Heavy Metal (A Badboy Rockstar Romance) (12 page)

“If that’s what it takes, then yeah.”

“No,” I said firmly.  I was irritated enough that Carl was interfering with my life.  The last thing I wanted was for him to have a negative impact on Brandon’s life as well.  “This is my mess.  Let me clean it up.”

“Hayley, I don’t like the thought of you going back there alone.”

“I need to take care of this,” I told him. 

“At least let me send one of my security guys with you,” Brandon pleaded.  “Carl’s a loser and he’s full of hot air.  He pushes you around because he thinks he can get away with it.  I’m sure he’ll be singing a different tune if he has someone like Steve breathing down his neck.  Although I have to say, I’d rather deal with your idiot ex myself than send someone in my place.”

“None of that is necessary,” I insisted, sick and tired of Carl trying to run my life.  “I’m a grown woman and I’m more than capable of looking after myself.  I’ll be fine.  I’m just going to get on a bus tonight and head back there.”  Then, somewhat sheepishly, I realized I had no money to pay for a bus ticket.  “Can, uh...can you maybe help me with the bus?”

Brandon still looked unhappy, but told me, “I’ll arrange for whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” I said gratefully, glad to know he had my back even when he didn’t agree with me.

“So you’re going to go get the cat and then come meet up with me in New York City?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” I nodded. 

“What about Europe?” Brandon asked.  “We’re heading overseas for the European leg of our tour soon,” he reminded me.  “Will Mittens be joining us?”

“I...I don’t know.”  I hadn’t thought that far ahead.  The room was spinning.

“We might have to pull some strings to get clearance to take the cat overseas,” he cautioned.  “I’m not quite sure what the protocol is, but I’ll get someone to look into it right away.  Worst case scenario, we leave Mittens here and pay someone amazing to look after him while we’re away.  I can’t
wait
to show you Paris!” 

Although Brandon was simply being practical and trying to think ahead, my brain felt numb.  I couldn’t discuss that sort of stuff – not when Carl was threatening me and using the cat I so dearly loved against me.  So I didn’t answer.

Brandon fell silent for a moment and then asked, “You
are
coming back, aren’t you?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed emphatically.  “Yes.  I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

Brandon took a step closer then and embraced me, burying his face in my hair.  “Everything is going to be okay,” he told me, allowing me to sink into him.  “Pretty soon Carl is going to be out of your life for good and everything bad will be behind you.”

“I can’t wait,” I murmured, clinging to Brandon for dear life.  “I’m so glad I met you.”

“Me too,” he replied, kissing my forehead.  “Do you have to leave right away?”

“Carl’s ultimatum is that I have to get there by morning,” I told Brandon.  “I guess I have some time...a few hours, at least.  Let’s check the bus schedule to be sure.”

“Okay, whatever you want,” he said, pulling out his phone.  After a moment he held it up so I could see the screen.  “You’ve got three hours before your bus leaves,” he told me.  “I’m glad we still have some time left together.”

“I don’t want to go,” I breathed, savoring the way Brandon’s arms felt around me.

“I don’t want you to go,” he responded, tightening his grip.  “I want you here with me forever.”

“What’s going to happen when I get back?” I couldn’t help but ask, defeated.  “Mittens is a pretty easygoing cat and will travel well, I think, but it can’t be forever.  He’s a cat.  It isn’t fair to keep him cooped up on a tour bus indefinitely, or to move him around from hotel room to hotel room night after night.”

“Then I’ll buy you a house,” Brandon told me.

I stepped back and looked up at him, dumbfounded.

He reddened.  “That sounded awful, didn’t it?” he said apologetically.  “Sorry.  But I mean it.  I’ll get you a place in the city – or in the country, if that’s what you prefer.  It will be yours and yours alone.  Well, you’ll have to share it with Mittens,” he corrected himself.  “I draw the line at buying a house for a cat.”

“You can’t buy a house for me!” I gasped.

