Goodbyes and Second Chances (The Bleu Series Book 1) (15 page)

The songs pulled
me in through the concert, and I just wanted to become part of it. And I felt
that way too, with the vivacious music dancing out of the sound system and
vibrating all through me. I was just as captured in the trance of the music as
the rest of the fans, with my eyes closed, when I was brought out of it
abruptly as the first chords of a song I had not heard in a while began rising
from Dillon’s guitar. My memory recalled it instantly, and I looked up to find
Dillon staring directly at me as he began singing Pearl Jam’s “Elderly Woman
behind the Counter in a Small Town.” I naively thought I was hidden from his
view, but he had found me. I thought about fleeing, but I was glued in my spot
as he sang my favorite song. Dillon sang lyrics about trying to remember an
acquaintance from the past after a long separation. The longing in his voice
had sent a despairing ache straight to my soul. I felt hopeless in the middle
of that concert arena.

I watched on as
Dillon signaled to someone from the side of the stage during the guitar break
and whisper something to them, before going back to singing. The next thing I
knew, a stagehand was by my side, handing me a backstage pass and trying to
escort me in that direction.

“Um. No thanks.
I just want to watch from here.” I tried to yell out to him over the music. I
looked back at Dillon. His head was bent to the microphone, serenading me with
his eyes still on me. He nodded his head at me in a beckoning manner, but I
chose to ignore it. He sang about time fading away and then returning. Saying
it had been too long. I thought over those lyrics, thinking how they were being
played out in reality right before me—a small-town boy stood before me as a
big-time man. He had changed by not changing at all. He was different, but
still felt so familiar.

I was captured
in Dillon’s gaze as he sang these meaningful lyrics. He was telling me he
missed me and my heart was aching, missing him too. As soon as I was in the
same vicinity of him, it was like I could breathe again. Why could something
that makes me feel so whole be deemed wrong? Why couldn’t I just simply love
this man freely and keep him uninhibited?

The stagehand
tapped me on my shoulder. Because I was so absorbed in the magnetism of Dillon
in that moment, I was not listening to him. “But ma’am, you’ve been requested
to accompany me backstage.”

I nodded my head
in agreement, trying to appease him. “I’ll head that way in a bit. Right now I
just want to enjoy the show.”

The big dude
leaned down. “Can I at least escort you to the front row?”

“No thanks,” I
yelled over the music again.

He stood by me
the rest of the concert, for what I don’t know. Dillon proceeded to play
through a Jillian’s favorite hits list it seemed the rest of the concert. The
very last one he played was just a solo acoustic performance of “My Jewel.” He
slightly changed the lyrics as he crooned and strummed his guitar quietly. I
may have been the only one to notice.

My Jewel, my life

You’re my night and you’re my day

You’ve always been with me

Even though that’s still too far away

You don’t see us the way I do

Such a treasure

Such a jewel

I want you now and I want you always

Just a little while, my love

Just a little while

I’ll give you just a little while…

I nearly came
undone in the middle of that packed arena until reality pushed its way back to
me abruptly, making my heart sink. Our lives were too different now. Dillon
didn’t deserve for me to interfere in his life. I knew I would only make a mess
of it. Before the stagehand could stop me, I bolted through the crowd and
headed for the exit. As I reached the door, I heard Dillon say in a husky voice
full of determination, “I’m a patient man, Jewels.” And I guess either he is,
or he’s finally moved on, because it’s been over five years since I ended
things abruptly that dreadful morning.

I made a lot of
bad choices in my young life and I’m not proud of it. I’ve asked God to forgive
me, time and time again. I know His words say that I need only ask once for it
to be granted, and our preacher backs that up in nearly every sermon. I know
it’s me. I need to forgive myself. I just don’t seem worthy enough. It all goes
right back to my poor white-trash roots constantly taunting me.
You’re not good enough…You’re nothing…

 
Sometimes I get really down on myself and wish
the past to be altered, but then the certainty hits that if it were, then
things could have turned out so differently. Dillon wouldn’t be the rock star
he was meant to be, and I’m pretty sure Kyle wouldn’t be a bigwig computer
programmer in Washington D.C. today. So I’ve not lived my dream of a writer,
but I’ve been blessed to see my loved ones’ dreams come true. Maybe, just
maybe, one day I can get back to pursuing my own dreams, but for now I’m
content just living this simple life with Will. I made a terrible mess in my
youth with Dillon. I’ve vowed to make a better life with Will. Our life
together is simple and good, without all of the emotional drama I’ve already endured.

