“So . . .” she began just as the zipper passed her waist. “You looked a little angry out there. I thought you might need someone to cheer you up.”
The guys wouldn’t think. They’d finish tearing off the jacket for her and take her against the wall.
But I wasn’t them. And Libby was out there with my goddamn heart.
“You thought wrong,” I responded, my tone practically a snarl.
She tilted her head as she shrugged the jacket off one shoulder . . . and then the other. Her lips twisted into a sensual pout. “Are you sure about that?”
I jerked my head toward the door behind her. “You can leave, or I can make you.”
Her pout turned into a hungry grin as she moved deeper into the room. “I won’t say anything to the press.”
My teeth gnashed so hard it made my jaw ache. I closed the distance between us, ignoring the hopeful look that lit her eyes just before I snatched her arm and dragged her back the way she’d come.
Yanking open the door, I forced her out of the room. “You aren’t gonna say anything because there’s nothing to talk—” I sucked in a sharp breath when I saw the group of people lining the hall just outside the door. Oxygen filled my lungs for what felt like the first time since we’d begun our set . . . only for the air to rush out just as quickly. “Where is she?”
The girl I’d just shoved out of the room looked from the group to me, her face set in frustration and embarrassment as she pulled her jacket over her shoulders and stomped down the hall.
I looked back at the group of people. Some I’d grown up with, others had come to town a handful of years before I moved away. There was a girl I’d never seen tucked close to Libby’s brother, Dare. At the moment, I didn’t care to meet her. She wasn’t the girl I wanted to see.
“Where is she?” I demanded again when no one said anything.
Dare exhaled slowly and scowled at me. Tipping his head to gesture down the hall, he said, “Well, it looks like you’re doing just fine.”
I laughed in frustration. “Nothing happened. But I need to know what is happening with Libby. She’s been ghosting me since I told her about this tour. And then . . .” I flung my hand out like Libby was standing there. “Shit, I don’t know.”
Libby’s best friend snorted but didn’t look up from where she was tapping on her phone. “I was hoping you’d realize by now how badly you fucked up, but apparently you’re too stupid. Bummer. I’ve rooted for you from the beginning.”
“How did I fuck up?” I asked incredulously. “I just got here.”
Einstein glanced at me before looking back at her phone and pushing from the wall she’d been leaning against. “Exactly.”
My hands curled into fists when she and two of the guys walked away, leaving me alone with Dare and his girl.
“I’m Dare’s wife, Lily,” she said after an uncomfortable silence.
I blew out a pent-up breath and raked my hands through my hair. “That’s nice.”
“Watch it,” Dare growled at me.
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” she continued as if we hadn’t said anything.
I sent a glare in her direction to find her staring at me like she was trying to figure me out. She wasn’t looking at me like she wanted to unzip my pants and suck my dick like so many women did—even with their guys clinging to them. She simply looked at me curiously as she burrowed deeper into Dare’s side.
It was a welcome change.
I cleared my throat and said, “The media lies.”
She pointed to Dare and clarified, “I’ve heard a lot about you from this one and the others. But none of them said you were such an asshole.” The words were said so smoothly they caught me off guard.
I don’t think I’d ever been called an asshole in my life.
A breath of a laugh rasped from my throat. “Yeah, well, you caught me on a bad night. A long time ago I ripped out my heart and left it with a girl. And now she’s refusing to talk to me.”
“For all your talk about what my sister means to you, you’re all over the news for your relationships with other women,” Dare taunted.
“The media lies,” I repeated. “Not that I claim to be a saint when I’m gone . . . but do you think your sister is either?”
“Not something I want to think about.”
“I’ve begged her to come to California with me from the beginning, and she’s refused. And every time I’m here, she makes it clear she won’t be leaving with me or be waiting for me the next time I come back.” I leaned against the doorjamb and crossed my arms over my chest. “She always was until tonight.”
Dare was shaking his head slowly, almost like he didn’t realize he was doing it. “You really don’t get it, do you? You fucking ruined her.”
I already had an idea how mad she was. But hearing that sent a punch to my gut—and I still didn’t have a clue what I’d done.
He pushed away from the wall, taking Lily with him. “For the record, I’ve never rooted for the two of you.”
One of my eyebrows ticked up. “Not a secret.”
“I like you, Maxon. Always have. I just don’t like you for my sister,” he said unapologetically.
It was how he’d talked since we were kids.
Straight and to the point.
No bullshit.
No shame.
“I didn’t know Henley would turn into what it has, and I’m happy for you. But I knew even if you guys never hit it big, you’d try to go somewhere . . . and that still would’ve led you down a road surrounded by drugs and other shit I didn’t want her around.”
I let out a heavy breath when he turned to leave. “You should’ve known I’d never let her near that.” When he looked back at me, I explained, “The guys go to parties and clubs constantly, and maybe drag me to a bar a couple times a month. Most of my time is spent at the house when we’re not busy. Ask your sister. She gets off work around the time our shows end or we finish practicing. Half my nights were spent talking to her before this tour.”
