The Reckoning Read online

  “Soon,” I say, “we’ll be together again, soon.” Our bodies move slower than before as we begin to make love. Each kiss caresses my lips and my heart equally. His love flows through my veins giving me life as our bodies slide against each other’s until he’s panting against my collarbone, begging for release. It hits him hard before hitting me and we fall together.

  We lie there a minute or two, maybe three before I whisper, “Dalton?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Even when we’re falling apart emotionally, we find our way back physically. But I want you to know that we’re more than sex.”

  “We’re infinite.”

  “Yes,” I repeat, “infinite.” With my arm over his chest and my leg across his, I realize we really are infinite. Our love has no boundaries. “There is no beginning to us—”

  “And no end. We’re infinite. Always.” Our fingers entangle together and I close my eyes.

  But then I sit up suddenly. “Hey,” I say getting his attention. His eyes are tired, his expression matching as he yawns.

  “What?”

  “I have a flight in the morning.”

  “Stay.”

  “I can’t. I have to pack and I have a dinner meeting with a greeting card company tomorrow night.”

  He tugs my arm and I give in, falling down next to him. His body maneuvers over mine and he says, “But I want you to.”

  “I wish I could. I want to…” I close my eyes, feeling guilty denying him the only thing he asks of me. “I can’t,” I whisper, a slight plea heard and I open my eyes. “I rescheduled once already when the shoot got pushed.”

  “It’s almost three in the morning.” There’s a resolve in his tone that I’ve gotten used to lately. He doesn’t try as hard anymore, knowing I can’t drop everything for his schedule. I hate it. It makes me feel terrible. He asks, “You want to go back to where you’re staying?”

  Resting my chin on his chest, I say, “I have to. We’re leaving for the airport at eight.”

  He moves over and sits, then drops his feet to the ground and stands. Shaking his head, he mumbles, “One day our lives will sync.”

  “One day.” When I get out of bed, I add, “You stay and get some rest.”

  “I’m not sending you across town in a cab at three in the morning by yourself. I’m coming with you.”

  “Is the time of day the only reason?”

  His eyes, the green seemingly darker than usual, land on me. I stop and sit on the end of the bed, waiting to hear what he has to say. He looks down mulling his answer before he speaks. “You think I wouldn’t leave this life for you, as if you’re second to a life that feels greater than it should be. But I would. I would for you. So the time of day really has nothing to do with it.”

  He doesn’t have to say anything more and knowing him, he probably won’t. He’s made his feelings known so he won’t drag it out for the sake of it. I watch as he gets dressed, in awe of his ability to not just say what I need to hear, but to make my soul feel his love. “I love you.”

  “I know.”

  I scoff through a wide smile and stand up to get dressed. “Leave your ego behind, Han Solo.”

  “You’re very good with the trivia.”

  “That line from Star Wars is very memorable.”

  “How about me?” he says, twisting my hips back and forth.

  I touch his nose. “I couldn’t forget you even if I wanted to,” I tease. “But luckily for you, I don’t want to.”

  A sweet kiss is given before he says, “We should get going.”

  We walk into the apartment thirty minutes later. I lead him to the bedroom and we go about getting settled in. I’m about to get undressed, but before I have time to put on pjs, I’m distracted by Dalton. He’s standing in front of the wall of windows staring out. His voice is calm and deep, fitting for the early morning hour. “I’ve been working on a song.”

  “What’s it about?” I whisper not wanting to disturb the tranquility.

  I climb onto the bed and under the covers, sitting and bringing my knees up to my chest. “We’re surrounded by people all the time, but some days, I feel isolated, alone.”

  “Touring can be a lonely endeavor. You’re with your friends, the band and crew, but you’re away from the ones you love.”

  His head goes lightly to the window when he leans against it. “I have everything everyone wants in life.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?” he asks, peeking back at me.

  “Do you have everything you want in life?”

  Standing upright, his shoulders full of pride as he looks back out the large window. “I have an amazing life.”

