Dean

I lift my hands to secure my hair at the base of my neck. They are shaking like a bitch. Partly due to not giving in to the urge to smoke, the other from retelling a story that has left me with all kinds of fucked-up shit rummaging through my head.

It was hard to let Tatum leave. I had to for her sake as well as mine. I shared information that was as hard for me to say as it was for her to absorb.

I didn’t give a shit what other people thought of me before. Hell, when those cops stood at my door and told me Landon was dead, I only had one person on my mind. My reputation with my fans long gone, the press, the band, I gave zero fucks to what any of them thought. I cared about one innocent teenage girl. To guard her heart. And now I have to protect her in a way that throws my head into a tailspin.

But when I spilled my soul all over my deck earlier, I found myself caring about what Tatum would think of me. Wondering if she thought I should have told Leila the truth from the get-go. Should have known she wouldn’t, and I suppose a part of me did. Then again, I’ve never had a relationship where a woman’s opinion of me mattered, and I’ll be damned if hers doesn’t mean more to me than just about anyone’s. Might be because I’m falling quickly for her; could be because those hugs she gives mean more to me than any word she could ever say.

When the moment came when I started to lose it, it was if she sensed it, and those arms squeezed a fraction tighter, her body melting into mine as every muscle wound tight lost its tension and I let go not feeling one bit ashamed to cry. This is life, real life, and she’ll stand with her arms open wide when I need her. I’ll do the same for her. She’ll also be there for Leila in ways I can’t. In ways her own mother never was.

When she melted into me, her heart pounding, her lips sealed as she took in my secret, that pressure of hurt, loss, and heartache jabbed a knife-stabbing pain into my chest all over again. I would have never been able to look at her and spill those words out of my mouth without losing it. Flashbacks kept haunting me, and everything inside of me hurt.

I’ve done a lot of soul-searching in the past couple of hours, too much thinking these past few weeks, and I’m so tired of trying to figure out how the jagged, broken pieces of my life need to be somehow glued back together. My skull is like a lining for my combustible brain. It’s ready to blow with keeping so much in and working overtime to let even more out. I’m ready to explode and afraid I’ll let loose and do some major damage to Sam if we don’t get this situation under control before he steps up his game.

I finish tying back my hair, get dressed, and shoot off a text to Grim, making sure Tatum is secure in her house and whoever he has on Leila notifies him right away if she leaves and heads in this direction. Then I make my way downstairs when I hear the wails of a baby and a loud curse from Roman. The kid probably shit again, and he’s on diaper duty because Joslyn started talking to Marcus about Miles while I jumped in the shower.

Marcus showed up before Tatum left and confirmed what I already suspected. The press is curious about Tatum but not to the point where they're all over us like Sam hoped they would be. The story they ran was more about the woman on my arm. How beautiful she was, and could she be the one to tame the middle-aged drummer?

She sure the fuck is.

However, Sam has his buddies hovering at the end of my road, a few lurking outside of her store and God knows wherever else just waiting to shake her. You’d think with all the years they were together, he’d know she’s one to keep her mouth shut.

“I love my kid, but he shits more than anyone I know. Every damn time it's like a bomb detonates out of his ass.”

“You haven’t seen nothing yet. Wait until he gets more meat on him and the shit gets all caught up in his rolls.”

I run my hand down Nash’s face, the happiest of memories cutting me deep when visions of all that baby fat Landon had assault me.

“I potty trained Landon shortly after he learned to walk. Couldn’t get him to stay still long, though, once he started moving around, to save my ass. Always on the go, always curious, and always having to be by my side. He lost his baby fat quickly. Leila was a little bit behind in everything. It was all worth it. Every shitty diaper. Every sleepless night. I’d do it all over again if I could.”

The center of my chest burns from those memories. Some of the best of my life.

“We haven’t talked much about anything lately. It’s all going to work out; you know that, right? I’m talking about everything steamrolling its way through your head, man. You're going to tell her, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. It’s time she finds out the truth.”

“It’s not my decision to make. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you have a thing to worry about. She isn’t going to hate you.”

He’s right. She won’t. I don’t think I realized that until I stood in the shower after Tatum left. All these years of worrying about my kid hating me and a talk that was more one-sided because a woman who buried herself under my skin gave me her ear. She let me speak without a judgmental interruption. Had me hearing my own words louder than I ever have before. Leila loves me; she’s as protective of me as I am of her. The problem I’m holding on to now is, she’s going to feel like I betrayed her.

