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A bitter laugh comes out of her mouth. “No. Don’t kid yourself, sweetie. Without me you’d still be in that bar band, living out of your truck. You should be thankful that I picked you and turned you into JJ White—Jared Kraft was going nowhere—but it seems to me that you’re ungrateful for the setup you’ve been given. I could fire you anytime I want and have you replaced the same day. Don’t forget that.”
I flinch like she’s just smacked me in the face. “You really think I’m that replaceable? I’d like to see you try to find someone else who would be willing to put up with your shit, and don’t even get me started on how big of a pain in the ass Ace is.”
Jane Ann points her finger at me. “Don’t push me, JJ.” She closes her index finger and thumb together, leaving less than a half inch of space between them. “I’m this close to canning your ass. If you weren’t so ridiculously good-looking, I already would have. You’re lucky the girls like you. This whole rebel-without-a-cause thing you’ve got going on is your saving grace because it works for your moody ass, but I swear that I’ll find another pretty face to replace you if you don’t find some common ground and quit fighting with Ace every chance you get. Get your shit together. I mean it. This is your last warning.”
I open my mouth to tell her to fuck off, but the expression on her face is daring me to, because she’s looking for a reason to get rid of me. We’ve never really seen eye to eye since she brought Ace on board. I never trusted her after that.
Most people would think I’m nuts for staying in a band I hate so much.
Truth is? I love music, and I’ll do anything to be able to keep it in my life. It’s the only thing I’ve got left.
NOW
LONDON
I sit on the funky floral-pattern chair in our bedroom and rub my fingers over the coarse material on the armrest to distract myself from the scene before me. It’s not one that I’m ready to deal with, but deep down I know it needs to happen.
Wes carefully folds the last few of his T-shirts and puts them in his suitcase. The sound of the zipper locking his stuff inside is so loud in the otherwise-silent room that it causes my breath to catch.
His brown eyes flick to mine, and it saddens me to know this is probably the last time I’ll be in a bedroom with my husband. He’s handsome, and he turns women’s heads everywhere we go with his toned body, sandy-blond hair, and deep, soulful brown eyes. On top of all that, he’s brilliant too—one of the brightest young engineers at his firm. He’s the complete package, but he’s not Jared—the one man that I can’t seem to get over
—and Wes knows it. It’s the reason we’ve struggled over the past three months of our short marriage. Wes is just too big of a reminder of what I’ve lost, and no matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to get over the past and move forward.
I tried to break free of the memory of Jared the best way I knew how: by dating other men. It never worked. All I ended up doing was comparing every guy to Jared, including Wes.
Wes understood my heartbreak—he’d witnessed every facet of my relationship with Jared—and was patient with me, even willing to put up with my obsession with a man who no longer wanted me.
Wes has really been a good friend, and I love him for that, but unfortunately, that’s all I still see him as—a friend. He provided a distraction to the real issues I was struggling with—the grief and depression that accompany a broken heart.
The thought of smothering all the memories I have of Jared sounded amazing. I was so tired of hurting and longing for a relationship that I knew was well over that I allowed myself to get lost in Wes for a while. It’s clear that Wes loves me, and I really thought that eventually his love would make me forget my past and help me move on. But it didn’t work.
I’m so stupid to hang on to a memory of a man who is nothing more than a ghost to everyone who once knew him.
Wes shoves his hands deep in his pockets and his shoulders slump forward. “I think I’ve got all my personal stuff. If I’ve left anything else, just box it up for me, and I’ll pick it up at some point.”
I nod, fighting back the tears. “Okay.”
Wes bites his bottom lip as he walks around to sit on the end of the bed across from me. He reaches out and places his hand gently on my left knee. “It’s going to be okay, London. Things between us just didn’t work. We moved way too fast, and I’m willing to give you all the time you need to work through this—to see that you made the right choice by being with me—because I love you. I won’t lie and say that this doesn’t tear me up inside, but I understand why you couldn’t give me all your heart, because it still belongs to someone else. It sucks, but I’ll just have to get over it and hope that we can find a way to be together.”
His kind words remind me of why I fell for him and only make me cry harder. I cover my face with my hands. “I’m so sorry, Wes. I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m an awful human being.”
Wes leans in and wraps his arms around me, allowing the sweet scent of his cologne to envelop me. “Shhh. Don’t say that. You can’t help who you love or what your heart chooses to hold on to. Who knows? Maybe when you’re ready, we can try this again.”
I cling to him as I cry because I know how much I’ve hurt him. I don’t deserve his kindness, I know that, but I’m grateful for it.
He holds me against him and allows me to get everything out of my system, and once I’m able to pull myself together from hysterically sobbing, he leans back so he can stare into my eyes. “Are you going to be all right by yourself tonight? I can call someone. My mom—Sam, maybe?”
I shake my head. “She’s got her hands full with Brody, and I don’t want to bog her down even more with my issues. Your mother—I can’t even fathom facing her right now. She’ll hate me for this.”
“No, she won’t. Mom loves you.” He reaches toward my face but then stops himself from touching my cheek before sighing heavily. “I wish you would’ve let me in. All I’ve ever wanted to do is love you, and for you to love me back.”
I bite my bottom lip, and it takes every inch of my willpower to not burst into tears again. I can’t respond. If I open my mouth to answer that, I won’t be able to pretend that I’m keeping it all together, because I’m an absolute, confused mess.
If I could let Wes in, things in my life would be so much easier, but I just can’t. I should’ve realized from the start that loving him would be impossible.
Wes pushes himself up and stands before me, a frown etched on his face. “I feel terrible leaving you like this. It’s hard for me to watch you cry. I’ve never been able to take seeing you sad.”
I sniff, not wanting to burden him any more than I already have. I want him to be able to walk out the door without a guilty conscience, because this is my fault—my problem—not his. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”
