Wicked Reunion (Wicked White Series Book 2) (13 page)

THEN

LONDON

F
ollow the light with your eyes,” the doctor in the white lab coat instructs as I sit on the edge of the gurney in the emergency room.

He moves the penlight up and down and side to side before bringing it in to almost touch my nose, causing my eyes to strain.

“Good,” he says as he steps back and then shoves the penlight into the pocket of his jacket. “It doesn’t seem like there are any long-term effects. That must have been some fall. It’s crazy that you hit your head just at the right angle to knock yourself out. Try to be more careful and limit your alcohol intake.” He writes something down on a little notepad and then tears off the sheet of paper before handing it to me. “Here’s a prescription for ibuprofen, eight hundred milligrams, for pain. You can take one every four to six hours.”

I take the paper. “Thanks, but like I said, I feel completely fine.”

“I want you to follow up with your family doctor in the next two to three days, and if you notice any odd changes in vision or motor skill, report back here immediately so we can do that CT scan that you refused.” The doctor pats me on the shoulder. “Take care, London.”

The second he leaves the room, I hop off the table. Wes puts his arms around me to make sure I’m steady. “You good?”

I nod. “I’m completely fine.”

Wes frowns. “Why did you lie to the paramedics about what happened to you?”

I shrug as we make our way down the hall of the hospital toward the exit. “It was an accident, Wes. I don’t need anyone questioning Jared about it. He’s gone through enough.”

He shakes his head. “Always protecting him. At some point, London, Jared is going to have to take responsibility for his actions. Both you and Mom coddle him far too much, and it’s not helping. It doesn’t force him to face things like a grown adult. It’s like he throws little tantrums and gets out of things, but when the law steps in—there’s no getting out of that.”

I’ve never heard Wes talk about his brother like this before. “You act like Jared has always been this way. He’s not a spoiled brat, Wes. All this—the things he’s going through—he’s never been like this before.”

Wes pushes open the thick glass door to the outside and holds it for me. “He’s always been selfish, London. You just didn’t allow yourself to see it before because you were blinded by your love for him. You always gave in and did exactly what he wanted you to do.”

We make our way to Wes’s car, and I furrow my brow. “Name one situation where I sacrificed something I wanted to make Jared happy.”

“That’s easy. College.”

“College?” I repeat. “What about it?”

Wes opens the passenger door to his four-door black sedan. “Did you really want to go to the University of Tennessee?” I open my mouth to protest immediately, but the look on Wes’s face tells me to not bullshit him. “Be honest.”

“Not at first, no, I guess, but once Jared and I talked about it, it made sense for us to both go there, seeing as I didn’t have a car. Besides, I wanted to stay close to him.”

“Exactly my point,” Wes chimes in. “You at first wanted to go to art school, not to a traditional four-year school, but Jared made you change your mind to bend to what he wanted. You gave up your dream of being an artist to study early childhood education just to go to the same school he did.”

He’s got me there. “That may be true, but I love working with the kids when I go out and do my actual student teaching. They are simply precious. And, believe it or not, I do get to be creative doing that job. I love evoking the kids’ love of art. The expressions on their faces—how proud they are—when they create something are inspiring. Besides, just because I didn’t officially study art doesn’t mean that I’m not an artist. I can still do it on the side.”

I take a seat in the car, and Wes leans against the open door. “You are an amazing person, London, and I don’t think Jared fully appreciates what he has. Please think about setting your foot down. I know he’s had a hard time lately, but I lost my dad too, and Mom her husband and best friend. You don’t see us acting insane. It makes me worry—this new side of him. The way his anger can come out so quickly when things don’t go his way. I worry about the kind of life you’ll have with him. Especially now that everything he’s ever known has changed.”

Wes has always been the sweet Kraft brother—the polite one everyone thought highly of when we were in high school. His younger brother overshadowed him a lot because he was the baseball star. I guess I myself am guilty of never noticing how sweet he is. His concern for me now is unbelievably heartwarming and opens my eyes to the point Jared was trying to make in his drunken state: maybe Wes is in love with me.

I stare up into his caring eyes, which remind me so much of Jared’s, and nod. “I promise that I’ll speak with him—try to get him to refocus his anger somewhere and convince him to talk with someone. I think that he needs some professional help dealing with everything that’s happened in this short amount of time.”

He seems satisfied with that answer. “Good. I love you both and I want to see you both happy, even if that means the two of you are no longer together.”

My heart crumbles at the mere thought of Jared and me not being together. I’ve loved him since I was in junior high, and being without him isn’t something that even registers on my radar. It’s not a possibility that I will think about entertaining, even in bad times like this when he runs out on me.