I push my
attention back to the present as I click on the concert video. I just watched
this one last night, but I want to relive it again and try to decipher it some
more. I’ve been finding some pretty unique footage lately of the band.

Last month I
clicked on the London concert and was pretty surprised when the lights came up
and Dillon was behind the drums, rocking out while singing into a microphone
headset. The crowd went wild as he went to town on those drums while singing.
The man laid ownership to any instrument placed before him. He wore a tattered
hat backwards, I think to mostly help hide the microphone, but he looked so
youthful. He ended that concert brilliantly with a breathtaking a cappella
rendition of “Rise” by Eddie Vedder. As he climbed from behind the drums,
Dillon discarded the head microphone before pulling his hat back on the correct
way. He had masked his eyes completely under the rim of the hat, to my
disappointment. I’ve always been able to read him better if I can see his eyes.
Standing before the microphone stand, he placed his hands on top of it. Leaning
in, Dillon parted his lips and the words floated out of him in a velvety
melody. His deep voice echoed throughout the silent venue majestically, sending
a chill over me. The song spoke about moving forward and learning from
mistakes, instead of dwelling on them. He was singing about reassurance and
hope for the future. I could hear the rawness in his voice, full of emotion and
it caused my eyes to sting with tears. He was singing a message to someone who
desperately needed to hear it. I just didn’t figure out who that was until last
night.

I’m still not
certain why the message was needed, but now I’m eating up to know. A few weeks
back before the London show, at the Amsterdam concert, Dillon, Logan, and Max
sat perched on top of stools with the stage lights low. The performance was
intimate and subdued. They played an exclusively acoustic concert, serenading
the surprised crowd. The entertainment news was all over it, saying how the
guys’ change-ups were unique and refreshing.

To me, something
was off and last night I finally put my finger on it. This latest video was
footage of last week’s Ontario performance. This was the last stop on the
international tour. All the guys were running around the stage, playing all
kinds of instruments. At one point the stage held two grand pianos. One was a
dazzling blue and the other a gleaming black. Dillon claimed the blue with
Trace at the black, and the two set out in an impromptu battle of the piano,
causing the audience to go wild. They could have given Elton John a run for his
money with how they poured their magical talent out all over those keys. Later
the boys busted out banjos, a mandolin, and an accordion and went to town
Mumford and Sons style. Dillon declared the audience his favorite and had the
stagehands give out an overabundance of tour T-shirts. He then announced that
their next tickets would be half off. Of course the fans went crazy at this
point. By the last bow, Dillon was washed down in sweat and looked completely
spent on more than one level. A few close-ups gave away weariness in his eyes
that no one seemed to pick up on. I caught it though. He seemed to be
apologizing unnecessarily to the crowd, even though they roared the entire
concert with ample approval.

I watched the
footage over and that’s when I spotted the missing factor. Mave was absent in
nearly all the last concerts. I am always so busy watching Dillon that I rarely
pay the other guys any attention. This curious observation piqued my interest,
so I went farther back to other footage. Some concerts a few months ago, Mave
would play half the show before disappearing. He looked gaunt and pale. Then
Dillon would finish the show with a solo acoustic performance or play the drums
himself. Something was up with Mave, I just knew it. I searched the online
tabloids for any scoop, but they had nothing. I have no way of finding out, so
all I know to do for him is pray.

“You watching
those guys again?” Will asks as he strolls up to my desk, causing me to jump at
being caught.

I flip the
laptop screen shut before answering him. “You know I love their music. Can’t a
girl crush on a band?” I ask, and he shrugs his shoulders. “Well, don’t be
jealous. You’re my main man. Are you ready for our date?” I brush the hair off
his forehead and give him a kiss.

