Fifteen minutes later, Campbell’s Range Rover pulled up in front of me. My friends still hadn’t called me back. Though I’d relented and texted Honey to let her know that I was leaving. She’d sent back a series of frantic texts that escalated so much that after I told her I was okay, I muted my phone.
He parked and hopped out of the car. He was in black sweats and an old Panic! at the Disco T-shirt. His hair was mussed, and he hadn’t even changed into something more rockstar. He must have come here straight from home.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” he asked.
His face was a mask of such unending concern that I burst into tears. I didn’t even realize that I’d been holding it all in until that moment.
“Blaire, Blaire, Blaire,” he said, reaching for me.
I fell into his arms without a thought. I needed the hug. I wasn’t sure that anyone in that crowd had meant me harm, but living through it had been scary. Even if I wasn’t claustrophobic, I wouldn’t want to be surrounded by a bunch of people grilling me. And now that the adrenaline had worn off, tears followed.
“You’re okay. You’re safe now.”
“Thanks for picking me up,” I said, pulling back from him to swipe at my eyes.
“Of course. Let’s get you out of here.”
He opened the passenger door, and I climbed inside. Then, he ran around to the driver’s side and peeled out of the parking lot, going the opposite direction of the rest of the traffic.
“I didn’t mean to cry.”
He gripped the steering wheel with such ferocity that I thought he might rip it off the car and throw it like the Hulk. His jaw was clenched, but when his gaze landed on me, he released the tension. “You were scared. You should feel okay about crying if you need to.”
“I know. It just feels stupid.”
“Trust me, it’s not. This is my fault.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“I should have considered how this video would impact your life. But I was selfish and decided if you asked, then I’d do it. I should have stopped this.”
“Is that why you looked pissed? Because you didn’t want to do the video?”
“No, of course not,” he said, turning north. “This isn’t the first time that something like this has happened. Ninety-nine out of a hundred times, I can go out in public and interact with fans, and nothing happens. It’s wonderful. Just living a sort of normal life. People recognize me, maybe ask for a picture, but otherwise leave me alone. But that one time,” he growled. He clenched the steering wheel again. “That one time is when it fucks up the other ninety-nine times.”
“So, this has happened before?”
He nodded. “I was mobbed in a park in Atlanta once. It started out as a normal interaction, but then the people wouldn’t leave me alone. My shirt was torn. Someone stole one of my shoes. I had bruises on my arms from girls literally trying to climb me.” He shuddered. “It only takes one time for me to need security and for me to think long and hard about where I want to be.”
“That’s why you wouldn’t come watch the fireworks with us.”
“Yeah. It sounds stupid, but I’m more careful now. I didn’t think it would happen to you.”
“Me either.”
“I’m sorry for putting you through that.”
“I still don’t think it’s your fault. You can’t blame yourself for what your fans do.”
“Can’t I?”
“Okay, you can, but you shouldn’t. I’m not blaming you.”
He shot me a smile that made my knees weak. “Thanks for letting me help at least.”
“I appreciate it.” We’d turned off the highway. “Where are we going anyway?”
His look turned sheepish. “I didn’t want you to miss the fireworks. I was planning to watch them from the rooftop of my building. I thought you could join me.”
“Oh,” I whispered.
“I could take you home though, if you prefer.”
“No,” I said slowly. “No, that would be nice.”
I didn’t know if it was going to be nice or if it was going to be a disaster. But Campbell had come to my rescue. He blamed himself for it. We had history and all our old complications, but I did want to see the fireworks.
Campbell didn’t disagree with me, and then suddenly, we pulled into a parking spot behind the historic Pioneer building in downtown Lubbock. It had been constructed in the early 1900s, originally as Hotel Lubbock. After changing hands over many years, it was now primarily luxury condos in the top eleven floors and home to the fine-dining restaurant West Table as well as its subsidiaries Coffee Shop and Brewery LBK. I’d never been upstairs, but I’d certainly eaten at all the restaurants.
“You’re renting a condo?”
He shook his head. “Nah, there weren’t any available. The third floor is the Pioneer Pocket Hotel. I’m doing extended stay in their Legacy Suite. It’s more condo than hotel, so it fits my needs.”
“Why didn’t you just get a house or something?”
He hopped out of the car and came around to my side. “I didn’t know how long I was staying. Then, I liked having hotel accommodations and coffee only an elevator ride away. I’d been on tour too long to start cooking for myself again.” He glanced at me. “Plus, they offered security if I stayed longer.”
“Ah,” I said, realizing that safety was always at the forefront of his mind. After what I had gone through, I could see why. “Smart.”
“It’s really not always like that,” he told me, sliding a key into the elevator. “Just precautions.”
“I get it now.”
The elevator dinged on the top floor, and then Campbell directed me to a short flight of stairs that led to the roof. It wasn’t anything fancy, mostly industrial, and someone had brought fold-out chairs up here. But we had an uninterrupted view of the skyline.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, leaning against the railing and looking toward the park. “This might be a better view than inside Mackenzie Park.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I glanced down to see that Piper was finally returning my call. I held up a finger to Campbell and then answered. “Hey.”
“Are you okay? Honey told me you were mobbed!”
“I’m fine. Campbell came to pick me up.”
“Oh, really?” Piper asked, drawing out the word. “Mira, I have no room to talk—”
“No, you don’t,” I said, interrupting her and glancing over my shoulder. “I was in a panic. No one else was answering.”
