That’s a welcome sight.
At first, a smile curves my lips, but as I get closer, my pace slows and my Spidey senses tingle.
He’s not himself.
Jackson stares at his shoes.
When he finally looks up at me, his eyes are dark. That twinkle that I’m used to has vanished. “Got a minute?”
My gut churns. An anchor drops in my chest. “Sure.”
The backup stays outside, asks no questions.
“Come in,” I say to Jackson, sweeping a hand wide to invite him into my suite. It’s a gesture I’ve made many times before with him, usually playfully.
Nothing is fun right now. I can read his energy. I can sense his mood as he follows me in and I shut the door. It’s upside down, inside out. It’s all wrong. “Are you okay?”
He takes a minute to answer. “I am. But I’m also not.”
“Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on,” I say. Even though I know this is about us, I care about him and every instinct tells me to be here for him.
Jackson drags a hand across the back of his neck. “Listen . . .”
That one word is like a chair leg scratching across the floor. Like a doorbell signaling bad news is coming my way. He runs his hand through his hair. “I had lunch with Ryan. He got the job.”
“That’s great,” I say, but I doubt he’s here because of Ryan’s employment.
“I’m proud of him,” Jackson continues. “He’s done everything I wanted to help him with. It’s gratifying to see him as this upstanding young man.”
Jackson winces, like those last words taste bitter. His lips curl. His eyes go dark. “I want to be the kind of man he is. I want to be a man you can trust. A man of his word. A man of honor.” He lifts his chin and locks eyes with me. His are etched with sadness, but self-loathing too, and that guts me. “I can’t be that man if I’m sneaking around with you.”
The anvil drops.
Crash.
It lands on my heart.
I knew it was coming, but it hurts like hell.
“And that’s what we’re doing, Stone.” His voice is hurt, but resolute too. He paces back and forth. “I’m lying about this to the world, and I can’t be that person. There’s a reason we can’t be together in public.” He stops, turns, and meets my eyes. “And it has nothing to do with us being two guys. It has to do with the fact that this is my job—to protect you.” He moves closer, setting his hands on my shoulders. His voice goes softer. “And I can’t do my job properly with the way I feel for you. You’re not supposed to fall for the person you’re protecting—it compromises you. I’m so damn compromised by how I feel.”
For a split second, my heart rejoices. It sings loud and strong to the back of an amphitheater with that glorious verb—fall.
I fell for you too, I want to shout.
But the joy is short-lived, because it’s over between us.
My bones are lead. My insides are tar. This is the end of the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.
I want to fight him on this. To say we can make it work, that he can be my boyfriend instead. To tell him to say screw the job and that I’ll take care of him and love him and give him everything he needs.
But he’d never stand for that.
He’s his own man, and that’s one of a million reasons why I’ve fallen for him.
I’ve fallen for him because he cares deeply about the people he loves.
I want to be that person for him, but I can’t fire him so he can be my boyfriend. Then I’d be a liar. And a selfish liar at that.
He loves this job. He needs this job.
I can’t fix this problem with music or money or a wish. I can’t do a single thing except show the man I love that I respect his choice.
I purse my lips and search for the strength to do the right thing, but it’s hard. It’s like ripping off a limb. I don’t want to say goodbye, but I have to so he can be the man he needs to be.
That means I have to give the performance of a lifetime right now.
“You’re right,” I say, as evenly as I can manage. “We can’t be together in public if you work for me. It’s against your code.”
Jackson breathes what looks like a sigh of relief. “It is against my code. Thank you for understanding that.”
That’s what this issue comes down to. This isn’t about job contracts or employment rules that we could bend because the employer—me—doesn’t care.
His decision comes from something bigger. From honor and duty.
From respect.
From identity.
Jackson Pearce wants to be a man who leads by example. One who follows the rules. Who supports his friends, who does the right thing, and who helps other guys become better men. A man who shines with honesty.
That’s his personal code.
I understand codes. I have my own, and I leaned on mine today with my dad.
I’m the kind of man who tells his father to back off his brother.
Jackson’s the kind of man who doesn’t screw his employer and ignore the consequences.
If I could fix this situation for my man, I would.
But Jackson always had more to lose than I did.
I get to live in a rock-star bubble. I reside in a land of Grammys and riches and music and fame.
The only thing I’ve lacked is love.
Ironic, since I never knew I was missing it until now. I never knew I wanted it. And now I want it more than anything in the world.
And I’m losing that epic, soul-searing, write-a-song-about-it-and-sing-it-to-the-world kind of love.
The love I felt last night with him.
The love I’m going to miss like hell.
My chest aches in a whole new way, like someone has excavated my insides, shoveled out my organs, and left me with a gaping, raw hole.
That hurts so damn much.
“You’re right. We should stop,” I say, forcing out the hardest words I’ve ever had to say.
He shrugs, his voice filled with potholes too. “We always planned to.”
“We always did.”
He draws a shaky breath. His eyes are miserable. I bet mine look that way too. “I guess this is it,” he says, and I can tell his voice is breaking too.
I have to do this. Have to be strong enough for both of us.
I lift my chin, find the guts, and act some more. “I guess it is. I’ll see you when your shift begins.”
As I show him out, I fight like hell not to kiss him goodbye at the door, not to touch him one more time, not to say a word.
I do what I know I have to do.
And because I love him so damn much . . .
I let him go.
32
Jackson
The concert that night is electric.
Stone jams hard in front of thousands of fans, belting out the tunes that have made him a legend.
He croons “Make It Last,” he sings “Bedroom Eyes,” and he plays the hell out of “Take Me as I Am.”
With Candi next to me, and my arms crossed over my chest, I watch every number from my spot in the wings. It’s my usual place, where I’ve been for the last several months as I’ve toured with Stone.
Before I joined his detail, this is what I did in my other jobs, working with actors in LA.