking way she's going to take him down.

"I'm going to kill you," she growls, launching her body against him.

"I love when you get all feisty," Elliott teases and laughs, shoving her down into the water.

"What—" he chokes on the words. His eyes go wide, and he drops down into the water.

Serena surfaces with swim trunks over her head. Diving to the left, she swims to the edge and climbs out.

"Babe!" Elliott emerges on a roar.

"Take that, fucker," she taunts, throwing his shorts over to a palm tree about twelve feet from the edge of the pool.

"Oh, shit," Laney mumbles, having rolled onto her side to watch the action.

"I think ‘No Bare Cock' is right up there with ‘No Peeing' for pool rules," Kat taunts.

A broad grin spreads on Elliott's face. He pushes through the water, using his legs and hands to propel him forward.

"When I get my hands on you," he warns, "be ready for one massive public display of affection."

Serena crosses her arms over her chest and laughs.

"Oh, fuck," Jack says, covering Liza's eyes with his hand.

Mia, realizing where this is going, twists, burying her face in my thigh.

In a splash of water, Elliott pulls his bare ass out of the pool. Serena turns and runs. Dick swinging, he rushes her like a linebacker.

"Is he—?"

"Yep," Jack answers Liza's unfinished question.

"His stuff is just—?"

"Yep," Jack answers her again.

"Is this a typical occurrence for you guys?"

"Yep," Jack, Mia, and I answer in unison.

"I've seen Elliott's junk more than I've seen my own," Jack adds.

"I've definitely seen his more than any guy I've ever dated," Kat adds.

"You don't date," Laney reminds.

"I'm not sure how I feel about this information," Liza finishes just as Serena yells, "Put me down, you caveman!"

"Oh, you're going to get my club, don't worry," Elliott announces, carrying her off without any concern for his bare ass.

Arms crossed over my chest, I follow Mia around the villa. I keep a scowl on my face, just to make sure she can see how stupid I think this is.

"It's just for the night," she says, shoving things into an overnight bag.

"This is ridiculous," I growl, dropping my arms.

"We'll see each other tomorrow," she says, trying to soothe me.

"Not until close to fucking sunset," I bark, grabbing the overnight bag and pulling it away from her.

Sighing heavily, she turns around to face me.

I quickly put my scowl back in place.

"Don't give me that look," she says. "Linda and Gwenn are really looking forward to this tradition."

Lifting her right hand, she gently pats my chest.

"I," I start, pointing to my chest, "was looking forward to burying my face between your thighs until you scream my name."

She visibly swallows and her eyes darken.

"Exactly," I say, stepping closer.

Giving a shake of her head, she steps back.

"It's tradition for the bride and groom not to see each other the day before the wedding."

"I've seen you all fucking day," I argue.

This is the most stupid fucking tradition ever.

"Chris, it's just symbolic, okay?"

"No, not okay. I want to climb into bed with you, lick your pussy, and fuck until we pass out."

Mia squirms a little.

Good.

"Stop saying that stuff," she breathes out.

"Hell no. It's the only thing working in my favor."

I take a step closer, but she puts an arm out and steps back.

Scowling, again, I cross my arms over my chest.

"I'm spending the night with Linda, Gwen, and the girls. Tomorrow, we'll spend most of the day prepping for the wedding. Nic and Jack have stuff planned for you guys." She points to another overnight bag sitting near the door to the villa. "I already put your stuff in there."

"Yeah, ‘cause I'd rather spend my night surrounded by dick than buried in your pussy." There's no holding back my sarcasm and I lick my lip for emphasis, making sure she sees the tongue ring.

"Jesus, Chris, you can't say that when I'm trying to leave."

The rise and fall of her chest is evidence enough for how I'm affecting her.

Well, if I can't have her for the night, I can at least delay her arrival.

"When I'm full, you can go," I say, dropping to my knees and yanking her shorts to the floor.

"Chris—"

The touch of my tongue sliding between her lips silences her. When the tip finds her clit, her hand fists my hair.

Using two fingers, I spread her wide and run my piercing over her.

"Oh my God," she moans, throwing a leg over my shoulder, "that fucking piercing."

I love my tongue piercing.

Chapter Eleven

Christopher

"Nice of you to show up, fucker," Elliott taunts when Jimmy enters.

My eyes shift to Mia's father, John, to gauge his reaction to Elliott, though he should be used to the big-mouthed Neanderthal by now.

The only indication that John heard Elliott is the twitch of his lips.

"Well, it is my villa for the week," Jimmy quips, slipping into a chair at the poker table.

"Not tonight," Jack adds before drinking from his bottle of water.

"I still can't believe I have to spend the night before I get married with you assholes," I mumble, taking the time to glare at Jack, Elliott, and Jimmy.

"We did the same thing before mine," Elliott reminds.

"No, sir," Jimmy interjects. "Chris," he thumbs in my direction, "took off, stole Mia, and went back to his hotel room with her."

"That's right." Jack nods, picking up his hand.

"Are we going to play poker or continue to complain about the lack of pussy you all will get this evening?" Nic asks, picking up his cards and fanning them in front of his face.

John chuckles and puts his beer bottle to his lips.

"Oh, I got pussy this evening," Elliott corrects, checking his cards.

John chokes on his beer, and Nic slaps him on the back.

"I'm surprised after your poolside display."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Elliott asks Jack.

"What did I miss?" Jimmy looks at me.

"Elliott had his dick out again," I answer, keeping my eyes on the terrible cards in my hand.

"Ah, so I didn't miss much."

"Fuck you," Elliott barks. "I'm hung like a stallion."

"Really, gentlemen, have we now regressed to comparing penis sizes?" Nic sighs.

"Get a ruler!" Elliot stands, unzipping his jeans.

"If you pull out your dick, I will punch you in the nut sac," Jimmy threatens.

"Elliott, sit down," Nic orders. "Keep your dick in your pants and let's start the damn game."

The shock of Nic's outburst silences the table.

"Sorry," Nic mumbles, rubbing his forehead.

"It's all right, Nic," Elliott assures. "You've gotta be tense. I'm sure you haven't gotten laid in, like, forever."

"Son," John interjects.

"Hey," Jackson shouts.

"What?" Elliott puts his arms up.

"That's my mom," Jackson reminds.

"And?" Elliott scrunches his face. "You think someone as hot as your mom has been celibate since your birth?"

"I don't want to talk about that." Jackson tosses his cards on the table.

"Tell him, Nic."

"What?" Nic chokes on the question.

"Has Gwen been celibate all this time, or are you hitting it on a regular basis?"

"No…I mean, yes...Christ, I'm not answering this," he groans.

Reaching for his glass, he drains his drink.

"Not cool, Ell." Jimmy shakes his head.

"What?" Elliott has the nerve to look genuinely confused. "I know my parents are still kicking it. Don't tell me you're as delusional as this fucker," he waves a hand at Jack, "thinking your parents don't."

Jimmy's body tenses and a muscle ticks in his jaw. Gripping his beer bottle, he brings it to his mouth and drains it.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and says, "I doubt my mother would willingly fuck the man who raped her."

Jimmy's never been forthcoming about his family or past. Elliott knew Jimmy before Jack and I met him, but they hadn't known each other long. We've only met his mother, Stella, a couple times. She's a sweet and energetic woman, so to hear this revelation shocks us all into silence.

"Fuck, man," Elliott tosses his cards on the table, "I didn't—"

"Let's just play poker," Jimmy interrupts.

"James," Nicholas says, drawing all our eyes, "what's going on?"

Roughly sitting back in his chair, Jimmy grips the edge of the table.

"I got a letter from a guy claiming to be my father," he confesses, eyes focused on the green felt in front of him.

"Why would an asshole like that reach out to someone?" Elliott asks, astonished.

"He didn't think she'd tell me." Jimmy runs his tongue over his teeth.

"You just found out," I murmur.

He snorts. "Yeah, turns out this guy and two others attacked my mother one night. Nine months later—boom, she has me."

Furrowing my brow, I wrap my arms around my body.

What the fuck do you say to that?

"When did you find out?" Jack asks.

"A couple weeks ago," Jimmy confesses.

"You could've come to us," Jack says.

"And say what? 'Hey, guys, guess what? My dad reached out, but it turns out he's a serial rapist who's just trying to get money off me'? Nah, I don't think there was ever the right time to tell you guys." Leaning forward, he buries his head in his hands and groans. "Fuck, this isn't the time to say shit either."

"Hey, don't do that," I say.

He keeps his face in his hands.

"Look at me," I order.

When he doesn't, I reach out and grab his forearm. My touch brings his eyes to mine.

"Of all people, I know what it's like to have fucked up shit in your life. Right now is exactly when you were ready, so this is the perfect fucking time to talk about it."

I release his arm and sit back. Jimmy rubs a hand over his face as he leans back in his chair.

"Where is this man now?" John asks.

Jimmy shrugs. "The last letter came from Virginia."

"He asked you for money?" Nic inquires.

"Not right away. It was the second letter when he started asking about meeting and mentioning his financial burdens."

"What an asshole," Elliott growls.

"When the third letter arrived, I went to my mother."

"Is Stella okay?" Jack asks.

"No," Jimmy whispers. "I sent her on a retreat."

