Home > There's Wild, Then There's You (The Wild Ones #3)(24)

There's Wild, Then There's You (The Wild Ones #3)(24)
Author: M. Leighton

“Not quite the choices I was hoping for.”

“Rest assured, your hopes are no concern of mine.”

“I deserve that, Violet. I know I do, but would you please just give me a chance to explain?”

“I don’t think an explanation is necessary. Everything was pretty clear from where I was standing.”

I hate that there’s hurt in my voice. I don’t want it there. I don’t want to feel it, much less show it.

“Can I at least come in? For just a few minutes?” When I don’t move to respond or to let him in, he adds, “Please.”

With a heavy sigh, I step aside so that he can enter. I’ve loved my little house from the first moment I set foot inside the cozy living room. I’ve never thought of it as small until tonight. But Jet’s presence is so big, so much larger than life, it overwhelms the space and makes it feel tiny in comparison.

“How did you find me, by the way?” I ask as I walk over to curl up on one end of my comfy chocolate-colored couch. I am hyperaware of my bare legs and arms, and the thin material of my sleep shorts and T-shirt.

“Tia. She wasn’t thrilled with a late-night visit, and neither was her boyfriend.”

“Dennis was there?” I ask, smothering a cringe. “Oh, boy.”

“I’m not worried about Dennis. Or Tia. I’m worried about you.”

“You might not be, but I am. Tia hasn’t exactly always been faithful to Dennis, and you showing up at her door in the middle of the night won’t do either of them any favors.”

Jet sighs. “Something else I need to apologize for then.” He sits on the edge of the sofa, his body angled toward mine, his elbows on his knees. “Look, this isn’t going the way I had planned.”

“You had a plan?”

“Well, no. I just left as soon as our set was over and headed straight here. I didn’t really think about what I would say. I just knew I needed to see you. To talk to you. To explain.”

His eyes are as sincere as his words. Once again, he’s the Jet I met at SAA, not the one I saw onstage tonight. But I resist the urge to soften toward him, reminding myself that this is the same guy. One I can’t trust.

“There’s no need. Really. It’s not like we were dating or I have some kind of claim on you.” And that’s true. There’s really no logical reason for me to be upset.

“Regardless, seeing that look on your face tonight bothered me.”

“What look?”

“That hurt look. And that disappointed, disgusted look.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were, Violet. You can deny it all you want, but I still saw it. I’m all too familiar with that look. It’s just never . . . never . . .”

“Never what?” I prompt.

I watch Jet’s eyes melt into puddles of pain and regret. “It’s never hurt me before. Made me feel shitty, yes. Guilty as hell, yes. But it’s never made me feel like it did tonight.”

“Well, it shouldn’t. You don’t owe me anything.”

“Maybe not, but I’d appreciate it if you’d humor me anyway.”

“Fine. Say what you need to.” I try to keep my frigid exterior in place, even though I can feel my inner ice melting with every word that comes out of his mouth.

“I was being completely honest with you last weekend when I told you that I drown out my problems, that I’m like my father in that way. But my ocean is the stage.” Jet stands and walks slowly to my unlit fireplace to stare into the cold, dark heart of it. “I’m not an alcoholic, but I have a drinking problem. I’m not a narcissist, but I have an ego problem. I’m not a drug abuser, but I have a drug problem. The drugs I use just aren’t ones that are smoked or shot up. They’re the ones that come in the form of women who want nothing more than to please me and fans who want nothing more than to hear me. Music that I can lose myself in. A place where I can be someone else who has no problems and doesn’t give a shit about consequences. That is my addiction. That is my weakness.”

I forget for a moment how hurt and betrayed I’ve felt all night. “Does that really work? Does it really make you feel better?”

“Maybe for a little while. And that used to be enough. But . . .”

“But?”

Jet turns to look at me, his eyes deep and glistening and sincere. “But tonight it wasn’t. Tonight it felt like exactly what it was. Fake. Shallow. Temporary.”

I know my heart shouldn’t speed up this way. I shouldn’t react to the look in his eyes or the gentle huskiness in his voice.

And yet I do. I just can’t seem to help myself.

“Maybe one day you’ll stop. Maybe you’ll find some better way to cope, something that’s more important to you than escaping.”

“I’ve never wanted that before. Never looked for it. But being with you, just the little time we’ve spent together, makes me think I could be different. That I could be the person that I used to want to be.”

“And who’s that?”

One side of his mouth quirks up into a slightly bitter grin. “I used to want to be a songwriter. Being in the spotlight was never my intention. It just sort of . . . happened. The crazier shit got at home, the more I felt like I needed to get away.” He sits down on the couch again, leaning his head back and stretching his legs out in front of himself as he stares at the ceiling. “Shortly after Dad left, Mom told me she didn’t want me around my two younger brothers. They’re twelve and fourteen now. She told me that until I got my shit together, she didn’t want them exposed to my ‘ways,’ that one negative male role model was enough. For a while, I quit everything. I went back to school, got a few more of my architecture classes under my belt. That was my second choice, if I couldn’t write music. But then Collin, the lead singer of Saltwater Creek, left, and they asked me to come on full time. The gigs got better, the fans got better, which meant more money. But that also meant I could dive right into all the things that made me the person she hated. Just like my dad.” Jet laughs, the sound bitter. “I just didn’t really realize it until I told you. I guess I’ve been drowning that out, too.”

“Are you beginning to realize that drowning your problems in whatever and whoever isn’t going to fix them?”

Jet rolls his head on the cushion to look over at me. His eyes are dark and pensive in the low light coming from my open bedroom door. “I don’t think I ever expected it to. It was more a convenient way to be happy in the meantime.”

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