Never Leave a Rockstar (Never Trust Book 4) Page 2

  The chuckles faded, and now the spotlight on me shifted into something negative. Shit. I hated negative attention. Yes, I fucking have always used jokes as a defense mechanism, thank you very much. I took a breath, turning my eyes on her.

  This therapist looked a little like a teenager’s wet-dream—wearing glasses and a teacher’s bun. I bet if she had ten minutes with me between her legs, I could wipe that sour look off her pretty face. She would be so lucky, though.

  I sighed, finished with this bullshit for the moment, and without saying so much as goodbye, I walked out of the room and away from group therapy.

  I was paying five-grand a week for this “recovery facility.” I had to sign about eight different non-disclosures, saying I wouldn’t repeat anything I heard. Not that I cared to repeat all the boring stories I’d had to sit through today. You’d think celebrities would be a little more exciting. They weren’t. But there was a different reason for the personal hell I’d been putting myself through. Something—someone—just slightly more addicting than sex.

  Back in my private cabin, I went straight for the phone I’d snuck in. We weren’t supposed to have access to the internet. No porn. No masturbating. No fun. But what-the-fuck-ever. I wasn’t about to go a week or a month—hell, even a day—without my phone.

  I called the one person I shouldn’t have.

  The one person I’d been wanting to get into my bed for four months now. She wouldn’t give in to me. The only woman on this planet immune to my charms. The person who originally suggested I had a problem. Hell, the person I came here for.

  Her name was Luce Winchester.

  I dialed the number, waiting as it rang, shaking my head at myself the whole time. What was wrong with me? Hanging on the line for this girl. This wasn’t like me. But maybe if I went through the motions for her, worked on my so called ‘sex addiction,’ then Luce Winchester would finally let me inside. And by inside—I mean inside her pussy.

  Then I could move on with life. A life full of lots and lots of sex.

  She answered. Her voice sweet like honey, speaking directly to my dick. Damn, it was crazy how she held that power over me?

  “Ollie, I told you not to call me.”

  I smiled. “Then why’d you pick up.”

  “I told you to only call if it’s an emergency.”

  “Well, it’s a fucking emergency.” I rolled my eyes and plopped down on the stark white comforter. I felt trapped in my monochrome room. There was a black-and-white photo of a flower, floor to the ceiling, that looked vaguely like a vagina straight in front of my eyes, taunting me. “I want to fuck my therapist,” I confessed to Luce. “She’s got glasses, and this tight ass, and I just want to screw her until she shuts the hell up. Is that normal?”

  Luce sighed. Not even a chuckle. “I think these are questions you should address with your therapist.”

  “That’s all you’ve got?”

  “Yes. Or request a new therapist. But I need to go.”

  I tightened my grip on the phone. The truth was—I didn’t care about the therapist or her tight ass. The real reason I’d called Luce was because I wanted to call her. I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to know she’d still answer. In the past couple months, Luce and I had developed some strange friendship. I didn’t have any women friends, so I wasn’t entirely sure ‘friendship’ was the right word. But whatever it was—it was one-sided.

  I fucking spilled my guts to her, daily almost, and she never faltered in her stance.

  She didn’t want me.

  She barely tolerated me.

  The only thing promising was that she always answered the phone. Always. I kept telling her about the other women I wanted to be with. Most of the time—that drove women crazy with jealousy. But not Luce. She didn’t care. She didn’t budge.

  Mental note: don’t call her again.

  “Right,” I said. “I won’t keep you. Have a good evening, Luce.”

  “You too, Ollie. You’re doing great. I don’t know much about addiction. But I know the first step is acknowledging you have a problem. If you need to call me tomorrow, you can, okay?”

  “I will.”

  I wouldn’t.

  I wasn’t going to keep doing this with her. Not anymore. “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye.” She hung up.

  And I continued hanging on to the phone, staring at the vagina flower.

  “Fuck,” I said aloud. I had more issues than I cared to admit.

  My Luce Winchester addiction could be included on that list.