“Did you tell Tatum?”

“I did. I have never met someone like her before. Someone who doesn’t want anything from me but my time. Always wanted a woman who looked past the fame, you know? When she talks to me, it’s to ask about me, about Leila, not about my money or what I can do for her.”

There’s another part of me she wants, the one twitching behind my zipper, and it doesn’t have a thing to do with who I am either. Unfortunately, just about every woman I’ve been with wants my dick just to flash the word around that she slept with a rock star. Tatum doesn’t see me as a celebrity. She sees me as a man. A broken one on his way to being healed, but a man nonetheless. There isn’t a damn thing fake about Tatum Fields or her sweet little body. All silky walls and heavenly. I wanted to die a happy man when she took me in her mouth. Not because she was hoping it would lead to me praising her, telling her it was the best blowjob I had, or expecting something in return. She did it to ease my tension and undoubtedly left an aching between her own legs.

I inwardly groan; going to have to up my game plan the next time I have her in bed.

“You got a good thing going on with her; I can see happiness trying to crawl its way inside of you. That pleases me, brother. Out of all of us, you deserve it most. She’s good people, and from what I’ve heard and witnessed, she deserves it as much as you.”

“Not sure if I deserve her, but for once I got something good in my life, and I’m not giving her up, not starting something that feels so right with the typical Hollywood secrets and lies.”

I cringe thinking about the bullshit Roman went through before Joslyn walked back into his life. That shit was all kinds of messed up. Hollywood scandal in the making.

“You try her chocolate yet?” He lifts his brows before placing a sleeping Nash in one of those satchel things he has slung over his shoulder. Regardless if it makes him look ridiculous, I sure wish I’d had had one when the twins were little. Lugging around two babies at one time because I couldn’t keep my hands off them was hard as fuck. Especially with trying to protect their necks from flopping all over the place. Fuck, I miss my kids being little. Wouldn’t change a thing about them or the years I had with my son. Only thing I can do now is move forward and hold on to the good.

“Not talking to you about that. Do me a solid and shut up about it. Appreciate you telling Leila about the place. Those two are good for each other.”

“That was all Joslyn. Those two being close is partly due to the caring woman you raised and the remarkable one you’re dating. You got a lot of things going well for you right now and some not so well eating you up. This situation with Miles isn’t something I want you taking on. You had my back; I have yours when it comes to helping him. I got Miles, Dean. Brock and I both do. Marcus gave me the information on the place you found. I’ll get him there. I’m going to take this little guy home. Send my woman home when she’s done.”

I glance up at him. The boldness in his tone is all Roman. The thing is, he knows me better than that. I’m not one to back away from getting those I care about the help they need. This thing with Miles has Roman lit up as much as it does the rest of us; he’s pissed off. Which is pretty much how he always looks when he’s figuring out a way to say something I’m not going to like. He may not be around much these days. He shouldn’t be here now. But the guy has always had a way of not missing a damn thing when it comes to this band.

His glare resembles the same one I’ve seen many times. A long suffering over Miles. There’s something more working his brain, too; he’s standing there trying to figure out how to push it out in a way that’s not going to piss me off.

“Whatever you're holding back, spit it out. I appreciate you having my back the same way we all have each other’s. We’ve all spent the last few years trying to get him help; if you think I’m backing off now, think again. Besides, I don’t think we need to talk about it. He either gets help, or he’s gone. He’s played around with his life long enough.”

My stomach locks up tight. Miles isn’t going to like this one bit. He may have sat there last night drinking water; guarantee the minute he walked through his front door, he was tipping back a bottle.

“I'll make you a deal; you let me handle Miles, you take care of your family. Just don’t be surprised when you show up to the studio and he isn’t there. I’ll talk with Claudia, too, fill her in about fuckface.” I shake my head, the tightness in my stomach crawling up my throat. If he thinks he’s just going to walk out of here and have me concede, he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks.

I sigh, go to wipe a hand over my hair, and pause turning my attention back to Roman. A man who is more like a brother to me than anything. The last thing I want is to take him away from his family. The guy doesn’t need to be taking on any of this. My gut battles with my head over him wrangling up an irate Miles. It crashes knowing Joslyn’s here because I can’t let go of my trust issues. It isn’t about them being able to handle it or trust, not with these guys. It’s about me always wanting to be the one to fix things. Taking it all under my wing and making sure the people I care about won’t ever have to feel the burden of guilt building a wall around their heart until they suffocate.