  “Are you telling me or reminding yourself?”

  “Both.” He sighs, the weight of the world suddenly burdening him. “I’ve been thinking about taking a break…”

  “A break from music or from the band?” I ask, hating that I only seem to have questions instead of reassurances for him.

  He looks over his shoulder and I can see the conviction in his eyes. “I can’t live without music.”

  I suck in a quiet breath, my heart stilling until I finally exhale. “Do what makes your heart happy, Dalton.”

  “I know one person who makes my heart happy.” The weight of our words seem to have disappeared. His hair is messy, his shoulders relaxed, and a grin that few people ever get the chance to see turns up the corners of his mouth. This is Jack Dalton. No pretenses or personas. JD from Elgin, Texas. “We could leave all this behind and disappear for a while.” His eyes are lit up as if that’s a real possibility.

  But running away from a company I love doesn’t sound appealing. “I like what I do. I’m good at what I do. I can’t just run off and leave it.”

  He looks away. “I was just kidding around anyway.” I can tell he’s hurt, but I don’t know how to fix his pain. I want to see that small town, all-star smile again. Leaning back against the headboard, I watch, enjoying his many different sides. He’s the most complicated man I’ve ever known. I guess my expression gives me away because he asks, “What? What are you looking at?”

  “You.”

  He cocks his head to the side and grins. “You want me to do it, don’t you?”

  I do so badly. “Yes.” I bat my eyelashes.

  Pretending to be put out, he rolls his eyes and then fastens his jeans. “It’s only because you’re naked under those covers and so fucking hot that I’ll do this for you. You know that, right?”

  “I know,” I reply easily, putting on an act of my own like this isn’t the best ever. He starts to get into position, but I interrupt and request, “Without the shirt please.” His low chuckle makes me giggle as I sit up for a better view.

  “Without the shirt it is.”

  The T-shirt goes flying, hitting me in the face. I pull it down over my nose and inhale, then cough. “Ew, this one is dirty.”

  “No shit. I haven’t had my laundry cleaned this week,” he says, laughing.

  “Fine. Message received loud and clear. I’ll send some clean shirts.”

  He winks at me. “Thanks.”

  “You know… if I didn’t though, that might help keep the groupies away.”

  “Believe me. A dirty shirt won’t deter a determined groupie.”

  My sagging shoulders kind of say it all. But he touches my chin, tilting my head up to look at him again. “We’re infinite. Remember that.”

  With his tattoos on display, my eyes trace over the hard lines of his chest, his defined arms, and land on that V made of muscle and hours of working out. Following it down, I land on the top of his jeans, then look back up at his eyes. “You ready?” he asks.

  I nod.

  His hands go to the floor, his body in push-up position. His feet slowly start to come up off the ground. Stopping at just about a thirty degree angle, I exhale louder than I like. “Amazing,” I say, admiring him. His body is perfection, his tattoos cradling muscles that beg to be touched.
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  His feet drop suddenly and he pops up. Clapping his hands together, he says, “Was it good for you?”

  “Orgasmic.” Standing up to stroke his ego… and his hard muscles, I slide my hands over his shoulders and around his neck. With a kiss to the skin under his jaw, I whisper, “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

  “What makes me so special?”

  Moving my hand downward, I take his in mine and place it on the curve of my naked waist. “Everything,” I breathe.

  I’m swept up in his arms as we move across the room. The light is low in the room, the blinds wide open, the floor-to-ceiling window our destination. Leaning against a small wall that juts out about a foot, I angle my hips forward until I’m pressed to him and we’re kissing.

  Sex in the window is daring, but I’m not worried. We can’t be more than figures, silhouettes to any onlookers. Sliding his hand from the side of my face down my body, he grips my hip and says, “Turn around.”

