Rock Stars Do It Forever (16 page)

She ducked her face then. “Yes, baby. But just trust me, okay? We’ll talk after you perform. Please don’t worry, okay? It’s fine. We’re fine. I’m fine. We’re all all right.”
 

“You know that’s just gonna drive me crazy now, right?” He pulled her against his chest to hide his frustration. “I’m gonna be wondering what’s going on.”

“Just try to forget it for now, okay? If it was something urgent, you know I’d tell you.”
 

He sighed. “Okay. Fine. But we’re going out alone after, and we’re talking.”

“Absolutely.”

They were silent then, Jamie ruminating on whatever was on her mind, and Chase going in circles in his head trying to figure out what it could be.
 

He dozed with her in his arms, and a thought floated through the back of his head, an idea.
 

No,
he thought.
That’s not it. It can’t be.
He held her close, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo and her body lotion and the musk of sex.
But if it was?
 

He tried to honestly consider the possibility running through him.
 

If it was that, I’d be happy. Among other things.

An unknowable amount of time later, he heard a knock on the door. “Chase, dude,” came Gage’s voice from the other side. “We gotta be onstage to warm up.”

“Coming,” he rumbled.
 

Jamie stirred in his arms. “Gotta go already?” she asked sleepily.

“Yeah. You stay here for a while.”

She pursed her lips for a kiss, and he gave her one, slow and deep and passionate. “Okay, baby. I’ll see you up there. Love you.” Jamie pushed his shoulder to get him moving.

Chase forced himself out of bed and got dressed, knowing if he didn’t, he’d get lost in her, lost in the kiss, lost in a third round of lovemaking. He slipped out the door with his boots, which he didn’t remember taking off in the first place, and glanced back at her. She was dozing with one hand draped over her stomach.
 

He paused, watching her sleep, wondering.

*
 
*
 
*

Jamie woke up alone in the bed on the tour bus. She stretched lazily, listening to the thump of the distant bass and drums of the opening acts. She crawled out of bed and stepped into her panties, then hooked her bra under her breasts, spun it around and slipped the straps on, tucking her breasts into the cups. She put her pants on, but left them unzipped and unbuttoned. There was a mirror on the back of the door, and she examined herself in it, turning sideways to look at herself in profile.
 

She wondered if he’d noticed the changes in her. Probably. He was observant like that. She ran her hands over her belly—still flat, thank god—then hefted her breasts. He’d obviously noticed her breasts, but he might’ve bought her story about gaining weight. Which she had, just not for the reasons she’d given him. She’d been working out more assiduously than ever, taking up yoga with a vengeance.

She wasn’t ready to tell him yet. She knew how important this performance was to him, and she wanted him to put his whole attention on the show. If she told him, he’d be too upset to focus. It was why she hadn’t said anything yet. He was consumed with interviews and TV appearances, show after show. Obviously she couldn’t tell him via text, and she hadn’t been a hundred-percent sure when she’d seen him the last couple of times.

She was sure now, of course. Doctor-verified sure. Nerves and fear fluttered in her belly at the thought.
 

She wished she knew for sure how he’d react when she told him. God. Would he be happy? Afraid? Mad? The last possibility was the one she feared most. That wasn’t like him, but…she couldn’t be sure. The band was just starting to reach their true potential. This was the worst possible timing for this news.
 

For her, too. She’d been shouldering a huge burden at work, taking the place of two people. The GM had hinted that she was being considered for a regional position, which would make Jamie the only real choice for the next GM. Now was not the right time for this.
 

Except…you couldn’t really pick the timing in these sorts of situations, could you?

Jamie finished getting dressed, fighting off panic.
 

She’d been pretending she was okay, trying to put on a brave face for Chase until the time was right to tell him, but she knew he’d noticed a change in her. Of course, he thought it meant something was wrong with her, or that she was going to dump him. She needed him more than ever, but—if she was going to admit the deep, dark truth—she was terrified he’d leave her to figure this out on her own.
 