“Don’t know if I can take a step back. That kid is more fucked up than we think.” I know what it’s like to lose someone you love, and the way Miles lost his woman and son years ago is all kinds of fucked up. We’ve breathed and lived his loss as much as we have mine. Broken wheels just spinning all around us on a vicious cycle we can’t stop.

I nearly choke on my own thoughts. Can’t trust another lawyer because Roman was fucked over so bad when he filed for divorce a few years ago. Can’t trust a damn member of the press. Can’t trust Miles to put all his pent-up anger into trying harder to be the man we know him to be instead of drowning it all in a bottle. And yet I put all my trust in a woman by telling her everything. That alone goes to show how different she is than anyone else I’ve met.

“You aren’t helping me do this. I’m helping in the one way I can, Dean. You either take it, or this band is going to have problems. Another thing you need to be doing is let go of trying to protect all of us. It felt good to stand up for you for once last night. You need to step back and let others step in and take over the role you’ve held on to since I met you. A man who was full of life, a man who smiled all the damn time it made me want to puke. A man who loved with his entire heart. I get you’re trying. Fuck, seeing you with Tatum, the way you looked at her last night, the way she looks at you, that’s a giant step in the direction of me getting my brother back. I’ve seen you at your lowest, and all you need is one more shove. I’m doing this, so back off it. Get Miles out of your head. I’m not going to let anything happen to him. I’ll get him into rehab and make sure he stays there until I’m convinced he has it under control.”

Roman and I have always been a team. Sure, he’s the one who started this band, but we’ve always tried to see eye to eye, and when we didn’t, we talked through it. Worked it out and moved on. Felt like I was married to the man half the time. Cussing and swearing, throwing phrases and butting heads over something or the other. Most of the time, it had to do with a song. That’s how it goes when you work, travel, and at times live with someone. Always up in one another’s business. Always lending a hand. At the beginning of a new day, though, we would all get up and do it again if that’s what it took to make things more comfortable for whoever had the issue. Miles has pushed us all long enough. If he ever stands a chance to heal in any form, he needs to pull his head out of the bottom of the bottle.

I can feel my heartbeat, every single pound in my chest. I usually feel it hammering away in my ears. Not this time. This time, it’s contained in my center, the steady tap, and a voice that used to be dark and broody telling me to hand the reins over is now drowned out. That dark voice remains, still trying to pound its way into my brain. Every hard-hitting beat a raging shove from within insistent on telling him to go home, enjoy this time with his family because within a blink of an eye it could be gone. This burden surges the words to the tip of my tongue, and yet I can’t get them to come out. This countless pounding, this excessive pressure; every single beat heavy with determination to tell him no are words I swallow down my throat.

“Do you know what you’re asking of me?”

“Sure the hell do. I’m asking you to let me be a friend and take something off your chest. I know he won’t go willingly for Brock or me. You need to let me do this. I’m not giving you a choice, Dean.”

“Jesus, Roman, if life gave me choices, we wouldn’t be standing here right now. You’d be home with your family. I’d be somewhere with my kids. Fuck, alright. Take him. Make sure he understands he doesn’t have a choice the same way you aren’t giving me one. Only do it with a little more confidence, because that was weak.”

A corner of his mouth lifts in triumph. It’s short-lived when he thrusts his next words at me. His meaning meant to heal. All they do is cut me even more. Long and deep.

“You aren’t ever going to forget your boy, but, man, you have to learn to forgive yourself, or else no matter how good you think you got it with Tatum right now, it isn’t going to last if you don’t.”

“I hear you. I’m trying, man. Swear to God, I am.” Doubt my guilt will fully go away. With a strong woman and a healthy daughter by my side, it’ll ease up in time.

We both jump when Marcus’ loud curse comes through my door. His face is beet red, eyes feral and bugging out of his head. Joslyn follows behind him, her face pale, tears ready to spill from her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, keeping my voice low so I don’t wake up Nash.

“We need to get Tatum,” she says quietly.

“Okay, but why?” My heartbeat slows. Every muscle in my body loops as I watch her try to come up with the right way to tell me.

An intense storm builds inside of me when Marcus turns his laptop around, the picture grainy. I take a step closer, and without having to look that hard at the photo, I can tell it’s Tatum.

Just another thing that has Sam written all over it.