"Like my retreat?" I stress the last word.

We all know my time away was at a mental treatment facility.

He nods.

"You know we're all here, so don't take this on alone. All right?" Elliott leans forward, forcing Jimmy to look at him.

He gives another nod.

"What about you?" Jack asks. "You doing okay?"

Sighing, he rubs the back of his neck. "I've been better, but I'm okay."

"Just don't forget you have family," Jack reminds him. "You're a way better brother than these two fuckers." He motions between Elliott and me.

"Bite me," I growl.

"I am the highlight of your day," Elliott insists.

Jimmy chuckles.

His laugh eases the nervousness in the room. Leave it to Jack and his laidback manner to bring us full circle.

"Can we please play cards now?" Nic asks. "Since retiring, I could actually use the money I'm about to win from you assholes."

Jack and I laugh.

"Oh, you think so, old man?" Elliott grabs his cards, fanning them in front of his face.

"I was playing cards before you learned how to use a toilet." Nic tries to trash talk.

"He still doesn't know how," Jimmy adds, getting back into the swing of our banter.

"Fuck you all." Elliott sets three cards facedown and motions for replacements.

"You're a damn card shark," Elliot exclaims two hours later, shoving his full house away from him.

Nicholas leans forward, fighting a grin, and scoops the jackpot across his royal flush.

"You have to be counting cards," Jimmy says, shaking his head.

"Why am I automatically a cheater?" Nic sits back, sorting his chips.

"Because I was cheating and you still kicked my ass," Elliott confesses, brows raised.

The corner of Nic's mouth twitches.

"You were cheating," I accuse with a bit of pride mixed in.

"I've always been good at cards." He shrugs, taking a sip of his fourth drink. "In fact, that's how I signed my first band for Nobil."

"No shit," Elliott exclaims, pushing away from the table and stretching.

"No shit," Nic confirms.

"Respect, old man." Ell walks around the table, offering his fist to Nic.

Nic bumps it with his.

"Now, what do we do?" Elliott plops down onto a couch. "Is there an Xbox here or something?"

I push out of my chair and roll my head, working the stiffness out of my neck.

What I wouldn't give to have Mia back in bed. Fuck, this separation is so ridiculous.

"Block the door," Jackson announces.

"Already?" Elliott whines. "Seriously, Chris, is her pussy made of heroin or some shit? Christ, it's only been a few hours."

"I didn't do a damn thing," I defend.

"You don't have to," Jack says, standing across the table from me. "I know the look, and it's all over your face."

"You're crazy," I snap, even though he's abso-fucking-lutely correct.

My muscles pull and tense in anticipation of bolting for the door. And one particular muscle twitches with another need.

The strum of a guitar grabs my attention. Jack sits on the edge of a chair and plays a few chords.

Jimmy brushes by me with his guitar in his hand and takes a seat across the room from Jackson.

Where the hell did their guitars come from?

"Here," Nic says, standing to my right.

He holds my guitar out to me.

Furrowing my brow, I just stare at it.

"Mia made sure they were brought," John explains.

I reach out, take the instrument from Nic, and join the assholes in the sitting area.

Jackson strums a familiar song, but it's not one of ours.

Elliott drums on a small coffee table with his hands.

Jimmy taps his foot, bobbing his head.

In a chair next to Jack, I settle in. He stops playing and looks at me.

"What?" I ask.

"Take the lead." He jerks his chin toward my guitar. "Me and Wifey will follow."

I shake my head at the stupid name he gave his guitar and strum, starting into an arrangement I'd been playing with for a couple weeks.

There are no words, only feelings and images as I pluck the strings. Mia's face flashes in my mind, my eyes tracing the shape of her profile. I move my eyes down imaginary Mia, the riff getting dirty, grittier, when I reach the curve of her breasts, dip of her waist, and flare of her hips.

So into the song, my mind filled with notes of Mia, I don't realize they haven't joined in. A final thrum of cords and I place my hand against the strings, silencing the guitar.

Opening my eyes, I glance around the circle of men.

"That's kind of…hell, man, it's beautiful," Elliott says, breaking the silence.

"That's Mia," Jackson says with a half-grin.

My mouth tightens, but I can't hold in the smile. My face splits into a wide ass grin. The song is definitely Mia—her body and spirit in the form of notes and chords.

"Play it again," Jimmy demands, positioning his fingers over his strings.

Closing my eyes, I strum again.

"Hey, don't get lost again," Elliott blurts.

My eyes snap open, brows furrowed.

"We need you with us to learn this," he explains.

Mia

"Una, you have to tell us what's going on with you and Jimmy," Kat blurts, getting down to business.

After an hour in the hot tub, munching on appetizers, and playing Cards Against Humanity—which completely traumatized Gwen—we're now seated in super plush chairs around an in-ground fire pit.

"Yeah, that was a heated little exchange," Laney adds, perching herself on the arm of Kat's chair.

"What exchange?" Una's brow furrows as she sips from her hurricane glass.

I snort.

"What exchange?" Serena echoes.

"I have to admit," Gwen starts, "Nicholas and I noticed it, too."

Exhaling loudly, Una sits up straighter.

"Jimmy has a lot going on personally and his actions aren't exactly making my job any easier," she shrugs, "that's all."

"His divorce is causing that much of an issue?" Laney presses.

"The divorce? No. His behavior or acting out because of it? Yes." Una presses her fingers to her temples.

"I didn't think the divorce was affecting him that much," Laney ponders out loud.

"It's not just the divorce," Kat says, eyes narrowed on Una. "What else is going on?"

All eyes shift back to Una.

"He's got some other things going on, but it's not my place to share," Una says, firmly.

Kat stares a bit longer at Una before moving her gaze to the fire, her forehead wrinkling in concentration.

"He's not in any trouble, is he?" Liza scoots to the edge of her chair.

Una gives a small shake of her head. "So far, not legally."

Clearing her throat, she turns to me.

"So, you all ready for tomorrow?"

"Uh, yeah," I say, pulling my feet up beneath me. "Kara and Leeann have everything under control." I give a shrug. "The cake arrives in the morning, the dresses are stored away in a room for us to get dressed in tomorrow, the ceremony officiate will be arriving late morning, we have spa appointments on the mainland in the afternoon—"

"Kick me if I ever try to have a wedding," Kat interrupts.

"I think we should toast to the bride," Gwen announces.

Standing from her chair, she goes to a small outside bar and pours eight flutes of champagne. Linda moves, taking two glasses and handing them out. When she holds one out to me, I just stare at the bubbly liquid.

What if you're pregnant? One sip won't hurt, right?

"Mia?" Linda questions, furrowing her brow.

"Sorry," I blurt, taking the glass from her hand.

"To Mia, may every day be filled with love and laughter," Gwen says, holding the glass out.

"To Mia," Linda speaks, holding her glass out, "may the Lord watch over and protect your family."

"Mia," Laney stands from the arm of Kat's chair, "here's to the tour that brought you the love of your life."

"To the nights that turned into the mornings," Kat says with a wiggle of her brow, standing next to Laney.

"To a friend who has become family," Una joins, coming to stand next to Kat.

"In the short amount of time I've known you and Chris, your connection has awed me," Liza starts, moving to stand next to Kat. "There's really no better word." She smiles. "I am in awe of and lucky to be a witness to your love." She raises her glass.

"To Mia, the best little sister anyone could ask for," Serena chokes on the words.

Tears sting my eyes.

"To Mia," Gwen lifts her glass higher.

"We love you," Linda adds.

Bringing my glass to my lips, I sip.

Setting the remainder of the champagne on the stone patio, I join them in a giant group hug, the tears finally escaping down my cheeks.

"Thank you," I sniff, wiping my jaw.

"Now, I think we should prepare the virginal bride for her wedding night," Kat teases, plopping back down into her chair.

"Mia," she gets serious, "a man has a penis. And…well, he's going to want to put his penis in your vagina—repeatedly."

"If you're lucky, he will. Over and over and over," Laney adds, slipping back onto the arm of Kat's chair.

"Oh my God," Linda groans, covering her face with her hand. Turning to Gwen, she says, "You are so lucky to only have boys."

Linda throws an arm out at us. "This is what I've had to deal with for the past seventeen years."

Gwen snorts, slipping back into her chair.

"Please," she retorts, "do you know how long I've had to deal with those boys?" She raises her barely-there eyebrows.

"Oh, Lord," Linda gasps, covering her mouth, "I forgot about Elliott."

We fall into a fit of laughter.

"Exactly," Gwen giggles out. "I've seen that boy's penis way too many times."

She turns to Serena, who is gasping for air, and says, "I hope all his practice has paid off."

I lose it again, clapping a hand to my stomach.

"Serena, wanna answer that one?" Kat chuckles.

"Oh my God," Laney cries out, tears streaming down her face.

"Does that boy have a fetish for showing his junk?" Kat asks with a laugh.

"Hold on, missy," Linda blurts, pointing at her.

"What?" Kat blinks at Linda.

"I've seen your naked butt more times than a grown woman should have to," she says, reminding Kat of all the mooning and times Linda has walked in on her sexcapades.

"Oh, oh," Serena exclaims, "do you remember the time Dad walked into the kitchen and found Kat naked in front of the fridge?"