If the pattern her life had taken thus far kept up, that’s what would happen. The man she loved would abandon her at the time she needed him most. She didn’t think he would. Her gut told her he’d be what she needed, he’d stick around for this. But…the fear remained.
 

This was the one eventuality she’d always been afraid of. It was why she was always so careful about protection and about taking her pill every day. She didn’t need this, didn’t want it. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But now here it was, her worst fear realized.

She slipped her coat on and stepped out into the late December cold, shivering deeper into the wool jacket. A Palace security guard met her halfway across the parking lot.
 

“Mr. Delany sent me to escort you backstage, Miss Dunleavy.” His voice was a throaty croak. The guard was short, stocky, with a bald white scalp and kind dark eyes that hinted at capable confidence.
 

“Thank you.” She extended her hand and shook his. “Jamie.”

He squeezed gently but firmly. “Gary.”
 

His smile transformed his face. He wasn’t an attractive man, but he had a spark of charisma that drew her, made her like him. She followed him through the Palace underground to the entrance to the backstage area. The last opening act was still performing, a lively local rock band. She found Chase sitting in a dark, lonely corner, plucking at a guitar.
 

She stood beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t know you played the guitar. How the hell did I not know this?”

He shrugged. “I don’t play much. Usually only when I’m writing a song, which I only do on the bus, lately.”

“What are you playing?” she asked.
 

He shrugged again, shook himself, and reached out to close a notebook on a stool in front of him. “Nothing. Just a song.”
 

The notes he’d been playing had been haunting and somehow familiar, even though she knew she’d never heard the song before.

An awkward silence sat between them. He was obviously brooding on the news she hadn’t told him.
 

“Chase, look, I’m not trying to keep anything from you—” she began.

He cut her off. “Then just tell me. Whatever it is, I’d be better of knowing. This not knowing is killing me.”

“But this show, it’s so important. I don’t want anything to get in the way.”

He set the guitar down and grabbed her ams. “Nothing about you, nothing about
us
could ever be in the way.”

She nearly caved, nearly told him, nearly blurted out the two heavy words. But she didn’t. Afterward. That was the best time. Once he got on stage, everything else would vanish for him. It always did.

When he realized she wasn’t telling, he sighed. “Fine. Afterward, then.”
 

He stood up, clearly irritated. The opening band had finished, and the crew was resetting the stage for the main act. Chase’s gaze burned into her, digging at her secret. She wanted to tell him.
 

She rushed into his arms and felt a soft rush of comfort in his embrace. “I love you, Chase. Just hold on to that until we can talk after you’re done, okay? I love you, and everything’s okay.”
 

Except it’s not
. She fought back the flood of words bubbling on her tongue.

“Let’s go, Chase. We’re on!” Gage appeared, smacking Chase on the back.
 

“Coming.” Chase turned and pasted on a grin for Gage, mimicking his best friend’s exuberance.
 

Jamie saw through it, though. He was worried.
 

She met his eyes when he turned back to her. His dark eyes locked on hers, and she saw a heady, dizzying depth in them.
He knows,
she realized. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“Just tell me,” Chase whispered. “Say it.”

She couldn’t. The kick drum pounded onstage, and the guitar twanged and whined as Kyle tuned it in.
 

“Chase! Fucking come on! Hometown headliners, motherfucker!” Gage appeared once more, and this time physically grabbed Chase by the arms and pulled him away from Jamie. Gage met Jamie’s eyes and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Jamie. I’ll give him back after the show!”

“I love you!” she called after Chase. “Kick ass!”

He smiled, and then he turned toward the stage and she saw the transformation happen. He shook his head, rolled his shoulders, hung his head back on his neck and drew a deep breath, shaking his hands. Then he stood straight, arms loose at his sides, leonine and powerful and graceful. He strode onto the stage, accepting a wireless mic from a techie on the way.
 

Jamie found her place just off stage, where she could see everything but remain invisible. The lights were down, thousands of people filling the seats and the boxes and the pit near the stage. The crowd was screaming, shrieking with anticipation. Jamie felt nerves flutter through her at the thought of being out in front of that many people.
No, thanks
.
 

