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Jack snorted. “I know, Huck. I’ll call you in a few days.”
He hung up and tossed his phone aside. Mendez didn’t say anything. It wasn’t his place. Jack might be his mate, but this was his career, and he knew how to better run it than Mendez did.
With a deep sigh, Jack grabbed his things and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Chapter Three
Jack let the spray of the shower pound into his shoulders. The heat felt good, but what he wouldn’t give for a massage to loosen the tension that had been building up for some time now. Between the tour, Huck needling him to sign that fucking contract, and the news he’d gotten from Dr. Chastine yesterday morning, Jack was worn out.
This was what he’d signed up for when his music career had taken off, everything he’d ever dreamed of, and he felt ungrateful that he was considering retiring at such a young age. He would have to retire if he was going to go through chemo. No fucking way was he going to let anyone see him like that.
Jack’s chest hurt, and not because of the cancer. It ached as he thought about what was ahead of him. The treatments, the hospital stays, and whatever else was involved. He wasn’t even sure what stage he was at, had been too afraid to ask. The news had knocked the wind out of him, stunned him into silence, and Jack had felt detached from the entire situation as Dr. Chastine had spoken to him. Jack couldn’t even recall everything the doctor had said. He’d just promised to follow up with his primary doctor and walked out of the office in a daze.
Luckily his affairs were already in order. His mom and sister would be set for life, and Jack had set it up so that a lot of LGBTQIA organizations, and various other causes, would be well funded for years to come.
The only thing he wanted to amend was allocating some money to cancer research. That had become very important to him in the past twenty-four hours. But the LGBTQIA had also been important to Jack. He didn’t care what people thought of him if he didn’t survive this. Let them speculate when they found out where some of his money had gone.
Ever since he was a teenager Jack had known he was different; known he was interested in boys instead of girls. He’d struggled with his sexuality, tried to be “normal” and had dated girls, had even slept with a few, but he’d soon realized at around the age of nineteen that he was gay and there was no changing what couldn’t be changed.
But, as take-charge as he’d always been, headstrong, determined, he’d never had the guts to come out to anyone. Not even his family. He knew some struggled with the same issue, while others became targets because they had come out.
All Jack wanted was to set up programs that would make some kind of difference. Maybe create some safe places for gay teens to hang out where they weren’t ridiculed for something they had no control over.
Big talk for a guy who denies who he is.
Jack sighed as he cut the water off. Yep, he was one big hypocrite. He wanted to make things better for his kind, yet he stayed in the shadows.
My kind? Jeez. Jack rolled his eyes as he toweled off. He got dressed, rubbed on some deodorant, brushed his teeth, and cut the lights to the bathroom on his way out. He normally flossed, but he was too tired to stand at the sink.
Mendez was seated on his bed, remote in hand, but the TV was muted. The guy still had his boots on, as if he was too afraid to relax. Jack was too weary to bust Mendez’s balls.
“Thanks for stopping here. I really could use some sleep.” All of Jack’s energy was gone, and now he had a damn headache. He’d realized why it was so important to go home to Willow Point while he was in the shower.
Because if the treatments didn’t work, Jack wanted to spend as much time with his mom and sister as he could. He wanted to feel normal for a short period of time, as if his troubles didn’t exist.
“No problem,” Mendez said.
Jack stood by the side of the bed, debating on whether to say anything to Mendez about his doctor visit. Maybe some of the burden would lift if he confided in someone. But Mendez was still too new, even if Jack felt a strange connection to the guy. He also didn’t want to see pity in Mendez’s gorgeous gray eyes.
“Did you need something?” Mendez set the remote aside.
A hug. Jack was a bit surprised that popped into his head. God, he’d been surrounded by staff for the past ten years, surrounded by screaming fans and people in general, yet he felt so fucking alone. What would it feel like to let someone else take the reins for a while, to let go of some of his responsibilities and lean on someone else for once?
Huck Waterman might have discovered Jack, might be in control of his schedule and contracts, but Jack was always a hands-on guy, demanding to be a part of everything that had to do with him and his career.
He glanced at Mendez, who was watching him closely, then peeled back the covers and climbed into bed, giving his bodyguard his back. Sometimes Jack felt as if Mendez was too damn perceptive, which was great in his line of work but not so great when Jack didn’t want to be under a microscope.
Jack got that enough with interviews and social media. Everyone thought they knew him, but no one truly did. He’d closed off his true self a decade ago, and all he ever showed anyone was Jack Dane, music sensation, country singer superstar. They saw what he wanted them to see, but damn, just once he wanted to be himself. To be Jackson Montgomery Dane.
But that was hard to do when you were rich. You never knew who your true friends were and who was out to use you. He truly believed everyone had an angle, which made him jaded. Something he had promised himself he would never become. But fame did that to a person because there were plenty of people out there who wanted a piece of his fortune.
Jack closed his eyes and burrowed under the covers, very aware of Mendez sitting on the other bed. His presence wasn’t something Jack could ever ignore, no matter how hard Mendez blended in.
Whenever they were in the same room, Jack was always aware of the man. Always craving him. Always wishing he could simply reach for Mendez when things became too overwhelming. Cal Rickman, his last bodyguard, had done a great job, but Jack was never attracted to the guy, had never felt a connection.
With Mendez? It was as if a blanket of calm always came over Jack whenever Mendez was close. As if Jack knew he could make it through whatever Huck had set up for him because Mendez was off to the side, never far, watching him.
Just like he felt Mendez watching him right now.
