CHAPTER 22 ALEXIS
It’s the hundredth time I’ve drafted a text that I haven’t sent.
It’s been a busy few days as we’ve made last-minute decisions and changes, but it’s not like I haven’t had a single second to text him.
Still…what do I say?
My dad’s blackmailing me into getting engaged to Brooks?
I can’t exactly admit to that over text, and I haven’t been alone long enough to call him at a decent hour. He’s got games and things to do, and I don’t want to bother him with these details until I figure out a way out of them.
My dad relented and told me he wouldn’t press the issue until after the tour. He doesn’t want me distracted while I’m going out on stage night after night.
Instead, returning home in six months will loom over me as I wait for the inevitable hammer to drop.
I finally send the text right before I slip into bed…even though a small part of me wonders if my dad can see what I’m sending. If I have any real privacy at all.
Me: Way to go, Brewer. Nice win.
He doesn’t respond right away, but I don’t expect him to. He’s got a life, too. I’m sure he’s out celebrating the win.
I just hope that celebration doesn’t include some random woman because he’s given up hope on me.
Maybe he should give up hope on me. It’s probably the safer route for him to take. But the thought pierces an ache right in the pit of my stomach.
We didn’t promise each other a damn thing, but I still have hope that he’ll wait for me anyway.
It’s probably insane, but I want him to be so enraptured by me that he can’t even look at another woman.
I want him to think of only me, to resist whatever temptation comes his way over the next six months.
It’s a lot to ask, in particular because I didn’t ask it. In fact, I went the complete opposite direction and basically told him to get it out of his system.
What a dumb thing to say.
And how dumb am I to pin my hopes on two short brunches?
I felt something, though. It’s my naiveté and inexperience talking, surely, but I thought I’d be different to him.
Unfortunately, when I wake up the next morning, my father is the one who breaks the news to me.
He doesn’t do it in a sympathetic way, though. He does it in a smug, told you so kind of way.
He tosses his phone in front of me while I’m eating my egg whites and spinach omelet, and I glance at the headline of the article pulled up.
Baseball’s Bad Boy at it again? Danny Brewer Spotted Leaving Vegas Bar with Mystery Woman.
The article has photos with it, and sure enough, he’s got his arm around some woman’s shoulders. The article claims these images were taken last night.
The pang in my heart hurts more than I care to admit.
It’s only been a few days since that kiss at his hotel room, since the words we exchanged…since everything.
And he’s already leaving a bar with some other woman.
Except…I can’t fall into the miscommunication trap. Maybe there’s some explanation, and before I jump to conclusions, I want to give him the chance to explain himself.
“Is this the guy you’re meeting in secret at hotels?” my father asks after he’s given me a moment to digest what he’s showing me.
I have exactly zero line of defense here. I can’t defend myself, and I certainly can’t defend his actions. So instead, I snap at him as I push my plate away, suddenly not very hungry anymore. I push to a stand and clench my fists at my sides. “That’s not your business.”
“It most certainly is,” he roars.
“You have no idea who that woman is, and you know the tabloids will make up anything about anyone.”
He raises his brows. “You think his past doesn’t prove these present claims true?”
I simply choose to walk away.
I will no longer engage in these arguments about my personal life.
I love him, but I miss the days when he was just Dad.
I should amend that. I love him as my father. As my agent?
I think I’m done.
I think I’m at the point where I don’t want him to be my agent any longer, but I also don’t know how to get out of a business relationship over a decade old with the man who is the very reason I got to where I am today.
I head upstairs to my bedroom, where I find my phone still sitting on my nightstand.
I pick it up, and I spot a message from Danny—or, from DJ, as he’s saved in my phone. He just sent it a few minutes ago.
DJ: Sorry I didn’t get back to you last night. My sister’s in town and I took her out to meet some of my buddies. She drank too much, and I had to take care of her. Thanks for the text.
His sister? His sister! Aha! Mystery solved.
I nearly run down the stairs with my own bit of smugness to shove that fact in my dad’s face, but I choose the high road.
Instead, I lock my door, and I head toward my closet.
With shaking fingers, I dial his number.
He answers right away. “Lex.”
God, I love it when he calls me that. It’s all throaty and sexy, and he seems to use it in the right moments. Lex, Carrie, Alexis, Bodega…hell, the man could call me Fish Stick or Bacon Eater and I’d probably melt into a puddle at his feet.