A single spotlight clicked on, bathing Chase. He was wearing his signature tight, faded, black leather pants, heavy black combat boots, a white button-down dress shirt with the sleeves ripped off, thick black leather wristbands glinting with silver spikes. His head was freshly shaven, glistening in the spotlight. His gorgeous face was limned in the light, and she could see him composing himself, pushing everything away. He just stood for a moment, bathing in the applause. From her vantage point, she saw him flick a finger at the drummer, a subtle gesture, and the drums kicked into life, a pulsing heartbeat rhythm. The crowd went even crazier. He raised his head, looking out over the sea of people, and the volume of the audience raised even more. They were in a frenzy, and Chase was eating it up, pulling into himself like oxygen.
 

He spread his arms wide, and Jamie was deafened.
 

Then Kyle plucked a single string, sending a long, high, wavering note over the crowd, which Gage underscored with a throbbing bass note. Kyle watched Chase, drawing out the single note. Chase slowly brought the mic to his lips, and Kyle held his pick poised over the bridge of his black and red electric guitar. Chase drew a deep breath, held it, mic to his lips, and then on some signal Jamie missed, Kyle brought the pick down to produce a wild rush of noise, a huge, deafening power chord. At the same time, Chase belted a wordless note, half-sung, half-screamed.
 

And then it was on. The song took off, a popular radio single that everyone knew. Jamie sang along, trying to relax into the show.
 

Song after song, and Chase was on fire. He was turning his anxiety into heat, energy, and Jamie knew this was their best performance yet.
 

Finally, one of their artistic numbers came up, a long instrumental song written by Gage and Kyle. Chase stepped offstage and found Jamie.

“You’re amazing,” she told him, kissing him.

“It felt good. We were on.” He was wired, almost vibrating with energy.

“
You
were on.” She rested her hands on his back, meeting his gaze.

The song soared, providing a dramatic counterpoint to the tense silence between them.
 

“Tell me,” Chase said.

“Not yet,” she whispered.

The song ended, and the crowd filled the silence with roaring applause. The band left the stage and downed bottles of water, then met for shots. Gage beckoned to Chase, who backed away from Jamie. Gage handed him a shot glass, and the guys all clinked glasses and downed their shots. Chase turned back to Jamie.

“Please,” he said. “Tell me. Say it.”

The crowd was insane, wild.
 

Gage appeared. “We gotta go back on.”

“One second,” Chase said without looking at his friend.

“We don’t have a second. They’re gonna fuckin’ riot, man.” Gage looked frustrated, sounded irritated.

“Go,” Jamie said.

“No. Tell me.”

Jamie squeezed her eyes shut. “Go, Chase. A few more songs. Then we can talk.”

Chase took her arms in his hands, ignoring the screaming fans. “I’m not going on until you tell me. Say it.”
 

She was hyperventilating, fear boiling through her. She couldn’t resist the pleading note in his voice. A tear slipped down her cheek.

She forced her eyes to his. “I’m pregnant.”

He blinked, rocked back on his heels, his fingers loosening on her arms, blinked again, sucked in a deep, ragged breath. Then he blinked fast, as if holding back tears of his own. “I knew it,” he said, more to himself. He pulled her against his chest. “You’re positive?”

“I saw a doctor. No question. I’m eight weeks.”

“Phoenix,” Chase said.

“Yeah. Phoenix.”

Gage grabbed Chase’s shoulders. “I know something heavy just went down, and I’m sorry to interrupt it, but we
have
to go back on. They’re seriously about to fucking riot.
Now
, Chase.”

Chase struggled for composure, clearly fighting emotion. “Jamie, god…I—”

“This is why I wanted to wait. I’m sorry, Chase, I’m sorry—”

“Sorry? Fuck, no. Don’t be sorry. I love you. I gotta go, but…shit. Fuck.” He kissed her roughly, desperately. “I love you. I love you.”

Then he was gone.