  “Charm and a bad sense of humor only get you so far. After that, you have to give them something real.” ~ Johnny Outlaw

  I should sneak out. I really, really, really should. But when I look at him all wrapped in the covers instead of me, my heart starts to ache and I go back. Climbing back in bed with him, I kiss him lightly on the cheek, then whisper, “Dalton?” His arm comes around me, pulling me close. “I’ve gotta go, Babe.”

  “I’ll see you,” he says, still mostly asleep.

  “Soon,” I reply and place another kiss on his cheek, this time lingering a moment longer.

  When I stand up, I walk out without looking back. If I look back, I’ll stay and I have to go.

  Tracy and I are standing at the airport counter. While we wait in the security line, she asks, “No coffee this morning?”

  “I didn’t have time to make any before I left.”

  “We can get one before we board. How did last night turn out?”

  “Like all my nights with him.”

  “You always speak so vaguely when it comes to you guys.”

  “No I don’t,” I reply. “I only tend to do that when he’s touring and things are… strained.”

  “So you admit you do it?” She moves her suitcase up as the line goes forward and I follow with mine. When we stop again, she says, “I’m sorry things are strained. Do you want to talk about it?”

  We scoot our luggage forward again. “When Dalton tours, he changes. He’s divided, having to play two roles. It takes him longer to come back to me, to be who he is when he’s home. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.” I laugh without humor.

  “I imagine it’s difficult for him to play a role for the public and slip back into who he really is. Last night at the club was intense.”

  “Sebastian crossed a line, with him and with me. What he said was inappropriate and to say that to my husband, even more so.”

  “Guess he learned his lesson.”

  “Dalton’s jealous streak is well documented, but he still shouldn’t have hit him.”

  “Sebastian got a hit in too, but I agree with you. This might not be good for our campaign.”

  A security agent calls her and the other one calls me. Once we’re through, we’re sitting on a bench putting our shoes back on when I say, “I’ll make sure the campaign is a success.” We grab our bags and head for our gate.

  “You have the details for the dinner tonight?”

  “Yes. Spago at seven.”

  “Look at you, fancy pants. All Spago-ing like the power players.”

  Laughing, I say, “Oh yeah. I’m a real power player all right.”

  “I think you’re more powerful than you think. If you’re not, we’re doing it wrong.”

  “I’d like you to come, Trace.”

  “Can’t. I have dinner with Adam and two of his bosses tonight. They don’t call it an interrogation, but they’re basically trying to figure out who to promote into the Jr. VP’s role.”

  We stop in line at the coffee stand on the way to our gate. My phone buzzes with a text. When I pull it from my purse, it reads: Infinite.

  Smiling, I type: Infinite, and push send.

  “What is it?” Tracy asks.

  “Mr. Complicated himself. He just texted me.” Looking at my watch, I see it’s just gone nine. “Guess he just got up.”

  “Where do they play next?”

  “I don’t even know. I’d have to look it up. But they’re staying until tomorrow because he has meetings today.” Thinking about what he told me last night about giving it all up, I start to wonder how it will affect the meetings he has with the label, a new producer, and his interview this evening. Worrying about him is part of caring about him, but he might just have to work this one out on his own, figure out his own direction.

  We order our coffee and step to the side after paying. I dump two packets of sugar into mine and three creamers. While stirring her own coffee, Tracy says, “If I’m being honest and I always want to be with you, I can see the change in you when he’s not around.” I look up briefly, but avoid her eyes, wanting to hide from the truth a little longer. “I know it’s hard, but you need to remember who you are, Holli, and hold tight to that.”

  “Maybe I like who I am better when I’m with him.”

  “I know you do. I don’t live in your shoes so I’m not going to claim I fully understand the situation.” We start walking to the gate. “I can’t even imagine life without Adam or how you survive for weeks on end without Johnny home with you. But you need to. I didn’t want to say anything, but you can’t be all things all the time. You need to get your head in the game. You need to be present.”

  “I am. I’m here when I’d rather be back in bed with him.”

  “But that’s what I mean. You need to want to be here.”