"I thought I was going to have to take John for therapy," Linda adds with a laugh.

"Hey," Kat yells, smiling, "when did this become about me?"

"I hope we get to do a documentary someday," I gasp out. "I'm spilling everything."

"Listen to her," Kat says, thumbing in my direction. "I think she forgets about the time we found her in the bathroom at the bar with those two guys from—"

"Nothing happened!" I defend.

It's a lie, but I'll never admit having messed around with two guys in a bathroom—at the same time.

"Mmhmm." Kat purses her lips, sitting back in her chair.

"Don't let Chris find out," Serena adds. "He'll probably have them tracked down and shot."

"He's not that bad," I argue.

Gwen chokes on her drink.

When she's finally cleared it from her lungs, she turns skeptical eyes on me.

"You're joking, right?" she asks. "I mean, even I know he would take a bounty on their heads."

"Oh, shit! Gwen just called you on that bullshit," Kat wails.

"Touché," is all I can say.

Chapter Twelve

Mia

Dear God make them shut up.

"Mia," Laney sings my name.

"That's not how you do it," Serena says.

I brace, knowing what's coming.

The mattress dips super low and with her feet on both sides of my body, she starts jumping. I curl in on myself as she bounces my body off the mattress and back down.

"You're getting married today, you're getting married to today," she sings at the top of her lungs.

"Shut up," I groan, shoving my head under a pillow.

The pillow disappears and someone presses their wet lips to my face and blows a raspberry.

"I'm up," I shout, shoving the face away.

Wiping my face, I groan.

Serena drops to the bed next to me, causing my body to jerk.

My stomach lurches.

Swallowing hard, I bury my face in the bed.

"Breakfast is waiting," Laney says.

Someone pokes me in the leg.

"Okay," I say, my voice muffled by the bedding.

"Are you okay?" Serena asks, brushing the hair away from my face.

Pulling my head out of the mattress, I meet her observant eyes.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"Uh oh, is someone getting cold feet?" Kat asks from behind me.

"I'll obtain the getaway boat," Laney teases.

"Come on, girls," Linda scolds, sweeping into the room. "Go eat and get ready for the day. We have a lot to do."

"Oh, we know," Kat states. "We got the itinerary on our doors."

"There's an itinerary?" I ask around the lump in my throat.

"Of course," Kara answers, stepping into my room with a garment bag across her arms. "I'm going to hang this up in the closet for later."

The nausea subsiding, I sit up against the white headboard and nod.

"The bridesmaid dresses will be in here as well. Leeann is bringing them and a few other things to the villa now."

"Sounds good. Thanks, K." I rub the sleep from my eye.

Inhaling through my nose and out my mouth, I try to beat back remaining nausea.

"Great!" Kara cheers. "Now, if everyone will eat and get dressed, we will go over the itineraries and timeline for today."

She stands by the door, giving us an expectant look.

"Is she trying to make us leave?" Kat asks, keeping her eyes on Kara.

"Be nice," Linda scolds. "Come on."

Sighing, Kat and Laney follow her out of the room.

"I'm just going to go to the bathroom, then I'll be out," I tell a still waiting Kara.

Her eyes shift to Serena.

"I'll be out."

Taking a deep breath, I climb out of the bed. On my feet, I silently pray nausea doesn't come back. It doesn't, though I still feel sluggish.

"What's going on?" Serena asks from behind me.

"Nothing." I walk into the bathroom and close the door.

Leaning back against it, I exhale a breath and set about the necessities.

These bouts of nausea and being tired are definitely not me getting over a wild weekend in Vegas.

After washing my hands, face, and brushing my teeth, I pull my hair into a ponytail and exit the bathroom. Thankfully, Serena isn't waiting for me with her examining eyes. Placing my hands over my stomach, I take a deep breath and join the group for breakfast.

"The amount of food you consume," Laney says, shaking her head and wrinkling her nose.

"What?" I ask with my mouth full.

"When she's over at the house, I swear Elliott hides food from her," Serena adds, sipping from her glass.

Channeling my inner seven-year-old, I stick my tongue out.

Kara breezes into the room with Leeann and an island staff member at her side.

"Does everyone have their itinerary?" She holds up a white piece of paper.

"Shucks," Kat snaps her fingers, "I think I lost mine."

"Nope, it's right here," Laney says sugar sweet, holding the paper in Kat's face.

"Great," Kat mumbles. "Thanks." She snatches it from Laney's hand.

"Sure thing, buddy." Laney slaps Kat on the back, earning a side glare from her.

"It's my wedding day. Serena, since you're the Matron of Honor, consider my itinerary your responsibility."

She purses her lips and cocks one brow.

Grinning in response, I wink and take a drink of OJ.

From my right, Liza giggles.

"Mia," Kara says, interrupting my silent showdown with Serena, "the caterer arrived and is already in the kitchen prepping. If you want to make any menu adjustments, we need to let them know now."

Shaking my head, I say, "I think we're good."

"Okay, great." She looks back to her clipboard. "The cake should arrive while you are at the spa."

"Can I see the cake before the wedding?" I shove a piece of bacon in my mouth and sigh as the flavor bursts across my tongue.

Bacon is like crispy strips of happiness.

"I don't see why not," Kara says, distractedly writing on her clipboard. "There, now it's on the schedule."

Looking up, she exhales, a satisfactory look on her face.

"You need to be down at the dock in twenty minutes. The boat is scheduled to depart at eleven. A car will be waiting for you on the mainland."

"Aren't you coming with us?" Laney inquires.

"No, I have too many things to take care of before the wedding. Leeann will be accompanying you. If you need anything, just let her know."

All eyes shift to Leeann.

She smiles. "Anything at all, just let me know."

"A car is also arranged for your return at three."

"Three p.m.?" I exclaim. "We'll be at the spa that long?"

"The spa assures me your visit will be between two to two and a half hours, the remaining time is for travel," Kara explains.

"What the hell are they going to do to me for two and a half hours?" I squeak.

"They're going to whack your bush," Kat teases, providing sound effects.

"You so remind me of Sid sometimes," Liza says, laughing.

"I love your cousin," Kat announces. "So, I'll take that as a compliment."

She smiles, and says, "It's definitely meant to be one.”

"Well, looks like she's going to miss out on bushwhacking." Kat winks at her.

"Um…" Kara looks from Kat back to me. "You each have a full spa package. So…" she flips pages on her clipboard, "you will start with a massage, facial—"

"I don't know if I want my face scrubbed raw before a wedding," Laney interrupts.

Kara's head pops up. "No, it's not that kind of facial. This is more of a soothing, wedding day facial. No scrubs or harsh chemicals. They use natural oils and steam to cleanse, soothe, and prep skin."

Laney gives her two thumbs up. Kara continues.

"Then, after the facials, you have manicures, pedicures, and the steam bath."

"I have to say, it sounds lovely," Gwen states. "Thank you, Kara, for all your hard work."

"Yes, Kara, thank you." Kat surprises me with her gratitude, until she continues. "But I don't see where I get my morning bowel movement."

"Kat," Linda chokes on her tea.

Serena snorts. Liza bursts into laughter.

"Really?" I level a look at her.

She grins, overly big, showing every tooth.

"You're an asshole," I state, pushing away from the table. "Are you sure you and Chris aren't related?"

"Ouch." She clasps a hand over her heart, feigning hurt.

"You shouldn't talk about yo' baby daddy like that," Laney taunts.

I shrug. "I'm well aware of his asshole tendencies."

"They just do it for you, don't they?" Liza joins in.

"Like porno for a teenage boy," I respond, walking away from the group.

"Mia," Linda scolds.

When we arrived at Spa Sao Pedro, we found it's actually a hotel style spa. The staff was friendly, accommodating, and amazing at what they do.

The massage put me to sleep, and instead of immediately waking me, they let me rest for a few minutes before gradually rousing me. Whatever oil combination they used on my face smelled like heaven. And the foot rub you get during the pedicure was almost orgasmic.

"I'm planning to come back here on vacation," Gwen says, settling onto a wooden bench in the spa room next to Linda.

"I can't stop touching my face," Kat states, rubbing her cheeks.

"Could you imagine what that stuff would make your lady parts feel like?" Laney asks from her prone position on another bench.

"You wanna find out?" Serena waggles her brow.

"Did you?" Kat rolls to her side, eyes wide.

Serena laughs. "No."

"Bitch," she grumbles.

"Mia, I adore your tattoo," Liza says, seated to my left.

"Thanks." I give her a smile.

"It's the song our mother, Maxine, used to sing to us when we were babies," Serena adds from my right. "I've got a little Dumbo—"

"Living with you and calling you wife?" Kat interjects with a snort.

"—right here," Serena finishes. Ignoring Kat, she twists and points to a tattoo on her shoulder blade.

"What song is it?" Gwen asks.

"Baby Mine," I whisper.

Thoughts of my mother swirl through my mind. Serena's hand comes to mine and squeezes. Looking up at my sister, she gives me a small smile.

"Gwen," Laney blurts, "do you have any tattoos?"

"Only the marks from my treatment," she states with a shrug.

We fall silent.

"Please, let's not get weird about it. Cancer happened, and, for now, I'm cancer free. I'm also boob free, but hey, that was cheaper than the doctor bills."

