Goodbyes and Second Chances (The Bleu Series Book 1) (14 page)

Part Two

Second Chances

A little bit
older and some wiser

Chapter
Twelve

Cora was right. And I hated her a long
time for it.

I hated her
vehemently in the beginning for doing what she did. And I hated even more when I
realized she was right. I hated that she forced my hand the way she did,
completely crushing me. She was only thinking in the best interest of her son.
I totally get that now. Of course she was absolutely right. I would have
totally ended up being the ruin of Dillon Bleu and his dreams. Aunt Evie warned
me all those years ago that one day I was going to end up making a choice that
would lead to consequences that would follow me the rest of my life. Boy, was
she not kidding.

“You show up
here one more time and I’m gonna go all redneck on your behind. The answer is
no and will always be NO!!” I holler at the jerk. “Some things ain’t for sale.
You need to get that through your thick head.”

“I like when you
get all feisty on me. It’s sexy.” He laughs as he tries to grab hold of my
hand, but I slap his away. He thinks he’s cute. He’s showed up here in my
office today and won’t leave. I get out of my desk chair and walk towards him.
He’s propped up on the edge of my desk like he owns the place. I have to restrain
myself from shoving him off. He wouldn’t see it coming, and he would land on
his butt before he knows what hits him. But I won’t do it. I stand by him and
point adamantly towards the door.

“You’re pushing
it, Hudson. Really pushing it.” He has me all riled up today and is loving
every minute of it.

“You need a real
man to take care of you, sweetheart.” He’s still teasing and I know it, but man
is it ticking me off.

“Will is all I
need,” I say.

All of the
playfulness instantly seeps away and a somber look paints across Hudson’s
features. “One of these days Will is going to grow tired of this place and
leave it for greener pastures. Then you’ll be stuck here, all alone, again. You
know it’s inevitable, Jillian.” He places a business card on my desk as he does
every time. He taps it while looking at me sadly. “If you reconsider either one
of my offers, give me a call.” Once Hudson is at the door, he turns to look at
me once again. He is nearing thirty but still has that sweet boyish look he has
always carried. Age is only evident in his knowing eyes. “Hopefully, it won’t
be too late,” he says before leaving.

I take the card
and toss it into the trash. Hudson is a great friend and he knows the economy
is not in the trailer park’s favor, but I just can’t relent and sell it to him.
This place is the only life I have ever known. I can’t bear the thought of it
being leveled for a water park and fancy resort. Aunt Evie gave me enough
cushion financially to keep this place afloat, but it has become overwhelming
on how to turn things around. I can’t keep letting half the residents stay here
rent free. Times are tough so I just keep doing it anyway and try to find ways
to make up for the income deficient. I’m just now realizing how much weight had
been on Aunt Evie’s shoulders, with having so many families depending on her to
help them out. I sit here now with that same crushing weight on my shoulders.

Hudson also
hounds me to no end to go on a date with him. And that is a big, fat NO. He
knows I’m completely sold out to Will and totally in love with my guy. I don’t
understand why Hudson doesn’t think Will is enough. Well, he absolutely is.
Will has only been in my life for less than five years now, so we are still
learning each other. But I can already tell you, I can’t imagine life without
him. He showed up when my life was in ruins and helped me pull it back
together. Will doesn’t care what my social status is in this world. He just
wants me happy and to make me happy. Not to mention he is absolutely gorgeous
with big blue eyes and dark hair. Now that’s my kind of guy. I smile at the
idea. I guess I do have a certain type.

I wander back
into my small office and try to get over Hudson ruffling my feathers today.
I’ve had a tough go of it over the last several years and he knows it.

Jen barges in
without knocking as she always does. She’s sipping on her addiction—coffee.
“What’s your flavor of choice today?” I ask as I switch on my laptop.

“Caramel mocha,”
she answers as she sits opposite of me at my desk. “What’s on the agenda now,
since you ran off my eye candy?”

