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The rebel from Soul Obsession.
The troublemaker.
I’d been called everything in the book. Not that I minded who I was. Not back then. Young and stupid, I thought I kneweverything. We all did crazy-as-hell shit when we were young that we look back on when we’re older and wiser and wonder what the hell we were thinking.
The only difference was that my stupidity had been all in the limelight and splashed all over the tabloids.
But I wasn’t that guy anymore. I’d worked hard to change and conquer all my demons. I rubbed my bearded jaw, trying to calm the anxiety swirl inside of me, realizing I was going to need to shave.
Hearing from the guys wasn’t a surprise. Even though we had broken up a decade ago on not-so-great terms, we’d checked in on one another here and there. Usually after one of us drank way too much. Now we hit the studio, recording new music and some old tunes, I was going to need to hit the road soon.
Fuck! I needed to shave.
The thought made my eye tick. My beard and long-sleeved tees and baseball caps pulled low helped keep me out of sight. I was always someone who looked vaguely familiar to some ex-famous jackass.
I reached over and without thinking opened another beer bottle. In one chug, I pulled half of it. I was buzzed but still aware of myself. I knew my limits. I’d learned those the hard way. Fame and fortune, with women throwing themselves at me, had been an addicting lifestyle. Not to mention the shit that was easily accessible.
I heard a familiar rustle next door, and my jaw clenched.
Shit. It was late.
It was late, and I had been too busy burning a couple of logs in my firepit, throwing myself a pity party to realize I was about to see her. I wasn’t ready. I never was.
Daniela Delano.
My Dani girl.
Well, not mine in any sense of the word, but fuck if I couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her in that way. The seed had buried itself in my head the moment I laid eyes on her when she moved in six months ago and had only grown to a borderline obsession. The lock from her sliding door clicked, and I heard the distinct sound of it opening. The sounds caused my body to react exactly like it had six months ago. My heart rate picked up. My skin grew warm. Excitement prickled throughout me. And if I was honest, it was the most alive I had ever felt. Ever! And that included traveling the world to play sold-out stadium shows.
Yeah, Daniela was different.
“Hey, neighbor.” I could hear the smile in her voice, and somehow, when I glanced over toward her, just the sight of her took a little bit of the weight off my shoulders.
The fence between our townhomes had fallen after a windstorm two months ago, and our shitty landlord had yet to replace it.Thank fuck.
Touring would mean being away from home. Away from her.When the hell did I start to think of her as home?
“Hey.” My jaw clenched at the sight of her in her tight waitress uniform. It fit her perfectly. The black dress molded to her breasts and curves beautifully, almost like it had been painted on.
“Uh-oh,” she muttered as she sat in the chair next to me. Only a small table sat between us with the firepit in front of us. “Bad day?” she asked way too damn observant for me in that moment. My head swam with shit.
The band. We were back together. I didn’t mind the studio time. I loved music. I was man enough to admit I’d almost missed it when I was there instead of the mechanic shop I worked Monday through Friday. Hell, the dance practices hadn’t been as bad as I remembered them.
But knowing I was going on tour? That was the shit my nightmares were made of. What kind of demons would the chaos of hitting the road bring up inside of me?
But I didn’t tell her that. She had no idea who I was. None.
“What makes you think that?” I clipped brusquely, and her eyes widened.
I was usually quiet around her. Even when she tried to worm herself under my skin, deeper than she had any idea she was already in.
“How long have we lived next to each other?” she asked softly. I grunted.Six months, two weeks, and three days.But I wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Well,”—she smiled tightly—“it’s been a moment. You never drink more than two,” she pointed out, and she wasn’t wrong. Getting wasted grew old a long fucking time ago.
“Want to talk about it?” Her green eyes were warm and inviting. Of course, they were. She was too fucking kind for her own good, and fuck me, I wanted to tell her everything.
Confess every single secret.