Dare huffed. “Not what I meant. You think you could’ve kept Libby from that life?”
Libby was impulsive and wild and free in everything. The way she thought. The way she lived. The way she loved.
If you told her not to do something, she’d do it just to show you that you couldn’t stop her.
She was my rebel.
But she craved the way my calm clashed with her wild, and she came to me to escape the world.
Libby ran to me when she needed space from her family. I was the one she ran to when she needed peace injected in her life . . . like she knew I had the ability to keep her tied to earth.
“I would’ve never let her near that shit,” I repeated slowly, coldly.
With a slight nod, they left, and I stood there wondering what the hell I was going to do.
When the show ended, I’d wanted to stalk over to the bar and pull Libby away from it and out of The Jack until we were far from people and she had to talk to me.
Now that I’d had a chance to calm down somewhat, I knew what was needed.
Patience.
And, Jesus . . . if anyone could be patient, it was me.
I’d waited most of my life to make her mine.
Libby
MY HEART STUTTERED AND MY feet faltered when I turned and found Maxon sitting on the stool in front of me. Light brown eyes locked with mine, jaw clenched tight, hands fisted on top of the bar. The look in his eyes was so primal I thought he’d pull me onto the bar and have his way with me.
My belly swirled with heat and my heart twisted and splintered a little more.
I wanted to ask one of the other bartenders to take this customer, but they were slammed. And even though I didn’t want to see Maxon, I wasn’t that sort of girl.
I didn’t hide from men. Not even Maxon James. I just . . . maybe didn’t have to speak to him.
I poured him two fingers of whiskey and slammed the tumbler onto the bar top with more force than ne
cessary before moving on to the guys in the far corner.
And for the next two hours, it continued like that.
Maxon never moved or took his eyes from me. Even when people came up to him and asked for his autograph or a picture, those eyes the same color as his whiskey stayed hooked on me.
And I failed at ignoring him.
His presence was overwhelming despite the crowded bar.
He made it hard to breathe. He made it hard to concentrate. He made it hard to remember why I hated him, when all I wanted was to fall into his arms and tell him how much I’d missed him.
But then my eyes would burn with tears when another girl wearing next-to-nothing would try to climb into his lap. Even if he ignored them or pushed them away, it was those moments I remembered exactly why I hated him.
Fuck you, Maxon.
But even when the other members of Henley left for parties and The Jack thinned to its normal numbers, he never moved from his seat. And that overwhelming presence became suffocating.
“Head out, Libby.”
I froze, my horrified gaze sliding to Zeke, the owner of the bar. “I’m fine,” I said, silently begging him to take back those words.
He nodded to where Maxon sat behind me. “I know you’ve got somewhere to be. Now get out of here.”
“I’m really fine.”
He gave me a look like he was doing me a favor when it was the furthest from it. “I’m not asking. We can handle closing tonight. Go . . . hit the town. Or whatever you kids do.”
“Stop talking like you’re ancient,” I said as I ducked under the bar to grab my things from the cabinet.
Zeke was forty, not seventy. On more than one occasion over the years, I’d tried to pass the time in his bed.
But not only did he have a huge problem with casual hookups in the workplace, he was also not into casual. If he had a woman in his bed, she belonged to him. So, in Zeke’s mind, I belonged to Maxon James. Hard to argue that when he’d been there for every messy part of our twisted affair.
It was better this way. I typically only slept with men I would never see again.
I couldn’t exactly avoid my boss.
Once I had my bag in hand, I stood and stormed out from around the bar, never looking in Maxon’s direction as I stepped out of The Jack and headed to the side parking lot.
“What now?”
I stumbled to a halt and sucked in a sharp breath, a shiver rolling down my spine at the sound of his voice so close to my ear.
Unable to stop myself, I looked up and found him standing right beside me. Eyes furious and face unbelievably handsome.
Before I could take another step, he grabbed my arm and hauled me back so I was pressed up against the building and he was caging me against it. “We’re talking.”
I licked my lips, my heart racing having this body so close to mine. “Who said I wanted to?”
“I want to. What the fuck is going on, Libby?”
“What’s going on is you’re stopping me from going home.”
He pressed closer and dropped his forehead to mine, his words all growl and carnal sin. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. You’re ghosting me, and I need to know why.”
I pressed my hand to his stomach to push him away . . . but my body betrayed me. My fingers slowly fisted in his shirt, blasting me with memory after memory of skating my fingertips along the defined muscles of his abdomen.
“Libby . . .”
My knees shook at the plea in his voice.
“I told you,” I began, my voice nothing more than a whisper. “I told you that you would come back and I wouldn’t be waiting for you.”
“You’ve said that for nine years.”
“And I’ve meant it,” I said through clenched teeth.
He huffed, the sound between a laugh and a sneer. “Could’ve fooled me.” He pushed away from the wall and took a few steps away before quickly eating up the distance between us again. “Every time I’ve come back we’ve picked up where we left off. Every time.”