  ~ CHAPTER 4 ~

  LUCE

  I ended the phone call, so damn confused as to why I continued answering for this guy. Ollie Mills. He was the bassist for the southern rock band—Sunset Revival. I knew him only because my niece, five years younger than me, was dating his brother, the lead singer, Caleb. I guess that was why I tolerated Ollie. But the man was selfish, vein, obnoxious, and for some unknown reason stuck on me.

  He called at least once a day. Usually to tell me how much he wanted other women.

  “Who keeps calling you?” Rhett my co-worker, fellow bartender, love-of-my-life, marrying-another-woman-in-seven-days, someone-shoot-me-please-because-he’ll-never-be-mine asked.

  I kept my feelings for Rhett buried so damn deep. No one knew. “Just some guy who can’t get over me.” I shrugged, tapping a pen against the bar top, staring at the muscles in Rhett’s forearms as he worked at making a piña colada for one of the costumers.

  Didn’t he notice… that I loved him?

  “You should bring him to the wedding.” He shrugged. “Could be fun.”

  I made a face. “I already told you—I can’t come. I won that radio contest. The trip to Barbados. And besides, the guy on the phone isn’t my type.”

  It was a total lie. I hadn’t won a trip anywhere. Instead, I’d been telling everyone this fairytale, this imaginary excuse. I even told my dad and sister the same excuse just last night. They’d both stared at me too, like they knew it wasn’t the truth. Especially since my niece Emma really had won a trip through a contest recently.

  “Luce—” Rhett moved to set the finished drink in front of a man on the other end of the bar before returning to stare straight into my eyes.

  I swallowed hard. I’d known Rhett most of my adult life. I started working here at eighteen. At almost thirty, I still worked here. And Rhett still gave me butterflies.

  “No one is your type.” He shook his head.

  He was my type. I’d just waited too long to say anything. Instead, I watched him fall in love with someone else. Now he was about to marry that someone else.

  I took a breath. I’d probably die alone. Maybe sooner rather than later since I’d inherited the breast cancer gene that ran in my family. That was a whole other issue. One I didn’t let myself think about lately. Because I needed to get a certain surgery, and I was avoiding that, too.

  “And nobody will ever be your type,” he added, “Not when you never give out chances to anyone. Ever.”

  Rhett had been a bartender too long. I hated when he got all physiological, mostly because he made such good points. It was true—I didn’t give chances.

  Ew, but Ollie?

  I mean, c’mon.

  Ollie was handsome, yes. Oh God was he handsome. The hair. The eyes. The body. The chiseled jawline. A very nice human specimen, I’d admit that much. A talented one too. A younger me might have been tempted to jump on that. But I wasn’t distracted by pretty things in life anymore. Well, aside from Rhett, who was his own brand of sexiness.

  Instead, I knew I’d only waiver for the real fucking deal. And Ollie Mills was about as far from the ‘real fucking deal’ as humanly possible. That boy only wanted me because he couldn’t have me. Simple grade-school bullshit.

  I finished my shift. Working my ass off like I always did—giving it one-hundred and ten percent. Then I left Chancy’s Claw. I needed to find a new job. Desperately. Maybe tomorrow I’d look around and see if any of the
other restaurants in town were hiring bartenders. I couldn’t keep working with Rhett, torturing myself, daydreaming about a life with him that would never exist.

  ~ CHAPTER 5 ~

  OLIVER

  Jesus Christ. I thought I’d heard it all. I thought I was hardcore. “What the fuck did I just listen to?” I said to myself as I left group therapy.

  Yesterday, I’d shared. Today, not a word. I wasn’t in the mood. Something had me feeling anxious, and I couldn’t shake it. And then Peggy York—fashion icon, reality TV star, fellow addict—shared her dirtiest ‘sexcapades.’ Her word, not mine. Now I was fucking shaking. She shared her story with a smile on her face, staring right at me.

  Again, just like yesterday, I hurried across the campus, all palm trees and paved paths, straight to my little cabin.

  I called Luce.

  This time I questioned it less.

