“Lean back on the bed and spread those gorgeous thighs nice and wide. I want pussy for breakfast,” I called.
When I opened the door, I expected to see a very compliant and very eager Crystal. The bed was empty.
“Crys?” I called, but I already knew. She was gone. Her clothes weren't strewn on the floor.
I saw the note.
Last night was amazing. Thank you. It was really great to see you. I have to go. Signing at two. Good luck with the tour. – Yours, C
“Shit,” I muttered, crumpling the paper in my fist.
Leave it to a fucking writer to leave a note. I should be angry, pissed at her. I wasn't. I loved her all the more. The way I felt right now with her gone, not knowing where she was, out there somewhere hurting. I felt like I'd been eviscerated with a fucking butter knife. I could only imagine what she felt, walking away from me, from us. Again. This time with no lies between us. She knew I loved her. She knew I’d walked away for her, and she’d agreed that it was the right choice for both of us.
But as I stared at the empty bed, I realized I’d made a huge fucking mistake. Colossal. I only talked about the past.
I loved her now, and I hadn’t told her. I’d been so busy drowning in her that I hadn’t said the words. I kissed her, and I fucked her, and I forgot to tell her what I wanted.
Her. Forever. A gold ring on her finger and her in my bed every night for the rest of my life.
Fuck this. I wasn't letting her get away. My band? Yeah, they'd been my life, but they could fucking deal. Crystal was my life now. Always had been, but I'd put my music first for long enough. I had money. Fame. I could take care of her now. It was time to put her first. It was time to live. Really live. And I couldn’t do that without her. I had to show her we could make this work. Following our dreams and having each other weren't mutually exclusive anymore. We weren't eighteen any longer. We weren't starving artists, or at the mercy of our miserable parents.
We could be whatever we wanted. We could do whatever we wanted. Together.
Dropping the towel, I went over to my phone and called the one person I knew could help me figure this out.
“Tia, I need your help.”
Chapter 9
Crystal
Vi’s hand was like a vice around my wrist but I couldn’t work up the energy to pull away. A sense of déjà vu flooded me as we walked into the crowded arena. Thousands of people were flooding the venue like a river of faces moving in a constant stream around me. Up the escalators. Down. Moving in solid streams through the corridors, everyone excited and smiling, laughing and happily standing in line to pay way too much for a t-shirt with Nightbird’s album cover plastered on the front and a list of tour cities on the back. Or Kit’s face.
That face. It hurt to see it on posters all around.
Everyone wanted a piece of him.
“What are we doing here? You said we were going out with some of your friends in the city.” We’d made these plans two weeks ago. This was Vi’s town, and she’d squealed when she saw the three-day end of the publicity tour. I was exhausted, mentally at least. And the more I tried to forget the last twenty-four hours, the more my body rebelled. I could still remember Kit inside me, kissing me, making me feel.
“Trust me.” Vi tugged and I stumbled forward into the masses, trying to blend in. Vi had insisted we dress up tonight. No jeans. I’d been expecting a dance club with loud music, lots of alcohol and no painful memories and dressed accordingly. A tight black miniskirt hugged every curve. My heels were too high, the black straps crisscrossed over my ankle in a sexy twist that made me feel like I wasn’t a total loss. My hair was down and I’d taken my time with my makeup, the armor I needed to hide my current misery from the rest of the world.
A little wine and dancing and maybe I'd forget Kit. But here? It wasn't going to happen. I might feel like shit, but at least I looked good.
I shook my head and let her pull me along behind her. I breathed a sigh of relief when we passed the security guard who admitted us into the backstage area last night. I did not need a repeat of the Kit Kaswell show. The man was burned into my soul already.
I didn’t know what Vi was up to, but I didn’t care much. I’d been walking around in a fog since I left Kit this morning. So, yes, I didn’t see a future for us. But that didn’t mean that fact didn’t hurt.
A loud booming rock song started in the main arena and Vi jumped, then walked twice as fast. “Come on! We’re going to miss it.”
“Miss what? Vi, I know you like this band, but one concert was enough.”
Would I be able to hear their songs on the radio without getting upset?