“So, in your head that means I’ve been here, doing what . . . ? Pining after you like some naïve girl? Dreaming we would be together in the end?” I asked, trying to hide the waver in my voice as I confessed realities and fantasies I wished weren’t true. I sidestepped him when he reached for me and held up a hand to stop him from trying again. “No. You’ve had your disgusting groupies—”
“Groupies?” he asked in a lethal tone.
“—and I’ve had men keeping my bed warm.”
He grabbed my outstretched hand and pulled me to him, his head dipping so we were eye level. “You and I both know I would never go near a groupie just like we both know nothing can change the fact that you’re mine.”
I stared into his fierce, pleading eyes for a few moments, a sad smile pulling at my lips. “Now who’s naïve?” When his hand tightened around mine, I said, “You think I’m yours, but you’re never here. You’ve always expected me to leave with you, but this is where I want to be.”
“Where you want to be?” he asked with a disbelieving laugh. “You’ve always told me that you wanted to get away from your family . . . and then when I gave you chance after chance, you told me you couldn’t leave them.”
“Just because I didn’t want any part of them doesn’t mean I can leave them or want to.”
He dropped my hand to rake his through his hair. “Do you hear yourself, Libby?”
“You didn’t have a family. You don’t understand.” As soon as the words left my lips, I wished I could take them back.
Maxon stood there, fingers locked at the back of his neck, staring at me with an unreadable, shattering expression.
“I have a family,” he finally said. “I have the guys. And I always had you . . . until now.”
Maxon and Lincoln, the lead guitarist of Henley, were in the same foster home from a young age. One that, around the time they aged out, was investigated for parental physical and drug abuse.
They spent most of their lives away from that house, both forming the band with the other two members . . . and Maxon with me.
He’d been there through everything. My dad being murdered. Trying to resist what my family was . . . even if Maxon wasn’t allowed to know the extent of it or our dynamic. But he’d been there.
My silent support.
First crush. Kiss. Love. Everything.
He was supposed to be the last.
And then he left.
“Maxon, I’m sorry,” I whispered when he started walking away. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Why are you here, Libby?” he asked suddenly, then turned to face me. Gesturing at the building behind me, he laughed sadly. “You said you always meant it. So, if you weren’t waiting for me, why’d you start working at The Jack when I left? Why are you still here?”
I bit back my automatic response and shook my head.
As far as everyone knew, it was another way to rebel against my family—against what we were. But Maxon would see right through that.
“You hated the bar scene,” he continued. “But you were there for every show. I left, and two weeks later, you were working here. So, what was it? Did you want to find another bassist who played here? Maybe a frontman?”
“Oh, fuck you.”
He flung his arms out to his sides. “Give me something, Libby. I’ve been going out of my fucking mind the last six months. I’ve been on edge and picking fights with anyone and everyone. And now it feels like I can’t breathe because you’re taking my goddamn heart and slowly crushing it.”
“I’m crushing your heart?” I asked, the words sounding strangled. I nodded quickly. “Right . . . right. Okay, you wanna know why I’m here? I’m here because I gave some asshole my virginity on the stage of that bar after a show. I’m here because my heart was brutally torn from my chest in the back room when that same jerk told me he was leaving when he was still inside me. And I wanted to be surrounded by those memories so I’d never forget you. I wante
d every high and every low. And then you fucking destroyed me.”
Maxon looked lost. His arms hung limply. “Destroyed you . . .”
“But I’m done,” I said through the tightening of my throat. “The Jack has become my home away from home. And those highs and lows are now just memories that will haunt me in my home. For so long, I told myself I wouldn’t wait for you. But now I really am done. I can’t do this anymore, Maxon. Not when it feels like this. I won’t keep waiting for you to come back and stay here when I know you never will. I want someone who wants to stay with me. Who wants to settle down and start a family with me.”
“Settle—fam—Libby. You never wanted to settle down,” he stammered, his face ashen. “You never wanted a family. You refused to be tied down.”
“Things change,” I cried out. “I’m thirty-one, Maxon . . . I’m allowed to want something more than this.”
“Then you should’ve told me,” he yelled, hitting his chest. “I’ve wanted to give you that for as long as I can remember. I’ve told you I’d give you that one day.”
“You wanted to give me that,” I whispered. “You wanted to give me that before you became the biggest secret the world wanted to reveal.”
“Nothing has changed,” he said earnestly, even though everything had.
He wasn’t my Maxon anymore. He wasn’t the boy who wrote songs about me while I lay with my head in his lap, and then sang them in my ear while slowly undressing me.
He was Maxon James: America’s mysterious rock star. He had people crawling over each other for a chance to unravel a piece of the silent, solemn Henley in the group of wild bad boys.
I thought they’d never be able to. I was wrong.
“I promised myself that I would stop waiting for you when I turned thirty,” I said, my voice trembling. “Thirty came and went, and yet I still waited for the nights when you’d call. And then—” A sob wrenched from my chest. “How can you tell me you’re coming back for me? How can you stand here demanding to know what happened like you didn’t wreck me?”