Chapter 42
Axton
“Damn it,” I mutter, seeing another night has gone by without a return call or text from Addi.
I reach for the near empty whiskey bottle on the bedside table.
“What’s the problem now?” Laci walks out of the bathroom in all her naked glory. “She still not talking to you?”
I hate that she even knows anything about Addi, but I seem to have loose lips when I’ve been drinking, which I’ve done now for weeks like it’s my full-time job.
“At this point, I’m pretty sure she’s blocked my number,” I grumble.
“Do you blame her? You spend nearly every waking hour trying to contact her.” She bends over to grab something out of her bag, and even the sight of her naked and completely bare pussy doesn’t entice me.
“How about you let me worry about her and you stay out of it?”
“She’s causing problems with my tour. How about I worry about that?”
I run my tongue over my top teeth, trying to rid it of the sour liquor taste that has taken up a permanent residence in my mouth.
“I don’t see a problem.”
She turns, tits augmented to perfection, and pulls a tank top down her body. “You being drunk on stage the last three shows and forgetting the words to your own fucking songs isn’t a problem?”
I shrug, not giving a shit about what she has to say. I’ll deal with my life the way I see fit.
“Last night was televised, Axton. Have you even had a chance to look at the reports? Cared to concern yourself with why you’ve been pushed to the front of the lineup rather than going on right before me?”
“I don’t worry about that shit. I’m just here to sing and get paid.” I tilt the bottle to my lips, frowning when only a partial sip is left.
“You don’t notice that the arena only starts to fill up when you’re halfway through your set?” She pulls on a pair of shorts and slides her feet into flip flops at the end of the bed. “You’re dangerously close to costing me ticket sales.”
“Doesn’t affect me.” I climb out of the bed and pull my jeans on. Staying and fighting with a convenient piece of ass isn’t on my agenda today, especially without the aid of whiskey to suffer through it.
“You’re done,” she says without inflection. “Off the tour.”
I huff. “Just like that? I won’t roll over and pretend to be your boyfriend for the cameras, so I’m just out?”
“I made the decision several days ago, but yeah. You’re out.”
“Days ago?” My voice grows, raising with anger, more at her not cutting me loose days ago than discharging me from my responsibility to this tour. “You could’ve booted me then rather than wasting my time.”
She’s the one shrugging right now, like my time doesn’t even matter. Turning to slather on twenty pounds of makeup, she catches my eyes in the reflection of the mirror.
“I didn’t want drama on my bus. Figured waiting until we made it here to tell you was the best thing. No big deal.”
“Yet, you came to me on the band bus last night. I wasn’t some drunk dude who crawled into your bed.”
She chuckles. “No, you were some drunk guy I had to pull off the bus to get fucked. You’re a damn good lay, Axton, but the success of my tour trumps the orgasms you hand out.”
“Nice,” I hiss as I pull on my boots without even bothering with socks. “Real fucking classy. If people knew who you really were, you’d be the one making the ticket sales plummet. I sure hope you can keep fooling everyone.”
My eyes land on the mirror and already prepared lines of coke on the dresser right in front of her.
She turns on me. “One, you signed an NDA. It was part of your contract, so people won’t find out without you paying dearly for it. Two, I have my shit under control. You’re the one with the problem.”
“Oh, don’t worry your fake-extentioned little head, Laci. I’m not going to speak a word about you when I leave.” I pull my t-shirt over my head and check the room to make sure I don’t leave anything behind. “You just going to leave my set open?”
“Fat chance,” she says with twisted lips as she applies black all the way around her eyes. “Brent Johnson is joining the tour. He seems levelheaded, able to handle the stress of being successful.”
“Yeah, good luck with him. He’s married, so you’ll probably have to pick your next fuck from the roadies.”
I walk out. Not another word needs to be said. Getting my shit from the tour bus and my ass back to Georgia is the only thing I’m worried about right now. Trepidation hits me hard in the gut knowing I have to make things right with Adelaide. We no longer have the tour and contract issue standing in our way. I’ll work for the rest of my life to earn back her trust, even though I’ve done nothing but continue to fuck up and do the exact same thing she left me for to begin with.
Feeling like the biggest idiot in the world, I leave the hotel. The brisk cold of mid-March Montana slaps me in the face, providing the clarity I’ve been blind to over the last two months. She deserves more than me, more than a man who tried and repeatedly failed to find comfort in other women.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I hiss when Marcus answers Addi’s front door.
He looks at me like he would any other nuisance. There’s no fire in his eyes, no jealousy or fear I’m here to take her away from him. He’s already won, and he fucking knows it.
“I should be asking you the same damn question,” he says.
“I need to speak to Addi,” I tell him, revisiting the urge to shove him out of the way. I went straight from the tour bus to the airport to right here, unwilling to waste another second trying to get her back.
“Not gonna happen.” He holds the door closer to his body, as if anticipating me rushing past him. “She doesn’t want to see you.”
My teeth grind as I fight the tingle in my fingertips to punch him in his smug mouth.
“Who is it?” an unfamiliar voice asks from inside. “We need to get back to the hospital.”
Hospital?
The female walking up to Marcus and wrapping her arms around his waist barely registers as fear washes over me.
“Who’s in the hospital?” My question goes unanswered as the chick stares at me.
“Axton Lane,” she says. “What are you doing here?”
Marcus cuts his eyes to her, then back to me. The jealousy and fear missing when I showed up now flares vividly in his eyes, and it all makes sense. Marcus has moved on, and he’s territorial over this one. Relief simmers in my blood.
“Where is Addi?”
“At the hospital with Renee. She went into labor a little earlier, so the whole family is there. We stopped by to grab her things, since they left in such a rush last night and forgot them.”
I smile at her helpful nature. Pure country girl through and through.
I turn to leave, needing to be where Addi is and not concerned with manners where Marcus is concerned. I feel like this asshole is just as much to blame as I am with how things went down with Addi. His mere existence makes me want to spit fire.
“You’re not fucking welcome there, Lane. Leave her the hell alone.” I turn to see the same protective fire in his eyes, but it resembles more of a protective friend than a lover. “She’s just now smiling again. She doesn’t need you showing up and taking that away from her.”
“I love her,” I tell him. I’d tell everyone I meet if it increased my chances of earning her trust and winning her back.
“And you prove that by sleeping with any woman who approaches you, including Laci Devine?” His lip twitches, and I turn back around, taking a step toward him. I don’t miss the squeeze his girlfriend has on his arm. “I didn’t realize country stars had to fuck their way to the top of the charts.”
“You don’t know a damn thing.”
“I know what I’ve seen in the tabloids, and I’m guessing Addi has seen them too. She’d be a fool to let you back into her life.”
His girlfriend gives me a sympathetic smile, and I hate the pity on her face. It says everything I’m not willing to admit to myself—that my chances of getting back together with Adelaide are leaning more toward none than slim.
“You worry about your own girl and let me worry about Addi,” I hiss.
“She’s my friend, asshole, and I won’t stand by and let you hurt her again.”
What does this fucker know about my time with her?
“Yeah,” I say, turning around and walking back to my truck. “We were friends once, too.”