  Because... whatever. It wasn’t like I could call my family and tell them where I was. Even if I did, they didn’t want to hear my problems, and I found I really needed someone right now.

  “I can’t keep doing this.” Luce said as she answered. “Ollie, this is ridiculous. I barely know you.”

  Okay, ouch. “Please, just today, hear me.”

  “I have four tables waiting on me. I have my own shit to worry about. My own life.”

  “I know. I know. I hate that I always need you. But I really need you right now. I’m shaking. I can’t stop shaking.”

  “Why? Let me guess, you’ve met someone else you want to... fuck.” She whispered the word ‘fuck.’ I assumed because she was at work. But it hit me as she said it.

  “No, not like that. There’s another patient here, very famous, very respected. Anyway, she shared her story today. It was so messed up. Next level shit. Blood-play, if you want to call it that. She stared at me while she was vividly describing the grossest sex you can imagine. And it freaked me the fuck out. Nothing gets to me—this got to me. I can’t shake the image from my mind.”

  My throat felt scratchy and my stomach hollow. I wasn’t telling Luce all this to make her jealous. I genuinely needed a friend. As messed up as it was, she was about the only real one I had.

  “Maybe you should leave that place?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Maybe it’s the wrong setting for you.”

  My heart jumped in my chest. “You’re right. I should go.”

  “Wait...just like that?”

  “Yes. I hate it here.”

  I bent down, yanking my suitcase out from where I’d stowed it under the bed. I’d been here less than a week. But I’d never felt more uncomfortable in my life. I’d come here on Luce’s advice. Now I was leaving on it, too. That had to say something about me, I was certain of it. But whatever. I’d wrap my head around that later. For the moment, I just needed my distance from this place. I started shoving all my clothes into the suitcase.

  “Thanks, Luce. I needed to hear that. I needed a friend today.”

  “Well... okay.” She hesitated to hang up. Didn’t she have tables waiting? I was trying to zip my suitcase with one hand, but I slowed. Then I stood up, pressing my phone harder against my ear, waiting on what she might say. I felt something burning in my chest—a feeling I wasn’t familiar with.

  “You still there?” I asked.

  “I’m still here.”

  “You got tables?”

  “I do.”

  “You gonna take care of them?”

  “In a minute.”

  Well, now my heart was fucking stampeding.

  “You wanna tell me all your problems.” I swallowed. “Like I do with you. It’s really liberating—saying absolutely anything. Getting everything off your chest. That’s what this thing between us is about. A sounding board. A person to tell shit to. Because that’s what I do every day with you. You can do the same with me. Really, your secrets are safe with me.”

  She made a noise.

  “Say it. Seriously. Anything. I’ll listen to whatever. I won’t judge.”

  Luce seemed tough on the outside. She liked people to believe that. I knew it—her tattoos told me that. But I could tell she had a softer inside. Because no matter what she was doing, she always answered my phone calls. She was kind to me, always, when so many others shoved me aside.

  “Well... fine. If you really want to hear it?”

  “I really do.”

  “I’m in love. There it is,” she muttered. “That’s it. That’s my one big secret in life. The guy doesn’t know it. He’s getting married in four days. I’m too chicken to go to his wedding. I’ve lied and told everyone I won a free vacation to Barbados this weekend. But I haven’t. I even took time off work. Instead, I’ll probably just sleep in my car for a few nights.” She breathed out, heavily into the phone speaker. “I have to go for real this time. Bye, Ollie.”

  The line went dead.

  I didn’t move a muscle.

  That was...unexpected.

  She loved somebody.

  Love wasn’t even in my vocabulary. Was that why she hadn’t slept with me? Love?

  I wasn’t upset. But I wasn’t pleased either. Just stuck somewhere in the middle between the two. Still, Luce sharing anything with me felt liberating.

  Like we’d just had a breakthrough. Like I wasn’t some damn fool for always calling her, always burdening her with my shit, when she never returned her worries.

  So she was in love?

  No big deal.