“Hudson walked
over to the dock to mope. Why don’t you go cheer him up?” I suggest, and this
sends her out the door in a flash. I
hope
that’s where’s he’s at. He normally walks around a bit before taking off. That
should entertain her for a while. That man seems obsessed with this place. He
nearly salivates during his visits.

Shimmer Lakes is
a gorgeous piece of real estate, I get it. This side of the lake is still lush
with an abundance of undeveloped land and wooded area. Aunt Evie gave every
acre of this massive place to me. Selling it would make me an instant
millionaire, but I would feel worthless for doing it. I can’t do it to this
beautiful, unsoiled land, nor can I do it to the people. I know the old trailers
are an eyesore, but those tin cans are people’s homes.

Once I hear the
office door close, I click on the search engine on my computer. Within minutes
I have pulled up the latest footage of Bleu Streak. Okay, so I admit I
cyberstalk Dillon. I can’t help myself. I pull up his concert footage on
YouTube weekly. I may also watch all of his interviews…

It’s been fairly
easy to keep up with the band through media sites and Google. The twins are
finally easy to tell apart. Mave has acquired two full sleeves of tattoos and
Max only has one. Mave’s looks like all sorts of interesting stories etched
along his skin, and I would love to have a conversation with him about them.
Max only has one elaborate piece of sheet music dancing along his one arm. Fans
go wild for the twin rock stars. The dudes have a pretty impressive following
on social media, as do
Trace
and Logan. Dillon doesn’t
even dabble in any of it. There is a Dillon Bleu fan club page on Facebook, but
I seriously doubt he knows it even exists. I know all about it. I’m a member of
course, and check in on the page at least once a day.

I know without a
doubt, I did the right thing by letting Dillon go, but that doesn’t mean I
don’t love and miss him still. That day I drove off with Cora’s words slicing
my heart in two, and I hid out at Leona’s for two weeks. I did this to make
sure he was forced to leave me and embark on his tour. I returned and found my
note gone. Dillon left the ring with his own note. The note reminded me that I
was his. I stowed the ring and note away and fell into a dark funk. The weeks
that followed, I was absolutely miserable and literally stayed sick to my
stomach from it. I just don’t think I will ever be over him. He’s more than my
first love; he’s my dearest friend. And I miss him every day. If I sit still
and close my eyes, I can picture those dimples perfectly, and my memory can
recall the alluring woodsy smell of his skin. He is a part of me, and I just
don’t think it’s a part I will ever get over.

I thought
pushing Dillon out of my life was tough, but I had no idea how much more badly
it could become until I walked into Aunt Evie’s office and found her lying on
the floor, unconscious. My life finished crumbling in that abrupt flash. She
had suffered a massive stroke, only five months after Dillon’s detrimental last
exit. I was able to get her to the hospital, but the damage was irreversible.
That determined lady held on until Kyle was able to drive the six hours from
school. We both sat by her bed and watched her peacefully slip away within an
hour of Kyle arriving. Never one to cause a fuss, that lovely woman left us
quietly.

When a
highfalutin passes away on the other side of the lake, there is always lots
media coverage and public mourners quick to declare how great that person was
to the world. Nothing like that happened when this great woman died. Those
ignorant people have no clue that a saint left the earth that sad day. I know
my dear aunt didn’t get the praise and recognition she deserved during this
life on earth. But I have no doubt that Jesus met her at the gates of heaven
and personally escorted her home in a grand celebration fit for a queen. And I
know the crown he presented her was more luxurious and majestic than any the
royalty of England has ever laid eyes on. I know he rewarded her for saving
Kyle and me because that was no easy challenge. That brave woman never
complained one time about having to put up with us either. She always made us
feel like her own, and I doubt none that was how she viewed us.

I had to grow up
fast in those dark days. Never did I think I would be planning a funeral all on
my own at the age of twenty-two, or taking over a business and other
responsibilities on top of that. Aunt Evie left it all to me, so I had no
choice. I was terrified. Above it all, I felt so alone.