Wes offers to take me to his house because he wants to be around to watch over me and make sure that I’m okay. Only when he pulls up in the drive and discovers that my dad is home does he let me go in alone.

He comes around and opens my door, sticking close to my side as we walk up the sidewalk and get to my front door. When I open the door and push myself inside, I freeze when my eyes land on the disaster in my living room. There’s glass everywhere—on the wall where Jared threw the bottle, in the middle of the floor where Jared crashed through the glass coffee table.

Dad comes in from the kitchen with a broom and dustpan in hand. “Do you know what in the hell happened in here? I walked through the door and saw this mess, and my very first thought was that we’d been robbed, but after I checked the house and saw nothing was missing, I came to the conclusion that there must’ve been a raging party in here.”

“Mr. Uphill, sir, it’s partly my fault, and I will clean every bit of this mess up,” Wes says.

Dad scratches the top of his head. “You, Wes? I don’t see this kind of behavior coming from you. It looks like there was some sort of fight in here.”

Wes grimaces. “That’s because there was. Jared and I had a misunderstanding.”

Dad’s eyes flick over in my direction, and I can tell he knows there’s
more to the story than that. “A misunderstanding, huh? Care to tell me
what had the two of you so worked up that you destroyed my house?”

Wes licks his lips. “Jared had the wrong idea about me being here alone with London. He was drunk and things got completely out of hand.”

Dad rubs his fingers over the scruff on his lower chin. “I see. So where is Jared now?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. He took off after the fight, and I haven’t heard from him since.”

I purposefully leave off the little detail of me getting hit and going to the hospital for now, even though I know I won’t be able to keep that part a secret forever, considering the bills from the hospital will come soon enough.

“He seems to be doing that a lot lately,” Dad says. “He’s lost a lot of my respect for the way he’s treating his mother after all she’s been through. The boy doesn’t seem to have his head on straight. He’s got to pull it together. Getting caught with the drugs . . . it’s just something I can’t overlook as a man of the law, and it’s making me question his integrity and whether or not I want him with my daughter.”

“Dad, that’s not up to you,” I fire back. “I love Jared, and I know he’s going to pull through this. We just can’t give up on him.”

“London.” Dad says my name with a sigh. “Sometimes when tragedy strikes, a person has a hard time coming back from it, and if they do, they’re never the same. I know Jared was close with his dad, but if Henry could see the way he’s screwing up, he wouldn’t be happy either. He would tell the kid to get his shit together, and when I see him again, that’s exactly what I’m going to say.”

I want to beg him not to say that to Jared—to trust in the fact that Jared will redeem himself—but I know Dad’s in the right. Jared does need to get his shit together before he ruins everything and every bit of trust that I have in him.

Dad takes the broom and shoves the glass into a pile and doesn’t ask any more questions about the situation. That’s the one thing about Dad, he doesn’t pry too much, but when there is an issue he always tries to resolve it quickly.

I guess that’s where I get the fixer in me—from Dad.

The night goes on much the same, none of us talking about what happened here. We just work to get it all cleaned up, and after we’re done and have said good-bye to Wes, I head off to bed, completely exhausted from the events of the day.

As soon as my head hits the pillow, I find that I am unable to force my eyes shut. My brain is still wide awake as I ponder where Jared could be and what I’ll say the next time I see him.

The next day comes and goes without a word from Jared. I consider going out and combing the streets looking for him again, but I’ve learned from the last two times I went out to find him that it doesn’t seem to do any good.

After two days, I begin to seriously worry. No one has seen him—I mean, absolutely no one. It’s like he’s fallen off the face of the earth.

On the third day, I can no longer take just sitting back and wondering what’s happened to him. Since Dad is a cop, I plead with him to allow me to file a missing persons report. It takes some convincing, but after I explain that I’ve searched everywhere and I can find no sign of him, he agrees that it might be a good idea to let everyone know he’s missing. I mean, he could be hurt somewhere, and Dad knows that being gone for this long isn’t in Jared’s character.

A month goes by, and we’ve had no luck in finding Jared. Everyone is beginning to expect the worst since there’s been no sign of him.

Summer break eventually rolls around, and with still no word from Jared, I volunteer to clear his dorm room out. My hope is beginning to fade, and it’s becoming clear to me that wherever he is, he doesn’t want to be found. The chances of him returning to school next semester are slight.

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” Julie asks as she pulls into the parking lot just outside the dorm. “Don’t mind spending a couple hours packing up Jared’s room.”

I shake my head. “I can do it. Besides, you have a lot going on at the shop—just swing by after you’re done and I’ll load up your car with boxes.”

She sighs. “Okay, but call me if you change your mind and need my help. I really don’t mind. He is my son, after all—no matter where he is.”

I reach over and take her hand. “He’s going to turn up, Julie.”