Kat is the first to laugh before the rest of us join in.

"I know Linda doesn't," Laney states before turning to Liza. "You don't either, right? I haven't noticed any when you perform."

Liza shakes her head. "No. The other girls do."

"Do you want any?" Kat asks. "I have a great artist."

Liza's grin makes me curious.

"Before, I couldn't justify spending the money on a tattoo." Her shoulders shake with silent laughter.

"And now?" I press, curiosity killing me.

"Now that I have the money, Jackson talks me out of it every damn time," she explains, shaking her head.

"What a hypocrite!" Serena exclaims.

"I thought that, too," Liza interjects, "at first."

She bites her lip and furrows her brow. Her eyes shift to Laney, and then the floor.

"Liza," Laney coos, drawing her attention back, "you can say it. Honestly, I'm happy for you and Jackson. Don't hold back because of me."

Liza takes a deep breath and covers her face. On a large exhale, she says in a rush, "Jackson likes the image of his inked up skin next to my empty canvas, as he calls it."

"Image?"

I'm glad Kat caught that, too.

Liza only nods, dropping the hand from her face and sucking her lips into her mouth.

"You mean, you guys have pictures?"

Nodding, she bites her lip again.

"Holy shit!" Kat exclaims. "Are they dirty photos? ‘Cause I would pay to see them."

Liza's eyes bug.

"Kat," I grumble.

"What?" she asks, her face a complete mask of innocence. "Don't act like you wouldn't want to get your eyes on them."

"Two of them are hanging up in the house," Liza blurts.

Mouths gaped and eyes wide, we all turn back to her.

She laughs. "They aren't sexual," she clarifies. "Sid did a photo shoot of us."

"Naked?" Serena asks.

"No. I'm in underwear and Jack's wearing jeans."

Fully invested in this topic now, I open my mouth to ask more questions, but Liza continues.

"We have other pictures, but we took those on our own."

Her cheeks flame and she covers half her face with one hand.

"You exhibitionists," Serena accuses.

Liza drops her hand and strikes back. "This coming from the woman whose husband was free balling by the pool yesterday."

Kat howls, jumps off the top bench she's been lying on, and runs up to Liza, holding up her hand. Instinctively, Liza slaps her hand to Kat's.

Serena and the rest of us laugh.

Kara has Leeann thoroughly trained to act in her stead. She got right on our asses to get us back on the boat for the island. What I didn't expect were the hair and makeup artists who joined us from the spa. Leeann explained they were hired to assist us before the wedding.

Stepping off the dock and back onto the island, we're met by Kara.

"Leeann, please escort the ladies to their room and go through the schedule so they know when to be available for hair and makeup." Kara nods to the hair and makeup artists before turning her attention to us.

"The cake has arrived. Would you like to see it before lunch?"

"Yeah." I nod to Kara and turn to the group. "Anyone else want to come?"

"I'll come." Linda steps forward.

"Me, too." Gwen joins us.

The rest of the group heads back to the bridal villa.

Offering my arms to both of them, we follow Kara into the kitchen of the main building.

A tall, thin woman with long red hair moves around a table with her back to us. Another woman, this one petite, with shoulder-length rainbow locks, stands stock still on the opposite side, her eyes locked on me.

"Liv," the rainbow woman whispers.

"Yeah?" red hair responds, distracted with the cake.

"Liv," rainbow whispers harsher.

"What, Mercedes?" The Liv woman straightens, putting a white bag on the table.

Rainbow hair, Mercedes, nods toward us, shifting her eyes between Liv and us.

"Mrs. Knyght?" Kara speaks.

Red hair, Liv, spins around, her eyes wide. Her mouth parts, but nothing comes out.

Releasing Gwen and Linda's arms, I step forward and offer her my hand.

"Hi, I'm—"

"Mia Ryder," Mercedes says for me, rounding the table and taking my hand.

I smile, trying not to laugh. I'm still not entirely used to getting this type of reaction.

"I love you," Mercedes gushes.

"Thank you," I respond, releasing her hand.

"This is Liv." She motions to the woman on my right. "She owns Harlow Cakes."

Liv gives a visible shake and pulls herself together.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," she speaks in a beautifully melodic voice.

I wonder if she sings.

"I hope the cake is to your liking." She motions to the table.

In the center is a three-tiered chocolate and vanilla cake decorated in white chocolate fondant with black and gray airbrushed skulls, and deep purple and dark red flowers strategically placed on each layer.

I asked for rocker class, and she gave it to me.

"What are the flowers made out of?" I ask, knowing it's not icing.

"Chocolate," Liv answers.

"It's really amazing," I praise, walking around the table to take it all in.

"Thank you," she answers, relief in her tone.

"No," I look from the cake to her, "thank you." Stepping to her again, I offer her my hand.

She takes it and grips.

"Are you staying for the ceremony?"

"I need to get back to my husband," Liv explains. "He's waiting on the mainland."

"He's welcome to come," I offer.

Her face reddens. "Thank you, but this is our first child-free getaway in some time. We made other plans."

Putting my hands up, I grin.

"Say no more."

"Can you sign my apron?" Mercedes steps forward, holding out a marker.

"Ced," Liv warns.

"It's not a problem."

I take the pen and sign her apron.

"Ced will be here to assist with the cake," Liv informs.

Turning to Kara, I say, "Does she have a place at the reception?"

"I can add one," she responds.

I nod, looking back to Ced. "Do that."

"Oh. My. God. Thank you," Ced says, balling her apron in her hands.

"Bring your marker and the apron," I instruct, "I'll make sure all of Hush and The Forgotten sign it."

Eyes wide, she only nods.

"We should get back for lunch," Kara whispers.

"Okay. Liv, it was nice to meet you. Thank you for the beautiful cake and bringing it all the way down here."

"Honestly, we all kind of love both bands, so the pleasure was all mine."

With one last handshake and a couple pictures, we head back to the bridal villa for lunch.

Along the way, Kara shows me the progress made on wedding decor.

White chairs with tropical flowers tied to the back line the vast ceremony dock. A white arch stands at the end with tropical vines and flowers wove into the spaces.

The reception tent has all the flaps pulled up and secured. Tables and chairs draped in white fabric are arranged in the sand beneath the tent, each table lined with sheer black netting and starfish. A couple clear glass vases are being filled with tropical flowers that match the colors of my bouquet and the print on the bridesmaid dresses.

Looking to my left, toward the water, I find a small tent with a bamboo bar set up. Further scanning, I see a floating dock.

"What's that?" I ask over my shoulder, pointing to the dock.

"A band will be out there playing during dinner," Kara states. "We will have your instruments set up on the patio area there."

She points to the right of the receptionist tent.

"And the DJ?"

"There, just beyond the patio is a space where he's setting up."

Nodding, I turn and hug Kara.

"It's perfect, K. Thank you."

Releasing her, I see unshed tears in her eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Shaking her head, she waves me off.

"Let's get you back to the villa."

Turning on her heel, she walks briskly. I hurry and follow after her.

Christopher

"Are you guys ready for the concert that's coming up?" John asks, lounged back in a chair on the boat. His fishing pole lays against the railing, unattended.

Why the fuck am I out fishing? I don't fish.

After breakfast and lounging around for a bit, Kara ushered us to a boat for an afternoon of fishing.

"We have a few weeks still, but we're ready," Jack answers, fingering the little handle on his fishing pole.

"What the hell are you doing?" I ask, curious.

His head snaps up. "I can't just sit and wait. I have to do something."

"You'll never catch anything that way, son," John says, grinning.

"I'm afraid the boys were never really fishermen," Nic adds, sitting on a bench seat, not even bothering to fish.

"We went fishing before?" I ask, brows raised.

Nic nods. "Once. You both hated every second of it and we never went again."

"I've got something," Elliott shouts, yanking on his pole.

We gather around, watching him reel in whatever he's caught.

I don't know what kind of fish it is, but it's big and flopping all over the place. We all have an idea of what to do, but Mia's father is the only one who really knows how to handle the situation. In smooth, practiced motions, he yanks the hook from the fish's mouth, lifts, and tosses it back.

"What the hell?" Elliott questions as he leans over the side of the boat, watching his fish swim away.

John claps him on the oversized back.

"Good job, son."

"But you just threw it back," he whines.

"Yeah." John nods, settling back into his seat.

"I wanted to keep it."

"I'm pretty sure my daughter would kick your ass."

Nic chuckles.

"Good point," Elliott agrees, sitting back in his chair. "I'm going to catch the most," he declares, baiting his hook again.

After John schooled Elliott in fishing, catching two more than the single fish he caught, we are back on the island. Lounging around the pool, Nic and John in pool chairs with beers, Jack, Elliott, and the boys in the pool, and Jimmy and me in the hot tub, my mind drifts to my escape plan.

"I'm going to go shower before this evening," Jimmy says, getting out of the tub.

Perfect.

With everyone distracted, I climb out of the water and casually enter the villa.

Inside, I dig through my bag and quickly change from wet to dry clothes. I locate the last item and stick it in my back pocket.

Slipping out a side door, I make my way to Mia. It's been twenty-four fucking hours, and that's goddamn long enough—especially when she's only a short distance from me.