Cora made it to
the funeral and wouldn’t take her eyes off of me the entire time. Every time I
looked up during the service, she was watching me. This angered me, so after
everyone left, she and I exchanged hurtful words that we will never be able to
take back. And most days I wouldn’t ever care to take them back.

I gave her what
she wanted—her son a fair shot at his dreams without me getting in the way. I
told her she had no right to come back to smear it in my face with her designer
dress and salon quality hair, while I stood in that graveyard in a thrift store
dress a size too big. She seemed to be able to wash the trash off in a pretty
short time.

“You just
remember to stay away. Just because Evie is gone, doesn’t mean you get to go
making a mess for Dillon now.” That was the last thing she said to me the very
day I laid the dearest woman in my life to rest. I was just glad Aunt Evie
weren’t there to hear it. I was ashamed for being so belittled like that. I
wrote Cora off completely after that day.

I gave into the
temptation one time since her threats that day. It was nearly two years after
Aunt Evie’s death, when I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had already begun my
cyberstalking. I watched Dillon transform in those first two years. He ended up
keeping the mohawk for quite a long time. I guess that was his rebellion
against me for rejecting him. True to his word, Max began that tour with short,
spiky green hair. I often wondered how Dillon pulled that stunt off. I could
just imagine him shining those dimples as he shared with me the details of it.
I pure ached to hear something as silly and simple as that moment I had missed
between them.

 
At the end of that first year, the band
wrapped up their first North American tour and went back to the studio to work
on their sophomore album. When they reemerged several months later, Dillon’s
hair had grown back out with just a small streak of blue in the front. He
looked edgy in a sexy, brooding way. The fans went crazy for his new look as well
as the new album. That record was filled with heartache, and the lyrics
combined with the moody melody made it an instant success. It went platinum
within a month of its release.

I pulled an
interview up late one night just so I could hear Dillon’s voice. It was one
from the band’s promotional junkets for the new album. Dillon was asked in the
interview how did such an outstanding album come to be. He said, “A broken
heart is the best muse one can find.”

The young female
interviewer went inappropriate with that statement in two seconds flat. “Oh
baby, I could help that heart heal right up.”

Dillon gifted
her with a one dimple show. “Thanks, but I’m not finished learning from this
broken heart just yet.” He left it at that and made the girl swoon even more.

I had a copy of
the CD delivered to me before the sales began. I cried for weeks after
receiving it. I knew it was a message from him. I hurt him. Message received,
loud and clear. If he knew I was doing it for his own good…

I had to go see
him after that. So one weekend, Kyle was home and Will was fine hanging out
with him, so I loaded up in the Mustang and drove a few hours away to Atlanta
to catch a concert. I was near the middle of the crowd and was mesmerized just
as much as any fan in the arena that night. Dillon’s presence on that stage was
indescribable. The man owned it. Absolutely owned it. His thick black hair was
styled in an edgy shag, and he was wearing a snug-fitting deep-blue Henley with
the sleeves pushed up to expose the ink on his well-formed forearms. Where I
stood I couldn’t make out what the designs were, but one looked like a cross
and the other arm had intricate wording. Nicely-fitted dark jeans and boots
completed his outfit, making him look dangerous and tempting. His electric-blue
guitar was strapped around his broad shoulders, and he was working the chords
like he was born to do nothing but. The female fans were swooning. I couldn’t
blame them one bit. He looked larger than life and like every American girl’s
rock dream.

I stood in awe
as the entire venue rocked out to songs artfully interlaced with Bible verses.
I seriously doubt they knew, but I guess that doesn’t matter. If there’s one
thing I’ve learned over the years from Dillon Bleu, it’s that music weaves into
the listener’s soul and really never departs. I totally get that and I bet you
do, too. Have you ever heard the first few chords of a song play on the radio
and know immediately what it is, even though you’ve not heard it in years? It’s
as though your memory automatically brings it forward from a secret spot, and
you can sing every word as you did years ago. Dillon has captivated an
incredibly sized rock nation, and these fans will always hold God’s words in
their hearts long after Dillon departs from the stage. The guy is a genius.
This is his intentions and he masterfully pulls it off.