He nods and
pulls me to the door. We head out for a quick bite to eat before hitting the
movie theater. I like when we go to the movies. I always let Will pick the
movie. It’s a win-win. He watches whatever he wants and I can be left alone
with my thoughts and not have to be social. I feel guilty. This is supposed to
be Will-and-me time, yet I sit here and cannot stop thinking about Dillon. The
missing him and worrying about him is growing impatiently stronger, and I need
to figure out how to tamp it down.

Chapter
Thirteen

A week later finds me in the front
office with Jen. We are propped up at the check-in counter discussing the weekend
itinerary. She is sipping on her third coffee of the day and I am wondering how
she doesn’t get the shakes from all the caffeine she consumes. She is a pretty
perky person most of the time. If she starts with the shakes, I’ll just have to
cut her off.

I slide my gaze
out over the trailer park. From here you can see the pool, the main beach with
the big dock, most of the cabins, and the trailer section. The only thing out
of sight is the RV Park, which is just past a thinly wooded area. It’s sunny out,
and the pool and lake are glistening in an inviting manner. I’m thinking about
seeing if Will wants to picnic on the beach later in the day, when Jen speaks.

“I like Hudson’s
idea of a dock carnival. All we need are a few food vendors and an entertainment
group. It would be cool to shoot fireworks across the lake.” I cringe with this
suggestion. If she only knew the fireworks history around this place. “The cost
would be minimal and you can open the gates for day-pass guests,” she says.
She’s nodding her head encouragingly. Her eyes are bright with hope.

Here’s the thing
about Hudson. He’s really a great guy, and I still consider him a friend. He
doesn’t hold it against me when I get all riled up and go off on him. I think
he secretly enjoys pushing my buttons. The thing is this guy always has great
suggestions, too. The carnival idea is great and I’m all for it, if I can
figure out how to rein Miss Excited Pants in some.

“You’re not
thinking about the trailer park residents, Jen,” I say as I focus back on the
paperwork and shuffle through old itineraries for some ideas.

“Yes, I am,” she
says between sips of her latte. “They need some excitement. This place has been
right boring lately. We need to pizzazz things up a bit.” She’s still nodding
her head enthusiastically.

“I’m not crazy
about
pizazz
,” I say as I do a Google
search for some other ideas.

She rolls her
eyes. “I know this. You’re so boring.”

I roll my eyes
back at her. “No. I’m safe. There’s a difference.”

Jen shakes her
head in disagreement. “Boring,” she reiterates. “This place needs some shaking
up and you need some yourself.” She reaches over and gives me a playful shake.

“No. I have Will
and I need nothing shook up.”

She’s about to
go off on one of her over-caffeinated rants, so I hold my hand up to stop her.
That’s when we hear the loud, forceful rumble before seeing an electric-blue
Harley creep through the front gates. A man has just zoomed past the office and
is now heading straight over to my little cabin. My airway ceases to exist at
this very moment and panic sets in.

“Oh, dear Jesus.
Please. No. No.
No
,” I begin to pray
as I watch him ease off the beast of a bike and saunter right into my cabin
without hesitation. I think I may pass out!

“Hot dang!” Jen
shouts and slaps the counter in excitement. “Looks like pizazz just rolled on
up in the form of Dillon Bleu!” We continue to watch, and she lends commentary
as she is nearly bouncing up and down. “He just walked right up in your place
like he owns the joint. That’s so bold. And so sexy. Man, he’s smokin’ hot!”
She slaps the counter again and squeals again, “Hot dang!”

“Ugh. Really,
Jen?” I place my clammy hand on my fevered forehead and try to breathe.

She eyes me with
a smidgen of concern. “You okay? You’re all flushed.” Before I can answer, she
starts giggling. “This man has you all hot and bothered.”

“Shut up.” I
feel like I’m going to snap. We both look back and find him stalking across the
lot in our direction, as though he is on a mission. He’s wearing dark jeans and
shirt with a leather coat—tall, dark, and dangerous all the way. I’m in so much
trouble. He’s rubbing his hand through his hair from what looks like
frustration. He looks way too extraordinary to be sauntering around in a mere
trailer park. I jump off the stool and do a mad dash to my office. “Tell him
I’m out of town and it’s best he just leaves,” I whisper as though he can
already hear me. I ease into my office and lock the door behind me. I lean
against it and listen as my heart hammers away.