Passing through a bustle of staff, I walk by the dock and reception tent.

Kara and the staff really did this shit up right.

Grinning, I grow more anxious and pick up my pace.

At the villa, I peek inside. No one's around, so I go room by room, until I spot the familiar blanket that travels everywhere Mia goes. Entering the empty room, I close the door behind me and sit on the edge of the bed.

Lying back, I close my eyes and try to calm my excitement.

Today, Mia becomes my wife. Amelia Ryder will be Amelia Mason, my wife, and mother of my…fuck, she needs to get here soon.

The sound of the doorknob puts me into action.

Rolling off the bed, I hurry to stand against the wall behind the door.

"Your hair gets done first, so as soon as you are showered, come on out," I hear Kara say. "I'll make sure to have the artists down here to start working on everyone."

"Will do," Mia replies.

Her bare calf appears from behind the door, followed by her thigh, cotton shorts covered hip, and tank top covered torso.

My heart thuds so hard, I can hear the beat. A gush of breath escapes my mouth. She's so fucking gorgeous, and she's mine.

Closing the door, she presses a hand against the wood.

In a flash of movement, I grab her waist and cover her mouth. She kicks out and grabs my hand.

"Shh, baby, it's me," I whisper in her ear.

She stills and I release her.

Spinning around, she shoves my chest.

"What the fuck, Chris?"

"Shh…" I press my finger to my lips.

Her mouth opens, but I reach out and take her face in my hands. Pressing my mouth to hers, hot burning need coils in my gut. I push forward and her back hits the door.

Mia's hands come to my stomach and fist my t-shirt.

Sliding my hands from her face, I trace her jaw, neck, collarbone, and then cup both breasts. She moans.

"Shh," I whisper against her lips.

"Mia?" Gwen calls from the other side of the door.

She turns her head, breaking our kiss.

Refusing to release her, I move my mouth over her jaw and down her neck, licking, sucking, nibbling on her skin. She tastes like…like she belongs to me.

"Yeah?" she croaks out.

"Everything okay, sweetheart?"

"Yes," she answers a bit too loud when I pinch her nipples.

Grinning against her neck, I wrap my arms around her waist.

"Okay," Gwen responds.

Guiding Mia away from the door, I walk us into the bathroom and shut the door.

"You aren't supposed to be here," she pants, gripping the hem of my shirt and pulling it up my body.

I raise my arms, allowing her to remove it.

Her mouth goes to my chest, her tongue moving over my skin.

"I don't subscribe to everyone else's rules, baby."

It's my turn to rid her of her shirt and bra.

"So I've noticed." She fists the waistband of my shorts and tugs them until they fall to the floor.

Shoving my fingers inside her shorts, I hook the band with my thumbs and push them down. They catch at her knees and I lift my right foot, bringing it down on the material between her legs, taking them to the floor.

Sliding my hands under her arms, I lift her to sit on the sink. Her hands press into the tile behind her, and I bend forward, taking her right nipple into my mouth and sucking. Glancing up from under my lashes, I watch her. Head dropped back and mouth open, she gasps. A deep moan escapes her when I drag my tongue from her nipple, across the mound of her breast, over her chest and collarbone, and up her neck.

Gripping her legs outside her knees, my fingers slip into the bend. I pull them apart, step between, and rub my length against her.

"Please," she begs.

Her right hand slides over my cheek and into my hair, fisting.

Releasing one knee, I grab my cock at the base.

Using her grip on my hair to balance herself, Mia brings her other hand between us. She presses two fingers to her pussy and opens herself, offering it up to me.

"Fuck, baby, that's so goddamn hot," I growl, pressing my tip to her entrance.

"Quit teasing me."

She squirms against the head and I drive inside her.

"Fuck, yes," she screams.

Clutching her by the hips, I splay my fingers over her ass and hold her at the edge of the sink.

Closing my mouth over hers, I swallow her moans.

As I fuck my soon-to-be wife to orgasmic bliss, she pulls her mouth away, gasping for breath.

"Christ, Mia, I've needed you," I growl, thrusting.

"I've needed you, too," she pants. "Chris, I'm so—"

She's cut off by her orgasm and I swallow the scream like it's my last fucking meal.

"I can't believe you snuck in here for sex," Mia teases while I wash her back.

She squeals when I slap her wet, bare ass.

"You damn well know it wasn't just for sex."

Rubbing her reddened cheek, she turns to face me. Water beads and drips down her body. I lick my lips, wanting only to drink water from her body from this moment forward. When my eyes reach her stomach, my thoughts sober. I look back at her face.

"I have another reason, besides missing you, and needing to fuck you, of course."

"Of course," she says with a small smile and one-shoulder shrug.

Reaching around her, I turn the water off and climb out the shower.

I grab a towel and wrap it around her before tying another around my waist. Locating my shorts, I pull the white stick out from the back pocket. When I turn with it in my hand, her eyes widen.

"I wondered what you did with it," she whispers.

"I didn't want you thinking about it or worrying about anything, so I took it," I explain and wait for her to give me her eyes. When she does, I continue. "I was going to get rid of it, but…"

"But what?" she asks, swallowing hard.

"I want you to take the test, Mia," I confess.

"Chris…" she says hesitantly.

Her brow wrinkles and she chews her bottom lip.

I hold out the test. She just stares at it.

"Take the test, but don't look at the results," I instruct.

Her eyes snap back to mine.

"I want to be the one to tell you," I admit, rubbing the back of my neck with my free hand.

"Maybe we should wait—"

"No." I shake my head. "We need to do this."

She lifts her chin and squares her shoulders.

A grin spreads across my face.

There's my girl.

Mia takes the test from my hand, steps around me, and turns around at the toilet.

"You aren't watching me pee on a stick," she says, pursing her lips.

Rolling my eyes, I turn around and give her my back.

"Go wait in the bedroom," she orders.

"This is the best you're getting," I inform. "Do I need to plug my ears, too?" I tease.

"Shut up," she laughs out.

A few moments later, I hear evidence that she's taking the test.

The soft warmth of her hand presses into my back and I turn.

Looking down, I find the test in her fist.

Bringing my eyes up to meet hers, I reach out and slide my hand down her arm. When I reach her fist, I take the test from her hand.

"Let's get dressed," I suggest, turning for my clothes on the floor.

Only minutes later, I'm back in my clothes and Mia is in a strapless cotton dress.

Grabbing tissues from the sink, I wrap them around the test and shove it in my back pocket.

"How long does it take?"

My palms heat and feel sweaty. I've got fucking butterflies in my stomach causing a tornado of anxiety.

"That one is a five-minute test," she says. "It's digital."

"Digital?" I ask, raising one brow.

"Yeah, it will say Pregnant or Not Pregnant."

"Well, that's fucking convenient," I admit.

She laughs.

Taking her hand, I walk us out of the bathroom.

"How accurate are these tests?"

She gives a small shrug, releases my hand, and sits on the bed.

"Like ninety-nine percent, I think."

I nod and walk over to her. Tilting her head back, she looks up, fear filling her eyes.

"Baby, don't be afraid," I say, running a finger over her cheek.

"I'm just nervous," she confesses.

"Don't be." I lean down and press my lips to hers.

Straightening, I walk backward to the double glass doors I saw on the way out of the bathroom.

"Where are you going?" She stands from the bed.

"I've gotta go get ready for my wedding," I tell her. "My fiancé will be pissed if I don't show up."

"Chris, what about the results?" She comes after me.

Reaching behind me, I open the doors and step outside.

"I didn't say I was giving them to you right now." Winking, I grin, turn, and run.

"Christopher Mason," she yells.

I owe you so much more than I can ever give, but I've got plans for you, Mia.

Chapter Thirteen

Christopher

Returning to the villa, I stop just outside and reach into my pocket. I pull out the test, unwrap it, and stare down at the gray window.

Chest tightening, heart pounding, my mouth goes dry. I can't swallow. Placing a palm against the villa, I bow my head and breathe in deeply. Tears sting the back of my eyes. Emotion burns my cheeks and tingles my nose.

"There you are, you sneaky bastard," Elliott hollers.

Glancing up from under my lashes, I watch the smile fall from his face and arms drop from his chest.

"What happened? Are you okay?" His jaw tenses and a fire lights in his eyes.

"Jack or Nic?" he asks, stepping closer.

Furrowing my brow, I croak, "What?"

"Who do I need to get?" he rushes out on a yell.

The concern lining his typically jovial face flips something inside me.

Able to breathe easier and finally swallow a lump in my throat, the rush of emotion subsides.

"I'm good," I tell him, pushing off the villa.

"You sure?" His eyes examine my face.

I nod.

"What happened?" His concern doesn't waiver.

Shaking my head, I step forward and clasp his shoulder.

"Just some much anticipated and a bit unexpected news," I say with a small smile.

The concern ebbs from his face, the tension leaving his jaw.

Elliott is a pain in the ass, and a total Neanderthal, but I often forget just how goddamn loyal he is.

Patting his shoulder, I grin wider.

"Let's go, man. I've gotta wedding to get to."

"Yeah, you better lock her in before she wises up and flees the island," he taunts.

And…he's back.

"Fuck you," I quip.

Releasing his shoulder, I step by him into the villa.