“Why can’t I?” Brandon asked, completely serious.

“Because...because that’s not something people just
do
!” I exclaimed.

He shrugged.  “Most people don’t lead the life I do,” he pointed out.  “Hayley, I hate talking about money but let’s just say I’m making a lot of it.  It’s more than I know what to do with, really.  So let me help you out.  Maybe if I’m lucky you’ll even let me come visit you when I’m not on tour or away recording?” he asked with a wink.

“Don’t be silly,” I replied getting caught up in the moment – and the fantasy.  “If it were up to me you would be there all the time.”  I hesitated and then asked, “I, um...I don’t mean to beat a dead horse here, but does this mean we’re...we’re...?”

“Together?” Brandon guessed, finishing the sentence for me when I became too bashful to continue.  “Yes, I sure hope so.  But it’s not a decision that’s entirely up to me,” he added.  “So it really comes down to what you want.  So what do you say, Hayley?  Are we together?”

“Yes,” I managed to choke out, my mouth dry and my heart pounding.  “Yes.”

“Let’s make the most of the next few hours,” Brandon murmured in my ear, his voice husky.

At that moment, there was nothing in the world I wanted more.  Being close to Brandon always felt incredible, but when I was shaken up and feeling out of control, being in his arms was almost like my therapy.  It had a way of grounding me and helping me put all of my problems into perspective, even if only temporarily.  I needed that right now.

So when Brandon offered me his hand, I took it without hesitation, grateful for his unwavering presence.

Chapter 12

Two hours later, Brandon and I were still curled up on the bed, the sheets rumpled beneath us.  We had been there like that the entire time, his body bent around mine as he cuddled me.  I could feel the heat coming off his skin, and the safety of his arms was like Heaven.  There was nowhere else I’d rather be.

We hadn’t had sex. 

Though Brandon’s kisses assured me he wanted me, he had respected my request to take things slow.  In fact, our clothes were still on – well, mostly.  All we had done was make out, and as my hormones went wild and adrenaline surged through my body, I felt euphoric. 

Then I saw the time.

“I don’t want to go,” I whimpered, pouting.  I was being cute about it but behind the playful whining was sincerity – and reluctance.  The thought of leaving this man’s safe, loving arms to face Carl’s wrath was almost painful. 

“I don’t want you to go,” Brandon replied, his chin nestled against the top of my head.  “Stay.”

“I can’t.”

“I know.  Do it anyway?”

“You have a benefit concert to play at,” I pointed out gently.  “You have to leave tonight, too.”

“Don’t remind me,” Brandon groaned.

“But you get to play with your idols,” I reminded him.  “I thought you’d be excited.”

“I’d rather be here with you.  I’d give it all up for you in a heartbeat.  Let’s pretend the rest of the world doesn’t even exist, okay?” he proposed, tightening his arms around me and pulling me closer.  “Let’s pretend it’s just you and me in this room together forever and ever.”

“Mmm, that sounds good,” I murmured, shutting my eyes so I wouldn’t have to see the digital clock that sat on the nightstand.  It was like a countdown on a bomb that was about to go off.  This was the calm before the storm, the peace before the explosion. 

Stupid, no good clock...  Maybe if I didn’t look at it, time would stop.  It was worth a try.

“Every time I look at your hair, it reminds me of fire,” Brandon informed me as he gently brushed a lock of it from my cheek before stroking the side of my face.  “Sometimes when I touch it I expect to get burned.”

“I think I was the only kid in my entire school that had red hair,” I replied.  “I got teased for it.”

“I don’t know why,” Brandon replied, sounding surprised and dismayed to think that anyone would ever dare hurt me.  “Your hair is like a lion’s mane.  It’s beautiful. 
You’re
beautiful.  Those kids must have been jealous.”

“I don’t know about that,” I told him, secretly pleased by his theory. 

It was as though he saw me the way I wished I could see myself, strong and beautiful and confident.  Under different circumstances I may have thought he was simply feeding me lines, telling me what I wanted to hear.  But if the way he was kissing my neck was any indication, he had meant every word he’d said to me.

