Melody of Truth (Love of a Rockstar Book 3) Page 12

  “I can’t speak for your sister, but I’m sure she did it with the good intentions.”

  Melody stacked mini creamer packets on top of each other in a makeshift tower and then knocked them down. “She made a mess of things and now I’m not sure if my relationship with my father is fixable after what he said.”

  “You can’t take what people say in the heat of the moment as truth.”

  “Oh, trust me. My father meant every word when he told me my mother would be devastated by the path I chose in life and that I am basically a royal fuck-up.”

  “You aren’t a fuck-up!” I argued, outraged that anyone had made her feel less than what she was. “You’re a talented filmmaker and a loyal friend—”

  “But not exactly a loyal girlfriend.” She gulped a heady sip of her Irish coffee. “Maybe my dad is right. Maybe I should have gone to college and become a doctor or lawyer and done the nine-five grind, and had a routine instead of jumping from one continent to the next.”

  “You have wanderlust in your blood and even if you’re mother hadn’t died, you still would have picked an unconventional career that allowed you the freedom to explore.”

  The waitress set down the plate of pancakes and my coffee. “Enjoy.”

  Seeing her eyeing the fluffy stack of carbs with longing, I pushed the plate toward Melody.

  “You sure? I don’t want to eat your dinner,” she said.

  “Go ahead.”

  To be honest, I wasn’t hungry. The band and I had grabbed burgers a couple hours ago. The reason I’d ordered food was to cheer Melody up. Shit, I would have danced to Britney Spears to restore her smile.

  She sliced off a piece with the edge of her fork and dipped it into a pool of syrup. “I thought my father would be happy about my rough and tumble job. He always wanted a boy, but since that wasn’t happening he deemed me as the replacement. At the age of eight, I knew how to replace a tire and fix a car engine.”

  “My dad was the same way, a real man’s man. His wish for me to enter the army didn’t exactly go as planned.”

  “You in the army?” The light returned to her eyes as she laughed. “Can’t see it.”

  “Neither could I. Music was the only career I was interested in.”

  “How did your father take that news?”

  “He told me music wasn’t a career, it was a hobby. But I was determined to prove him wrong and worked that much harder to make my dream a reality.”

  A grin as beautiful as the flecks of hazelnut in her eyes flashed across her face. “And you did prove him wrong.”

  “I did, although not without some serious sacrifices.” Like my personal life, but I didn’t want to discuss the downsides with Melody. Once her plate was empty, I asked, “Are you ready to go?”

  “Sure.”

  I threw a twenty down and we exited the diner. A blanket of stars twinkled in the sky, illuminating the darkened parking lot.

  “I’ll call a cab,” I said, pulling my phone out.

  Sitting on the curb of the sidewalk, she leaned back on her hands and tilted her chin upward. A breeze tickled her face. “Let’s wait.”

  A truck roared passed and shook the ground. “There are more beautiful places to relax than off the side of a highway.

  “It isn’t about the place. It’s about your mindset.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “I do, so stop ruining my vibe and sit.”

  My ass planted next to her on the sidewalk. Taking advantage of her distracted state, I studied Melody’s profile up close and noticed a freckle under her chin. My dick stirred as I wondered where the other freckles on her body were hiding.

  “It’s rude to stare, you know?” Melody eyes flickered open and snagged mine. Like a match to a flame, the sparks between us exploded.

  My hands curled at my sides as I resisted the temptation to drag my mouth against hers. The ball was in Melody’s court. If she wanted me, then by all means, she could have me.

  Her tongue flicked against her bottom lip as if she could already taste me. I bit back a groan. “Will this ever go away?” she asked in a low whisper.

  “The heat, the fireworks, the chemistry, the dirty thoughts that enter my mind whenever you are near, like fucking you over the hood of a car while you scream my name?” Melody’s pupils dilated and the desire to do as exactly as I’d described became almost too much to bear. “No, that won’t ever go away.”

  “Maybe it’s a craving, and that craving will go away once we indulge.”