"I'm pretty sure you just got laid and you're already trying to fuck me? Always such a greedy bastard."

Elliott catches up, putting his arm around my shoulder.

"But, since this is your wedding day…"

His comment causes me to slow my step.

Circling in front of me, he grabs my face and presses his lips to mine.

Shock widens my eyes and freezes every limb.

"Oh, shit! I don't need to see this," Jimmy yells.

The outburst snaps me into action.

Pressing my hands to Elliott's chest, I shove him off me.

"What the fuck?" I ask, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

"Consider it a wedding gift," Elliott laughs out.

Jimmy busts up laughing, falling against a wall and holding his stomach.

"A gift?" I shout.

"You're welcome," Elliott says, taking a bow.

"I feel sorry for Serena," I quip.

His head snaps up, brows furrowed.

"You can't kiss for shit," I taunt, walking by him.

"I wasn't really trying!" he calls after me.

"Sure," I say, drawing out the word.

When I reach the bedroom, he shouts once again.

"I'm an amazing kisser! Come back and I'll show you."

I silence his tantrum by closing the door.

"You really don't know how to follow any kind of rules, do you?" Jack asks, his long body stretched out on the bed.

"How long have you known me?" is the only response I give him as I walk straight for the bathroom.

"It's a tradition, Chris," he calls to my retreating form. "You know, part of the whole wedding extravaganza you wanted."

Inside the room, I wrap the test up once more and shove it in the trashcan. I turn to the sink, wash my hands, turn off the water, and press my wet palms to the tile. Lifting my head, I stare at the man looking back at me in the mirror.

The eyes are familiar, yet different. Shifting my gaze, I look at the reflection of the trashcan and lick my bottom lip. I inhale through my nose and exhale. Meeting my own eyes once more, calmness settles through my body; a lightness fills my limbs and my chest warms.

"Hey, you all right?" Jack's voice is closer.

Tearing my eyes from the mirror, I find him leaning in the bathroom doorway.

"Yeah, man, I'm good."

It's a lie—an enormous fucking lie.

A knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts.

I've been ready for almost an hour, dressed in a black custom suit. Black pants, white collared shirt, black tie, and a black vest with a chain holding the two sides closed instead of buttons. My black boots and belt are the same I wore the first time I sang on stage with Mia. Same goes for the silver wallet chain dangling on my right leg. In the small vest pocket on my chest is a small Kermit the Frog—Mia's favorite.

Another knock sounds, but this time, it's followed by a familiar voice.

"Christopher?"

"Come in," I call from my seat on the bed.

Pressing my palms to my knees, I try to still my bouncing leg.

Dr. J steps through the door dressed in a light gray suit. His eyes drop to my restless legs.

"Everything okay?"

I nod, pushing up from the bed.

"Nervous?" He closes the door behind him.

Shaking my head, I begin to pace.

"Anxious?"

I rub the back of my neck with one hand and stop in front of him.

"How do you tell someone something you know is going to…?"

Turning, I pace away, trying to think of the right word.

When I tell Mia, I know she's going to cry. She's going to get emotional, and maybe even sad, but how do I manage that along with telling her I want more kids?

"Going to what?" he presses.

Stilling my steps, I turn back to him from across the room.

"That's going to cause a lot of stress," I explain.

"You can't tell me what this something is?"

"No," I blurt.

"And you can't tell me who the someone is?"

"I'm pretty fucking sure you already know who, Doc," I say, my sarcasm thick and purposeful.

A smile plays at the corner of his lips.

"It is difficult to give advice when you don't have the full story. So, you are going to have to think about Mia, the situation, and follow your heart, Chris."

"That's a bit cheesy," I state, pacing once more.

"It's a wedding, I get to be cheesy."

Cheesy. Should I do some cheesy grand gesture? Will that ease her, and, at the same time, prepare her for what I'm about to ask of her?

"Christopher," Nic calls, knocking and opening the door.

My heart goes into rapid fire.

"You ready?" A grin curls his lips.

"It's time?" I ask.

"It's time," he confirms.

I walk toward the door, but Nic doesn't move.

I raise one brow in question.

"Christopher," he begins, "I know things haven't been easy for us."

The confusion melts from my face.

"I wish things could've been different, but, at the same time, I'm not sure I would change it if I could."

His words surprise me and send a sudden pain through my chest.

"Don't get me wrong, I wish I would've been there for you, but to see the man you've become, the way you've risen above everything against you, and to watch you love someone, Mia, the way you do…I don't know if I would get that if I changed things."

He drops his head, closing his eyes.

The pain from moments ago eases as his explanation sinks in.

I get it. If things had been different, I might not be where I am—I might not have Mia and Maggie in my life.

"I wouldn't change it either," I admit.

Nic's head pops up, tears in his eyes.

One arm comes around me, pulling me against his chest. The second arm locks me in place.

"I am so proud of you, Christopher. So proud to call you my son," he chokes out before releasing me.

Where there was a pain, warmth spreads, filling my body.

I pat his shoulder and Nic steps back, allowing me to pass.

The minute I step out of the room, I'm rushed by Jimmy, Elliott, and Jack. Jack and Jimmy shove their heads under my arms and Elliott grabs my legs.

"What the hell?" I shout.

"Gotta get you to the church on time!" Elliott booms as they carry me out the villa.

"I'm not getting married in a church," I remind on a shout.

"Technicalities," Jimmy laughs out.

Mia

"Why am I so nervous?" I tug on the neck of my gown.

Part of it is not knowing the test results, but this is so much more. It's more than I would ever think could happen to me. I love Chris. I want to marry him, but I just can't seem to fight back the butterflies, shaking, and nausea.

"Take a breath," Linda instructs, pulling my hand away from the lace.

"Nervous is normal," Laney adds, taking my right hand and squeezing.

"Do we need to revisit my pre-wedding nerves?" Serena asks, taking my other hand.

"I can have you off the island in ten minutes," Kat announces.

"Kat!" Linda, Laney, and Serena yell in unison.

"What?" She shrugs. "I'm just letting her know she has options."

A giggle escapes me.

"Mia, princess?" My father steps through the doorway. "Are you—?"

His words stop, but his mouth remains open.

Linda steps back and Laney releases my hand.

"Baby," he says in a rush of breath.

"Hey, Dad." My voice wobbles and the burn at the tip of my nose prepares me for the tears.

"Mia, you look beautiful."

He steps closer and Serena releases my hand. Reaching out, he takes both my hands in his.

"I'm so proud to be your father." His voice cracks, causing my tears to fall. "You and your sister have always been the best accomplishment I've ever been a part of." He leans forward and kisses my cheek. Straightening, I see the dampness on his face. "Your mother is so happy and just as proud as I am right now."

The floodgates open for everyone in the room.

"Way to go, John." Everyone except Kat.

Slipping from the room, she shouts, "Makeup, we need you."

Once the makeup artist does a couple small touch ups, I stare at myself in the floor-length mirror. The ivory dress flows down to my bare, black-polished toenails. In lieu of attempting heels, I've opted for flat sandals.

"You know he loves you, right?"

Having thought everyone was out in the sitting room, Kat's question catches me off guard. Turning, I find her leaning in the bedroom doorway.

"Yeah." I nod.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to be nervous," she continues, pushing off the doorframe and entering the room. "Mia, we all know I'm not someone who subscribes to the idea of being in love, but even I, a confessed non-believer, can see the way Chris feels about you. Call it love if you want, but if I can see the strength and intensity of it…" she grins, "well, then, you better believe that shit is real."

My shock melts into calm appreciation.

I lift the silk of the dress and move to Kat, embracing her.

Grabbing her face in both my hands, I plant a big kiss on her.

Pulling back, I grin, and say, "Thank you."

"Mia, if you want to have a little afternoon delight before the wedding, I'm game," she teases. "If not, we need to get you to a dock and a six-foot asshole."

"I love you, Kat."

"Ditto, babe." She slaps my ass. "Now, get a move on."

Kara definitely means business when keeping me hidden from all eyes. With sheets draped around the back of the golf cart, no one can see Maggie and me as we approach the ceremony.

"Mia, stay in there for a second," Kara instructs from the other side of the sheets.

"Last chance," Kat mumbles in a hushed tone through the curtain.

"Get away from there," Laney whisper-shouts.

The sound of slaps comes from the other side.

"Will you two stop?" Serena uses her motherly tone, efficiently putting an end to their antics.

"Okay, ladies, if you will stand here to block the view of Mia until you start down the dock.”

"Mia, come on out," Kara says.

Linda leans inside, taking Maggie from my lap and handing me my bouquet. Dad's hand reaches in expectantly. Placing my palm in his, I climb out of the cart.

Serena, Laney, and Kat stand side by side, facing me. They wear an off-white dress covered in the same multicolored embroidered geometric print. The only thing setting them apart is the style of dress. Serena in a conservative V-neck that comes to her knees, Laney wearing a strapless sweetheart neckline that also reaches her knees, and Kat, who chose a one-shoulder, knee-length dress.

"Love you, guys," I mouth, earning grins.

"Okay, ladies, Laney first," Kara cues as the untraditional music begins to play.

Instead of classic wedding march music, we chose Somewhere Over the Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole for the bridesmaids. The tropical feel and words seemed right when we picked them. Now, hearing it and watching Laney and Maggie walk down the dock, I'm positive it was the right choice.