Moments later I
hear the door open and his velvety voice fills the silence. “Hello,” he says.
And I can just imagine Jen swooning like a lovesick teenager.

“Hi,” Jen says
out in a too-high-pitched voice. She giggles nervously. Oh boy. She’s star
struck.

“Tell Jillian
she has company.”

“Umm… She’s out
of town. A road trip… To go visit her brother. Sorry.” Jen is sputtering and
stuttering all over her words. She’s such a lousy liar. Of course Dillon is
going to call her out on it. I hold my breath and listen through the door.

“Sweetheart,
that woman’s baby is parked by her cabin. Now go tell her to get her fine butt
out here.”

“Umm….” She
pauses. “No. Wait. You can’t go in there!”

Then I hear the
doorknob come to life and nearly yelp. “Jewels, I know you’re in there. Either open
up or I’m going to break the door down.” The door continues to jiggle. “I’m not
playing games with you, pretty girl.” There’s a stern edge to his words.

And I know he’s
not going away, so I reluctantly open the door and look up into his stormy blue
eyes. I let out the breath I was painfully holding and tears follow suit. He
walks in and grabs me in a fierce hug and lifts me right off the ground.

“Hot dang!” I
hear Jen’s muffled squeal from being wrapped in his embrace. “That’s so hot!”
It’s the last thing I hear Jen say because Dillon kicks the door shut in her
face. I hear her laughing with excitement.

It all happens
at once and way too fast—kissing and grabbing at clothes and I know I’m in
trouble. Dillon is claiming my lips like a starved man. His jacket has hit the
floor and he is working at getting my shirt over my head when I come to my
senses.
What is wrong with me?

“Stop,” I say
sternly, trying to snap him out of his lustful fog. I try to wiggle free, but he
pulls me back to him. I try to push away again. “No, Dillon. We can’t do this.”

“Right,” he says
caveman style. “Cabin.” He grabs my hand and heads to the door, but I yank free
from him. He looks back at me with his dark brows furrowed in confusion.

“We can’t do
this.” I push him for good measure. “Just because I’m poor doesn’t mean I’m
cheap!” All of a sudden I’m angry and actually want to slap him.
What is wrong with me?

This seems to
snap him back to reality. He runs his hands over his face and takes a few deep
breaths before he replies. “I didn’t mean to insult you. Sorry. I just can’t
help it, Jewels. I missed you.” He looks remorseful and is still trying to
catch his breath.

“I’m sure you’ve
got plenty of groupies waiting to take care of you. Now I thinks it’s best you
leave.” I point towards the door, trying to set my mouth in a sneer. I’m
struggling to hold on to this mean-girl attitude. It’s slipping fast, and I
feel as though I’m close to melting in a puddle on the floor.

“The only woman
I’ve ever wanted has wasted too much of our time, trying to push me away. I’m
done with the waiting, Jewels. I’ve given you five years. My patience has run
out!” He stalks aggressively back towards me again. And dear me, he has me
swooped up and thrown me over his shoulder before I can blink. He storms out of
the office, carrying me over to my cabin before I can protest. Jen stands at
the door cheering him on. I think I need to fire her. “Woo-hoo!” I hear her
shout before he kicks this door shut too.

Dillon sits on
the small couch and places me in his lap. It’s not the bed, and that’s a good
sign. I hope I made my boundaries clear. I can’t afford to make any more
mistakes. And he is just too tempting.

We say nothing
for a very long time, trying to catch our breath and gather our thoughts. But
then it hits me all of a sudden—
Will
.
Will could come up at any minute and catch us together. I think I’m about to be
sick, so I bolt up out of his lap and run into the bathroom. I hear Dillon
mutter my name as I lock myself in. I ignore him to fish my cell phone out of
my pocket and speed-dial Leona.

She answers on
the second ring. “Dillon is here… Will,” I say.

“I can handle
that,” she says and I hang up. I’m not sure how she plans on doing that, but I
know she will, so I let out a sigh of some relief.