Tears glisten in her eyes. “I hope so. I don’t think I can take the loss of someone else so close to me. My heart won’t survive it a second time.”

I can’t believe that Jared would do this to his mother, or to me. We both love him, and it’s like our love for him wasn’t good enough to keep him here. It makes me wonder how much he really cared for me in the first place. If I were in his position, no matter how hopeless things seemed, I would fight hard to keep my relationship with Jared alive because I love him with every inch of my heart. It hurts that he doesn’t feel the same, and if I could, I would kick my own ass for still loving him so much.

I sigh as I look at Julie’s face and watch the tears stream down her cheeks. No matter how angry I am at Jared, I still love him—Julie and I both do—and we need to find him to make sure he knows that we haven’t given up on him.

It’s then I decide I need to step it up and figure out a way to find Jared, not just for my sake, but for Julie’s too. It breaks my heart even more to see her so sad. I have to know that he’s all right.

THEN

JARED

S
uzie Q wasn’t kidding when she said the women go mad over these Black Falcon guys. Every show we open for these guys in Nashville, the place is packed with women. Suzie Q and the rest of the chicks in the band have been having a field day trying to turn all these straight women out.

They’ve got some serious game, and I think they’re well on their way to becoming notorious ladies’ women . . . or however you want to label them.

Suzie Q screams into the microphone, “We’re Lick Me and Split. Thanks for coming out to see us! Make sure you stop over at our merchandise booth and say hello! Good night!”

I play the last few riffs in time with the drumbeats and then head off stage. We’re still very, very rough as a cohesive band, but I think we’ve come together quite well in the past few weeks. I’ve even gotten better with singing on stage with the band in front of crowds. It’s a big change from singing solo and playing acoustically, but I can see this as being a new dream for me—making it in the music business since baseball is further out of reach for a future career. Besides, playing ball doesn’t feel the same without Dad around.

Standing just to the side of the stage is a woman in a skintight red leather skirt with an equally tight red blouse to match. She must really be into red, considering her hair is also the same color. When I pass by, the woman smiles at me the moment we make eye contact. While I can honestly say she’s not my type, she’s attractive for a woman who has at least fifteen years on me.

“That was an amazing set. The girls really seem to be into you,” the redhead says to me.

When she points to the crowd behind her, I notice a lot of the women are still looking in my direction. I turn my attention back to the woman in red. “Thanks. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

At that point I imagine we’re done with the conversation because I don’t instantly feed into the woman’s compliments and hit on her, but instead she reaches into her purse and whips out a business card. “My name is Jane Ann Rogers, and I work for Mopar Records. I’m scouting for new talent for a special project that the label is working on. We’re putting together a band, and I’m looking for a front man—a guy with that ‘it’ thing that will pull people in. I think you might be the man I’m looking for.”

I raise my eyebrows and then stare down at the very official-looking
business card. This is the record label that represents Black Falcon. Mopar Records has been making big waves signing new bands as of late, so her proposition definitely piques my interest. “You want me?”

“Yes. I think you’re exactly right. Come down to the office in Nashville Monday morning at nine sharp, and we’ll talk more.”

I flick the card between my fingers and smile. “Okay. Thank you. I’ll be there.”

Just as quickly as she appeared, she disappears into the crowd, leaving me elated.

“Who was that?” Suzie Q asks. “She was hot in that cougar kind of way.”

My first instinct is to bust out with the good news, but then I think better of it when I remember that the offer Jane Ann Rogers extended a moment ago was only to me and not to the rest of the band. It would make me a humongous asshole to rub in the fact that I just got propositioned to come talk business with a record company and the rest of the band didn’t.

I stuff the card into my back pocket and shrug. “She wanted to share a bed with me for the night.”

Suzie Q’s eyes light up, and she punches my shoulder. “Sweet! Are you going to tap that? I want video if you do. I bet she’s all kinds of freaky.”

I roll my eyes and laugh. “Hate to burst your bubble, but I turned her down.”

She sighs, clearly unhappy with my answer. “You turn down every single chick that comes in here. Why is that? You still got a thing going with that girl I spotted you with on campus when I first met you?”

The mere mention of London causes my back to stiffen. That’s been the hardest part about starting over—trying to pretend that every beat of my heart isn’t dedicated to loving London—but I can’t be with her when I can’t be myself.
I
don’t even know who I am anymore. How can I ask her to continue to love a man that neither of us really knows? Dad dying shook the foundation of my life, and London was integral to that part of me. I need to start over, figure out who I am, before I can possibly even begin to fathom moving on. It wouldn’t have been fair of me to ask London to wait around until I figured my shit out. I still feel so lost inside. If only Dad were here so I could call him up and get some advice about the situation.

