Janet stopped and her gaze swept over to me. “So I gave him five hundred dollars and I let him go. The rest is history.” When she finished, there was a smile on her face. Covert but real. A smile of love and adoration that I could feel wrap around my thundering heart and whisper a soft lullaby.
“My son is very lucky,” Janet said. “With everything that happened to him after the accident…” Her voice faltered. “Not everyone has the guts to do what he’s done. Pick himself up and move on with his life. Not after the kind of pain and suffering he’s been through.”
I held the oxygen in my lungs because I was scared my breath would disturb the fine balance between us.
“The only things he never had luck with were women and dating.” She shook her head. “My Frankie never knew how to choose them. I always told him to find a nice girl and he always went for the most scandalous and most unavailable. Imagine my shock when he told me he’d met someone who wasn’t another celebrity.”
A flutter filled my stomach.
“I’m aware of your arrangement with my son”—Janet moved closer—“and I appreciate you honoring his condition. He can’t go through another round of public relationships after everything that happened between him and his ex-wife.”
At that moment, I wondered if Janet knew about Dante, but my tongue remained idle. I didn’t want to open Pandora’s box by bringing it up.
“He looks so happy when he’s with you,” she whispered. “There’s a calmness in you, child. You balance him out. That’s exactly what he needs.”
Blush hit my cheeks. “Thank you.”
We chatted for a little while longer, until another wave of exhaustion finally swept me under. I returned to the bedroom and curled up next to Frank. With my eyes closed, I listened to him breathe. I listened to every inhale and exhale carefully. I waited for a sound that would tell me he wasn’t okay, but it never came. The stress lines on his face were gone and pink colored his cheeks.
“I know you can’t hear me right now,” I mouthed as my gaze followed a stray ray of light dancing across his forehead. “But I love you.”
I wasn’t sure why I said it, but I was sure I felt it.
I’d loved him even before I knew him. I’d fallen in love with his voice and his music years ago. I hadn’t stopped loving him since.
It was the soft rustle of the sheets and a hushed voice coming from the bathroom that woke me up. The voice belonged to Frank. I cracked my eyes open and scanned the room. The IV still loomed over the bed, but the bag was empty and it didn’t look as if the nurse had visited while I was asleep.
My phone sat on the nightstand and force of habit made me grab it. It was almost noon. Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram raged. BuzzFeed’s front page had a photo of Frank from last night’s performance at the Forum.
“Hall Affinity’s First Post-Hiatus Show: Can Frankie Blade Pull It Off Or Should He Go Back To Being History?”
Resentment boiled in my chest. I knew there was no way around bad publicity. Not for a person like Frank, but emotions still swelled. Mad at the entire world, I tossed the phone aside and sat up.
“I suggest you don’t go online today if you want to stay sane.” Frank’s distorted voice drifted at me from the bathroom.
My eyes shot up to where he stood in the doorway. Shirtless. His broad chest and defined abs on display. A toothbrush stuck out from the corner of his mouth. There was a small splotch of blue and purple on his right side from yesterday’s fall.
“I know. It’s a stupid habit,” I confessed as he resumed brushing his teeth. “Were you talking to yourself?” I slid from the bed and walked over to the bathroom. There, on the counter, sat his phone.
“Yeah.” He laughed a little. “I was giving myself a pep talk.”
“I can give you one.” I inched closer and positioned myself behind him. My fingers skimmed over his bruise as I wrapped my arms around his body.
“I’m listening.” He pulled the toothbrush out and spit in the sink.
“You’re going to do great tonight,” I whispered against his back as he went on with rinsing. “You look good. Rested.”
“We’re making a few adjustments to the set. The guys are going to be here soon. I should get ready.” He patted my hand locked on his stomach.
“Were you really giving yourself a pep talk?” I asked as we returned to the bedroom. My mind couldn’t conjure an image of Frank standing in front of the mirror and talking himself up.
“No.” He shook his head and moved to the closet. “It was my lawyer.”
There was something ominous about that statement. I couldn’t think of a reason for him to need a lawyer after last night, and I didn’t press for more. He had a busy day ahead of him and I didn’t want to be in the way.
Frank must have felt my anxiety. “Doll”—he turned to me and his features softened—“I’m not ignoring you. I just need to get through today and tomorrow.”
“Of course. Pretend I’m not here for the next two days.”
“That, I can’t do.” He marched over to me and dipped his head to grab a kiss. “I need you here. Things are going to be very messy for the next forty-eight hours, and if I do or say something out of left field, don’t hold it against me, okay?”
His hands slid to my waist and he drew me closer. Chest to chest, our bodies connected and then his mouth was on mine again. An incredible rush of adrenaline washed over me, and my blood thickened from the blend of desire and other emotions.
We checked out for a long moment. It was a perfect kiss, an explosive mix of tender and wild. A volcano of sensations. And it wasn’t enough. I wanted this—the feel of his lips against mine and the sound of his moans swallowing my breaths—to go on until the end of days. Until we both turned to dust and floated together in the cool California wind. Ashes to ashes.
Dante, Carter, and Johnny showed up right after breakfast. Or at least, it was breakfast for us. Rock stars and their girlfriends didn’t follow the typical nine-to-five routine. Late nights always resulted in missed mornings.
Brooklyn and Corey were in the office on a conference call with Jay Brodie PR. Billy and Janet kept their distance while Frank took care of business. I was left in the kitchen alone. My phone sat next to me, and the itch to go online was too strong. I had to. I wanted to know what Shayne had written about last night’s show. I couldn’t define the feeling within me very well as I read through her review on Rewired. Not until I hit the middle of the article anyway. Jealousy. That’s what it was. She was good at weaving her words. The recap was a compelling read, with a bit of a personal touch that wasn’t overdone. In some instances, I was certain she’d mimicked my style and it actually pleased me that someone had found my writing worth imitating.
I skimmed through the text until the end, and that’s when the article took a sharp turn. I reread the last paragraph a few times to make sure I didn’t miss anything, and the tone was exactly what Shayne had intended it to be…speculative.
Then I called Levi.
Frank was in the studio and couldn’t possibly hear me raging over the phone, which was precisely what I was about to do.