  “You’re not a craving Melody. You’re a fucking addiction, and once I get a taste of your sweet pussy, there will be no looking back for either of us.”

  NEVER HAD A THREAT SOUNDED more appealing than right then. Staring into Sean’s molten gaze, a wicked heat spread through my veins and warmed me from the inside. I wanted to feel his hands on my body, teasing, touching, and caressing every square inch of my naked curves.

  My eyes locked onto his lips as my head tilted forward. The desire to get a second taste silenced Marco’s name blaring like a megaphone in my head.

  Sean leaned away from my advances with a look of great restraint. “I don’t want this night to be looked upon as a regret. Are you positive you want this?”

  Yes was on the tip of my tongue, because I had wanted Sean since the moment we’d first met. Since then he had been the number one fantasy haunting my dreams, especially after the kiss we’d shared.

  He suddenly jumped to his feet. “I have somewhere I want to show you.” Caught off guard, I blinked at him, and a chuckle rose from his throat. “Come on.”

  Hauling me to my feet, he didn’t let go of my hand as he ordered an Uber or for the entire ride to the unknown destination. Every once in a while, his pointer finger would tap a rhythm only he could hear against my skin.

  I glanced out the window where the city streamed by. Pulling alongside the curb, we arrived at a pale pink building. Sean tugged me to the entrance and I dug my heels in.

  “Tell me what’s behind that door,” I demanded as he shot a curious glance over his shoulder.

  “An art gallery.”

  “It’s closed.”

  “Nothing is closed when you’re a rock star.” He didn’t say it to be cocky, he said it as a fact. Sensing my lingering reluctance, Sean squeezed my palm. “I promise it’s super cool. Trust me.”

  “Okay.”

  A radiant smile broke out across his face and my heart fluttered. After three firm knocks on the door, it swung open. The hulking security guard fist-bumped Sean as we walked inside the darkened space.

  “Enjoy the show madam,” he drawled while flicking on the lights.

  My breath caught in my throat. The walls were lined with photographs of women shot in a style I recognized immediately. “Holy shit. Is this…”

  “Lisette Model?” Sean gently guided me farther into the gallery. “It is.”

  I stared up at a self-portrait of Lisette clad in a bra with a camera around her neck. She was my inspiration and had spurred my love of photography.

  Glancing at Sean from the corner of my eye, disbelief tinted my words. “How did you know?”

  “I read your bio on your website and it said you first got into documenting the world when you picked up a book of photographs by Lisette in high school. When I saw the exhibit posted online, I knew I had to bring you here.”

  My words got stuck in my throat as an overflow of affection swept over me.

  “Did she only stick to street photography?” Sean asked.

  I swallowed thickly. “She developed the style after the handheld camera was invented and was known for her stark, biting portraits of people, like this one for example.” We wandered to the next photograph of an overweight immigrant woman. Her eyes locked onto the camera with dignity. “Powerful, huh?”

  “Very. Why do you admire Lisette?”

  “She had a natural ability to connect with her subjects, resulting in an un-posed raw frame.”

  “Yo
ur styles are similar. I watched your latest documentary last night and was impressed with the footage you managed to get. That young boy in the shootout with the rebels…” Sean glanced at me with wonder. “How the hell did you escape from that unharmed?”

  “I didn’t.” When I pulled up my sleeve, his eyes widened at the half-inch long scar on my forearm. “The bullet ripped through my flesh without damaging any arteries, but the hospital was dirty and understaffed. I had to wait for almost three hours before a doctor could examine me.” I winced at the memory of the searing pain that had caused me to float in and out of conscious. “They had run out of painkillers, so they told me to bite onto a cloth they stuffed into my mouth while they poked and prodded at the wound.”

  “You’re a badass.”

  “More like reckless.”

  Standing there next to Sean, it dawned one me my father’s anger stemmed from a place of fear. Losing my mother had almost killed him, and losing me too would probably push him over the edge. Lucky for my dad though, all that worry would soon be put to rest when I went on my extended break and lived a quiet existence in rural upstate New York.