The last thought trips me up. If Dad were still here, I doubt I would be in this situation in the first place. Losing him is what started me on this downward spiral and pushed me into that dark place where I lost my head and acted crazy for a while.

I feel like I’m just now beginning to think straight, and being out of the situation and away from everyone who reminds me of how things used to be has allowed me to get my head a little clearer. I’ve still got a long way to go.

I shake my head. “No. There’s absolutely nothing going on between her and me.”

She raises one eyebrow. “Well, then, I think it’s time to live it up, starting with that blond with amazing tits who’s been eye-fucking you since we stepped on stage.”

“Where?” I ask as I turn and scan the crowd.

Suzie Q raises her hand and points her index finger to the other side of the room, where a blond woman sits at the bar in a too-short skirt and her breasts practically hanging out of her top. The moment we make eye contact she licks her lips, and there’s no doubt what she wants from me.

I swallow hard. If I go through with this—if I sleep with this woman—she will be the only person I’ve ever been with other than London. But I’ve got to force London out of my mind. I can’t allow myself to think about her anymore. Come hell or high water, I must embrace this new life, regardless of if I’m still irrevocably in love with London. It’s the only way I can move on.

Almost as if on autopilot, I head in the blond’s direction. She grins, revealing nearly perfect white teeth, clearly happy that I’m heading her way.

“Get it,” Suzie Q shouts in encouragement as I walk away.

I take a seat next to her at the bar, and at first I feel uneasy about flirting with her—it feels wrong—but I push through the odd feeling and give her my most charming smile after I order a drink. “Did you enjoy the show?”

Her eyes light up. “Oh, yeah. I particularly liked watching you. The way you move when you play, topped off by the way you sing—it’s hypnotic.”

The compliment causes me to genuinely smile as the bartender sets
my beer in front of me. “Thanks. That’s always a great thing to hear.”

“I mean that. You’re total eye candy, and I wouldn’t mind taking a bite of you,” she says as she leans in and places a hand on my biceps. “Just like I thought—you’re totally buff. Your muscles are huge. Does the rest of you match?”

I choke on my beer and quickly set it down on the bar. “Wow. You don’t fuck around, do you?”

“I’m a cut-right-to-the-chase kind of girl. When I see something that I want, I just go for it, full throttle.”

I quirk one brow. “And what is it exactly that you want from me?”

Her grin turns devilish. “I think you already know the answer to that question. The question is, are you willing to give it to me?”

I take another swallow of my beer and then set it back down. I’ve had my fair share of women throwing themselves at me when I was in college playing ball, but nothing compares to the women in the rock scene. They all seem so willing.

This is like every man’s fantasy—approach the hot blond and have her be ready and willing in that very moment. This chick has made it very clear to me she wants to fuck. The question is: Do I want to go through with it?

I nod toward her empty glass. “Buy you a drink?”

She licks her lips seductively. “You can give me whatever you want, sugar.”

About an hour and five beers later, I find the blond sitting on my lap. Her arm is thrown around my neck, and every now and then she leans in and presses her lips to some of my exposed flesh. Her fingers idly trail up and down my chest. The more we sit here in this bar together, the more both of us are getting turned on and the easier the idea of fucking this woman becomes.

Soon, I think the woman’s patience with me expires, because she hops off my lap and grabs my hand. “Come with me.”

I follow her in my drunken haze and allow her to pull me all the way outside. When the cool night air washes over me, I find myself being pushed back against the brick wall and attacked with lips.

Completely lost in the moment, I allow my hands to slide down her back to find her ass and squeeze each of her cheeks. This only excites her more, and she hitches one leg on my hip and grinds her pussy against my crotch.

She giggles while her lips remain pressed to mine. “Your cock is huge. This is going to be so much fun.”

There’s no denying that I have a raging hard-on right now, and it’s throbbing with anticipation to find its way inside this woman. “We can’t do this here.”

“No problem,” she says and pulls back, grabbing my hand again. “I’ve got a car in the parking lot.” She leads me out a ways from the building to a shiny black Mustang. She unlocks the door and then shoves forward the driver’s seat. “There’s more room in the back.”

I lick my lips and hesitate for a fraction of a second. Once I go in there, I know there’s no going back—no way to turn back from sleeping with another woman. London will hate me forever if she finds out.

London Uphill is the complete opposite of my new companion—
hell, I don’t even know this woman’s name yet. London is sweet and caring, where this woman is definitely not sweet, and if I had to guess, she’s running from something too—something she doesn’t want to remember. This woman is dragging a complete stranger to her car, so I don’t feel guilty that I’m using her for a distraction, because it’s obvious that she’s just using me too.

I relax my shoulders and head into the backseat.