When Serena makes her way down the aisle, I can see Chris with his back to me, framed by the setting sun. I don't miss the tension in his shoulders.

My nerves claw at my insides, wanting to flare back into the panic zone, but then Jackson grabs Chris when he tries to turn around. Chris' arms flail in the air. I can't hear him, but I have a pretty good idea the officiant and Jackson are getting an earful.

I giggle, leaning against my father. His lips press to the side of my head and I look up at him.

"He has every right to be anxious," he says. "When Chris sees you, he's going to fall in love with you all over again."

A shuddering breath leaves me and tears sting my eyes.

The first strum is played and Dad's hand tightens on my arm. Squeezing his in return, Liza's voice fills the air with the first part of the song.

"Settle down with me," rings in the air.

Kara touches my father's shoulder and we set off down the aisle.

Liza covers Ed Sheeran's Kiss Me so beautifully. It took almost a month to convince her to sing the song. Again, it was so worth the effort, because the projection in her voice amplified every emotion I feel.

At the halfway mark, Chris twists around.

His eyes come straight to me. The intensity of his gaze urges me to run to him.

Squeezing my father's arm, I hold on to my control.

Chris licks his bottom lip and visibly swallows.

"So beautiful," he mouths.

Biting my lip, I drop my gaze away. My cheeks heat and I swallow tears lodged in my throat.

"Someone's waiting for you," my dad says.

Lifting my head, Chris smiles and raises his arms.

"Come to me, baby," he says.

And I do.

Slipping my arm away from my father's, I fist the material of my dress with one hand and run the last few feet.

Caught in Chris' arms, he wraps them tight around my waist and lifts me into the air. My hands on his shoulders, Jackson takes my bouquet.

"Fuck, Mia, you look…"

Setting me back on my feet, he cups my chin and kisses me.

"Um, we aren't—" Jimmy starts.

"Dude, let him kiss her," Elliott interrupts.

Breaking the kiss, I glance around Chris and see the guys grinning wildly. All of them dressed in dark gray pants and vests, each of them wearing a silver tie—except Elliott, who chose a bowtie.

Turning my head, I see our guests, many silently laughing and others already with tears in their eyes.

"Are we ready to begin?" the officiant whispers.

"Fuck yeah, we are," Chris answers, keeping his eyes on me and his hands on my hips.

The officiant gives a small laugh and begins.

"Today we have all come together to witness and share in the union of Amelia Ryder and Christopher Mason. After a long, long discussion with Christopher, we all thought it best for the couple to write their own vows to share with each other today."

Even Chris laughs at our officiant, Jan's, small joke, remembering the way he debated the traditional vows of obeying and till death do us part.

"Christopher." Jan nods for him to begin.

He takes a deep breath, exhales, and begins.

"Amelia Marie Ryder, I would never have made it here without you. You are the only one who could ever convince someone like me that goodness, hope, and a love so all-encompassing existed."

He pauses, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose. Reopening them, I see the tears building. Mine slip from the corners of my eyes and down my cheeks.

"Every day, you bring light and color into my dark world."

Releasing my hips, he captures my face in his hands.

"Mia, my angel, love of my existence, you destroy the blackness within me. Today, I vow to you, before family and friends, my devotion, adoration, and love."

Sniffing, he swallows and continues with his typical cocky grin.

"Not until death do us part, because not even in death will my heart, my soul, ever release you from our eternity."

Dropping his hands, he twists to the side, grabs the band from Jackson, and places it at the tip of my finger.

"I love you will never be enough to express the way I feel for you. I live and breathe you. Without you, the Christopher before you doesn't exist."

He slides the ring down my finger, closes his eyes, and whispers, "Fuck, I love you."

Gaping at him, a shuddering breath vibrates up my throat.

"Mia?" the officiant whispers, cuing me to get my ass in gear.

Wiping tears from my face, I take two breaths to calm myself before reciting my vow.

"Christopher Tobias Mason, you are the most arrogant, exasperating, stubborn asshole to ever enter my life."

My smile is met by his grin.

"And I thank the stars every day that you used those qualities to scheme us onto a tour bus together. Because looking back, the very first time your arms wrapped around me, I felt it."

His eyes widen at my admission and probably the memory.

"The connection between us created a spark. It took time, but it grew. It grew until it became strong and bright enough for me to see you, to find you."

Reaching up, I place my hand on his cheek. He leans his face into my touch.

"You—the man, the father, the great love of my life. Today, before our family and friends, I embrace your sharp edges and the darkness you think engulfs you."

He closes his eyes, his tears dampening my palm.

"But, Christopher, you have it wrong. So very wrong. I'm not the light. I'm only the mirror."

His eyes snap open, the sharp blue meeting mine.

"The lightness, goodness, the never ending love, devotion, and loyalty are all inside you. And I'll spend the rest of our lives being the mirror who shows it to you."

Serena's hand appears at my elbow. Removing my hand from his face, I take the ring from her, slip it over his finger, and bring my eyes back to his.

"Without a reflection, the mirror is empty. Maybe it's hard for you to see, but, Christopher, there is no reflection in me without you."

Mouth open, eyes watery, he just stares.

Worry begins to tickle my stomach.

Suddenly, his arms are back around my waist and I'm up in the air.

"Say the words, Jan," he demands.

Our family and guests quietly laugh.

"Do you, Christopher, take Amelia to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Jan asks with a smile.

Chris sets me onto my feet, palming the sides of my head.

"Yes, I do, Mia. For fucking eternity, I do."

"Amelia, do you take Christopher to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

Pursing my lips, I look up and to the corner in contemplation.

"Don't fuck with me, Mia," he growls, his hand flexing into my scalp.

Grinning, I look into his eyes and grip his wrists.

"I do, Christopher," I pledge. "For fucking eternity, baby."

"Jan, don't make me wait here," Chris warns.

Again, our audience laughs. This time, louder.

"I now pronounce you…" Jan trails off.

"Don't fuck with me, Jan."

"Husband and wife," she finishes.

"You may—"

Chris' mouth is on mine before she finishes.

My arms go around his neck.

He releases my head, wraps one arm around my shoulders, and the other around my waist. Pulling me closer, his hand descends to my ass, and I gasp.

He takes advantage and delves his tongue into my mouth.

A sharp whistle and a whoop break us apart.

"I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Mason," Jan states, stepping away.

Our guests stand, clapping.

Jackson hands my bouquet back to me before Chris pulls me back down the aisle.

"Aw," Elliott groans. "Dude, those flowers went so well with your outfit."

Christopher

My heart thuds and if I didn't have my hands on Mia, they'd be shaking.

At the end of the dock, I turn to her. The warm light of the setting sun casts a glow against her gorgeous skin.

She smiles up at me and I wrap my arms around her, again. I can't stop holding her.

The moment I saw her on her father's arm, walking toward me, the world fucking tilted.

Mia has always been my angel, but her wearing the long, flowy white dress personified the way I see and feel about her. And her dark hair pinned to the back of her head with large flowers strategically placed is like a fucking halo from Mother Nature.

The heavens have spoken and she's definitely a fucking missing angel. Sucks to be them, ‘cause I'll never give her up. Not without a fight. I'd sell what's left of my soul to keep her.

Lifting her into the air, I spin us.

"Chris," she laughs, clutching my shoulders.

Bringing her down, I slide her body along mine.

"Say it, baby, please," I beg, grabbing her hips.

"Amelia Mason," she states with a large grin.

"Fuck, baby, I…"

Instead of finishing, I capture her mouth with mine.

When the fuck can I get her alone?

"Congratulations," Serena squeals.

She releases Jackson's arm and embraces us tightly.

"Thank you," Mia says.

She sounds so fucking happy, it makes my chest expand with love and hope.

"Yay, you guys did it!" It's Laney's turn to hug us.

Then, one after the next, each guest offers us their respects and good wishes.

"Daddy!"

Maggie's shout reaches me over the crowd.

Linda pushes through with Maggie in her arms.

Her dress is ivory silk, just like Mia's, and has matching lace on the shoulders. The flower crown on her head matches Mia's bouquet.

God must be really fucking pissed to lose two fucking angels to a sinner like me.

"Baby girl," I coo, taking her from Linda.

Blowing raspberries on her cheek, she laughs and pushes my face away.

Fingering her mini-Mia dress, I kiss her forehead.

"You did so well, Maggie," Mia praises, cupping her face. "You're such a big girl." Taking Maggie's hand, Mia kisses her chubby fingers.

"You look beautiful, baby girl," I croon, giving her a squeeze.

She lays her head on my shoulder and places her thumb in her mouth.

With the guests out of the way, Kara ushers Mia, me, the wedding party, and parents into carts. We are shuttled around the island for photos in different locations.

"Chris?"

"Yeah, baby," I respond, sliding into the cart next to her.

"We need to talk about the—"

"Please tell me we get to go eat now," Elliott's whine interrupts.

I'm thankful for the whining, this time. It delays something I'm so nervous to disclose.

"Yes, we're done," Mia says, shaking her head.

Elliott hollers out the good news and runs to the cart behind us.

Jumping on the side of the vehicle, he points straight ahead, and shouts, "To the food, driver!"

