Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
The guy looked between us, a crease marring his brow. A slow smile spread across his face before he uttered, “Wow. You guys really aren’t faking it, are you?”
Neither I nor Connor said a thing. We didn’t need to justify our relationship to anyone. We were who we were and we weren’t feigning a damn thing.
Yes. We genuinely adored each other. So, sue us.
“Look, man,” said Connor. “I’m going to need your details anyway. I’ve got to report this to my insurance company, even if you don’t want to fix it.”
Without question, the young man nodded. “Sure.”
After he’d written down his name, license number, address and phone number, he handed it to Connor and Connor took his hand in a firm handshake. “Good luck,” he looked down at his details, “—Jacob.” His smile was small. “I hope things look up for you and your family.”
They released hands and Jacob spoke but he hesitated. “Would you—” He quickly shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it.”
It was me who asked, “What is it?”
“It’s nothing,” Jacob rolled his eyes. “I was going to ask for a photo but I feel… I don’t know… rude or something.”
“Where’s your phone?” I enquired.
Jacob’s smile gleamed.
The moment Connor and I got back into the car and buckled up, I spoke quietly, “We’re buying him a new car.”
Connor didn’t even hesitate. Equally low, he responded, “Fuck yeah, we are.”
Reaching over the center console, our fingers entwined and when Connor returned my small smile, my chest ached a little less than it had a minute ago.
Later that week, Connor was making a solo appearance on a late-night talk show. Originally, he declined the offer but after speaking to the guys about it, it was actually Noah who talked him into accepting.
It was time to clear the air about a lot of things, namely Connor’s battle with addiction.
My girls had been on a short hiatus as they made plans for their third album. With Amber doing all the important stuff, I was free to tag along to the interview. On the way to the studio, I couldn’t help but notice his knee jumping as he drove. He was jittery and irritable, and I needed to figure out why.
“You okay?” I asked carefully.
Quite suddenly, he barked, “I fucking hate these things,” then lifted his thumb to his mouth, biting at the nail.
My gut sank. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea after all. “Is it too late to cancel?”
“Yeah,” He laughed sharply. “It is.”
Okay then.
I guess it was better if I just kept my mouth shut and let him stress in peace and quiet. Turning my face towards the passenger window, I stayed silent.
Connor noticed.
“I’m sorry, baby.” I twisted to face him and he glanced at me with anxious eyes before turning back to the road. “I’m nervous,” he explained. “I always seem to fuck up at these things somehow. I don’t say enough, or I say too much. Normally, I wouldn’t care. I never used to care.” He let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “But it’s different now.”
I remained silent.
“I owe it to Left Turn to do this.” He paused before adding, “The publicity I’ve caused over the last year… it hasn’t been good.” I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “I single-handedly damaged our brand. I have to make it right.”
He was worrying, about his band, about his friends. That alone showed just how far Connor Clash had come from the selfish, impulsive rock star he had been all those months ago.
He really had changed.
My heart warmed. I was so proud of him. “You’re going to be great. Besides—” I turned back to the window, “—if you’re not, I’ll distract everyone.”
Connor let out a short laugh. “Oh, yeah? How?”
A light shrug. “I’ll flash my boobs or something.”
I watched his body begin to shake in my peripheral vision. Amusement lined his voice when he uttered, “What did I do to deserve you?”
“Something depraved, probably,” I smiled into the night.
At that, Connor barked out a laugh and with that the mood had lightened exponentially.
Everything was going to be fine.
“Our next guest is someone who can’t ever seem to keep himself off of the front page of the tabloids,” the host, Joe Reno, spoke to the audience. And Connor squeezed my hand. Hard.
My lips thinned.
Probably not the best or most appealing way to introduce a guest.
But Joe Reno spoke again, this time sincerely, “But things have changed and he’s a new man.” Turning to face us, he held an arm out in our direction. “Please welcome Connor Clash.”
The audience’s applause was deafening. Women in the crowd began to shriek.
Connor spun to face me, his eyes wide, looking somewhat like a frightened child. I didn’t let my own anxiety show. Smiling, I placed my hands on his shoulders and smacked a quick kiss to his lips. “You’re going to be fine.”