  “Why the sigh?” Sean asked.

  “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “My dad. Reliving some of the stuff I have gone through, I understand why he wants me to quit, which unbeknownst to him is a wish that will be granted very soon.”

  Sean’s mouth set into a thin line. “I thought you were taking a break.”

  “Same thing.”

  “Quitting is permanent, a break is a pause.”

  “A break then,” I said. “Until Marco’s son gets better, and in the meantime, I can learn how to make apple cider and knit.”

  Putting a positive spin on the new chapter that lay ahead didn’t quell my apprehension. What if I wasn’t cut out for a domestic life?

  “You can do a documentary in New York. There is plenty of subject matter there, like the homeless population that squats underground in the old subway terminals.”

  “Marco needs me by his side.”

  He stepped into my line of sight and cradled my face in his hands. His eyes churned with the intensity of a winter storm. “Any guy would be lucky to have you waiting for him at the end of the day, but you have a rare and special talent that shouldn’t be chucked out the window once the wedding band is secure around your finger. If you love someone, you don’t force them to give up what makes their soul sing.” As he pressed his lips to my forehead, I breathed in his spicy scent, fully aware of what a goner I was.

  When he stepped back, I already ached to be in his arms again. “Let’s go see the rest of the show.”

  We wandered around the small gallery while Sean acted as the inquisitive student. He asked an endless stream of questions about Lisette, which I was happy to answer. The last photograph of an elderly lady smoking a cigarette in her undergarments signaled our night was coming to a close.

  “Which snapshot was your favorite?” Sean asked.

  “The self-portrait. She is baring herself to the audience without apology.”

  “How much do you think it’s worth?”

  A not-so-lady-like snort puffed out of my nose. “Millions. She is featured at the Getty Museum.” My eyes lovingly gazed around at her body of work hanging on the white walls. “I would love to own one of her photographs, but the chances of that happening are slim to none, unless I rob a bank or win the lottery.”

  “Nothing wrong with dreaming big.”

  His smile tugged my lips upward. “What do you dream of?”

  “To save humanity.”

  Laughing, Sean and I fell in line and walked toward the exit door. “In all seriousness, I don’t dream like I used to,” he said. “It seems ungrateful when you’re standing at the peak.”

  “It isn’t ungrateful to want to reach for something bigger.”

  “What’s bigger than this?” His arms widened to indicate the influence of his power. “I’m content with where I’m at.”

  Stepping under the blazing yellow streetlight outside the gallery, Sean seemed as reluctant as I was to say goodbye. “Do you want to grab some ice cream or maybe a proper dinner?”

  “Pancakes are a proper dinner.”

  “A walk then?”

  “Sure.”

  Located off the main drag was a neighborhood with bungalows and old brick apartment buildings looming above the street. As we strolled along the tree-lined avenue, Sean’s strong grasp on my hand made me feel grounded, whole. We pointed out the houses we loved. Our similar appreciation for older architecture—where the charm lay in the stained glass windows and sloping roofs—chipped off another piece of my heart, which made my happy-ever-after with Marco that much fuzzier.

  “What are you going to do with your sister?”

  “Good question. I have no idea.”

  “Jane sure is a spitfire.” Sean chuckled. “Ash was quite taken with her.”

  “Men usually are. She is beautiful, smart, and doesn’t have a filter on that mouth of hers, which means lots of phone calls from displeased teachers.”

  “That’s the thing about family, though. You love them despite how much of a pain in the ass they are.”

  My brow raised as caught on to what Sean was trying to do. “Jane isn’t forgiven. She went behind my back and lied. It was…”

  “Hurtful?” he supplied. “I don’t think she meant it to be. You should have seen how upset she was.”

  “It doesn’t matter. She should have come clean about why she came to visit me in Atlanta. I would have gladly gone to a wedding gown warehouse sale with her…” Remembering the chaos in the church basement, I changed my tune. “Actually, that’s a lie, but she didn’t have to invite my father and his girlfriend along.”