"He has a name," Serena scolds.

Dipping his head, he looks at the driver.

"What's your name?"

The driver mumbles something and Elliott straightens.

"To the food, Jorge!"

Thank God the driver seems to have a good sense of humor.

When we reach the reception tent, there's still some light left in the sky, but the torches and lamps are lit anyway.

Serena and Elliott are the first to enter, leading the rest of the wedding party and the parents.

"Wait," Kara stops us, "we'll bring you in this way and you can begin your first dance."

"What?" Mia furrows her brow. "I thought that came later."

Kara's eyes shift to me and widen.

"I asked her to make a change," I confess.

Mia's confused eyes move from Kara to me.

"Let us know when to come out," I tell Kara, walking Mia off to the side where we can be alone.

"Chris, what's going on?" Mia asks, spinning around on me.

"Baby, I need to ask you something."

Taking a breath, I exhale quickly and launch right into it before I lose my nerve.

"Will you have my baby, Mia?"

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I brace for her reaction.

"I'm not pregnant," she breathes out.

I reach out and place my hands on each side of her throat.

"Baby, look at me."

Her eyes drift to mine.

"I want more kids, Mia. Do you want more kids with me?"

"Chris," she croaks.

"Don't get upset. Answer me before you get worked up. Please?"

She sniffs, grasping my right wrist with her left hand.

"Will you have my children?"

Swallowing, she nods.

"You know I would," she stutters.

"We never got a private moment when you were pregnant before," I remind her.

"I know," she breathes out the words and her eyes focus on my shoulder, trying to keep it together.

"I wanted us to have just us when I asked you to have my baby this time."

Her dark chocolate eyes snap back to mine.

I grin.

"Chris?"

"I'm thinking we should name her Maxine, after your mother."

"But you said I'm not pregnant," she whispers.

My grin grows to a smile.

"Though, we could have a boy." I purse my lips. "Fuck it. Max works for a boy."

"Christopher Mason," she scolds, slapping my arm. "Quit fucking around with me!"

"I didn't say you weren't pregnant," I clarify.

"You implied it," she argues.

"Hmm, not really," I state.

"You asked me to have your children. That implies I'm not currently—"

"It does no such thing, baby." I shake my head, unable to wipe the smile off my face. "I asked you to have my children."

She opens her mouth to argue, but I place a finger over her lips.

"Obviously, we have a gorgeous daughter already, then we have this little one on the way." I place my free hand on her stomach.

Her eyes widen and tears instantly form.

"But what I meant is my future kids, as well."

"Future children?" she asks shakily.

"Yeah, I'm thinking about three or four." I nod. "You down for that, Mia?"

"Three or four?" she chokes out with a laugh.

Smiling down at her beautiful, shock-filled face, everything clicks inside.

"Baby, we don't have to have three or four kids. I just want whatever you will give me. Mia, everything you've given me has been such a fucking gift—your compassion when I treated you like shit, love when I gave you every reason to hate me, and a fucking angel made from that love. It may have taken me an awful fucking long time to catch up with what my heart already knew, but I'm there, baby. Why the fuck it took so long? Well, you know me." I shrug. "Sometimes I can't accept when amazingly good shit happens to me, and, angel, you are the best fucking thing to happen in my life."

"Chris—"

Reaching out, I grab the back of her head and pull her face to mine.

"What do you say, Mrs. Mason?"

"I do, Mr. Mason."

My lips crash to hers as the first beats of our wedding song begin and the DJ announces us to the guests.

Breaking away from each other, I take her hand and lead her to the patio acting as a dance floor for the night.

As I pull her into my arms, she asks, "What's this song?"

"It's for you, angel," I answer. "There are no words, yet."

The sounds of Jackson, Elliott, and Jimmy playing the song I wrote for Mia fill the air around us.

"We don't need words," she sighs, pressing her mouth up to mine.

Sliding my hands down her back, I pull back from the kiss.

Grabbing her hand, I swing her away from my body, spin, and bring her back to me.

I curl her into my chest, and dip my mouth to her ear.

"You just had to get a backless dress that almost shows your ass, didn't you?"

I nip at her lobe.

"Just for you, baby," she whispers, and licks my neck.

End

Other Books by Sadie Grubor

Falling Stars Series

Falling Stars

Stellar Evolution (a Falling Stars novella)

Hidden in the Stars (a Falling Stars novel) book 2

Stellar Collision (a Falling Stars novella)

Snare (a Falling Stars novel) book 3

Modern Arrangements Trilogy

Save the Date

Here Comes the Bride

Happily Ever Addendum

Terms and Conditions

Stand Alones:

Live-In-Position

All Grown Up

VEGAS follows you home

About the Author

To keep up to date on upcoming releases, sneak peeks, cover reveals, and inspirational music & images you can find Sadie Grubor on Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads, and her website.

Amazon Author Page: Sadie Grubor

Facebook: www.facebook.com/authorsadiegrubor

Goodreads: Sadie Grubor

Website: www.sadiegrubor.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/SadieGrubor

You can also find me on Authorgraph.

About the Editor

It has been my pleasure to work with Monica, and I look forward to working with her in the future. She already knows all the crazy I have planned for her.

THANK YOU MONICA!!!

This is where you can find her, but she's really, really, really, really, really, busy, so she can't…. OKAY, perhaps I'm being a bit selfish. I'll still be pouty about it, just saying!

Monica Black – Freelance Editor

www.facebook.com/wordnerdediting

www.wordnerdediting.com

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Hidden in the Stars

Chapter One Jackson Shaw

Chapter Two Jackson

Chapter Three Jackson

Chapter Four Jackson

Chapter Five Liza

Chapter Six Liza

Chapter Seven Liza

Chapter Eight Jackson

Chapter Nine Jackson

Chapter Ten Jackson

Chapter Eleven Jackson

Chapter Twelve Jackson

Chapter Thirteen Liza

Chapter Fourteen Liza

Chapter Fifteen Liza

Chapter Sixteen Jackson

Chapter Seventeen Liza

Chapter Eighteen Jackson

Chapter Nineteen Eliza

Chapter Twenty Eliza

Chapter Twenty-One Jackson

Chapter Twenty-Two Liza

Chapter Twenty-Three Jackson

Stellar Collision

Collision (A Falling Stars novella) book 2.5 Sadie Grubor ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Copyright 2015 Sadie Grubor Cover Art by VST This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any existing means without written permission from the publisher. Contact Author at sadiegrubor@ live.com. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. Dedication: This story is for those who couldn't wait to get more of Chris & Mia. This is for YOU. That's right— it's for you, the person reading this. Your dedication to this series, this cast of characters, both excites and makes me nervous. When I started Chris' journey, I never planned to go further with the group. But you loved them so much, it brought the characters into their own light. Thank you for giving that to me. Thank You! Special Thanks: I need to thank my family and friends who support my crazy aspiration to write these stories. A special thank you goes out to my husband and kids for letting me disappear into my imaginary worlds. To my mother, thanks for always supporting me. To my BETA team, thank you for the ego boosts and humbling moments you provide. Also, I want to mention each of them jumped on board for a cameo in this novella and the upcoming book. You are all so awesome! Thank you, Kara, Leeann, Marie, Bronwyn, Stephanie, Tracey, Michelle, Ruth, & Pam. Monica, girl, you make me sound so much better than I do in real life! You Mo'Nica fo'life shorty!  HUGE shout outs to: Kim Ginsberg, your hawk eye and constant support astound me. Elaine Marie, you are so kind, supportive, and selfless. I want to be like you when I grow up. Heather Moss, you amaze me with your willingness to support my work. I heart you, my margarita soul mate. Danielle Piccin, my dearest warrior princess, you are such a strong woman. Thank you for being a friend. Teresa Coleman, I still don't know what I did to deserve such a loyal reader and friend, but I'm thankful I have ya. Lisa Figliolino, by far, I think you are my truest ride or die chic! Rock On, girl! Blurb Christopher Mason got more than he dared to believe he deserved: the perfect woman, a love deeper than the emotional scars he carries, and a family. But, in true Chris fashion, the greedy asshole wants more. He won't settle for anything less than a legally binding, last-name-changing event— one that can't take place soon enough. What he isn't ready for is a discovery that will take him back to a dark place, one he refuses to repeat, but sometimes we find our largest revelations hiding in our darkest fears. Mia and Hush are at the top of their game in the rock world. Deemed the current Queen of Rock, Mia is feeling the pressure as well as the love from the industry. She's also not happy with the lengths Chris has gone to for their wedding, but her love for the big asshole and his unwavering devotion to her is greater than her frustration. Then, a realization puts the two of them on opposite sides and Mia worries this is the one thing their love won't be able to overcome. For the first time, Mia's own fears and emotional turmoil might outweigh Christopher's. You're cordially invited as Christopher lays his final claim. Chapter

Chapter One Christopher Mason

Chapter Two Christopher

Chapter Three Christopher

Chapter Four Mia

Chapter Five Christopher

Chapter Six Mia

Chapter Seven Christopher

Chapter Eight Christopher

Chapter Nine Mia

Chapter Ten Mia

Chapter Eleven Christopher

Chapter Twelve Mia

Chapter Thirteen Christopher