“So, you’re staying with him?”
“I’m going to watch the fireworks from the roof of his hotel.”
“And you want to be there?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Piper huffed. “That is not the same thing.”
“I want to be here.”
“Okay. Have so much fun,” she said with all the insinuation in her voice. “Hollin says hi and to have fun, too.”
“Tell him to shove it,” I said with a laugh, and then we said our good-byes. Campbell was looking out and away from me so as not to eavesdrop. “Hollin says hi.”
Campbell groaned. “Great. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“Same.” I came to stand at his side. “Thank you for picking me up.”
His eyes dropped down to mine. “I’m just glad you want to be here.”
My cheeks heated at that. He had been listening. And despite myself, I did want to be here.
“Yeah,” I muttered.
“Why weren’t you with your friends at the festival anyway?”
I glanced down. “Uh, I ran into my mother.”
“Pamela.” He crinkled his nose. “That must have been pleasant. If it was anything like high school.”
“Exactly the same, honestly.”
I remembered the first time Campbell had met my mother. It had been an accident really. No one from high school knew about us. I hadn’t exactly wanted Pamela to know either. She was supposed to be gone for the weekend with Hal on one of their adult vacations. Theoretically, I was old enough to not need a babysitter for the weekend, and as long as I didn’t throw a party, she didn’t care what I did. One, I would never throw a party since I didn’t have friends. And as far as she knew, I’d never had a boyfriend either.
Well, as soon as they left, I let Campbell in through the back door since the front door had a camera on it that Hal watched, and we spent the entire weekend having sex all over the house. It was one of our better weekends.
Then, halfway through their big Fredericksburg wine tour, Hal had gotten sick. They’d driven the six hours home to find me and Campbell watching Titanic in the living room. If anything, I was lucky that I was wearing clothes. Campbell was shirtless in sweats and had just gotten up to refill the popcorn bowl when the front door opened.
My eyes widened to saucers as Pamela and Hal sailed in. Campbell was smart enough to get his shirt from the bedroom before coming out with the popcorn, as if everything was all right.
Mother had looked at Campbell with a flat stare and said, “Young man, I believe it’s time for you to go home.”
And he did. He yes, ma’am-ed his way out of my house so fast.
Pamela claimed it was normal teenage rebellion, but I hadn’t broken any rules. She put me on birth control the next week even though I’d lied and sworn we weren’t sleeping together. Then, she amended her rules—no parties and no boys.
I’d broken the second rule more times than I could count.
“Sorry to hear that.”
I shrugged. “I don’t talk to her much…or at all. She’s, well, you know. How are things with your dad?”
“Better, I guess,” Campbell finally said. “We’ve been working on coexisting.”
“That’s good.”
“I was in therapy for a few years and tried to get all this anger straightened out. I don’t know if I succeeded, but I know that everything that happened wasn’t Dad’s fault. Blaming him for the fights that led to Mom’s death only made things worse, but it was easier to blame him than grieve.”
“I get that,” I said. “I think I blamed Pamela for Dad leaving, too. It wasn’t the same, but it hurt so much to have him go. When we’re already so tired from the fighting, the wounds hurt so much worse.”
His head tilted to the side. As if I’d said something profound. When I’d really been speaking to myself. And all the pain I’d gone through with my family. It was one of the reasons Campbell and I had connected so intensely. We understood each other’s pain.
“I’ve never written about my mom,” he said softly. “That just…it made me think about a song for her.”
I almost laughed. “More songs?”
“I swear I haven’t been able to write music in years.” He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “What are you doing to me?”
I froze at the ease of the contact. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Yes, you are.”
And the words wrapped around me, tight and constricting. Binding me. As if I were a witch of old, tying him in knots like this. But I was just a girl.
“Campbell,” I whispered as he took another step closer.
His hand pushed up into my hair, tilting my face up to his. I was pliant and weak in his arms. The place I most wanted to be and desperately feared.
A firework cracked in the distance, illuminating the midnight-black sky beyond. But neither of us turned to look at it. I was too lost in the deep blues of his eyes and the wonder within them. The want within them.
Then, he dropped his lips down onto mine, just a soft, questioning kiss. One full of uncertainty. He didn’t know if I wanted this, if I’d allow it. And he was testing the waters. His lips tasted like heaven. Like ambrosia nectar from the gods. Like everything I’d wanted in all of my years in one exact place.
When I didn’t pull back, he gripped me tighter, dragging my body against his. And then he covered my mouth firmly. It was a knowing kiss. One full of years of desire. It exploded through me, and suddenly, I was kissing him back.
I couldn’t get enough. I wanted all of him in that moment. Every single drop of Campbell Abbey. I wanted him the way I’d wanted him in high school when there was only an empty house and sex all weekend. I wanted no consequences and no choices and just the here and now.
But that hadn’t been reality then. There were consequences and choices. The here and now was a lie. A perfect lie that I’d told myself so that I could have the man I loved.
I couldn’t lie to myself now.
I broke away, stumbling backward from Campbell.
We were both panting with exertion from utter need. His pupils were blasted out, and he looked ready to pounce on me. If he did, if I let him, we’d go downstairs, and we’d fuck all night in his hotel room like the idiotic children we’d once been.
And I couldn’t be that stupid again.
“I can’t,” I gasped.
“Blaire, wait…”
But I didn’t let him finish. I fled, and I didn’t look back.