“Would you make me touch the chickens?” he asked suddenly.

“Uh, what are you talking about?” I was baffled by the strange turn the conversation had taken.

“If we got a little place out in the country – the cottage with the pink shutters and garden for you and writing spot for me...would you make me touch the chickens?” he asked again, his tone very serious.  “They really do freak me out, you know.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that.  “You’re ridiculous,” I told him.  Then, enjoying the fantasy, I allowed myself to slip into it with him.  “I wouldn’t make you go anywhere near the chickens,” I assured him.  “Although I doubt they’re anywhere near as scary as you think.  I bet if you
did
face your fear you’d realize that.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he agreed. 

Then, after a moment’s contemplation, he admitted, “I would touch the chickens if I had to.  I mean, it wouldn’t be fair to make you do all the work, so I guess I would have to learn how to clean the chicken coop and collect eggs and do other, uh, chicken stuff.  But I can’t promise I wouldn’t shriek like a little girl the entire time.”

“Well then I can’t promise I wouldn’t point and laugh at you the entire time.  And what, exactly, is chicken stuff?” I asked with a touch of amusement.  “Do tell.”

“I have no idea,” Brandon confessed sheepishly.  “I am such a city guy...I’m so pathetic!”

“You’re not pathetic,” I assured him, turning around to face him.  “You’re wonderful.”

“So are you.”

“Would we have goats?” I asked, not ready to give up our imagined world quite yet.

“If you wanted them, then yes.”

“Would you let me read the things you wrote?”

“Every word, assuming you weren’t bored by it.”

“Why would you say that?  I wouldn’t be bored at all.  I’d be honored to get to read your writing.  It would be like, I don’t know, like a window into your mind or something,” I clumsily tried to explain.

“Exactly my point,” he agreed. 

“What is?”

“I don’t know if I could handle knowing you hated my writing,” he confessed.  “It’s not like I have much time for it these days, aside from writing lyrics to new songs.  But when I do get the chance to sit down with a pen and paper?  It’s so personal.  I can’t think of anything that makes me feel more exposed, to tell you the truth.”

“You’re brave for putting it all out there,” I told him.  “The way you share your song lyrics with the world...I don’t know if I could do that.  I’m not sure I could put the things that make me feel the most vulnerable on display for the whole world to see and judge.  The thought is terrifying.”

“But it’s liberating when you actually do it,” he assured me. 

“Is it?”

“It’s sort of like what you said about me facing my fear of chickens.  Once you face your fears, they never seem quite so scary.  It’s like when you’re a kid and the shadows on the wall have you convinced the bogeyman has come for you – then you turn on the light and realize it was only a pile of clothes that had you so freaked out.”

“You were scared of the dark as a kid?” I asked.

“You weren’t?”

“No.”  Truthfully, I’d had other things to worry about even at that age – things that unfortunately hadn’t vanished into thin air with the flip of a switch.

“What’s your biggest fear?” Brandon asked me.

“Why do you want to know?” I asked guardedly. 

I was used to putting on a brave front, mostly because the scum I’d grown up around had made me feel like I was prey being circled by predators.  Show weakness and you get annihilated.  Even now that I was no longer a little kid trapped in a house with her junkie mother and a constant parade of unsavory boyfriends and dealers, it was tough to escape that old mentality.

“Well you know my fears,” he pointed out.  “I’m afraid of letting people read what I write – and chickens.  So it’s your turn.  What are you afraid of, Hayley?  I have a theory that every time you say it aloud, it loses a bit of its power.  Maybe that’s silly, I don’t know...but try it.”

I hesitated, unsure of how to respond.  I was afraid I’d never be good enough.  I was scared Carl was right and every rude comment he’d ever made to me had been based on truth.  I was worried I would never truly be the strong, independent woman I so badly wished I was.  And maybe above all else, I was petrified of losing control and getting fat again.