  I paced around my room, thinking it through. I needed more clarification. So I called her right back. Surprisingly, she picked up on the first ring like she’d almost been waiting for the second call.

  “What do you mean ‘love’?” I blurted out into the phone.

  “Dammit, Oliver.”

  Nobody, and I mean nobody, ever called me Oliver. At one point in my life, probably at age three, I became Ollie and it had stayed that way. But I think I liked the way ‘Oliver’ sounded coming from her mouth.

  “What? I’m just curious now,” I confessed.

  “He’s standing yards away at the moment. With his fiancée. So not the best time to talk.” There was so much tension in her voice.

  “Has he been inside you?”

  I wasn’t sure why I asked that. It wasn’t my fucking business. But filtering my thoughts wasn’t a strong point of mine. And let’s be honest, that was where my mind always went.

  “Yes.”

  I nodded, combing a hand through my hair, staring at the floor. A surge of something I didn’t like ran me over.

  “Bye, Ollie.”

  “Wait. Call me Oliver. I kind of like it.”

  “Fine,” she grumbled. “Bye, Oliver.” Then she hung up.

  And for some unclear reason, my heart was racing. Full on, take-my-breath-away, racing. I shrugged off the feeling, kneeling down to turn my attention back to packing my suitcase.

  Fuck this place. Fuck Luce sleeping in her car because of some random jackass. You know what sounded kind of sunny and warm?

  Barbados.

  And by Barbados, I meant the Bahamas.

  Because I had a boat docked in Nassau. Perfect opportunity.

  PRESENT DAY

  ~ CHAPTER 6 ~

  LUCE

  Spending the night on this island was downright miserable. It had been raining for hours now—Ollie and I sat there, not sleeping, not talking, crammed side-by-side in our make-shift shelter. I felt sticky, dirty, and smelly.

  I’d managed to drink a few swallows of water by cupping my hands and collecting rainwater in them. So had Ollie. But if I had to guess, I’d say we were both dehydrated. On top of being hungry. On top of being bored out of our minds.

  Usually Ollie wouldn’t shut up. He was the type of person who was always talking, always annoying someone. So why wasn’t he saying much now? He hadn’t said much in hours.

  Instead, I felt him shivering. Our shelter was leaking in several spots, mostly on his side, and Ollie was shivering non-stop. I
was kind of cold, sure, but not that cold. I’d always been fairly warm-blooded. I loved to surf, being from the Outer Banks and all, and when most of my friends would need wetsuits on cooler summer mornings, I was always the one who didn’t bother with one.

  I knew what I had to do—but I was really going to have to suck up my pride to do it.

  “Ollie,” I muttered, pushing my fingers through my damp hair. “I’m going to ask you to touch me, and I don’t want you to read into it.”

  He breathed out. “Okay.”

  “Can you keep me warm?”

  When we’d started building the shelter, I started to notice such a different side to Ollie’s personality. Now, it made me deeply nervous. He’d taken control of the situation confidently, and it had surprised me. It didn’t fit with what I already knew about him. Just like his sudden silence didn’t fit with it, either.

  “Yeah, that’s fine.” There was no sarcasm there. No humor. No joke about wanting to have sex with me. He only moved, bumping into me a lot in the dark as he shifted. He turned his body, moving me with him, tugging me onto his lap. Then ultimately, he positioned me in between his legs.

  I gave him an inch and he took a mile.

  He wrapped his legs over mine. He locked his arms over my chest. I rested against him. He rested against our support beam palm tree.

  “Fuck, this is much better,” he whispered, once we were settled, his face close to my ear.

  Yeah, it was. It was so much better. I was warm now. His body was surprisingly comfortable. I even closed my eyes. And then at some point, as Ollie’s shaking subsided, I fell asleep.

  * * *

  I woke up with a jolt. For a split second, I forgot where I was and what had happened. But reality set in quickly because, damn, now my stomach physically hurt from hunger. Along with it, my throat had never felt drier. It was daylight. It wasn’t raining. Birds were squawking like mad. That meant it was time to climb a coconut tree.