Rock & Roll Nights: The Lila and Rivers Edit

19. Rivers

19

RIVERS

I didn’t know what an apology breakfast was, to be honest. I didn’t know if it was even a thing. But I knew I owed Lila something after the way I’d been acting, and by God, I was going to give it to her. I’d stayed up most of the night hating what I’d done and wishing I’d been more of a man about it, and had risen this morning with the sun, only one thought on my mind. I was going to explain why I’d done everything, from jumping her that first night to watching clouds to deserting her in a hallway by herself, and I was going to tell her exactly who I was.

Or something.

She glanced over the menu and then looked up at me, her face full of questions. “Is this a full breakfast sort of apology or an orange-juice-only sort of thing? Do I need to plan on getting out of here quickly or…?”

“Full breakfast, definitely,” I said quickly.

Partially because I wanted her to eat. Partially because I didn’t know how she was going to react to what I was about to say, and if this was going to be the last time I got to see her, I wanted to keep her for as long as I could. Full breakfast would at least mean we could take some time with it, right?

No, I didn’t know for sure that she was going to get up and walk out on me when she heard what I had to say, but if I was going to tell her everything, I had to keep an open mind. I mean it wasn’t every day someone came to you and told you they’d been orphaned and then ended up in the music industry, and had never had anyone they thought they could trust and how that had—maybe—led to a path where they’d never believed they could trust anyone. It was a long story, and I was honest enough to admit that it might be too much for her to handle.

Okay, so it might have been too much for one breakfast. But I wanted to give her something, and this wasn’t the sort of story you could tell halfway.

“So, what do you get when you’re getting a full breakfast?” she asked, her eyes going back to her menu.

I jerked a bit, surprised. My mind had been so caught up in black thoughts about my past that I’d expected a more serious question. Like she’d even know to ask. Still, I was jerked out of my shadows and into the light, which was…

So perfectly Lila.

“Pancakes,” I said immediately. “When I grew up... Well, I didn’t get them often, and since I got old enough to order them for myself, they’re pretty much all I’ll eat for breakfast.”

She looked up, and I saw the question in her eyes about why I hadn’t had them when I was a kid. What sort of upbringing could possibly have resulted in me not being allowed pancakes? Any normal person would have asked. They would have pressed for details long past what I was willing to give and made it awkward and horrible.

Instead, she leaned toward me and narrowed her eyes. “Chocolate chip or regular?”

I leaned in as well, suppressing a smile. How did she make everything so easy? Where had she learned to do that? “Regular. Putting anything in hotcakes ruins them. They should be eaten with butter and maple syrup. Hard stop.”

She laughed at that, her voice loud and joyous, and nodded. “A true connoisseur, I see. At some point I’ll need to take you home for my mother’s pancakes. I’ve been ordering them in restaurants for years and have never found anyone else who could top her.”

Okay, I hadn’t expected that, either, and I didn’t want to think too hard about the fact that she thought she was going to take me home to her parents. Her family in Nashville, with their big house and traditional values and pancakes for breakfast. Four girls who had all learned music early, and I was betting there were daffodils and a white picket fence in the yard. Everything normal and good about a family.

It wasn’t for me. I’d never had anything like that, and I’d never even dreamt that I might. But the idea of having it with Lila felt like it might be… easy. Natural, even. Like she’d just wave whatever magic wand she was packing, erase the black marks in my life, and transport me to a place where you got to have pancakes every morning and no one ever shouted.

As if such a place existed for a person like me.

I waved the waitress over and ordered us both a stack of pancakes. Lila added eggs and bacon to hers and I added hash browns, and we both laughed and agreed to sample what the other had ordered just in case we liked it better.

And from there, the conversation went on to the song we’d sang together on stage and how Lila had written it herself and had only sang it twice, now. I asked if she’d like to come up on stage some nights to perform with my band, which had been Hudson’s idea, not mine. The minute she grinned and said she’d love to, though, I decided to take credit for it.

“Think it’ll give Taylor a chance to fall in love with me?” she asked, spearing a bit of my hotcakes like she didn’t have her own.

I returned the favor, cutting a large bite off hers, and stuck it in my mouth. “She’s already in love with you. You’ve got me up and eating breakfast for the first time in years.”

Lila laughed at that. “And here I thought you were some sort of connoisseur. How do you love hotcakes so much and yet skip the one meal where they’re served.”

“Easy,” I said with a shrug. “I order room service.”

“You’re a hermit. Got it. So do you think Anna can come on stage with me? Or is that asking too much.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “What, and let the two of you take over the whole tour? The two of you will sweet talk the band into forgetting about me. And don’t think I didn’t hear you call me a hermit.”

Before long, the conversation was so normal and friendly that I forgot all about trying to apologize to her. She didn’t seem like she needed it, and if she had questions about me or my past... well, I figured she’d ask them on her own time.

And then, right as I was starting to think this might all be just fine, and that we might be okay, someone stopped next to our table.

“Lila! Thanks so much for your advice last night. I had the best time.”

I looked up, confused, to see the guy she’d been talking to during the show last night. The guy I’d called her away from, my heart burning with jealousy and the need to have her all to myself.

The guy I’d forgotten about until right now.

All the good feelings disappeared in a puff of smoke, and I felt my hands squeezing into fists. This guy had just interrupted our breakfast—which I was sure the photographers were shooting—to what, remind her that she’d given him good advice last night? What sort of advice had she given him? Had she seen him again? Maybe after we got off the stage? I was so busy drinking my feelings away that I hadn’t bothered to look for her, and now it occurred to me that she might have gone right back to this guy who’d had her laughing while I was otherwise engaged.

God, why hadn’t I stopped and looked for her? Why had I run away the moment the music stopped?

Some small, rational part of my brain said that she’d probably given him advice that didn’t mean anything. What sort of drink to get or which band he should stick around for. She wasn’t the sort of girl who went beyond that with a stranger, I didn’t think.

And yet, the larger part of my brain said, she’d gone farther than that with me. And I’d thought I’d been special.

Maybe I wasn’t.

I got up without saying anything, threw some cash down on the table, and stalked away. I’d thought we had something brewing between us, like it could all be that simple, and the thought that I might be wrong was doing something to my insides. Maybe I didn’t know her as well as I thought and was jumping the gun letting myself care for her. For all I knew, she could be just like any other girl on the tour.

Only in it for the chance to brag that she’d slept with a rock star.

Or she could be like half the people I’d met in this industry, and only interested in using me. Hell, I already knew she was doing that, didn’t I? She’d made that deal with Taylor herself. And now here she was talking to some other guy in front of me, like I didn’t mean anything to her.

Probably because I didn’t.

I didn’t know why I was surprised. I’d never meant anything to anyone else. What the hell would make Lila Potter so different?

It was time to call this thing off. Sure, I’d told Taylor I’d pretend to date Lila for a couple weeks. Do enough to make the press believe I’d changed my ways and was looking to settle down. And my spot on the tour depended on me following through on that promise. But surely we’d done enough by now. We’d taken about a million photographs and I’d brought her up on stage with me, for God’s sake.

Taylor could take that as good enough.

I’d spent my career laying myself out for other people, and paying the price for it. And I hadn’t even liked any of them that much. I couldn’t imagine how much worse it would hurt if someone I actually liked was just using me.

And I wasn’t going to find out.

That voice in the back of my head—the one screaming that I was overreacting and that Lila wasn’t like anyone else—could just shut it down. Because that voice wasn’t the one who had to deal with the fallout when people let you down.

I was.