  Sean stuttered to a stop in front of a worse-for-wear Victorian house, the lawn patchy and threadbare. “Why does your father disapprove of Marco? Have they met?”

  “He doesn’t disapprove of him as a person, he disapproves of the circumstances.”

  “You can’t fault for him that.”

  My eyes snapped to his. Breaking our interlocked fingers, I folded my arms across my chest. “You’re taking his side?”

  “If you want to put it in second grade terms, then yes I am. You’re sacrificing your career and a chance at true love because you couldn’t save your mother, but Melody, nobody could save her. She had cancer. It wasn’t your fault, and marrying Marco to help his young son won’t bring her back.”

  “You don’t need to lay some rudimentary psychology bullshit on me Sean! I’m aware my mother is dead and gone; the ache in my chest reminds me of that every single fucking day. I’m helping Hendrix because he deserves a childhood devoid of sickness. Do you want me to just kick him to the curb like some heartless monster?!”

  “There are other ways to help. You can raise the money on Kickstarter or…” The sentence petered out as his eyes grew frantic. Grabbing me by the shoulders, his fingers dug into my skin. “If you opened your heart, you would see that it belongs to me, not to Marco. What you have with him is safe and comfortable, but it doesn’t make your palms sweat or your heart race. You deserve the kind of love that consumes you and drives you mad, the kind of love we are on the brink of. All you have to do is let go.”

  SHIT. WHAT WAS I THINKING telling Melody I was practically in love with her? I wasn’t thinking. That was the problem. Desire to change Melody’s mind about Marco caused me to spill all the thoughts that should have stayed firmly in my head.

  Her midnight-colored eyes were as flat as sea glass as she stared at me. “We aren’t close to being in love, Sean! We have known each other for less than four weeks.”

  “I said we were on the brink.”

  “We aren’t fucking on the brick of anything! I’m getting married.”

  “You’re entering into an agreement so Marco’s son can get health insurance.”

  “I love him!”

  She screamed it witho
ut conviction. It was a lie she wanted to believe so badly she must have hoped that by saying the words, she would somehow make it real. That wasn’t how it worked though. I knew love, and I had felt love, but I had never felt anything like this before, and neither had she, obviously.

  Her chest rose and fell as her breathing came out in rapid succession. The olive tone in her skin turned a waxy gray. She bent forward at the waist as she settled her hands on her knees and made a strangled wheezing noise.

  Rushing over, I rubbed her back in a soothing motion. “It’s okay. You’re okay. Just breath, in and out, in…” She sucked in a lungful of air. “Out.” She exhaled. We repeated this for several seconds.

  “I’m better,” she said, righting herself. Tears streaked down her cheeks and she wiped them away with the back of her hand.

  “Has that happened before?”

  Melody shook her head. “I have been shot at, chased through the streets of Mexico, and almost kidnapped, yet I have never had a panic attack.”

  “I guess love is scarier.”

  She shot me the stink eye and I laughed. “Let’s get you home.”

  Panic flooded her eyes and my fingers clamped around her elbow in case she doubled over again. “I don’t want to see my sister yet.”

  “She’s still on the tour bus last I checked.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “Yes. She, Ash, and Noah are playing a card game.”

  “Clothed?”

  A reasonable question, considering Ash was involved. “As far as I’m aware.”

  Nibbling her plump bottom lip, she gazed at me from under her lashes. She looked so fucking sexy I had to put some space between us, or else I couldn’t be blamed for my actions. No man could. Melody was a goddamn siren.

  “Okay, but you can’t come into my room. You’re just dropping me off and then leaving.”

  “You’re afraid you won’t be able to resist me?”

  “We both know what happens when we are in close proximity together.”

  The image of her wet t-shirt clinging to her perfect round breasts blared in Technicolor in my mind, as did the sensation of her nipples sliding against my chest and the heat in her eyes before my mouth drowned in her sweetness.