I ease back out
into the room and have a good look at him. He is just as beautiful of a man as
he ever has been. His black hair just touches his shoulders, and all I want to
do is run my hands through it. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him without
his signature blue streak. I walk closer to stand in front of him and continue
to look him over. That jawline is even more defined, and his face is so
chiseled with masculinity. I can only imagine how many walls this man’s poster
has been hung on. He’s drop-dead gorgeous and way too enticing. There’s a faint
scar on his chin that wasn’t there five years ago. I graze my thumb over it
with question. He doesn’t answer right away so I tap it gently and wait.

“A mob jumped me
in Sacramento after a concert and beat me within an inch of my life,” he says
somberly. I punch him in the arm at his poor joke.

His lips creep
slowly into a crooked grin. “You still hit like a girl.” He grabs hold of my
arm and cradles my palm to his chin. I can feel the texture of the scar on my
skin. “Max and Trace booby-trapped my dressing room door before a concert in
Sacramento. A bucket was supposed to swing out and dump water all over me. The
idiots forgot to take my height into consideration and the dang thing crashed
into my chin. Trace had to open the show while they hauled in a doctor to sew
my chin up. Singing through fresh stitches made for one long and painful
night.”

“I think them
boys are a hazard to your wellbeing,” I say as I look into his weary expression.
I take my free hand and graze my fingertips along his furrowed forehead. He
looks so drained. Something, or should I say, someone, has taken quite a toll
on him. I ask the question I’ve wanted answered for weeks now. “What’s wrong
with Maverick?”

He pulls me into
his lap and buries his face in my neck. He lets out a long uneven sigh. “You
don’t know how badly I’ve needed you. Just sitting here with you.” He stops
speaking to regain his composure. He clears his throat and whispers hoarsely,
“Jewels, you feel like home to me. I’ve been so homesick for you.”

My eyes prick
with tears at his statement, but I rein them in. I give in and run my hands
through his silky locks as he continues to rest against my neck, breathing me
in. “Is he okay?” I ask after a while. His reluctance at answering me makes me
nervous.

“I had to check
him into rehab this week,” he says after another long sigh.

“What?” I pull
his head up gently so he has to meet my eyes.

“He got mixed up
with a bad bunch, and the next thing I know he’s too high to perform most of
the last leg of the tour.” Dillon shakes his head in disbelief at his own
words. “I thought we got past all that crap unscathed, but Mave… Well, you know
Mave. It’s like trouble always finds him. The dude has always been too curious
for his own good.”

“Is he going to
be okay?”

He shrugs his
shoulders. “He promised me to get better, if I promised not to replace him in
the band.”

“I guess that
explains all of your odd concerts lately,” I say without a thought.

Dillon scrutinizes
me with an eyebrow raised in question. “Just how do you know about that? I’ve
not seen you in the crowd since that one night. And trust me; I always have
security on the lookout for you.” This thought makes me excited for some
reason—him still looking for me all of these years.

“I keep up with
you on the Internet. It’s become my good friend,” I say. I continue to run my
hands through Dillon’s hair. I like how it seems to be relaxing him. Some of
the stress around his eyes appears to be easing away. I hate that he has had to
go through this mess with Mave without me.

“Pretty girl,
you could have been having the real thing all of these years. You want to tell
me what’s going on? Why’d you push me away?” he whispers.

“I didn’t want
to get in your
way
. You were just
getting started. Really. I would have just gotten in the way.”

Dillon leans his
forehead against mine with his eyes still holding me captive. “How could you
have gotten in my way if you were by my side, where you belong?”

Good grief. He
just doesn’t give up. We’re having a stare down for a spell when he releases a
long yawn. He looks so tired and I’m worried about the dark circles under his
eyes. I bet he is exhausted with all the extra work of filling in for Mave and
then the emotional stress of having to put his friend in rehab.

I untangle
myself from him and stand. “Where are you staying?”

He looks around
the small cabin as he rests his head on the back of the couch. He needs to
catch up on some rest and soon. His eyes are barely open as he speaks. “I
thought here would work.” He takes in the small toy basket Aunt Evie used to
keep in her trailer. “You took over Aunt Evie’s duties of helping the young
mommas out, I see.” With this I begin to cry. Dillon eases off the couch and
wraps me tightly back in his arms. “I’m sorry about Aunt Evie, and I’m sorrier
I couldn’t get here to you.” He places a kiss on the side of my head.