“Hey, Danny,” I say quietly. I may be in my soundproof closet with my bedroom door locked, but that doesn’t mean I feel safe in here.
I feel like I’m being watched. Constantly. And often I am. Paparazzi is regularly parked across the street from my house. I have to duck down in the backseat anytime I’m trying to sneak out of the house with Gregory. Cameras are shoved in my face constantly.
And inside the house, my father’s watchful eye is ever present, and if he’s not around, then Brooks is.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
I sigh. “It’s been a rough few days.”
“Are you okay?” his tone moves from casual to immediately concerned, and I’m not sure why I ever doubted what we started.
But I also realize that as the tour gets underway, these private conversations are going to get much harder to have.
They’re going to get fewer and further between.
I won’t have my closet to escape to. I’ll have my tour bus that I share with Brooks, and the only time I’ll be able to talk is when we’re at a stop and nobody’s on the bus or when I’m certain he’s asleep in his bunk down the hall and we’re on the road so the rumble of the bus blocks him from hearing my voice.
It'll be hard. But the best things in life take work, and I’m ready to put it in.
I just hope he is, too.
“No,” I admit.
“What happened?”
“My father demanded to know where I was, and he wasn’t happy when I told him the truth. He’s making threats, and…” I trail off. I was about to tell him about the merger. The blackmail. The upcoming proposal.
I’m not sure why I stop myself short.
“And?” he prompts.
“And then this morning he showed me an article of you out with some girl last night,” I finish.
“My sister.”
“Yeah, I got that from your text. It’s why I called. I mean…I know I basically encouraged you to get out and do what you want, but my first instinct when I saw that was how much it hurt that you were already moving on.”
“I’m not moving on,” he murmurs. “Not by a longshot.”
“You aren’t?” I ask.
“Fuck, Lex. No. I can’t even look at another woman without comparing her to you. Your eyes. Your smile.”
My looks. My beauty. It’s all I’ve ever heard my entire life. Often I feel that the entire sum of my worth is wrapped up in my beauty, and I’ve learned over time that it’s why my father is so damn protective over me.
He doesn’t want me to get hurt. But he’s so far gone the other way that he’s become oppressive. He’s not allowing me to flourish and grow into the woman I’m meant to be.
I should have known that Danny wouldn’t be any different—that he’s just after me because of my looks.
In truth, it’s what attracted me to him first, too. His looks. He’s incredibly handsome.
But what really hooked me in was how I feel something for him I’ve never felt before. He makes me feel safe and secure—something Brooks has only ever been able to do physically when he acts as a bodyguard. Something Gregory does physically, too.
With Danny, though, it was never about just that physical protection. It’s something else entirely. Something warm, something that tells me my heart is safe with him even when my own father is trying to prove it isn’t.
Except his words now send a cold chill down my back.
Until he adds more.
“But it’s not just that. You throw me off my game, and I can’t stop thinking about you.
About that kiss. About sharing bacon and donuts.
You’re smart, and you’re talented, and you make me laugh.
You’re not afraid to be honest with me. It’s real fucking refreshing, Lex, and I feel like I’m already addicted to you even though I’ve barely had one hit. ”
I don’t know what to say to that. I have no idea how to respond to the sweetest, most incredible words anyone has ever spoken to me.
A long silence passes between us while I try to form words to that, but instead of words, I feel tears forming behind my eyes. They heat and pool before they tip over, and suddenly I’m crying in my closet on the phone with someone who could very well be my entire future.
Except I’m not sure he can be.
I cry harder.
“Alexis?” he asks when I sniffle. “What’s wrong?”
“I just…nobody has ever said anything like that to me before.” My voice trembles through my tears.
“Nobody?” he asks gently. “Now I find that hard to believe.”
I suck in a breath to try to control my emotions. “I’ve never gotten close enough to anybody to hear it. Until you.”
“Why not?”
“My father has never let me,” I admit.
There’s a pause, and then he says, “Well he’s not here, and I want you to promise me something.”
“Anything,” I breathe.
“Promise you’ll always be yourself with me. One hundred percent. Not who your dad wants you to be. Just you.”
“I promise,” I vow on a whisper.
“I guess I should admit to you that I’ve never gotten close enough to anybody to say it, but I think you can guess why.”
“Your father, too?” I guess.
“Bingo.”
“They really screwed us up in totally different ways, didn’t they?” I ask.
He huffs out a chuckle that holds exactly zero joy.
I guess it’s just one more thing that links us together.