  “Like you said, you don’t understand what it’s like,” I snap, feeling defensive. We reach the gate and I find two chairs and sit down. And I do what I hate doing—I sulk. I do it because it’s early and I’m tired, but also because I know she’s right.

  She nudges my arm. “I still love ya.”

  “I love ya too.” And like that, all’s okay again.

  Spago is busy, but it’s Wednesday, no surprise—prime wheelin’ and dealin’ night of the week. I see at least four A-list celebrities, two C-list, and several recognizable movie directors as I’m lead to the table. Cliff Sorden and Jason Halstrom from the card company stand when I arrive. I greet them both by shaking their hands, saving the Hollywood cheek kiss for the movie industry types.

  I sit down and Cliff holds up his glass. “We ordered champagne.”

  “Great.” I pick up the glass in front of me. “Are we celebrating?”

  “We hope we are. We want your lime.”

  “If you said that over tequila, you might get slapped,” I joke.

  Jason says, “That’s what we want. We want your humor and that lime. Together, this line of cards is going to be huge.” He taps his glass against mine as does Cliff.

  I sip, then say, “I’ve got a small line of cards already. How will this be different?”

  “You get free reign,” Cliff says, “the brand is ready to go in a new, contemporary direction.”

  Jason adds, “No curse words, of course.”

  “Of course,” I say.

  “But from there, we’re ready to give you a wide berth on creativity…” While Jason is talking my eyes drift behind him. A man with shoulder length brown hair, six-three, broad chest and an outfit that’s appears professionally styled is walking toward our table. I know who he is before I even make eye contact. Kiefer Keys—my ex-boyfriend.

  My knee starts bouncing as anxiety strikes. I didn’t date anyone for months after I caught him in bed with my hairdresser. For months, I lost trust in men and faith in humanity.

  “Holliday Hughes… or is it Outlaw now?” he asks with an arrogant gleam in his eyes. His voice rises at the end like he’s suddenly British.

  “Mrs. Outlaw will do,�
�� I say straight-faced, not as happy to see him as he seems to be to see me.

  Laughing as he works his way around to my side, he ignores Cliff and Jason and leans down to kiss my cheek. I don’t return the greeting. “I’ve missed your spunk.”

  “I can’t say the same. This is a business meeting, Todd.”

  “It’s Kiefer, remember?”

  “Ahh, right.” I struggle to call him Kiefer. I knew him back when he was Todd from Missouri. He changed his name to land commercials. It worked for a while, then he formed a band that’s had some success. Since he remains standing here, I feel obligated to introduce him. “Cliff Sorden and Jason Halstrom, this is Kiefer Keys.”

  Cliff shakes his hand excitedly. “I’m a big fan. I saw The Mattresses two years ago in Cincinnati.”

  Kiefer nods his head and I roll my eyes. Kiefer says, “Thanks. We’re rolling out a tour in a few months. Make sure to come out.”

  “I will. Thanks.” Cliff looks at me and asks, “So how do you know each other?”

  “College,” I respond just as Kiefer says, “We used to date.”

  Instantly annoyed, I shift uncomfortable in my chair. I don’t want to do this with business associates. Kiefer says, “I inspired her lemon.”

  “Lime,” I correct.

  “Right. Lime.”

  Jason says, “Oh really?”

  “Long story.” I stand up. “Please excuse me for a minute.” They both nod as I speak to Kiefer in a hushed tone, “C’mon.”

  “Gladly.”

  I head for the exit, weaving my way through the restaurant and out the main door. After putting some distance between us and the entrance, I cross my arms and ask, “What do you want?”

  “You’re so hostile.”

  “Yes, call me bitter, but the last time I saw you, you were fucking a friend of mine.”

  “She was your hairdresser, not a friend.”

  “We were roommates.”

  “Okay, fine. You were friends. I didn’t think you were that close. Anyway, I’m not here to discuss her.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I was having dinner with some guys from the label. I heard your boy is talking to producers. You know I do that?”