I take my time dragging the marker across her stomach, hoping I don’t fuck this up because it’s too important and I only have one shot to get it right.
Five minutes later, the word beautiful is etched on her skin…right where it belongs.
Drawing in a deep breath, I press the marker to her sternum.
The next words are a lot harder to write. Not because I don’t mean them, but because it will never undo what I did to her.
A few minutes later I’m sorry is inked on her flesh and the suffocating feeling turns to full-blown pain.
After my mom left, I vowed I’d never give another woman the power to destroy me.
But Lennon didn’t destroy me…I destroyed her.
Her hopes. Her dreams. The ability to trust and open her heart again.
It’s gone.
All the things my mother took from me, I took from her.
Chest full of lead, I walk around to the other side of the bed.
I knew Lennon was special, and we shared a connection I’ve never had with another person before, but I didn’t realize the full magnitude of what that meant until it was too late.
I’ve always been a selfish bastard, so I assumed the distress I was experiencing was due to missing all the things she did for me. Like the way she took care of me. Her unwavering belief in me. How she looked at me like I was something special, even though I was just a dumb kid living in a trailer park chasing a dream. How she made me strive to be better.
But while I did miss those things, I missed her more.
Her stubbornness. The way she’d get under my skin whenever we’d argue. Her passion. Her loyalty. Her smile. Her big brown eyes. Her sarcasm. Her voice. Her heart.
I told myself not to get attached. Tried to convince myself that she was just some chick with a crush, and she didn’t mean shit to me.
That stealing her song was okay, because it’s not like she was gonna do anything with it, and she should be thanking me for having the guts she didn’t and putting it out in the world.
But after she was out of my life…I wanted her back in it.
Because no matter how much fame or money I accumulated, every night before I closed my eyes, the sinking feeling in my chest would return and I’d hear her voice.
I thought it was guilt, but that was only part of it.
The other part was something I didn’t think I was capable of feeling for anything other than music.
But it was too late. I’d already chosen my path, and she’d moved on with some prick she met in college.
It made me angry and bitter, but not enough to forget her.
I run my fingertips down the length of her back, battling my visceral need to bury myself inside her.
Earlier, Lennon told me I was the sun, and I never needed anyone else to shine…but she was wrong.
The sun can’t shine when it gets too dark.
I drop a kiss to her shoulder blade. But the moon can.
Which is what Lennon is for me.
My only source of light when everything turns black.
Positioning the marker over her upper back, I proceed to write my last words where she’ll never see them.
I stare at her as I wait for the ink to dry. Once it does, I run my finger across the words I’ll never say…but the ones I’ll always feel for her.
After draping the blanket over her body, I get off the bed.
Lennon Michael is my biggest craving and my biggest regret.
And if I was a better man, I would have known what I had when I had it all those years ago.
If I was a better man, I never would have hurt her.
If I was a better man, I wouldn’t be losing her for a second time.
I’m almost out the door when I turn my head, giving her one last look.
I don’t deserve her, but I don’t want to let her go either.
I want to fight for her. For us.
I want to do what I should have done all those years ago and choose her.
That’s when it hits me that choosing her means giving her what she deserves.
The career.
The acknowledgment.
The truth.
Dragging a hand down my face, I amble back over to the bed. I know she can’t go on another tour because she has to take care of her dad, but I need her to be there for our first show tomorrow night.
I don’t give a fuck what I have to do to make it happen.
“Lennon.”
She doesn’t budge, so I give her a soft shake.
When that doesn’t work, I shake her harder and bark, “Get up.”
Her eyes pop open. “What happened?” Panic spreads across her face and she bolts up. “Did I miss my flight?”
“No. It’s only four a.m.”
Confusion spreads across her features. “Oh. Are you okay?”
“You need to go to Europe with me.”
She looks at me like I sprouted several heads. “You already know I can’t.”
“It’ll only be for five days.”
That does jack shit to tip the needle in my direction.
“No.”
Crossing my arms, I stare her down. “It wasn’t a request.”
I don’t care if I have to drag her on that plane kicking and screaming. She’s going.
Clutching the sheets to her chest, she scoffs. It’s clear she hasn’t spotted my handiwork yet. “You can’t order me to go to Europe.”
The fuck I can’t. “I just did.”
Visibly exasperated, she presses the heels of her hands to her eyes. “You knew the deal, Phoenix.”
Yeah, but I also know her stubbornness is no match for my fortitude.
Time is of the essence, though, so I pull out the big guns.
“If you don’t go, I’ll tell Vic and Chandler to put a stop payment on their checks.”
Her mouth drops open in shock before she glares hate fire at me. “What the fuck is your problem, asshole?”
“I don’t have one because you’re going to Europe. End of story.”
She pounds the mattress with her fist, and I revel in the way it makes her tits bounce. “Why?”
I don’t want to ruin my plans or lie to her, so I snap my jaw shut.
Glancing up at the ceiling, she shakes her head, laughing without humor. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Four days.”
Those baby browns narrow. “One.”
She’s adorable when she’s being difficult. Like a baby shark testing out their teeth for the first time.
“No one can go to Europe for one day, Groupie. The flight alone is over ten hours.” Leaning down, I cup her cheek. “Three.”
Despite my compromise, she swats my hand away. “No.” Sadness flickers in her eyes and she frowns. “I need to go home. I miss my dad.”
An uninvited spasm hits me square in the chest. I know she does. But I also know he’d want this for her.
I pull out the only thing I’ve got left in my arsenal.
“Three days and I’ll never bother you again. Promise.”
Expression softening, she searches my face, no doubt trying to decide if I’m being genuine or if I’m under the influence. “What’s going on?”
She’ll find out soon enough.
Knowing she won’t get anything out of me, she sighs. “Fine. But you better keep your promise.” She makes a face. “Actually, I can’t. My passport is at home.”